44. Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter 44
“R emove the blaster.” Chaucer stood in front of Dante with a determined look. “It doesn’t have to be hard. No one needs to get hurt.”
Dante hesitated for a moment. The blaster was not his only weapon, but it was the most efficient one to use. Chaucer’s accent was thicker than normal, signaling his nervousness. Dante could use it to his advantage and keep him away from Rieka.
“What are you doing?”
“It was the only way. Rieka has the key,” Chaucer started before he pulled himself together. “The tomb is finally within our grasp.”
Chaucer fidgeted in front of him. “Put down the blaster!”
He calculated the distance and time it would take for Chaucer to react. Enough for him to move out of the way if he needed.
Chaucer’s blaster clicked. “Don’t make me use this. I would hate to mourn the closest person I have to a brother.”
Dante slowly lowered the blaster and nudged it away, so it was still in reach if he needed it. He wasn’t concerned about himself. “Where is Rieka?”
“Safe. We only need her to find the tomb.”
“I thought you were friends with Rieka?”
Was it jealousy that had driven Chaucer down this path? Whatever it was, Chaucer was not working on his own. We. Dante tried to think about who Chaucer would work with. It had to be someone who had enough influence to convince him to pick up a weapon. Chaucer was squeamish when it came to violence. It had made him an outsider within the Delacroix family. “Or at the very least—colleagues.”
“I am.” Chaucer shook his head, the weapon wavering. “Don’t. You want the same thing I do. The tomb. I at least want to share it with the public. You want to cement your power base. And then none of the other Houses will use your patriarchal lineage against you as a weakness,” Chaucer laughed darkly. “Talal would have been right about his theories—and not just the crazy Atlantean who had been attached to the Delacroix heir.”
None of that mattered now. Someone was willing to kill for the statue. If they knew who Rieka was— An iciness descended over him as he registered the pungent scent. The decaying smell of the serpopards was almost tangible. Dante wanted to look up and see how many of them surrounded them, but he couldn’t afford to take his attention off Chaucer. Not when he was this unstable. “Is this what you want?”
“If the end justifies the means,” Chaucer responded, a smirk edging his lips. “It is the Delacroix way.”
Dante flinched. It was a mantra they had indoctrinated him with. One that Dion had whispered every night to him as a child when she’d sent him to bed. He should have known Chaucer would have been subjected to the same. After all, their mothers were sisters. “If Rieka is hurt…”
“He promised she would be unharmed,” Chaucer said.
“Who?”
A hint of concern crossed his features. It was a look Dante did not recognize. Chaucer was not lying. He believed Rieka was safe and would remain untouched.
Dante closed his eyes before snapping them open. “Rieka is a descendant of Vandana.”
Chaucer faltered.
Dante slammed into him, forcing the weapon out of his hand before he threw the Atlantean into the nearest statue. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow him down.
Unadulterated rage replaced the iciness as he kneeled next to Chaucer, as he fought for control within himself. Now was not the time to give into instinct. He picked up Chaucer’s blaster. It wasn’t fully loaded. He forced down the urge to beat his cousin. It could wait.
A scream ripped through the room.
Rieka.
Dante grabbed his blaster and ran toward the sound. Past the statues, he turned the corner. The faint aroma of amber and rosewood gave him hope he was following the right path. A green silk curtain swayed softly. He headed toward it, slipping past the lightly ash-coated material.
And he froze. There was no sign of Rieka.
Small chunks of marble from what looked like it had been a statue of a woman littered the floor. Half-hidden, a glint of orichalcum peeked through the debris.
Rieka’s pendant.
Dante quickly retrieved it. He palmed the pendant, surprised at its warmth and heaviness. He placed it around his neck, tucking it under his shirt to secure it.
The backpack and the blaster had been placed neatly by the wall. Dante opened the bag and easily found the journal. Bloody handprints were scattered along the coffin. It looked like there had been a massacre. Dante closed his eyes.
Rieka had to be alive. He refused to believe otherwise.
He slowly stood and caught a scent that shouldn’t have been there. A scent he had known all his life—an Atlantean who was closer than most of his blood relatives. He picked up the backpack. “Where is Idris?”
Chaucer dragged his gaze away from the coffin. A hint of regret flashed in his eyes. “I don’t know. This wasn’t part of the plan. Rieka was supposed to be safe.”
It was not what he wanted to hear. Dante moved, pining Chaucer to the wall and lifting him until they were eye level. Chaucer opened his mouth, a gargle coming out.
“You may want to let him breathe, or he will not be able to answer you.” Talik pointed out as he silently walked toward Dante. Khalida followed him into the room.
Dante dropped Chaucer with disgust, standing over his cousin. Talik was right, even if it didn’t abate his burning desire to punish Chaucer. “Your next words will decide your fate. Where has Idris taken Rieka?”
“I don’t know. I’m telling the truth. Rieka was just supposed to lead us to the tomb. Nothing was supposed to happen to her,” Chaucer rasped out. His color slowly returned to normal as he looked between Dante and Talik. “I wouldn’t have agreed to help if she was in danger.”
“Do you believe it?”
Chaucer flinched. “I assumed you would have discarded Rieka as soon as this jaunt was over. She would have found the tomb and then been left with nothing.”
Dante unclenched his fist. Chaucer was trying to goad him into violence. He lowered his voice until only his cousin could hear him. “Think again.”
“I was trying to protect Rieka.”
Chaucer was telling the truth; he couldn’t sense any lies. But Chaucer had willingly put Rieka in danger. That was enough to ensure that he would be punished for his transgression. After he found Rieka.
“There is something underlying Idris’s scent,” Khalida said. “Something that wasn’t there before.” The tip of her sword sliced Chaucer’s neck. The mark was almost invisible except for a single drop of blood. “Unlike you. Your own ambition led you here.”
Chaucer didn’t move or acknowledge Khalida.
“Would she have left of her own volition?” Talik asked.
“Not without the pendant or her mother’s journal.” Rieka guarded them both like they were her greatest treasures.
Chaucer’s eyes widened as he cautiously dragged himself from the ground. “You have it? She let no one else look at it.”
Dante ignored him. The pendant was uncomfortably hot against his skin. “The bracelet, it started to pulse more frequently as we descended.”
It may be the only thing keeping Rieka alive at this point.
“We found a series of other tunnels.” Talik walked over to where Dante stood. “Chaucer may be useful.”
Hot rage threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced it down as he focused his attention on finding Rieka. Dante moved to the outer door, his gaze never leaving Chaucer. “Move.”