Desire Me (25 page)

“Here, let me. You hold the bottles.” He handed them to her. It took several cranks to get the pump moving. The water creaked
and moaned through the pipes beneath the floor, then shot through the pump.

Sabine held each of the bottles under the flow, allowing them all to fill.

Once they’d completed that task, they went back into the chamber. They stood before the statue with the scale. Max closed
his eyes, trying to envision the image of the scale with the bottles. While these bottles were also all different sizes and
therefore held different amounts of water, they were not exact replicas. The bottles on the map were all different colors.
With his eyes closed, he could imagine them: a short red one and a tall purple one, a narrow green one. But the bottles here
were all made from the same yellow glass.

“Where do they go?” Sabine asked.

“This one,” he said as he picked up the tallest one, “goes here.” He set it down on the left scale plate. The scale itself
did not move, as it was carved of stone. But when he placed the second bottle, the sound of chains pulling through metal sounded
from behind the statue.

Sabine nodded. “So far, so good. Do you suppose if you get one wrong the flooring in here collapses as it did in my game of
Thistle?”

“Let’s not find out.” He lifted another bottle and eyed both sides of the scale, then finally set that one back down and retrieved
another one.

Carefully he placed bottles, and each time they heard
the chains. Finally only one bottle remained. He leaned forward, and
Sabine put her hand on his arm. “Wait. Before you set it down, examine them all and make certain you’re correct.”

He heeded her advice and checked all the bottles he had already placed. The one in his hand was short, but very round. He
looked again at the scale, and the tallest bottle caught his attention. He picked it up and tried to weigh each on his palms.

“I think this is right. Four on this side”—he set down the round bottle from where he’d retrieved the tall one—“and two on
this.” He placed the final bottle, and both Max and Sabine stood still waiting for what would happen next.

The chains creaked and through the wall another compartment opened. Inside was a small leather pouch, much like the one they’d
found in Mr. Travers’s grave.

He reached in and grabbed the wrapped packet, then handed it to Sabine. “You read this one,” he said.

Sabine reached for it to unwrap it at the same time as the stone shifted back into place, and then the ceiling began to move,
shifting downward.

“I think we’ve fallen into a trap,” Max said.

The ceiling had closed in on them so quickly that Max already had to hunch over. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out with
him into the spring-fed pool room. Stones fell from the columns, and the amphoras, as if in unison, broke free of the women’s
sculpted hands and crumbled into the empty pool beneath them. The pool itself split as if the earth sat ready to consume the
entire space.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Max said.

“Quickly,” Sabine added. Her heart beat so furiously
she was certain she’d choke on it. She moved as fast as she could behind
Max as he continued to drag her along.

A large stone fell right beside her. She screamed. They kept moving.

The floor shifted, and they both fell. Max sliced his arm on a broken piece of marble, and blood immediately appeared on his
sleeve.

“Max, you’re bleeding,” Sabine said, reaching out to touch his forearm.

“We don’t have time.” He pulled her to her feet and out of the arched area just as three columns crumbled to the ground. “This
whole place is falling apart. If we don’t get out of here before that happens, we’ll be buried alive.”

They reached the tunnel, and the very walls of it shook. The instability of their surroundings frightened Sabine to her core.

“Run, Sabine,” Max yelled.

She ran. Behind her, the tunnel seemed to disappear into the ground. But she kept moving forward, her heart pumping so fast
she felt certain it would explode.

Finally they reached the stairs that wound back up to the storeroom. Max ran up the stairs, and Sabine was right behind him,
but once she hit the second stair, something shifted beneath her feet and suddenly she was falling. Strong arms grabbed her
wrists, and she met Max’s gaze.

“Do not let go,” he said.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as her legs dangled under her. The floor beneath her completely disappeared, and
in its place was a gaping hole that was swallowed in darkness. “Max!”

“I won’t drop you. Hold on.” He leaned on the floor above where the stairs had been and pulled her upward.
Her stomach scraped
across the rough edge. She drew her legs up, struggling to find her footing.

Once she was able, she pushed herself up onto the floor and fell against him. Their labored breath mingled.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Any time. Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

T
hey ran out of the building, Max still holding tightly to her hand. Then they jumped off the front stoop. The wood creaked,
and the red bricks started to crumble and fall. Together they stood back and watched as the house shifted to the right, then
fell in on itself, until it was nothing more than a pile of wood and bricks.

Sabine swore.

“I’m beginning to wonder if this quest isn’t meant to kill us rather than provide something to save us,” Max said. He took
a deep breath. “Where’s that clue?” he asked.

Thankfully she’d stuffed the bag in her pocket when the ceiling had begun to crumble. She peeled away the leather and found
inside another papyrus note, written in the same handwriting. “‘
Bathed in blood, the dove commands by blade,
’” Sabine read. “Perhaps we are to kill him with some sort of knife or sword.”

Max nodded. “I think this confirms that the dove is a weapon. We should get to the carriage before it gets any darker. Hopefully
our driver has waited for us.”

“You paid him well enough to wait an entire year,” Sabine said.

They walked in silence for several moments before Max spoke again. “‘Bathed in blood’?”

“Well, that’s not a clue. Where are we supposed to search for a weapon?” she asked impatiently. “There are millions of them
all over the world,” Sabine said.

She was not the guardian, but Madigan had sent her to find the map. He’d essentially set her on this journey and whether she
felt prepared did not matter. Agnes needed her help.

