I’d better be about to find out the answer to that—and everything else.
The stairs bring us to a spacious foyer built entirely out of stone. High arches, more flaming torches, and an iron candlelit chandelier complete the castle aesthetic.
“Your Uncle Arturo lives here?” I ask softly.
“Not just him,” is Bes’s only reply.
“Ah, the proverbial friends and acquaintances.”
“Those are the ones,” Cec confirms.
The walls have been dressed in colorful woven tapestries, too detailed for me to recognize what they’re depicting without serious study.
“So many tapestries?” I wonder.
“This is a castle, isn’t it?” Cec wonders. “Of course, we have many tapestries.”
“Any Scottish lord would be jealous.”
He chuckles, though it carries an edge to it I can’t put my finger on.
Anders hastens in the direction of a corridor looming just past the high arches without further ceremony, leading up to a more modern metal door.
“This way,” he calls back to us.
I shoot Bes a sideways glance. He’s not looking at me, though. He merely follows Cec, who matches Anders’s pace. I can’t tell if Cec is eager to be here or not. More like he’s nervous. About what, though, I have no idea.
Standing before the metal door now, Anders steps forward and knocks. Not once, not twice, but multiple times. I quickly recognize it as some sort of pattern, different from the one that Bes attempted outside Club Sotterraneo. It sounds like… morse code?Jesus Christ, what is it with these people and their codes?
I catch the tail end of the word he’s spelling: a quick knock, then a longer one, followed by a quick one and then a long one again, and finally two quick knocks clustered together into four. It takes me a second, as I haven’t had to translate Morse code in a long time, but I made sure I learned it. I never knew when it might prove useful.
I turn to Cec and whisper. “What the hell does –endi mean?”
Cec chuckles good-naturedly. “Of course you know Morse code. Be patient, Hawkins—all will be revealed in due time.”
I scoff. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Crossing my free arm over my chest, I stare at the scratched metal, trying to imagine what lies beyond it. Something like nervous giddiness flutters inside me. I’ve been waiting for answers about my role in all this since Bes first told me Claude was one of the God Men, and now that I’m about to get them, I’m not sure I’m ready.
After the sound of Anders’s knocks fades away, I detect the muffledclunkof something large being cranked—when the thick metal door begins to rise. Dust puffs out from underneath the moment I take a breath, forcing me to cough to expel the particles.
No one speaks while the door continues its ascent, the clanging of the mechanism growing louder and louder with each raised inch.
I tighten the grip of my right hand on my suitcase and the other around the strap of my pack. The quiet, nervous part of my mind now recognizes that I have no idea how to get out of here. I normally already have an exit strategy in mind—a way out if myhand is forced. And the only way I know of is back down those stairs, past the Fiat cemetery, through a dark tunnel, and finally to a metal floor which I have no idea how to activate from the inside.
But there’s much more to all this than meets the eye, and I’m in too deep now not to expend every effort to find out what it is. The Amulet of Amun twitches against my chest, reminding me of its presence. And my vow to myself to learn of its true power.
Though the door continues its sluggish climb, there’s enough room for us to pass beneath. Anders ducks down first, followed by Cec, who I notice isn’t using his cane at all anymore. If it weren’t for the milky film over his eyes, you’d never know he was mostly blind.
I poke my head through the threshold. Just beyond the door sits an unmanned mechanism cranking it open.The vibrations of the Morse code must set off a trigger.
Something else captures my attention out of the corner of my eye: a seal carved into the stone floor of an ouroboros with what appears to be the Tree of Life at the center. I take a few steps across the threshold and over the seal, curious what it means.
Anders and Cec draw further away from Bes and I until they’re out of sight. Yet, I can’t seem to make my feet follow them. Sensing my trepidation, Bes turns to face me fully. His brown eyes are wide and unguarded, almost… afraid? No, that can’t be right.
He takes a step closer, leaving very little room between us. His nearness does something to me: despite my current situation, I can’t help the warming of my core, or the way I lean into him slightly so that our hands brush, forcing a stuttered breath from my throat. He doesn’t pull away.
God, I wish I understood this man.
