Finally, my attention snaps to the cold, blue-eyed gaze of one of the goddamn God Men. Fear once more sinks its sharpened claws deep inside me.
I hold my ground, not wanting to show weakness. “What is it with you fascists? One of you dies and two more pop up in their place.” I casually glance around to both further my point and to figure out my options, of which I find few. “Where’s the second head?”
The woman smiles closed-lipped and takes a step toward me, giving me no choice but to take one backward. The back of the museum reappears in the corner of my eye. “Oh, Miss Hawkins, we’re not mythical beasts like the hydra. We’re very real.”
“Unfortunately.”
When no other option presents itself, I set my suitcase down and reach into my pocket for my switchblade.
The woman watches the movement, her smile widening to split her face in two. In response, she reaches behind her and procures a German Luger. She doesn’t point it at me—not yet, anyway—but the threat remains terribly real. My stomach clenches with nausea.I never thought I’d tire of seeing a particular gun, but there’s a first time for everything.
I tighten the grip on my switchblade, and the woman clicks her tongue. “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you.”
I pause, wishing now that I wasn’t alone.Where the hell is Bes when you need him?
“I need to start bringing guns instead of knives to these violent gatherings,” I stall. “Is there some sort of bulletin board I can refer to in the future, so I’m better prepared?”
At that exact moment, the doors beside me burst open.Speak of the devil.
A stranger—who bears a striking familial resemblance to the woman in the color of their hair, and the shapes of their small noses and rigid jaws—stumbles backward through the doors. Bes strides out after him with great purpose, landing an uppercut that ends with the man sprawled out on the ground, writhing and groaning.
My mouth drops open at the confidence in Bes’s movements.I didn’t know he had it in him.
With the woman momentarily distracted, I remove my arms from the straps of my pack and allow it to tumble to the ground. I get the feeling I’m going to need the full use of my arms for this. Pulling the switchblade from my pocket, I flick the release and press the button, falling into an attack stance.
I say my next words through my teeth. “I knew there was another one of you hiding somewhere. Like damned cockroaches.”
The woman turns to eye my switchblade with mild interest, clearly unconcerned for herself or her companion. “That’s a compliment. Cockroaches are resilient, nearly indestructible, and have been around since the time of the dinosaurs.”
I grimace.A lesson on cockroaches was rather low on my list for today.
“It’s disturbing how much you know about cockroaches, Fräulein.”
She places her free hand over her heart. “A German education provides all kinds of useful information.”
Repulsion turns my stomach again.
“Do they teach you about anything else besides cockroaches? Like how to treat your fellow human beings as if they’re actual people instead of vermin?”
She bares her teeth in an attempt to smile wider. “You’ve got spirit. It’s a shame.” Her ice-blue gaze slides to where the top of the amulet peeks out of my button-up. “If you don’t give me the Amulet of Amun, I’m going to have to kill you and take it off your cold, dead corpse.”
Her words punch the air from my lungs. I’m suddenly and painfully reminded of the Luger that Claude pressed into the small of my back—the Luger currently sitting unused in my pack. And just like back at the Temple of Seti I, I’m running out of options.
Considering she could’ve killed me before she even said hello, though, I have to wonder if she’s bluffing.Or, she wants something else from you, like information you don’t have that she plans to torture you for.
Like Bes said, the God Men believe me to be involved now.
The amulet warms against my chest, probably from the thought of my own demise spiking my blood pressure. At the likelihood of dying today—again—the coward in me wants to hand the stupid thing over. Not that it’ll make a difference. If the Third Reich is putting this much manpower into obtaining it, that must mean that they truly believe it can make the wearer invisible. Despite not believing it myself, can I allow them to get their hands on it?
If there’s even a slight chance it contains any mystical powers that Hitler can use to his advantage, then I can’t give it up.
After all, I do havesomemoral standards.
“Ingrid,” the man, who now has the upper hand now over Bes, snarls. “Hör auf, mit deinem Essen zu spielen.”
“Oh alright, Klaus.” She rolls her eyes at me, as if we’re both in on the joke. “My brother wants me to stop playing with you.”
I’ve never been so happy to be an only child; I don’t want to connect with this woman on any level.
