Evelyn didn't ask how they'd acquired it once on Egyptian soil; Dragar and Christian knew all the same tricks Rhett and Dracht did. No doubt they'd bartered, bribed or outright manhandled the vehicle from one place or another. Although roomy, it was still going to be a snug fit. At least they didn't have to take two cars, a situation not optimal when they needed to make sure they stayed together.
It was surreal to see the Templars so decked out like they were, in armor and shields, swords strapped to their sides, standing beside such a modern mode of transportation. They looked better suited to a medieval setting with horses or chariots instead of a Suburban for travel.
Evelyn whipped a look behind her when she heard a sharp gasp.
There stood a woman, head wrapped in a scarf, her damp clothing stained and ragged. Age had shrunk her posture into a hunch of shoulders, a tuck of bony elbows, and a curl of gnarled hands. The wrinkles around the corners of her eyes were as deep as the lines around her mouth. She stared at Dragar, fingers fluttering against her lips, almost as if she thought she was looking at God himself. It was there in her dark gaze, an understanding that transcended all languages; she knew something extreme was happening and that these men—and women—were a part of it.
Instead of scaring her, Dragar inclined his head briefly, stowed his shield in the back, and went around to the driver's seat to climb in. Christian touched the old woman on the shoulder; Rhett crooked a knowing half smile, and Dracht murmured encouragement in her tongue.
The reverent moment was poignant enough to send tingles through Evelyn.
Sobbing, the woman blubbered prayers into her palms, then fell to her knees in a puddle with her head bent as if to wish them godspeed. Across the parking lot, standing next to a rather battered sedan, stood her family. They stared, wide-eyed, mouths agape. No one needed to explain that what they were seeing was extraordinary.
“Come on,” Rhett urged, guiding her, Alex and Minna into the Suburban.
Even her sisters seemed caught up in the strange moment, their expressions reflecting the seriousness of the situation. With a chill replacing the tingle, Evelyn tucked herself between Christian and Dracht on the middle seat.
Dragar used the same code on the ignition that he'd used to open the door; the engine growled to life. He steered them out of the parking lot without looking back.
Evelyn did though. One last glimpse; the family, hands reaching toward heaven, chanted fervently for their success. The sheer emotion and comprehension in their actions seemed geared toward the thought that the group was heading straight to their death.
†
“Let's see if the satellites still work.” Dragar punched in the name of the airstrip on the built-in GPS.
Evelyn stared out the windows. Gray, gray, so much gray. She almost wished there was a way to encapsulate the cheeriness of Eden, a snowglobe of sunshine to pull out when the heavy pall around them threatened to overwhelm the senses.
“If not, we can hit up some gas stations and see if they have maps. Usually they do for tourists,” Alexandra chimed in. She and Minna were all the way in the back of the vehicle.
“Check the glove compartment, too,” Evelyn added. Rhett, in the front seat, popped the latch and dug around inside.
At the same time, a monotone woman's voice bled out over the speakers giving directions to the private airstrip. In English. Either Dragar had selected it from a bevy of languages or the owners of the vehicle were English speakers themselves.
Rhett closed the glove compartment with a rasp of the latch.
“Guess so,” Rhett commented about the satellites.
More people, braving the strange skies and pestilence aftermath, loaded precious belongings into their cars. Evelyn regarded the semi-chaotic scene at an old looking apartment complex while the residents fretfully dashed between buildings and vehicles. They thudded through puddles and over a thick layer of dead insects.
Those who weren't huddling in their homes, hiding, waiting it out, were desperate to get to their loved ones.
Evelyn couldn't really blame them. She didn't see any signs of looting, not in this smaller city, but she knew it wouldn't be long. This stretch along the Nile wasn't as built up with homes and businesses as others.
Eighteen miles to your destination, the woman said over the speakers, sounding quite human even through her stilted inflection.
“We'll get a feed until the really bad storms hit,” Alexandra said. “Then everything will go down.”
“If they hit.” Evelyn wanted to believe they'd find at least the first disc or two before the Sixth got broken. She felt Alexandra's stare boring into the back of her head. Alex really believed that at least the Sixth Seal would go.
Dragar raced them through the desert, bypassing a slower car on the road with a driver hunched over the wheel. The brief glimpse Evelyn got of the family seared itself into her brain: wild eyes, fearful expressions, white knuckles on the steering wheel. In the back seat, children hugged their toys—or each other. An elderly woman rocked back and forth, oblivious to the vehicle's momentum, prayers falling rapidly from her lips.
None of them paid any attention to the Suburban streaking over the asphalt.
And then suddenly they were off the asphalt, tearing over terrain so rough that Evelyn got thrown against the seat in front of her.
“Go right, go right!” Rhett shouted.
Beyond the two front seats, Evelyn caught a glimpse of a mob of at least three hundred people. Perhaps more. On foot, running, every kind of weapon imaginable in their hands.
Their expressions made the ones of the people in the car look tame. Panicked, edging on frenzy, going to extremes because they didn't know how to handle the stress of the situation other than to strike out at anything that moved. It was not just Egyptians on the prowl. She saw the paler skin of tourists or foreigners who had made Aswan their home. They felt safer as a group, no matter the color of their skin, when fighting an enemy they didn't exactly understand.
