When Gurlitt still refuses to answer, Bes shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
With very little warning, he gently drags the sharp edge down the front of his left forearm, splitting open the skin. I flinch as Gurlitt’s eyes scrunch closed in silent pain.
Bes’s voice lowers. “I’ll ask again: where are the Arma Christi?”
Gurlitt’s blood dribbles silently onto the dirt path. I stare at Bes. This is the man I’ve only seen on one other occasion: the vengeful Bes, hellbent on ridding the world of evil. No matter how many moral codes he breaks in the process.
I feel like a spectator, helplessly watching all this unfold, despite having the power to do something about it. Not that I want to help this man, but I’m learning that I don’t have the stomach for torture.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Gurlitt baits him.
“Hmm,” Bes considers. “What can’t you do without and still be alive to miss?”
He circles around Gurlitt, behind me, and back again, like a predator toying with its prey.
“Your eyes, I think. You won’t be able to make shady art deals with bloodthirsty fascists if you can no longerseethe art.”
Gurlitt’s breathing grows shallow. “You wouldn’t.”
Bes crouches again to look the man dead in the eye. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Mr. Gurlitt. Though I’m happy to demonstrate.”
In response, Gurlitt coughs in his face; Bes wipes the spittle away with the back of his hand, unperturbed.
I’d normally write something like that off as a tickle in the throat, or him trying to rile Bes up. But, as I glance down at the man, his gaze shifts expectantly from right to left, and my gut tells me something’s wrong.
“That’s quite enough, Mr. Belzoni.”
Pure panic injects ice into my veins.Fuck.Without looking, I know who’s joined us.
Ingrid.
Never have I regretted not killing someone as much as I do her.
The God Men crony and the two men from the church appear from behind a castle wall and approach, circling us like vultures with their guns drawn until we’re completely surrounded.
How the fuck did she find us?
Bes holds up his hands and drops the switchblade to the grass. One of the men immediately yanks his arms behind his back, rendering him immobile. We share a look of panic before I turn back to Ingrid.
My breath hastens as our eyes meet, my mind numbing at the likelihood of getting out of this alive. This is not at all how I imagined this would go. Worst-case scenario was Gurlitt escaping before he could give us the information about the Arma Christi. Now, there’s a good chance we’re all about to die. And it’s my own damned fault for going after him in the first place.
What have I done?
Despite being the least threatening person here, Ingrid only has eyes for me.
Except for the bruised scab at her temple where I knocked her unconscious back at the museum, she looks as put together as the first time we met. Only now, wary determination pinches her done-up eyes and purses her painted lips.
“Miss Hawkins, step away from the nice art dealer.”
One of her men points their gun at me and I release him. He scrambles to his feet, nursing the open wound on his arm.
“Did you think I’d let you get away with the Amulet of Amun?” she asks me. “That you could escape me?”
The bloodstone scarab against my chest warms. She must’ve known I’d never part with it. And I couldn’t risk leaving it with the order.
“That’s what you’re here for? The amulet?” I ask. Just like last time we met, I’m hoping if I can keep her talking, it’ll buy the actual order member here time to think of some way out of this.Goddammit, where are Cec and Mara?“How can one piece of jewelry be worth all this trouble?”
“It’s not merely a piece of jewelry, as I’m sure you well know.”
