by Ally Shields
“What’s wrong?” Meotta called as he left the door standing open.
Rhyden didn’t stop to answer her. A sense of dread drove him on a heedless run over the icy walkway and through the snow-covered streets.
He reached the Lormarc Guild’s front entrance, yanked open the door, and recoiled as the sharp report of a pistol cracked the air.
Esty. Gods no!
Never doubting the gunfire involved her, he ran straight to the makeshift interview room where he’d found her before and tried the door. Locked, dammit. He kicked it in, splintering a hole in the wood with his boot.
He reached inside and ripped open the door. Heart hammering wildly, he took in the scene for a split second…
Esty stood behind the table, a girlie handbag in one hand, a gun in the other, and a look of horror on her face. Olseon lay on the floor, his knees drawn up, both arms covering his head. A dagger lay on the floor.
“Is he dead?” Surprisingly, Esty’s voice was steady.
Rhyden kicked the knife toward the door and pulled one of Olseon’s arms away so he could see his face. “No, he’s alive.” He glared at the Guild Master cowering on the floor, tempted to finish the job. “Don’t move, or I’ll let her try again.”
Olseon nodded wordlessly.
Rhyden strode around the table and crushed Esty in his arms, gun and all. “Esty, my love. My love.” He repeated her name at least twice more as he buried his face in her hair. He heard the gun and handbag hit the floor, and her slender arms came around his waist. Only then did relief finally flood over him, and he kissed her.
Moments later, it sank in a would-be killer was still unsecured, a loaded weapon at his feet, and a very interested audience in the doorway.
He looked over his shoulder and spotted a face he knew. “Grab the knife and get the guards.” He finally released his death grip on Esty and retrieved the Glock, keeping it between them and out of sight. He tucked it in his belt and looked at her. “Kam’s?” When she nodded, he said, “You’ll have to tell me later how you got it into Elvenrude.”
Meanwhile, how did he explain a second gun to Brunic?
“Sir? Rhyden?” one of the portal guards pushed his way through the crowd. “Come quick, sir. Shots have been fired at the New Orleans Guild.”
Holy hell, what now?
Rhyden ordered the guard to remain with Olseon and sent a worker for Brunic. “Tell him this is our leak.” He grabbed Esty’s hand and took her with him. “OK. Tell me now how you got the gun into Elvenrude.”
“Just like you did. We’ve been sneaking things in using the safe since we were kids.”
“That’s a loophole we’ll be closing,” he said grimly. “But today it suits our purpose one more time.” When they reached the portal, he secured the Glock in the safe, stepped inside, and pulled Esty in beside him. They materialized in the Ryndel Guild in Elvenrude, and Rhyden waved to get her father’s attention.
“Hey, you’re not trying to leave me behind again, are you?” she demanded.
“You bet. They’re shooting guns, Esty. You couldn’t even hit Olseon from five feet away.”
Her mouth dropped open. “It wasn’t my fault. The barrel got caught on my bag.”
“Exactly.” When Sawyer arrived, Rhyden shoved Esty into his arms. “Keep your daughter here, and don’t let her say a word to Brunic. Not yet.”
Without waiting for a response, he stepped back into the portal, made the hop to the Lormarc guild in New Orleans, and snatched the Glock from the portal safe.
But the guild was quiet. Well, not exactly quiet, excited workers milled around, but there were no gunshots. He spotted Guild Master Henre near the front doors.
“I heard you were under attack.”
Henre actually smiled. “It’s over. Those CIA guys are really good. See for yourself before they leave.”
Rhyden stuck the Glock in his waistband and followed Henre outside. An ambulance was just pulling away. Noah Crain stood next to two black vans in the parking lot. He was talking with a man in a black T-shirt and combat fatigues; four other men loaded handcuffed Mexicans in one van and an armful of weapons into the other.
“Agent Crain, it looks like I missed the excitement.”
Crain shrugged with a grin. “The cartel showed up—about a dozen of them—and these guys took care of it. Just as I predicted. A couple were shot and one or two got away, but we should catch them at the border.”
“What about the Ryndel guild? Is it still at risk?”