Dragar swerved around the edge of the melee, tires kicking up wet sand and other desert debris.
A shot rang out. Instinctively, Evelyn ducked.
On each side of her, Dracht and Christian braced their shields against the windows. Whether they would stop a bullet, Evelyn couldn't guess, but the quick thinking of the Templars surprised her. Rhett, too, she could tell by the clink of metal and wood against the dashboard.
“Let's just hope they don't go for the tires,” Dracht said.
“Were they shooting at us?” Evelyn asked. She peered up at the dark haired Knight without lifting her head from where she'd bent near her knees.
“Hard to say. Shooting at anything, each other, the sky.” Dracht, with his shield jammed against the window, wrenched a look into the back seat.
Evelyn did too when she realized one of her sisters might have been hit; Minna and Alex were fine. Alexandra was scowling.
Fifteen miles to your destination, said the robo-lady.
They were going to reach the airstrip well ahead of Roman.
Evelyn hoped there wasn't another mob waiting there, desperate to find flights out of the private airport now that the commercial ones were shut down.
They encountered no more mobs or threatening groups of citizens passing along the outskirts of Aswan. Dragar avoided parked cars and other road debris with skill, aiming them right for the airstrip paralleling the city to the west.
What Evelyn didn't expect to see was a news crew standing next to their satellite van near the tarmac when they arrived.
“You've got to be kidding me,” Rhett said from the front seat.
“Could be they're waiting for their news station to send someone for them,” Christian said. “Looks like they're arguing about something.”
Three men and one woman shouted at each other, hand gestures flying. None of them had microphones or cameras, so they weren't in the middle of taping a segment. Collectively, they turned to watch the Suburban whip by.
; “She's probably complaining her hair's a mess and has to fix it before she goes live,” Alexandra quipped dryly.
From the front seat, Rhett laughed.
Alexandra, the sister famous for her wan quips at extreme times.
“We should just sit in the truck or else they'll come over,” Dracht said. He twisted around to see out the back window. “Too late. They're coming over here anyway.”
†
“They're going to see the armor and the shields even if we stay in the truck,” Christian said, swinging open his door. He stepped out, holding his shield tight against his body.
Evelyn scooted across the seat when he moved and climbed down to the damp pavement.
The news crew jogged their way. The woman, dark haired and dark eyed, looked like she might have been a native of the country but when she spoke she had no discernible accent at all.
“Excuse me! We--” The woman cut herself off when she caught sight of the men disembarking with their swords, their shields and their armor.
Evelyn could understand the shock she saw on all their faces; this wasn't dress up, there was no Renaissance fair anywhere near by, and something about the authentic carvings and make of the weaponry would have told anyone with half a brain that these men were on a mission far above and removed from any secret cabal or government.
The Templars were striking, larger than life. Each one epitomized the label warrior.
“...what's going on here?” the woman asked. Astute, her eyes narrowed.
Her three companions, one Egyptian and two Americans, darted startled looks between the group. They weren't fooled into believing these people had gone off their rockers and were waiting for the end of the world in costume.
“Why don't you go back to your van and wait for word,” Dragar suggested, always the moderator in any situation. Calm, controlled, quiet, he exuded an air of leadership just a step above the rest.
The woman glanced between them all. She licked her lips. “You have the responsibility to tell us what's going on. You know something. Henry, go get the camera.”
One of the American looking men, the one with brown hair and a scar on his cheek, about-faced.
Christian slithered his sword out of the sheath and angled the blade so that it cut the man off from going anywhere.
“I don't think so,” Christian said.
The newsman stopped dead in his tracks. “Whoa, whoa, careful there.”
Evelyn snapped looks between the news crew and the Templars. All they needed was to have their faces blared across whatever TV stations were still up and running.
Dragar didn't look perturbed whatsoever. Rhett seemed mildly annoyed and Dracht was impassive, staring the Egyptian down.
Like it was a quick draw at the OK Corral, the other American, the sandy blonde with ivy league good looks, whipped his cell phone out. He brought it up, angling it away from Christian toward Dracht to try and take a picture. Maybe a quick video.
But Christian didn't miss a trick. With a flick of his wrist, he moved the blade from in front of one man to the wrist of another, disarming him of the cell phone in a move that was almost too quick to see.
The cell phone landed on the ground and Christian crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. Standing nearly nose to nose, he drove his point home.
“No pictures, no video.”
“Okay man, okay.” The blonde man backed up a step, palms up in a sign of surrender.
“Very good. What are you all doing here, anyway?” he asked.
Evelyn discovered that Christian could be just as assertive as Rhett and Dracht when he wanted to be. She'd witnessed some of that at the Templar stronghold and on the yacht when they left Crete for Egypt.
It seemed a lifetime ago.
“We were supposed to meet a flight out of here yesterday, but they got delayed in the weather. Haven't been able to raise anyone at the station to check on the status for about three hours,” the news man with the scar said.
“Where were you going?” Dracht asked. They were a foreign crew, no doubt about it.
