“You were fool enough to trust in someone like Mara, whose allegiances change on a whim. How can you expect any less?”
He snorts. “She was Ingrid’s puppet, not mine. Ingrid got what she deserved, trusting someone whose loyalty is built on money and idle threats.”
I ask again: “What about my father?”
“Your father,” he starts. “Well, his expertise in the occult, especially Norse runes and myths, piqued Himmler’s interest.”
I should’ve known it had something to do with my father’s proficiency in Nordic culture.
“He’s working on something vital for the Ahnenerbe,” he continues. “However, he lacks… What is it? Motivation.”
“And you think you can usemeto motivate him?” I scoff. “If you knew my father at all, you’d know I don’t mean enough to him to be any sort of motivation.”
He raises a brow. “Not from what we’ve gathered.”
I’ve run out of energy to ask this fascist any more questions. I have to focus on planning our escape—which I have. It won’t be easy, but it’s the only plan I’ve got.
Bes’s ring calls to me again. I move it around in my palm, feeling for something that might give way to the small blade he promised would be inside. I swipe my thumb along the smooth edges, stopping at the flat top of the ring. When I press it, it opens up with a whisper of a click.
I freeze, waiting to see if my captor heard it. The rain pours loud enough, though, that it went unnoticed.
“That can’t be all the questions you have, Miss Hawkins.”
At that moment, the sharp blade Bes warned me about springs up from inside and pricks my finger. A small smile tugs at my lips.
Might as well keep him talking.
“Where did you find my father?”
“In Iceland, collecting soil samples to analyze the pollen.”
Pollen in Iceland?Not that it matters, but I’ve never known my father to care about analyzing soil samples. He’s more of a glorified treasure hunter than an archaeologist or a botanist.
I pivot. “Does Hitler already have the Arma Christi?”
“It’s unlikely we’d need you or your father if he did,” he reasons.
When August turns his back to me for a moment, my attention immediately falls on Bes, begging him to look at me. When he does, I mouth the wordamulet. He nods once, barely perceptible.I hope we’re on the same page.I slip Bes’s ring onto my pointer finger. The hard part comes next, and there are only two ways it’ll go: either I die, or these God Men do.
My heart pounds away in my chest at the thought of getting caught. There’s a chance they might not kill me, since it seems they need me. There are worse things than dying, though. And, from all I’ve been told, the God Men are experts at them.
Unfortunately, I’m not able to reach into my pocket for the slip of paper Anders gave me. What was the incantation for the Amulet of Amun? I think back to that night, hearing Anders say the words and then me repeating them.
“Ii em hotep,” I murmur. “Åmå ankh ek.”
I must’ve said it right because the amulet glows yellow and I instantly vanish. My captor gasps. Without a second to lose, I lash out and prick him with the signet blade, catching him by surprise and breaking his hold over me.
“Scheisse!” My captor stumbles away from me, dropping my father’s switchblade to the ground. I pick it up before August can look our way.
Now that I see my captor’s aura with the amulet activated, I’m unsurprised by the color: dark brown and stark black seems about right. I glance at the other Reaper and see more of the same. It hangs over them like a cloud, snuffing out any other color.
The leader’s aura, however, is different from his underlings. The brown and black are there, yes, but bright white cuts through it.Leader of the Ahnenerbe, indeed.
“What is it now?” August asks without turning around. My previous captor’s gaze searches frantically at the place he last saw me, clutching the small spot on his arm where I cut him.
His voice trembles. “Sie verschwand.”
He clicks his tongue. “What do you mean, she’s vanished?”