“Not according to them.” Crain jerked his head toward the van. “Lormarc was first because it wasn’t protected by the fence and wharf guards. Ryndel was going to be taken from the other side…wherever that is.”
“Yeah, maybe. It makes some sense.”
Crain smiled at his skeptical tone. “It’s hard to believe anything out of the mouths of thugs. We won’t pull off our teams until we hear from Kam or Seth.”
Rhyden nodded and flexed his tense shoulders as he walked back toward the guild. What a day. They’d knocked off huge parts of this conspiracy—Kurzi’s gang, Jermon’s pipeline, and now the hired killers from the Mexican cartel—but they still didn’t have the men behind it. And Jermon Lormarc had the time, the patience, and the wicked intent to put it all together again.
It was up to Kam and Seth…and the Cyrilian prince now.
But Rhyden’s day wasn’t over. He drew a deep breath and set his jaw. He still had to do something about Esty. He stopped at the guild restroom to splash water on his face and finger-comb his hair. He frowned at himself in the mirror. After a long day on horseback, he wasn’t dressed for a proper visit to a family home or a call on a lady, but he had to get this over with before he changed his mind.
He arrived at the Ryndel home just after the supper hour. Sawyer answered the door, his face immediately concerned when he saw him.
“Rhyden! What’s happened? Have you news from Cairo? Is Kameo all right?”
At the mention of Kam’s name, Esty and her mother hurried in from the kitchen. Esty avoided his gaze. That wasn’t good. Maybe he’d gotten the signals wrong.
“I’m sure she’s fine, sir, but I haven’t heard anything yet. Sorry I was so abrupt earlier, but we had a bit of trouble in New Orleans with Jermon’s Mexican gang. Over now, and, um, I need to speak with Esty.”
“Yes, she told us there’d been gunfire.” Sawyer stepped aside. “Why don’t you come in and tell us about it.”
Rhyden briefly related the confrontation in New Orleans, then single-mindedly returned to his objective. “May I speak with Esty now? In private, sir?”
“Of course.” He looked at his wife. “Meotta, I could use a spot of tea. How about you?”
Esty spoke for the first time, her tone rather icy. “I’m sure Rhyden doesn’t have anything to say that can’t be said in front of everyone. I already told Father.” She lifted her chin. “If you’ve come to scold me, it’s already been done.”
“Scold you?” For a second he looked at her dumbfounded. “Oh, the Olseon thing. That isn’t why I’m here. I came to say…”
Dammit. Why was this so hard? She always seemed to leave him tongue-tied.
“To say what?” Her voice softened, and she peeped up at him from lowered lashes.
“Brat.” Rhyden smiled and focused on her face. “That I love you.”
“Do you?”
“Of course I do.” He was vaguely aware her parents had discretely withdrawn, but it wouldn’t have mattered. He took her hands in his. “Very much. I realize the timing is bad, and I should have changed clothes… It’s been a hell of a day for both of us. But if I’ve learned anything the last few days, it’s life is too uncertain, and I didn’t want to miss our chance. Could you love me, Esty?”
“Oh, Rhyden, the timing is perfect. I’ve waited months for you to declare yourself. How could you not know I already love you?”
The kiss was sweet and lingering. She fit snugly in his arms, her lips warming his with tender
ness and the stirrings of passion. A cleared throat reminded him where they were.
“It’s getting late,” Sawyer said from the kitchen doorway. “Perhaps you’d like a cup of hot tea before you leave.”
Rhyden looked up and grinned. “That I would, sir. I believe we have things to discuss.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A sandstorm hit Cairo just before dusk, blanketing the city in a haze of premature darkness and snarling the normally chaotic traffic. Kam and Seth sheltered inside a tent at the Cairo bazaar. After looking around Tahrir Square, they’d had more than two hours to kill before the museum closed and had walked through the narrow alleyways of the ancient market, an area crammed with colorful shops and tents selling a variety of goods from cheap trinkets to pricey jewelry: souvenirs, silks, Egyptian soaps, delicate glassware. When the worst of the storm passed, they continued to wander among the exotic goods.
