Chapter 23 #4
“No need for that,” Ezra told him. “We can take their memories, same as they erased yours after the Seek and Find every night. When we’re finished they’ll think magic is nothing but clever card tricks.”
Hugo let out a furious grunt beneath the blazing gag of magic. Ezra’s will remained iron. All he had to do was think of the drool dripping down Rose’s chin when she was passed out on their table…
“You mean pluck out all their memories by hand?” Biz asked archly. “I’ll get the tweezers!”
“That will take ages,” groaned Vincent. “Let’s retrieve the relic first. Who knows… With something as powerful as that ivory wand, you might be able to wipe their minds clean in one fell swoop.”
Ezra turned back to the gauntlet. The sphinxes were watching him. Eighteen in all. The pair in the British Museum had taken a dizzying amount of blood… enough to make the top of his mouth go dry.
“I’m not sure I can reach the gate,” he said slowly.
“What are you talking about?” Biz’s question scratched at the floors like a gramophone needle.
“The sphinxes bite,” he explained. “They draw my blood to open the door. But with this many statues… it would be suicide.”
His sister let out a small oh, and moved beside him. A little too close to the first sphinx for Ezra’s comfort. “What if we take turns? You, me, and Vincent? We’re in this together, remember?”
“I don’t think it works like that.”
He stared down the line of teeth—at the waiting black stone.
It’s your turn now.
At the breakfast with Lord Blackwood, Ezra would have given anything to bring George back.
He’d figured Thomas Ellington had felt that way too—but now he wasn’t so sure.
You aren’t safe. It will be your tomb too, if you aren’t careful.
Holding the world on your shoulders and the dead in your heart.
They belong in the Duat. Dead, dead, dead.
“I’m sorry, Biz,” he said. “I think Celia’s right. We should leave the door be.”
“But—what about George?”
Ezra’s injured hand made a fist. His heart throbbed. “Would you have him over me?”
Biz shook her head. “Of course not, Ezra. I—It’s just that we’ve come so far. And your mother wouldn’t lead you into harm. Surely. There must be another way in…”
“There’s not.”
This declaration came from Vincent, but his voice sounded strange. Distant. The rest of him looked that way too, when Ezra turned. There was no jaunty grin on his face. No twinkle in his eyes. Nothing but steel as he raised the Webley pistol and pulled the trigger.
The shot sounded like a shell-blast in the chamber.
Ezra couldn’t move. His ears rang and rang. Bright red began to bloom across Biz’s linen dress—the worst kind of rose. Her lips parted with the tiniest O, while her fingers pawed her chest and came away dripping blood. She reached out for Ezra then—but it was too late.
Elizabeth Ellington fell to the floor.
Her eyes withered, until all the green was gone.
Ezra crumpled beside his sister’s body. There was no howl of grief. There couldn’t be, because that would mean Biz was dead, and that would mean Vincent had killed her…
The ringing in his ears had reached a frenzied pitch. He didn’t hear the other man step closer, only saw the soles of his safari boots as they trod through Biz’s blood. Images swirled through the garnet liquid: pool parties, picnics, and treasure hunts… A glittering life gone too soon.
“What a mess,” he heard Vincent’s voice saying. “You were supposed to stick to the script, Bright. Follow the clues through to the end like the studious Egyptologist you’ve always been!”
Ezra felt too numb to understand. Much less reply. In the puddle of spreading blood, he saw a memory of Biz flouncing through the British Museum in her white feather dress. Magnifying glass in hand. Follow the clues…
Vincent didn’t mean…
He couldn’t possibly…
“You can’t imagine how much work I’ve put into this endeavor.
Following you to Oxford, studying you inside and out, trying to understand why Thomas went to such great lengths to hide you.
Even from yourself…” Vincent crouched down on the opposite side of his fiancée’s body, not even giving her a second glance.
“The old man’s mind broke when I dug around for answers, but I managed to find this cache.
And the entrance to the fourth pyramid. From there I was able to piece things together: You’re the unwitting guardian of this place.
Only you can retrieve the relic with the power to raise the dead.
” He did spare Biz a look, this time. His lips danced around a frown. “And now you will.”
“You—” All of Ezra’s words dried up.
This betrayal.
The magnitude of it.
The fire of their kiss still seared his mouth. His next question burned. “You knew about me at Oxford?”
“A bit before, actually. The article about your Victoria Cross snagged my attention. It’s highly unusual for someone outside of the Order to survive an attack like that. Even someone inside. You heard Hugo going on about Nolan—”
“You’re a member?”
“A member?” Vincent’s eyebrow quirk was guttingly familiar. “Bright, I am the Order.”
His shadow leapt forward and swallowed Ezra’s whole.