Chapter Forty-Five
KHALIDA
Khalida was unable to find Talik. The consort mark continued to throb, but it wasn’t as strong as it had been a couple of minutes ago.
No matter how many times she reminded herself that she wouldn’t be able to see him hidden behind the Roman building, it didn’t stop her from trying. The earpiece was silent, and she tapped it.
“Talik,” Khalida repeated. She hadn’t believed him when he said he had connection issues earlier.
They were supposed to be on radio silence, but she couldn’t ignore the growing uneasiness that was spreading through her.
A sixth sense that demanded she drop everything and find Talik.
In her periphery, one of the hunters adjusts their position, moving to stay out of sight of the tourists. Anyone could be a potential spy.
The air in front of her flickered. She stilled and watched it happen again, and again. Looking up, she noticed the sun had moved, despite there only being seconds between the flickering.
“Ninhursag?” Khalida looked over to Talik and noticed the patch of dead grass that hadn’t been there a few minutes before. She tapped her watch. Her heart beating loudly as she stared at the time. It was forty-five minutes later than it should have been.
Fuck.
Rolling her shoulders, she turned around, looking for any hint of Lucien, hoping it was him.
He had manipulated time in Egypt, had frozen her and Talik, and when they had awoken, they had lost an hour in the blink of an eye.
Ninhursag had enough power over them without adding that skill set to the list. “Status update.”
“Time lapse?” Kade’s voice came through the earpiece.
Around them, the handful of tourists who had descended over the ruins looked around as if they had just been woken up from some sort of daydream. “It appears we weren’t the only ones affected.”
“The hunters are accounted for,” Kade answered.
She didn’t care about the hunters, but she was careful to keep her posture neutral.
Raising her hand to her hat, she lowered the brim to cover her eyes before she subtly counted her weapons.
Satisfied that they were all in the same place she’d left them, she then asked again, “Status update, Talik.”
With bated breath, she waited for Talik to respond. The seconds ticked by. She took a step in his direction.
“I’m peachy,” Talik finally said.
Relief sagged through her, but it didn’t last long.
A large commotion broke out near one of the footbridges, closer to Kade’s side. The human voices grew louder, and she strained to hear what they were saying.
“Wayfarer within the crowd,” Kade stated.
“Visual,” she demanded. Kade’s words sent a chill through her. It wasn’t her job to make sure the humans remained unhurt, but she would be damned if she just stood there doing nothing. Not when she could help.
“Human. Wearing a white cap. Hidden in the background, he is standing next to the road.”
Kade had just described half of the human males gawking on the bridge. Had they all decided to wear matching outfits for their day trip? Khalida forced down a groan as she scanned them. Despite her misgivings, it didn’t take long.
He stood at the back, dressed identically to three other males, right down to the tourist sweatshirt with the words ITALIA emblazoned across it. He looked ordinary, except for the slight sheen to his eyes—a sheen that humans and Atlanteans didn’t naturally have.
“Bingo,” Talik answered before she could.
“I have visual,” Khalida added as she adjusted her position, ensuring that no one had snuck into her area before she returned her attention back to the bridge, straightening slightly as she counted. “One more.”
“Different from the individual identified from the eastern side,” one of Kade’s hunters said. She didn’t recognize the voice. The male’s Atlantean accent was thicker and more distinct than she had heard in a very long time.
At least four wayfarers and a monstrous god. Good thing they’d packed for a small war.
The smell of pomegranate and sandalwood weaved through the air, the scent fresh and entirely out of place on a winter day in Rome. Too sweet to be natural, it was tinged with a hint of fresh rain.
And it reminded her of the catacombs. The lingering scent she hadn’t been able to describe was here in full force. She tapped her earpiece. Nothing was coming through.
“Shit.”
The throbbing in her wrist increased—Talik was moving closer. She looked around but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The crowd was still on the footbridge.
She blinked. Something was not right; everything was too picture-perfect. Nothing had moved, not even a blade of grass. The crowd was motionless, and there was no sign of the three wayfarers she had clocked.
One, two, three...she counted the seconds. None of the humans blinked. Instead, they were permanently still, a snapshot in time. Their mouths were agape, half frozen in mid-conversation, the slight breeze moving around them. Like the statues of the ancient Romans.
She tapped her earpiece again. There was still no sound. Not even static.
“Talik. Kade.”