Ordinarily Kam would be fascinated. Under the circumstances…she spent her time worrying instead. Her eyes stung from the sand dust. Just another irritant to her frayed nerves. The waiting and the importance of the next twelve hours was getting to her.
They hadn’t seen Trystan and Tad since the confrontation at the hotel. Were Tad’s actions those of a thoughtless, arrogant kid, or had he taken the opportunity to warn Jermon and Dreysel? She couldn’t be sure. Which meant she couldn’t let it go.
And she’d started thinking about the human museum guards. Were their lives expendable? Unavoidable collateral damage? The noise of a fight with Jermon’s gang wouldn’t go unnoticed…even if they were invisible. She hadn’t a doubt Jermon would kill the humans without a second thought. Was there a way to spare them? So far she hadn’t come up with one.
Seth took her hand and squeezed it. “Stop stressing about things you can’t control. Take a look at these blown glass creations and see if there’s something your mother might like.” He pulled her toward the stand with its display of figurines and intricate glass jars.
But Kam’s eye landed on the stand next to it. “In a minute.” She picked up and sniffed one of the small bags of Egyptian medicinal herbs. Chamomile. She tilted her head in thought. Not strong enough, but…
She tugged on Seth’s hand. “We have to hurry. I need to make a purchase, and I hope our spotter has a local drug connection.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes before the museum closed, Kam and her three companions slipped inside under the cover of lingering and departing tourists. Kam’s backpack held the results of a trip to a friendly doctor and a stop at the pharmacy.
They hid in the basement until the museum was quiet, then Kam crept upstairs and kept watch on the two night guards. When the taller man got out the teapot, she leaned over his shoulder and added the contents of a small vial. They’d have a nice long rest tonight.
Half an hour later, both guards were snoozing soundly at the desk near the front door. Seth helped her carry one of the men into an administrative office and laid him on the couch. They poured half the contents of a small liquor bottle from the hotel fridge on his shirt. The men’s guns were hidden under the couch. They left the taller guard snoring at his desk after sprinkling him with the rest of the liquor.
Whew. She waved the fumes away and nodded at Seth. “Jermon might think it odd the guards are sleeping so soundly, but the liquor smell makes it plausible. At least they might survive this way.”
“It also allows us to move around more freely. I’m going upstairs to keep an eye on the airshaft. They may come in the same way we did. If so, I’ll hear them before they’re inside, and we can be ready.”
“What did you think of Tryst’s idea—allowing Jermon to find the statue before confronting him?”
“It may save us a lot of time—as long as they don’t escape with it.”
Kam exaggerated a shiver. “Don’t even say that. You’ll jinx us.”
It was after midnight when Seth came softly down the basement stairs. “They’re here. I heard movement in the airshaft.”
Kam, Trystan, and Tad sprang to their feet. They’d been waiting in the hallway since finishing another fruitless search of the storage room. They followed Seth to the first floor and separated to hide in the museum’s dark shadows. They’d deactivated their rings once the museum was closed and the guards drugged. Active invisibility magic created flickering shadows in the dark that other elves would notice and recognize. They’d agreed to use the rings sparingly, if at all, in lighted areas where the magic’s energy blended with existing light.
It was another few minutes before Kam saw the shadows coming down the long stairs from the balcony to the first floor. The distance was two or three times the ordinary height between floors in order to accommodate the huge statuary.
Four shadows. Good. They were all there. Jermon Lormarc and the three Cyrilians: Dreysel, Andolf, and Seye.
Instead of going to the basement immediately, they stopped on the first floor, and one shadow broke away to check on the guard at the front entrance. He returned to the others, and they headed for the side door.
Clearly they’d done surveillance before their break-in two months ago and knew where the guard stations were. They huddled near the side door, and Kam held her breath. She imagined they were discussing the missing guard. After a minute or two, they flipped the alarm switch off and opened the side door. Five men slipped inside.
Damn. She hadn’t counted on them bringing human conspirators.
