“You know as well as I do that it’s the only please she’ll be safe from the God Men.”
The amulet sits a bit heavier on my chest, my fate weighing on me. But I can’t let it.
I straighten, allowing myself another curiosity. “Does this Uncle Arturo have any books on the Amulet of Amun?”
Cec crooks a smile. “I have no doubts that he does.”
I nod. Not that I should care about the answer. Despite the odds set against me, I’m going to try to escape this place while I still have the chance. I’ll never set eyes on those books if I have anything to say about it. But, if I do end up needing to go there, at least it’ll serve a purpose.
“Is there any way we can speak with Pierre Lacau?” I ask, becoming desperate to find another way home. “I know he’s the curator here, and I’m certain he can help us.”
Best shakes his head. “Unfortunately, Mr. Lacau left his post fairly recently to go back to France, and…”
My heart slides up my throat. “And what?”
“And no one knows why,” Bes finishes. “His replacement, Étienne Drioton, has yet to arrive.”
I stare down into the nearly-empty teacup. “Leaving a perfect opening to hatch an insidious plot.”
Thinking about more of those God Men finding us and trying to kill us, my pulse rises to a hard gallop. “Is it even possible to leave the museum? If you’re right about the curator’s assistant, then we may be surrounded by enemies even now.”
“Precisely,” Cec says, tapping the end of his cane on the floor. “Which means we need to get you out of Egypt and to the only place we know to be safe until we can sort this all out.”
I press my thumb between my brow, my headache returning.
“How could your uncle’s house possibly be safe beyond any doubt?”
“You’ll have to trust us,” Cec says, as if it’s that simple.
“I know it’s unfair, Miss Hawkins,” Bes says softly. He reaches for my hand but then pulls away, getting to his feet. Some part of me wished he would’ve consoled me.God knows I need it.“The museum never should’ve involved you or your nonna in the first place. But the fact remains that they did, and all we can do now is move forward.”
“And why should I trust you?” I demand, my hands shaking. “What have you done to prove to me that you have my best interests at heart, besides what my nonna requested? And I still have no idea how you know her.”
Bes shakes his head. “I told you: my Uncle Arturo and her are more than acquainted enough to be considered friends.”
I curl my toes in their shoes. “I don’t believe you.”
“Arturo thought you might say that,” Cec says, then reaches into his pants’ pocket and procures a ring. The flat top glimmers a soft matte gold in the lamplight. “Your nonna left this with Arturo when she emigrated from Italy—he said you’d know exactly what it is.”
I take it from him, the weight of it surprisingly heavy.
Upon close inspection, it’s not just any ring: it’s a signet ring. I recognize the symbol on the rounded side almost immediately: the Florentine Lily. Extremely similar to the French fleur-de-lis but with the added stamens between the petals, as well as roots descending from its base.
Nonna used to tell me about this ring from time to time. My mother’s family, the Fiore’s, hail from Florence and supposedlydescend from the Medici family. It’s not exactly a unique symbol… but it takes me no time at all to note the slight dent on the flattened middle, obscuring the symbol there. Nonna mentioned she once dropped it off a tall building onto cobblestone by mistake.
This is Nonna’s ring alright.They must be telling the truth. I place the ring on my left pointer finger, where it fits perfectly.
Bes clears his throat. “As I said, they’re friends. Your tita was merely concerned for you and reached out to the only person she knew who was still involved with the Cairo museum. Nothing more.”
I nod, my chest slowly unclenching. I’m well aware of Nonna’s many contacts around the world, and Cec just provided the proof I needed to confirm their acquaintance. A strange sense of relief floods me knowing that she put all this in place in case something went awry.
Finally, the indignation slowly leaves my body. Because, if I don’t put my faith in someone besides myself, I’m going to die in Egypt. I can’t afford to let the God Men find me, especially when there’s no reasoning with them. Once they realize I’m useless to them, they’ll try to kill me, just like Claude did.
If Nonna trusts this Arturo, then so do I.
Cec takes my silence as acceptance and his cue to stand; I follow suit, even as my legs tremble slightly beneath me.
I feel as if I’m floating outside my body, an unseen puppeteer pulling all my strings. Under different circumstances, I’d love to visit Italy, seek out a few of Nonna’s relatives, eat some fantastic food and drink as much wine as I want. Right now, though, I’m desperate to go home. I want to touch American soil, sleep in my own bed, and leave this place and all its problems behind me.
