Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
“Do you understand me?” Mr. Meier hisses through gritted teeth. He leans closer, our faces only a few inches apart. I try to move, but the back of my head slams against the wall instead.
I nod, afraid of what the blade will do if I make anymore sudden movements.
Slowly, he releases his hand over my mouth, assessing whether I will comply or not.
He takes his free hand and clamps onto my left shoulder.
His eyes are like daggers, menacing and wild, which is how I know his threat is not a loose one.
He won’t hesitate to hurt me. I take a few rapid breaths, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
I’m left completely defenseless and at the mercy of a madman.
“Why are you doing this?” I murmur, tears falling uncontrollably down my cheeks.
“Oh, cut it,” he hisses with a menacing annoyance in his voice. “I know who you really are, Miss Fairfax. I know what you have in your possession. Now give them to me.” He shoves the blade higher up my throat, meeting my jaw and nearly choking me.
My heart plummets, blood pooling at my feet. Goosebumps trickle up my arms and legs. If I wasn’t already petrified before, I certainly am now.
How does he know my real name? How can he possibly know we have the artifacts?
I try to remain calm and poised. If I can convince him that my fear is of being innocent, then I have hope I can get out of this. “Please…” I beg, placing a hand on my bump. His gaze drifts. “I think you’ve mistaken.”
His eyes darken. The reminder that I’m with child doesn’t deter him. “We both know that’s not true.” He digs the blade deeper, and warm blood drips down my throat. “I will only ask this once, Miss Fairfax,” he whispers in my ear. “Where are the artifacts?”
To hide my shock and surprise, I close my eyes and take a shallow breath, hoping Henry will be back soon. I open my eyes and shake my head slowly. “I don’t know what you mean…” I say, conveying confusion through a blubbered mouth of saliva, eyes full of tears.
His hand lets go of my shoulder and slams into the wall to the right of my head, leaving a small crack behind.
“I’m not in the mood for any games tonight,” he growls loudly enough that hopefully someone hears him.
“On the count of three, if you do not tell me where they are, I will kill you, got it?
One…”
I stare at him, scrambling to figure out what to do. The only path forward is to comply and drop the facade. Quickly, I come up with a plan and hope it’ll get me out of this unscathed.
“Two…”
My time to make my decision is running short.
“Thr—”
“Alright,” I say before he can get to three.
His face drops with disappointment as if he were looking forward to hurting me.
“You’re right, okay? I’m Clara Fairfax. Now, can you get off me? Please.” I place a hand on his chest, pushing him a few inches away from me. “How did you find me? Or better yet, how do you know about the artifacts?”
Mr. Meier flips his switchblade closed and shoves it into his pants pocket. His expression is full of pride and arrogance, which is how I suspect he might easily fall for my trap and become his own undoing.
“I work for a very powerful and influential man, Miss Fairfax. It’s his job to know when rare and valuable artifacts are uncovered, as his clientele would pay a hefty price for them, which makes it my job to acquire such artifacts for him through whatever means necessary.
” A devilish grin spreads across his face.
“But the matter of how I found you and how I know about the artifacts is quite simple. My boss has eyes and ears everywhere, even on your precious expedition. It was his informant who alerted him to what you found on Crete, who it responded to, and where it was heading. Thus, my boss had his eyes and ears in Venice following your every move, which is how we knew you both would take the Simplon to Paris in disguises. My part in this fell into place swiftly, given I was already traveling on the Simplon for a different mission. When my boss met with me during our day stop in Venice, he gave me a new task: acquire the artifacts from you. All it took was to set up small traps to create the moment of opportunity I needed to strike.”
I realize exactly the traps he set in motion, the encouragement for Henry to keep drinking, and the empty water pitcher must have been his doing, too.
He set up the entire evening for the outcome he wanted: to split us apart when our guards were down.
Mr. Meier’s job is the finder, the taker—and to his hope—the killer.
“But these artifacts just happen to be a different conquest than the others,” he says, leaning forward. “These are personally for my boss to have, so I must be successful in my mission.”
“Who do you work for, Mr. Meier?”
He points at me, shaking his finger with a sinister smile. “You know I can’t tell you that. What kind of employee would I be if I didn’t keep his discretion? A terrible one, that’s what.”
“How do you know I have them? There were others on the expedition with me. I could have easily been used as a decoy.”