“Yes, there are weapons all over. But this quest was created by your people, so I believe we’re dealing with only those here
in England. And we can assume it’s old. Judging by the age of that house, I’d guess these clues are about three hundred years
old.”

She took a sobering breath. He was right. They would persevere. Training or not, she had to succeed in this. And so far, they
had managed to accomplish all the tasks set for them. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, they made an excellent team.

“We can start at the British Museum,” Max suggested. “They have a rather large weapon collection.”

Sabine and Max made it safely to the confines of their carriage and set out on their way back to London. They had a few hours’
ride ahead of them, and it was already late. Her heart still beat wildly, pounding in her ears.

Max sat across from her, his legs taking up most of the space between them. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“A little scared, perhaps, but I’m in one piece.”

“Always a good sign.”

Blood still oozed from his wound, so she leaned forward to examine his arm.

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to pull it away from her.

But it looked deep enough for some concern. “Hold still,” she told him. She grabbed the fabric of his sleeve at the seam by
his shoulder and pulled. It ripped, and she kept tugging until it slid off his arm.

“That was my favorite shirt,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You can buy another.” She used the inside of the sleeve to wipe the excessive blood away. “This doesn’t
look good.” She rummaged through her bag but there were no supplies for stitches. “If we don’t attend to this, it will become
infected.”

“No. It will be all right. I’m certain I’ve had worse,” he said, but she could see the pain around his eyes.

She didn’t want to use the elixir, and she wasn’t truly authorized to do so outside of assisting the Healer. But she had no
choice. If she did nothing, they risked the wound festering until infection poisoned his blood. So she reached into her bodice
and pulled on the gold chain attached to the small vial. She removed the necklace, then popped off the lid. She twisted his
arm so she had a better view.

“What is that?” he asked.

She met his glance, but said nothing as she poured one drop onto the wound.

He jerked his arm away. “Bloody hell, that burns!”

“Hold still,” she said. She placed another tiny drop onto his arm, and he didn’t move.

“That’s elixir,” he said. He leaned forward and craned his neck to try to see the vial she held.

She replaced the lid and quickly dropped the necklace back inside the bodice of her dress.

“Do you always carry elixir with you?”

“We like to have some in case of emergency,” she said, trying to keep her face void of expression.

Cassandra lounged on her chaise, sipping brandy. Moonlight poured in off the balcony of her bedchamber, giving her skin a
luminescent quality. She wore nothing but a filmy dressing gown.

Johns knocked once, then came into her bedchamber.

She smiled at him, loving the way his eyes darkened as he took in her nearly nude state. “Did you take care of Mr. Olney?”

“I did. He fought me, or tried to, so there was some noise,” Johns said. “The authorities should find him tomorrow.”

“And you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No one saw me.”

“Excellent. Now then, tell me about your other assignment.” She shifted her position, allowing the dressing gown to open,
giving him a full view of her breasts.

He gaped at her display, then swallowed. “We can’t get to the girl,” Johns said.

“You’ve been to her shop.” Cassandra stood and walked over to her full-length mirror. The folds of her dressing gown flowed
behind her as she moved. “You know where she is. What do you mean, you can’t get to her?” Cassandra patted her hair, then
stepped away from the mirror.

He nodded. “She doesn’t appear to go to the shop much these days. We’ve followed her several times, but she is never alone.”

“Yes, yes, her aunts, I know. But you cannot find some way to dispose of three elderly women to get to the girl?” Cassandra
was impatient; she knew that about herself. She’d never been good at waiting for what she wanted.
But this was getting ridiculous.
That idiot chemist had proven to be a complete waste of time and money. Then he’d had the nerve to think he could threaten
her.

“It’s not the aunts,” Johns said. “Though they leave the shop each evening. They are no longer staying above the store.”

“Every night? Where do they go?” Cassandra faced Johns and was struck by the sheer masculinity of him. It intrigued and annoyed
her that after all these years she still desired him.

“That man you know. The blond fellow.”

“Max,” Cassandra whispered. So he had brought the whore home with him. “They all go to his townhome?”

“The aunts. The girl and Max left London. I sent Beaver and Platt to follow them. They lost them on a train. But Max and the
girl are back in London.”

Platt and Beaver were idiots; they would never be able to find anything on their own. “Tomorrow I will go with you to watch
them. I want to know what they are up to.” She walked up to him and ran her hand down his chest to the front of his trousers.
Already he was hard for her. “Perfect.”

She shrugged out of her dressing gown.

Spencer made his way into the man’s study. Jennings was an ambitious sort, but neither skilled nor connected enough for those
ambitions to take him far. He’d been an easy first choice for a lieutenant-general and now they were days away from his promotion.

“Cole,” he said as he stepped around his desk. “Good to see you again.” He closed the door behind Spencer. His mouse-colored
brown hair lay flat against his head, trying in vain to cover his premature balding. Jennings was older
than Spencer by at
least ten years, but he was neither as cunning nor as gifted, though the man somehow had a brilliant military mind.

Spencer sat on the large leather sofa before he’d been invited to do so. He crossed his legs, resting one foot atop his other
knee. “How are the plans coming along?”

Jennings jumped into motion. “I have maps.” He retrieved several maps from his desk and rolled them up, then handed them to
Spencer. “We have several alternatives as far as where to land in Africa, and which countries to take control of when. Once
we have the native soldiers trained, we shouldn’t have any problem occupying the continent. We’ll have them vastly outnumbered.”