I instinctually rebel against his command, even as I understand I need to do what he says until I can figure out a way to gain the upper hand. If he didn’t need me, I’d already be dead—I’ll figure out the rest as I go.
Claude takes a step back, both weapons pointed at me now. Tightening my jaw, I bend down and pick up the oil lamp.
“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you why you’re here, now that we understand one another: the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities hired you to retrieve the Amulet of Amun. It was last known to be in the possession of Seti’s son, Ramesses the Second, who placed it inside the sarcophagus room of the Osireion before he died. It is said to be buried with the celestial bones of the god himself.” He pauses. “It is also said to have mystical powers.”
I blink at him. “If you’re not from the museum, then how do you know any of that?”
He grimaces, lip pulling up into a sneer. Regret begins to set in: I truly bit off more than I could chew this time.This is what I get for trying to prove myself.
“Many know this story. It’s the reason marauders like yourself risk the perilous journey to this temple: to find the amulet which promises the wearer invisibility. It has the power to harness the ancient Egyptian magic ofhekawhen the proper incantation is read aloud.”
Despite myself, I scoff. Not only did he just call me a marauder—which couldn’t be further from the truth—but now he’s claiming the amulet contains some sort of power? Secret rooms and hidden jewels, I can believe. But invisibility? Incantations? Magic! Absolutely not.
He glances at the ancient hieroglyphs on the walls around us. “Though many also seek it for its other worth: kept safe in a blue faience pot, the gold winged scarab with its unique bloodstone back will fetch a fair price in the right market.”
I’m sure he’s right, though I can’t say I’ve had any run-ins with the kinds of markets he’s referring to. Plenty of private collectors would no doubt pay handsomely for it.
Even if such a market does exist, there’s no guarantee the amulet hasn’t been destroyed by time. While it’s possible that it’s remained in pristine condition the last few thousand years, some scholars say the Osireion is completely submerged. And while pure gold doesn’t rust, bloodstone can crack if left long enough underwater.
Eyeing the loaded gun and stolen switchblade, a sobering thought hits me then: the Amulet of Amun could have a completely disintegrated stone, and it would still be worth more than my life.
Yet, I can’t stay my morbid curiosities. How many before me have come away empty-handed in the pursuit of obtaining the amulet? Or died trying?
I’ll do everything in my power not to be counted among them, but my attempts to avoid the prospect of my own demise appear to have become futile at this point.
I flex my grip on the oil lamp. “And you expect me to succeed where others have failed?”
“Based on you and your grandmother’s renowned past successes, my superiors are certain you’ll be the first to acquire it.” He huffs. “Though I’m going to demand hazard pay for having to deal with your… attitude.”
I flare my nostrils, rage rekindling in my blood. “Yes, they really should give you a raise. How much is the Reichsmark worth these days?”
Impatience draws deep lines across his face. “That’s enough talking. The sooner you find the amulet, the sooner I can rid myself of you.”
Permanently.I swallow hard, hearing in my mind the unspoken word.
Claude moves to stand behind me and shoves the pointed end of the Luger into the fleshy part of my back, directly beneath my pack. A hiss escapes between my teeth at the sharp pain. That’snot an easy death: in through the kidney and out through the stomach—a slow, agonizing end I’d prefer to avoid.
Taking a moment to focus, I stare down at my dead mother’s brown, dust-caked boots. It doesn’t help.
When he prods me once again, I stumble forward and continue on the path to the Osireion.
We pass more columns inside this hall, but I can’t concentrate on them long enough to mark what’s depicted on them. Not with the deadly end of the Luger biting through my button-up. I’m instead forced to ponder the choices I’ve made to land myself in this situation.
I should’ve just stayed home.I was so desperate to prove my worth—to Nonna, to my peers, hell, even to myself—that I didn’t stop to wonder whether or not it was a good idea. I trusted Nonna to decide when I was ready to go off on my own, that allowing her to make all the arrangements would mean less danger, given her many connections.Wishful thinking.
Nonna and I have faced our own perils, but we were always together. Now, I’m alone and ill-prepared.
A part of me knew there’d be risk involved—whenisn’tthere risk involved?—yet I still came. My curious mind forbade me from passing up this opportunity.
I might not be in this particular mess, though, if I’d acted sooner on my suspicions of Claude. When things started to not add up in Luxor, I should’ve run. Gotten back on that plane, even if it meant going all the way to the Sudan, and avoided all this.
I’m in it now, though—and I’m still alive.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I struggle to speak past my nerves and the growing dryness in my throat. “We could both walk away right now. Or I can do what I came here to do and you could take the amulet for yourself, sell it at a premium in whatever seedy back channels your kind goes to. Make all your suffering at my hands worth it.”
Claude sneers. “Foolish girl. There’s nothing worth more in this world than what the Third Reich has promised me.”
I glare into the darkness of the impending threshold of the Second Osiris Hall, anger overrunning the fear. “But you’re not part of their master race, Claude. The Third Reich and their shitless leader will use you for their own gains, and then kill you simply because of the color of your skin.”