“The helicopter was supposed to fly us to Cairo where a private jet is waiting—or should have been—to take us back to the States,” the blonde replied.
“Why didn't you just drive? You could have been nearly there.”
“The engine's giving us trouble,” the woman said. She hadn't lost an ounce of her suspicion about the group.
Evelyn could tell by the shifty way she watched them, the way she tried to figure out what was going on.
Alexandra snorted, but for once didn't lambast anyone with witty repartee. Minna regarded the situation with typical silent aplomb.
“Take the Suburban and go. I'd lay good odds that your helicopter isn't coming. Not today, not tomorrow,” Dracht said. He rattled off the code to start the engine.
“But what about--”
“Don't make him tell you twice,” Rhett said. He stood out of the way so the four media members could get in.
The woman looked like she wanted to balk. Her lips opened then closed again when Rhett arched a brow. Without further comment, the four stepped past and climbed into the Suburban.
“Let's hope your buddy makes it here, or we're gonna have to find two cars instead of just one to get us where we're going,” Alexandra muttered to no one in particular.
The Suburban started up and pulled away. Three of the four occupants twisted to look back out the window.
“We needed them gone. I'm sure there's more recording equipment in the van over there and they'd get their hands on it while we were boarding the jet or something.” Dragar made sure the crew left the tarmac before turning his attention back to the rest of them.
“Y' know, if they had any more cell phones on 'em, or if they make it back, they'll have a hell of a story to tell in the aftermath of all this,” Alex pointed out.
“I think the media has enough of a story to last them a lifetime,” Christian chimed in.
Alex conceded that with a grunt.
Evelyn glanced at the sky. No change. Which was a good sign so far. The bad thing was that the Sixth Seal could have already been broken and none of the other signs had happened yet. There was always that several hour delay between the breaking and the actual event.
She waited with the others, impatient to get on with their mission.
A little more than two hours later, the low roar of an airplane engine snapped Evelyn out of her reverie. Everyone lurched to their feet, attention swinging toward the long runway. Some had been sitting on old crates, others leaning against the building. In the gloomy distance, Evelyn could see a pinprick of light and another one flashing. The jet circled around and descended, making a smooth touchdown on the tarmac.
Dragar wasted no time. Shield in hand, he led the way toward the wide open area around the runway.
The jet taxied back toward them after turning a slow circle and came to a stop.
Evelyn didn't know much about private jets but this one looked sleek, the white paint glossy with a black and gray stripe down the sides. Six small windows, lit from the inside, gave the impression of inviting warmth.
A few minutes later, the pilot, Roman, lowered the steps.
Dragar made a round of introductions and let the women go first. Evelyn, behind Minna, climbed up and into the jet. Leather seats the same color gray as the stripe outside sat on both sides of the small aisle, some with tables between. A short couch behind them could seat perhaps three people, she guessed. Or one stretched out.
Beyond, at the back, was a small service area for drinks or food, a small refrigerator and a door leading to a bathroom. The plane wasn't designed with a bedroom, like some, but it was cozy and clean and Evelyn sank down into a seat while the engine hummed around her. Rhett sat in the one beside her, armor creaking, the shield and sword—after he unhooked the sheath from the belt—set before him on the floor. There was more than enough room between their chairs and the ones directly in front.
She did
n't resist when he curled his fingers around her own. Squeezing, she rested her head against the seat, staring at a fixed spot on the wall.
Dragar exchanged destination information with Roman and then he too found a seat.
Dracht sat with Alexandra, Minna next to Dragar and Christian sat alone.
Less than ten minutes later they taxied down the runway and roared into the overcast sky.
The hunt for the Seals was on.
Chapter Three
After a disorienting flight through cloud cover that never seemed to break, they started their final descent into a private airstrip outside of Jerusalem. Rhett and the other Templars slept, reserving their energy for battle. Even Alexandra slept, head lolled aside, hair layered across her face.
Evelyn couldn't sleep a wink. Couldn't rest. With every mile they drew closer to Jerusalem her stomach tied itself into tighter knots, twisting and gnawing until the pain was real enough to make her squirm in her seat. But she knew with strange certainty that they were where they needed to be. This was the city that housed one of the Seals.
She couldn't figure out why the driving need to get off the plane and move, follow some invisible trail, felt so strong until she glanced down at her and Rhett's hands. Fingers laced, they'd been that way the entire time.
The divining compass sat in his armor somewhere and because they were touching, she felt the same thing he would when he woke up.
Which he did when the wheels made contact with the tarmac. Sitting up suddenly, he squeezed her fingers and let go, rubbing a hand across his chest, right over the armor, with a strange look on his face.
“I felt it, too,” she whispered.
He looked over. “It's stronger here than it was in Eden, or even on Philae. Maybe the closer we get the more pull there is.”
“Maybe. How do you feel?” she asked. The pressure inside the cabin made her ears pop.
“A little better. Did you get any sleep?”
“No. I couldn't sleep.”
“Nervous?”
“Of course. My stomach is tight and my shoulders are so tense they feel like marble.” She rolled them to try and unclench the muscles. The mantra, her determination to get through and face her fears, only went so far.
Daughters of Eve Collection (Books 1, 2 & 3) Page 50