Still nothing. Khalida dropped the backpack with a small thud before she kicked it to the building.
The thick vines did nothing to soften the impact.
She reached for her swords. The familiar hilts sent a wave of calmness through her.
Moving to the shadows, she flattened herself as much as she could.
A little girl laughed.
It was like a knife to the heart as the laugh grew louder, echoing off the almost perfect acoustics of the nearby decrepit temple.
It was the same laugh from the catacombs. Sidra’s. Full of innocence and hope. But this time she knew it was not real. Gripping the hilts of her swords, she held her arms against herself, using everything she had ever learned to become part of the shadows.
Small white butterflies floated down from the sky, hundreds of them appearing almost instantly, as bright wildflowers erupted from the grass.
She glanced across the ruins, and everything appeared to be transformed into springtime.
Small birds sang in the leafy green trees that towered over the Roman ruins, sprouting at almost full maturity near where Kade had been positioned.
Kade had said she would be weaker, but Ninhursag showed no signs of slowing down, or of being drained.
She looked past the greenery, just on the edge, and almost missed it. A thick dark fog surrounded them, almost like a shield. It encircled the ruins, separating them from the rest of Rome. Despite the warmth, Khalida shivered.
She remembered Kade’s words. They may not be able to kill the god, but they could contain her again.
The grass around her darkened as the vines behind her thickened. She jumped forward, away from the building.
A rich deep laughter, hypnotic and sensual, surrounded her. This wasn’t Sidra. No, it was much older, belonging to a being that oozed power. The birds grew louder as the ground vibrated. Cracks spread across the footbridge, and the hapless humans were frozen in time, unaware of their surroundings.
Fuck.
To the left of her, in the near distance, a pale linen skirt danced in the subtle breeze.
Gold sandals jingled as the woman—no, god—walked across the field.
Shimmering, glitter-like flakes trailed behind her.
Even at this distance, Khalida was entranced, instinctively wanting to bow. She shoved the thought away.
Ninhursag must be trying to manipulate them into doing her bidding.
She gritted her teeth, refusing to give in to the silent demands.
The hilts of her swords bit into her flesh.
She used the pain to focus on the present and why she was there.
Khalida’s vision dimmed as she slowly rocked back onto her heels.
Sucking in a breath, Khalida steeled herself.
She knew better than most that plans rarely survived their first contact with the enemy—and she was nothing but adaptable.
Ninhursag knew they were there on Palatine Hill, but the god hadn’t outright attacked them—yet.
Ninhursag must not see them as a threat.
The assumption could work in Khalida’s favor.
In front of the god, the ground grew greener and more wildflowers sprang up until they outnumbered the blades of grass. But behind Ninhursag was a trail of destruction. The beautiful flowers shriveled and turned to ash, leaving brown earth behind her.
The god stopped, her pitch-black hair floating in the breeze, reminding Khalida of snakes. Just like the tattoos on her arms. One snake moved, its pink tongue tasting the air.
Khalida pulled back, not quite believing what she had seen.
But she should not have been surprised. Of course Ninhursag’s tattoos were alive.
Why wouldn’t they be? She forced herself to return to her original position, ensuring that she was still half hidden.
Ninhursag was powerful enough to know exactly where she was, but like every other narcissistic aristocrat Khalida had interacted with, they all loved to perform, and for that, they needed an audience.
Ninhursag snapped her fingers.
Silence surrounded them as the humans collapsed eerily and silently to the ground, landing on top of each other.
Khalida stood, shaking with fury and shock at the sight before she dragged her gaze back to the god.
Reptilian green eyes, those belonging to a snake, stared back at her. Ninhursag kissed the air before she turned and continued to walk toward the center of the ruins. The damned god wanted the Atlanteans to be a witness to the chaos she was about to unleash.
Khalida’s heart raced, harder and louder than she had ever felt it before. Her throat suddenly dry, she slowly released the death grip she had on the hilts. The worn leather straps were imprinted on her flesh.
She wasn’t afraid to die. Not if it meant that Atlanteans and humans had a chance of surviving.
A part of her hesitated—if she died, Talik died.
And she couldn’t do that to him. Not when it wasn’t his choice.
Glancing at her wrist, she froze. The consort mark had stopped throbbing, and the edges had faded.
Where the fuck was Talik?
More importantly, what had he done?