She froze, and her pulse quickened. Paralysis was creeping in. Too afraid to move in any direction, she decided to go back to the water and get her bearings again.
But just before moving back, she saw something appearing out in the darkness.
A glowing shape. Not far. She squinted, shook her head and tried to focus. Yes, there it was. Someone was there. Someone with a light.
She pulled out her gun. Stood up and aimed. “Freeze!”
But it didn’t stop. She could tell it was a man now, emitting a radiance, which must be from a flashlight directed on himself. Saw his clothes, his stooping shoulders. His red hair.
Montross.
“I said freeze!”
Damned psychics. There must have been another way out, or else the explosives hadn’t done a good enough job. Oh well, this was actually good news. Proof that she was chosen. Marduk had sent her a gift.
“Montross! Get over here and give me that light.”
He stopped, turned toward her. Didn’t speak.
The light was odd. It only seemed to glow around his body, without providing any illumination beyond. She couldn’t tell if he was back at the shore, heading for the boat, or maybe just past the portal. The only thing she was sure of was that he couldn’t be in the army’s midst. Or else the arrows would be flying and swords would be hacking him to pieces.
That was good news for her. And it was his fatal mistake.
Screw this. She aimed and fired.
But he was still standing, maybe a little to the left of where he had been. She aimed again. Wait. This was Xavier Montross. She remembered. He could see his own death. That meant her attempts at taking him down would have been foreseen. He was toying with her. But she could get around that.
Look at him. So arrogant.
Fine. If you can only see your death, then I won’t kill you. Just hurt you real bad.
He’d never expect it. She lowered her shoulder and flexed her legs, judging the distance. He had to be only about twenty yards ahead. Just like Quantico’s qualifying tests. She’d be on him before he knew it.
She took off. Bursting with speed, running headlong, preparing take him down and beat his face in with her gun.
Six strides in, she realized she’d been played. The first giveaway was that Montross — or whatever it was that looked like him — broke into a huge smile. The second was that she brushed against something hard that jarred her sideways into something else, something man-sized.
Another stride and she realized her left arm had been cut to the bone, blood spurting and flailing uselessly.
I’m in the army.
She tried to stop but her momentum carried her forward, almost ten feet away from him now, where he had folded his arms, and his smile had vanished, replaced by a look of grim satisfaction.
At his feet lay the briefcase.
Mine! She thought, and lunged for it.
She heard a click, and the ground beneath her feet settled.
There was movement. Lots of it. Grating sounds as warriors swiveled to her location, limbs flexed, swung and drove. She felt her rib cage snap as it was penetrated from left to right as a cold implement burst through her spine and out her stomach. She looked down to see the glint of steel. Looked back up and Montross’s glow was fading, his image disappearing even as that smile returned.
She had only time left for one brief thought.
I’m not… the Chosen.
17
Montross opened his eyes. His fingers unclenched from each other. Disoriented, he teetered on the edge of the crypt, almost falling backward into water before Nina caught him.
He blinked, took a moment to catch his breath, then glanced around before nodding to Nina. “I’ve taken care of securing our items for later retrieval. Now, what’s up with this crew?”
Nina shrugged, aimed the light at the feet of the four psychics, with their eyes closed, lost in their own trances. “They’ve been like this for three minutes. We don’t have much time left.”
Montross pulled himself up. He bent down at the head of Genghis Khan’s coffin. “Grab his feet,” he told Nina. “Let’s make us some room.” They lifted him, gracefully, carefully. Then, following Montross’s lead, Nina gently set the body down, lowering it onto the surface of the rising water. Then Montross gave the leather shoulder pad a reverential push, sending the body floating away.
“Farewell, Lord Temujin.” He stood on the center of the crypt dais next to the lever that had brought down the tower and studied it. “Give them another minute, then we’ll try something. It has to involve this lever somehow.”
“Or not,” said Phoebe, blinking and standing up fully. “It might be something much worse.”
Orlando woke himself up, then Alexander looked their way. “I couldn’t see anything.”
“Me neither,” said Orlando.
“And my dear brother Caleb?” Montross shined his light on Caleb’s face, which remained placid, motionless except for his eyes, which seemed to be fluttering in the full stages of a dream-vision.
“Don’t need him,” Phoebe said with a slight smile.
“So, what did you see?” Nina asked.
“I saw that somebody’s going to need to brave the eels.” She took a deep breath. “Those three step-stones down there that you used to activate the tower’s descent? They’ve got to be unstuck, pressed down again. Dragon, gryphon, centaur.”
Orlando took off his boots and got ready to jump in.
“What?” he said when everyone turned to look at him. “I’ve just done the math. I’m the expendable one here, the only one with a shot at this. And since gnarly girl here has still got the gun, I’m not going to wait to be asked.”
Phoebe smiled at him. “You’re my hero.”
He dropped over the side where Alexander was pointing. “That should be the dragon.”
“I hope,” said Orlando as he jumped in. With a splash, his feet struck the bottom and the water rose to his neck. The stone beneath his feet shifted, then rose up. “Okay, one down. And then up, I guess.” He watched the lights stabbing into the dark water around him. “Uh, Nina? I hope you’re as good a shot with these eels as you were with those soldiers.”
From above, a light darted around his body, scanning for movement. “Only because we need you,” she said. “Otherwise, you’re not worth the price of ammo.”
He was about to move clockwise toward the gryphon at the twelve o’clock position, when Nina fired. He flinched with the splash right in front of him. A gout of purplish blood erupted, and an eel thrashed and spun, contorting itself into knots. Orlando saw a flash of yellow eyes and needle-sharp teeth, then it was gone.
“Great,” he said. “Now you’ve made it bleed. It’s going to lure its friends. Hope they’re cannibals.”
“Maybe not,” said Montross, pointing to the soldiers’ bodies, “but you may luck out. There are a lot of other lunch options floating around.”
Orlando moved, treading water and swimming to where the lights led him. In his peripheral vision he saw a floating body, waterlogged. A head turned his way and a single eye, half-eaten, blinked at him from a partially devoured face. As he watched, a grayish-blue eel slithered around the corpse’s neck, then attached its jaws to the man’s neck.