“Agreed.” Bes regards me. “Can you walk?”
I grunt. “I was shot in the shoulder, not the leg like you were. I’ll be fine.”
“If what we saw in you is to be believed, you’ll be stronger now, I think,” Bes muses. “Stronger than you might realize.”
My stomach hollows. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”
A sharp pain nettles into my injured shoulder when I move it, and I suck in a breath.So much for being stronger.
Peering down at the wound, the bullet did minimal structural damage to my shirt. Blood stains the damp material from where it tore through. But I’m alive, and that’s damn good enough.
“My wound is healed?”
Bes nods. “That, we’re certain of. Cec is the best healer.”
“As if his ego isn’t big enough already,” I mutter.
Cec grins wide. “Have to compensate somewhere.”
I head for the door. “Let’s find Anders and get the hell out of this beautiful, godforsaken country.”
We exit the storage room, take a moment to make sure no one’s around, and steal into the night.
Moving swiftly through the shadows of the grounds, we follow Bes’s lead, quickly passing the front of the church and keeping to the tree line until we reach the main road.
Lit up now atop the hill, warm light flickers from inside the castle. I imagine Gurlitt in there, having dinner with his friend as if nothing happened. As if he wasn’t taken hostage and sliced open hours earlier. And what about Rheinberger? Does he have any idea what happened on his own property? We weren’t exactly quiet about it; if he was home, I imagine he heard the gunshots, if nothing else. Or the maid finally came to and ratted us out. At the very least, there are dead bodies strewn on his lawn that will eventually start to stink.
Maybe Rheinberger was dead long before we got there.
Silence spills across the darkening road as we reach it, with only the rumble and woosh of a passing car now and again, allowing us to cross it without a hitch. Of course, the sky chooses this moment to crack open and pour down on us. Oddly enough, I can’t feel the rain, even as it soaks through my clothes. I wonder if it’s the magic pulsing through my veins, or if I’m still numb from the trauma of being shot.
“I can see the car,” Bes calls out.
I take Cec’s arm and we start to run, the rain pelting us and drenching us to the bone. My boots slip now and then on the dampening ground. I manage to keep on my feet, breath barely hastening with the effort. Rainwater drips down my face and trickles into my bullet wound. I barely notice it. In fact, I’ve never felt so good in my life.
The rational part of me wants to panic at the realization. I never craved this magic; in fact, there was a time I would’ve rather died than be subjected to it. However, the other, slightly less rational part of me—the same part that couldn’t rest until I knew if the Amulet of Amun had the ability to do what people claimed—can’t wait to see what I might be capable of.
It takes me a moment to see what Bes saw: the front end is partially hidden between two buildings with the headlights off. The car is so nondescript, I almost don’t recognize it as ours.
Something about this doesn’t feel right, but I can’t put my finger on what.
That’s when I notice the body face down in the mud. I gasp, the sound inaudible over the rain. Before I can wonder if it’s Anders, I look closer, noticing long dark hair, tighter dark clothes, and slight curves.Definitely not Anders.
Bes approaches them slowly. Crouching down, he grips their shoulder and turns them over. My breath whooshes out of my chest at the slit neck and wide blue eyes.
Mara.
At the sight of her lifeless body, my stomach heaves, then settles easily again.She got what she deserved.But who killed her? Anders? Though I’m still certain he wasn’t a spy, we don’t actually know where his allegiances truly lie. Or it could’ve been Kali, who’s been missing this entire time.
Bes gestures toward the ground close by, where I notice another set of tire tracks slowly being washed away by the rain, then to the car. I nod.
“Stay here,” I murmur to Cec, and he obeys.
Bes and I creep up on either side of it, not wanting to frighten Anders, but also having no idea if he’s alone, or in the car at all.
The stench of gasoline pricks at my nose as I come upon the driver’s side window. It’s rolled down all the way, allowing the rain inside to pitter-patter on the leather seats.That’s not a good sign.
The two of us reach the front—and I finally notice Anders. His chin rests unnaturally against his collarbone, his eyes wide open and sightless, a bloody bullet hole ripped through his temple.