While she pondered how this affected the overall plan, the entire group moved into the main hall and the rogue elves materialized. Jermon Lormarc had grown a beard, mostly white, but its pepper-colored strands set him apart from the three pale-haired Cyrilians. Their five swarthy human companions spoke in a heavily accented English that indicated they were members of the Mexican cartel.
“Let’s work quickly while the stupid guard sleeps it off,” Jermon said. “Seye, you stay up here and watch him. Look for the other man. Maybe there’s only one tonight, but I want to be sure. If either is a problem, you know what to do. The rest of you, follow me downstairs. We’ll find this statue and be out of here in less than an hour.”
Oh, yeah? Kam straightened, the mantle of her lieutenant rank falling quickly into place. She nudged Seth and whispered in his ear. “Take Tryst and Tad and hide in the dark end of the storage room so you can see what they’re doing. I’ll take care of things up here.”
He nodded, tagged Trystan and Tad, and they slipped away to get into position ahead of Jermon. Kam retreated to the front entry.
Seye checked on the sleeping guard, and then walked around opening doors and looking inside. It wasn’t long before he located the second guard on the couch. One whiff of the alcohol, and he grinned. He poked the sleeping figure a couple of times and left, pulling the door shut again.
The guard at the front desk snorted in his drugged sleep, and Seye jumped, pulling a knife from his waist sheath. He walked over and stared at the watchman as if he might silence him for good.
Kam tensed. She wouldn’t stand there and witness a murder.
“Hey, Seye. Everything OK? Did you find the other man?” Andolf stood at the top of the stairs.
“Yeah, fine. They must have had some party. He’s passed out on the couch. This disgusting pig is snoring.” He poked the guard’s shoulder with his knife.
“Aw, leave him be. Dreysel wants you to help us. There’s a lot of containers down there.”
“Sure. Why not?” Seye shrugged and glanced around the dimly lit area. “Being up here alone gives me the creeps anyway. Mummies, mummy parts, things that belong to the spirit world. I feel like they’re watching me.”
Kam drew farther into the shadows. The watcher he sensed wasn’t from the spirit world.
Andolf laughed. “Get over it. We got a job to do. Tomorrow this time we’ll be celebrating.”
The two Cyrilians went down the stairs. Kam waited several seconds, then followed, creeping in unnoticed to join Seth in the dark end.
> Jermon and his people appeared to be searching the numbers on the containers.
“Here, Senor. I have it.”
“No, you idiot. Not 2023,” Jermon snapped. He cuffed the Mexican on the back of the head, and the man jerked away. “It’s TK97-2123.”
How did they know that? Maybe they’d hacked the museum’s computers, or even more likely, they’d bribed or tortured someone for the information.
An hour passed. Kam’s knees stiffened from crouching, and she stood to relieve the tension. She had little fear of discovery. The renegade band was making quite a racket pushing and pulling and prying open crates without labels to locate the correct one. She finally scooted onto the edge of an empty container to watch. Another hour went by.
“This is it, senor boss,” one of the Mexicans shouted. “I found it. The bonus is mine!”
“Get out of the way.” Jermon shoved him aside. “I want to see for myself.” He checked the numbers, picked up a crowbar, and pried the crate open. Reaching inside, he brought out a large piece wrapped in paper and some kind of special padding. Ripping the coverings away, Jermon grabbed the black statue inside and turned, hoisting it with one hand over his head. “The power will be mine.” His green eyes cast an eerie glow…and his other hand held a 9mm handgun.
Kam’s stomach roiled at the sight, and she reached for her bow. It was time to put a stop to this.
Before she could act, Jermon raked his Mexican crew with rapid fire. Three went down instantly, but one of them returned fire, even as blood poured from his chest. The two left standing dove for cover behind the crates, yelling and scrambling for their own guns. One of them took an arrow in the back shot by Dreysel.
Kam and Seth automatically hit the floor to avoid the ricocheting bullets.
Jermon clutched the statue to his chest and ran out the door with Dreysel and his friends close behind. Kam sprang to her feet to give chase. Seth shot the last elf heading out the door, and Seye fell, an arrow through his thigh. Trystan and Tad tackled the only surviving Mexican.