I sit there a moment, waiting for them to adjust. My chest heaves, dragging hot air in and out.
The stale aquifer water continues to spill out after me, drenching my back. Once I’ve caught my breath, I roll to the side to avoid it and end up coating myself in more sand. But I don’t care, because I realize that I did it. I fuckingdid it. I retrieved the Amulet of Amun and somehow managed not to die in the process.
Leaning back, I laugh and whoop. “I’m alive!”
Eyes better adjusted to the sunshine, I reach for my throat—finding the gold chain still around my neck. I grin and pull out the Amulet of Amun. I recall the way it warmed against my chest right before the mechanism clicked, allowing me to escape. Yet, it doesn’t look any different.I must’ve imagined it, from the lack of oxygen going to my brain.
I grasp the scarab tightly in my palm, and I swear it pulses from my touch. “Thank God.”
A creak sounds behind me, and I glance back at the second trap door I’ve fallen through today as it closes shut. As much as I wish all that history hadn’t been destroyed, I’m glad to be out of there.There’s no price you could pay me to go back in.
No longer in danger of drowning, I thank Osiris, too, that he spared me even after I desecrated his tomb. Sure, I got out on my own, but if the gods happen to be real, there’s no reason to anger them by being ungrateful.
Struggling to get up from the wet sand and soaked to the bone, I glance down at the glass face of my nonna’s watch, a Rolex Oyster. Her colleagues at the university gifted it to her when she had her thirty-year anniversary last year, allowing me to borrow it for this expedition specifically because it’s waterproof. Rolex gave the first one made to British endurance swimmer Mercedes Gleitze, who wore it during a swim across the English Channel in 1927 that she called the “Vindication Swim”.
As I hold it up to my ear, I know for certain it does what they say it can, the seconds ticking away without a hitch.
I pluck my pack from where it sits half-buried in the wet sand and pull my arms through the straps, ready to be done with the Temple of Seti I. Especially since it appears to be quite done with me.
Peering around me to piece together where I ended up, I don’t recognize anything. I wasn’t inside the ancient tubing for very long, which means I’m at the temple still.I just need to get to thecar.I pat my pocket, thankful to feel both the car keys and my switchblade inside.
I follow along the ruined mudbrick wall, exhaustion threatening to weigh me down.
Once I turn a corner, a long line of palm trees appears, trailing off into the rippling distance.I must be at the southern edge of the temple.Something dark and metal shimmers at the end of them. I rub the water out of my eyes to make sure I’m not seeing things.
The car.
I sprint toward it as best I can with my injured knee, praying Claude is still knocked out cold inside the temple.
Despite my haste, though, I feel as if I’m running through quicksand. I clamber for purchase on the uneven ground, my hands scraping on the rugged edges of the temple walls and drawing blood. My legs haven’t gained full mobility yet and my right knee stings like a son-of-a-bitch. I continue on, knowing I can’t afford to waste another moment trying to recover my strength. Not when Claude could wake at any moment.
Eventually, I pass the front of the temple and spot the car glimmering in the heat of the day like a mirage. In fact, I could swear there are two of them. I blink again, but the image doesn’t change. The waters of the Osireion could have hallucinogenic properties. That must be why I thought the amulet was acting strangely.Should bode well for the long drive back to Cairo.
I’m nearly there, relief and adrenaline numbing the sharper aches—when a man in a beige uniform with a pistol in his hand steps out from behind the closest car and directly into my path.
“Halt!”
I stumble unwittingly at his command, falling backward. My rear end hits the ground hard enough that my soaking wet bag slides off my shoulders again and plops onto the sand behindme. Grunting, I blow the small, damp hairs out of my face.What now?
Before berating him, I grasp the amulet and shove it back beneath my shirt, hoping whoever this man is didn’t notice it.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, wincing while I brush the sand out of the shallow wounds on my hands. “Doesn’t anyone say hello anymore?”
Naturally, he doesn’t respond.
I don’t need him to. What Idoneed is for him to tell me who the hell he is and what he’s doing at the Temple of Seti I.
Squinting into the bright sun, I stare up at my aggressor. He’s not much older than I am. Dressed in the beige uniform of a British soldier—still pristine, unmarred by war—his slicked-black russet hair is tucked beneath his cap. Light eyebrows border dark green eyes set atop rounded cheeks.
He doesn’t hold my attention for long, though.
Behind him stands a tall Egyptian man, who I’d wager is closer to my age than the soldier. His tan pants and white button-up shirt fit his form well.Too well.
Short ebony locks of feathered hair frame a strong jaw and full lips. Bright brown eyes tucked beneath dark eyebrows hide behind small, circular spectacles perched on a nose that’s been broken at least once. The top button of his white shirt, tucked into tan linen pants, is popped open. A gun rests in the holster on his right hip.
There’s something about him… Despite the soldier’s gun still in my face, I can’t take my eyes off him.
I glance down and flutter my lashes, pushing the thought away.It’s been a long day.