It’s my last desperate attempt at keeping him distracted. I’m running out of time, and if Henry doesn’t come back soon, I’ll be dead.
“That is true, Miss Fairfax. But I happen to know with good authority you’re the Eudaemon—wielder of god-like powers.
And despite your endearing attempt to deceive us with your disguises, it looked quite suspicious when you and your bloke were heading west while Lord Claremont was traveling south with the chest. And when you ponder on it, it didn’t quite make sense for the Eudaemon to travel without the artifacts on her, now, does it?
Which led me to believe that you concocted a diversionary tactic to hide the fact that the artifacts are not inside the chest, but with you. ”
His words strike something in me. Pieces of a puzzle slowly come together, solving the mystery of who his boss is.
Who else would place an informant on the expedition traveling around the Mediterranean, the place he believed the artifacts were hiding in? Who else would be hungry to get his hands on the artifacts to reclaim his credibility? Who other than the archaeologist Grandad warned us about, Dr. Richmond?
If he has someone like Mr. Meier at his disposal to acquire what he wants, then he is much more nefarious and dangerous than he comes across.
Anger and rage burn inside me. My pent-up outrage wants nothing else but to be set free. As a woman, rage is never something we can enact on. But seeing as I'm a woman on the cusp of taking her last breaths, I say to the bloody hell with it. I’m going to let the world see my rage roar.
“And what will your boss do with them? Embrace the power the deities have given us by helping humanity? Or will he use it to destroy anyone who stands in his way of getting what he wants?”
Mr. Meier shakes his head in annoyance. “I had enough of your chit-chat, Miss Fairfax. Either you tell me where they are, or I’ll end your life.” He reaches inside his pocket and takes out his knife, ready to unleash the blade.
From the corner of my eye, I see the door’s handle quietly turn without making a sound. I gaze at Mr. Meier, who seems not to notice the arrival of my savior.
“Fine. I will tell you where they are.”
Mr. Meier gestures for me to proceed, and I direct him to the armoire in the bedroom. I open the armoire and search for the artifacts. He sighs behind me, annoyed.
Suddenly, I hear a loud thunk along with a splatter of water hitting the ground. I turn to find his body collapsing onto the floor, unconscious.
Quickly, I close the armoire door shut and find Henry standing above Mr. Meier, panting heavily. His pants and shirt are soaked as he tosses the empty water pitcher onto the bed. He first looks at me with bewilderment.
I rush into his worried embrace, wrapping my arms around his torso. Quiet tears continue running down my cheeks, both in shock and relief. “Never have I been more thankful in my life to see someone.”
Henry runs a soothing hand through my hair. “It’s okay, Clara. I got you.”
We continue to cling to each other. I don’t want to leave his arms, but I know I must at some point.
“Thank you,” I say as we finally break from our embrace, wiping away my tears. “I…I thought…he was going to…”
“I know,” Henry says, saving me from saying it aloud.
I wince from pain as Henry tilts my head to the side, inspecting the cut from the switchblade. He rushes toward the armoire, grabs one of his shirts, tossing the hanger aside.
“How bad is it?” I ask.
His hand lifts my chin, and I watch his face as he wipes away the blood.
“Thankfully, it isn’t that deep. I don’t think you’ll have a scar. But it may hurt for the next few days.”
Once he’s done and the bleeding has stopped, our eyes finally meet. His hand is still cupped under my chin despite no longer needing to be. The air between us shifts. I should feel nervous at our proximity, but instead, I feel at ease.
I can’t recall ever seeing his eyes in this darkened shade before.
Are his pupils dilated?
We’re on the verge of something. But the moment collapses when he drops his hand from my chin, steps away, and fetches a bandage from the water closet. Delicately, he places the bandage over my wound. Once it’s secured, he creates distance between us.
We both stare down at the unconscious body lying on the floor—a problem we need to solve quickly.
“What should we do with him?” Henry asks.
I shake my head, wincing at the pain. “He knows who we are and that we’ve got the artifacts. He sought after us to get them, and he won’t relent until he gets what he wants.”
“He came after the artifacts? I suspected that was the case…” Henry runs a hand over his face, trying to rouse his mind alert from the alcohol stupor he’s still in.
We take a moment to consider our options, but it doesn’t take me long to realize there’s only one option.
“We need to get rid of him.”
“I know,” Henry says, pacing the room.
“No, I mean we need to get rid of him.”