I had recognized one of them.
My crafty wife.
I stood up as I slung my jacket on. Out of habit, I checked to make sure my knife was safely embedded in my boot, and then I followed after them, my temper rising like steam.
Inez,darling, where are you off to?
CAPÍTULO DOCE
I eyed our surroundings in distress. We were in an alley, several blocks away from the hotel, the moon blocked by tall stone walls enclosing the narrow path. I hadn’t thought to bring a candle, and anyway, something told me Isadora would have protested.
We were, after all, attempting to be stealthy.
“Are yousureyou know where we are?” Farida asked with another quick glance over her shoulder. She was dressed in a dark skirt she had borrowed from Isadora, and my mother’s scarf was wrapped twice around her neck.
Isadora didn’t break her stride, easily navigating muddy puddles, her dress somehow repelling all manner of dust and dirt.Magic, I thought again. “Yes, for the tenth time,” she said. “Hurry—we don’t want to be late.”
My corset was an iron cage around my ribs, and I profoundly regretted not shedding the awful contraption before we had set out. I thought we still had plenty of time before the auction began, but Isadora kept us moving at a brisk pace. An awful stitch worked its way deep in my side, and I let out an exasperated huff.
“It’s not like the market is going to suddenly change its mind and move again,” I said between breaths.
“No, but I don’t want our arrival to distract from the proceedings,” Isadora explained. “Here—I think it’s down this way.”
“Youthink?” Farida asked, aghast.
“Strongly believe,” Isadora amended. She made a hairpin turn, and the street widened, providing enough space for me and Farida to flank Isadora,the three of us walking alongside one another. At a distance, the sound of music playing and the odd yip of a stray dog joined the clamor of our steps against the packed dirt. This particular stretch of street remained dark, no sight of lamps anywhere, and a heavy gloam seemed to coat every surface. We were in a part of town where it didn’t pay to be negligent.
“Where is this place?” Farida asked, clutching her side. “A warehouse?”
“No, it’s a—” Isadora broke off sharply. Her eyes narrowed at the sudden movement at the end of the street.
I followed the line of her gaze as three shadowed figures materialized. An uneasy feeling scraped against my skin. The scent of sweat and alcohol wafted into my nose as they drew close. There was just enough moonlight to make out their features. They were pale skinned and mustached; one had a pockmarked face, another was balding, and the last was short and built like a barrel.
Isadora stopped, holding out her hands. “Step behind me.”
Neither Farida nor I moved. I was in too much shock, my mind only beginning to understand the extent of the danger we were in. It was only when I caught the glinting edge of a knife that I gasped. The barrel-shaped man grinned at me, waving his weapon as if demonstrating that he knew how to use it.
“Not one pace closer,” Isadora warned.
In a blink, her sleek little handgun was in her palm, aimed at the apparent leader of the group. He stood a foot ahead of the others, his head angled down, thick brows curving in amusement as he inched forward.
“What are you going to do with that?” he said in an American accent.
“Take another step forward, and you’ll find out,” Isadora said sweetly.
The short man laughed. “I bet it’s not even loaded,” he said, taking one exaggerated step.
Without a single tremor, my sister fired.
The noise exploded everyone into action. Isadora’s target dove out of the way while Farida scooped up a rock and threw it at one of the assailants racing toward us. She hit one of the bald men square in the chest, and he floundered.
“Bitch,” the pockmarked man spat.
Another American. They must have come to Egypt by the boatload. He’d spoken only once, but that word alone told me he’d enjoyed several rounds of drink. My heart escalated as he swerved in my direction. I let out a gasp and stumbled back a few steps. From the corner of my eye, I saw Isadora sidestep one of the taller attackers, whose blond curls gleamed in the moonlight.
“Shoot him,” Farida yelled. She had found another rock, which she clutched in one hand, and the other hand was tucked into the pocket of her skirt. I knew she was feeling to make sure her shrunken camera hadn’t gotten lost in the scuffle.
Isadora took aim as my assailant went for my throat.
