Chapter 20 #2
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 muffled clunk of 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 my hand 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.
“This is it, Miss Hawkins.” He gestures behind me at the seal. “Now that we’ve passed this sacred seal, the blood oaths Cec and I took have lifted, and you’ll finally learn everything you want to know about us. Everything I couldn’t tell you.”
My mind empties except for two words: “Blood oaths?”
He hangs his head. “If I thought for a moment that you might believe me, I would’ve told you.
But it’s no simple concept to grasp—it involves accepting a magic so hidden from the world that you’d have to be completely mad to put any stock into its existence.
That’s why it was simpler to tell you that we were lying. ”
He’s right: my mind can barely comprehend the idea. A slow ringing builds in my ears as I sift through everything Bes and Cec have told me over the past five days, unable to distinguish what was a lie and what was this supposed blood oath.
“So, you didn’t lie?” I ask finally.
“No, we did. Ansaldo told us that you possess an inquisitive mind, so he ordered us to keep things as simple as possible.”
Oh God, who’s this now? “Ansaldo?”
Bes grimaces. “You know him as Uncle Arturo.”
I scoff, searching the stone ceiling for answers and finding none. “Is he even your uncle?”
“Unfortunately, yes. He is.”
He takes my hand, and though I shouldn’t, I let him. I try to communicate through my gaze the deep betrayal I feel.
“There are not enough words in any language to apologize for deceiving you,” he murmurs. “But the one thing I never pretended otherwise was…” He swallows hard. “Was how I care about you.”
I stare down at our held hands, wanting desperately to believe him, while also barely tempering my rage.
Remember what you told yourself before, what Bes has been saying all along, I think.
All you can do now is move forward. While Bes and Cec both lied and withheld information from me, they were honest about it from almost the beginning.
And it never did get me killed. It might have put me in danger, but they were entrenched in that same danger.
More likely, they’re puppets for Arturo—Ansaldo—the same way I was. And likely still am.
That doesn’t mean I like the idea of staying here.
Yet these people have information about me—which Nonna must’ve chosen to trust them with—and I want to know why. If my nonna has been talking to Bes’s uncle about me, then my being in this situation is partly her doing, if not wholly.
Perhaps the first and most important truth I seek from Ansaldo is whether or not Nonna herself is one of his many friends; I can’t imagine keeping a place like this secret if they were as close acquaintances as Bes and Cec claim.
If she is—if she’s rooted deep in all these secrets and lies—then there’s a chance she’s been lying to me.
And I deserve to know that truth.
Anything more than that, I can deal with it when it comes. Like I always do.
Besides, I’m not ready to leave Bes or Cec yet.
Call it sympathy for my captors or the like, but, for the first time in my life, I’ve met people my own age who I feel like I can truly connect with.
Who appreciate my knowledge and curious mind, even if it might annoy them from time to time. Even if they lied to me to stay it.
And I’m not half-bad at this spy racket, either. Maybe… maybe this is what I’m meant to do? Maybe I’m meant to use my skills at artifact-finding to keep them out of the hands of the growing evil in the world.
However, no one—not Ansaldo, not even Bes or Cec—will make that choice for me.
I tip up my chin. “Take me to him.”
Bes clenches his jaw, and I realize I never acknowledged his admitting to caring about me. One crisis at a time.
Finally, he squeezes my hand. “Whatever happens, we’ll do it together.”
Everything in me wants to grip his hand tighter, to feel his arms around me like they were in the club, to be anchored to one of the only things I’m familiar with in this strange place.
The Bes who was mildly jealous in the car is gone, replaced with the Bes I know—the Bes I met outside the Temple of Seti I, who saved me from going overboard near Messina, who I fought with outside the Port of Civitavecchia, who I danced with in the club, the Bes I…
Someone down the hall clears their throat before I can make a move toward him. My hand flinches out of his grasp and I tear my gaze from him, almost thankful to whoever interrupted us. After what I just learned and everything else I plan to learn, I can’t afford to be distracted right now.
Anders glances down at where our hands were clasped and back to meet our gazes. “They’re waiting for you.”
He heads back the way he came without waiting for a response.
Squaring my shoulders, I step through the second foyer. It’s very similar to the one we just came from, except there’s more of, well, everything. More torches and candles to cast flickering shadows on the walls, more elaborate tapestries, ornate rugs, and old dull weapons nailed into the stone.
Directly across from us lies a dark passageway.
The wide, rounded arch becomes a doorway into obscurity.
Fire flickers on either side of the entrance, but only just. There’s a hollowness to it…
I can’t say why, but this passage feels like it isn’t often traveled, and when it is, it’s with heavy hearts.
Something inexplicable calls to me from within. As if the castle itself wants me to find whatever’s down there.
That’s absurd, I reason. The castle isn’t sentient, for Christ’s sake.
I quickly catch up to Bes.
“Who decorated this place, the knights of the Crusades?”
He places his hands behind his back casually. “Ah yes, in between praying, and converting and murdering innocents in the name of God, they took up interior decorating.”
I grin. “It’s nice to have a hobby. Although I imagine the praying and the maiming kept them busy.”
He lowers his voice. “This place operates far too close to the Catholic church than anyone here would ever admit.”
I force my next breath to be calm, the urge to run more acute now than it was before, when I had a chance.
“It might shock you to learn that this doesn’t reassure me.”
His smile is strained. “Why do you think I’ve done all I can to stay away?”