Desire Me (37 page)

“Come and sit.” Agnes patted the chair next to her.

“I still don’t understand how I could be the dove,” Sabine said, sinking into the chair.

“It is your role in the prophecy,” Agnes said. “You were chosen, Sabine.”

Sabine shook her head. “None of this makes sense.”

“Of course it does, when you look at it from the correct angle. The date of your birth is tied to the prophecy. Your relationship
with Max—the one man who was able to locate our map. The final clue of the quest, stating you had to have the right eyes to
see what was before you. You said yourself you had to read that clue in the mirror,” Agnes said.

“But if the entire quest was built as a distraction for the Chosen One, how would that have worked for him?” Sabine asked.

“It wouldn’t. The clue says it all. If you have the right
eyes.” Agnes placed a warm hand on Sabine’s arm. “Our ancestors
set the hunt up to distract the Chosen One, but they must have known it was a possibility that someone else would find the
clues.”

“But there is no logic to me being the dove,” Sabine said. “I have no skills or training that would prepare me to do physical
battle with a man. How am I supposed to defeat someone who has already killed military officers and guardians, men far more
prepared to defend themselves than I am?”

Agnes merely shook her head, her expression an odd combination of resignation and ruefulness. “I cannot tell you that. All
I can say is that you will defeat him. If Phinneas saw it, it will come to fruition.”

Sabine knew that Agnes’s faith in Phinneas stemmed more from her love of the man than from her belief in him as the Seer.
Sabine didn’t know if she could find that kind of confidence. “I will have to kill him to stop him.” Sabine swallowed hard.

“When the time comes, you will find the strength to do whatever it is you are destined to do. Trust your instincts,” Agnes
said.

Sabine said nothing. Her mind frantically searched for the answer, for the key to stopping the Chosen One. Nothing came. She
hoped Agnes was right, but there was a lot at stake to rely on her instincts.

“There is more than weariness or fear in your eyes, child. I know what the pain from a broken heart looks like,” Agnes said.

“He betrayed me,” she whispered. “Oh, Agnes, I’m so ashamed. I trusted him; I gave him my body, my heart.” She drew in her
breath as a wave of pain crashed over her. Damn him.

“Perhaps he had good reasons for taking that vial,” Agnes suggested.

“Doubtful.”

Agnes said nothing; she simply held on to Sabine’s hand, stroking it gently.

“I’ve been as much a failure as my mother was. When it comes to matters of the heart, we cannot be trusted.”

“Sabine, your mother was not a failure,” Agnes said.

“She killed herself,” Sabine said.

Agnes sighed heavily. “Yes, she was ill. Even so, you are not your mother.”

“No, but evidently I’m not any stronger. I fell in love with Max despite my best efforts to avoid it and look what happened.
I should have been strong like you and ignored my heart.”

Agnes dropped Sabine’s hand. “Phinneas and I loved each other from the moment we met, and he never once sacrificed his duty
as guardian to follow his heart.”

“Strength,” Sabine said.

“No, stubbornness,” Agnes argued.

“He made a great sacrifice.”

“He was a fool, and that sacrifice got him killed. Would any of this have turned out differently had he chosen me?” She shrugged.
“Perhaps not. But perhaps it would have. I would have been there. I could have helped him fight off the Chosen One.” Her eyes
filled with tears.

“And you might have been killed as well,” Sabine said.

“But I would have died with my love. Died after having a lifetime of love. Not simply have love trapped inside my heart, but
to love every day. We had letters and we saw each other every once and again, but it was so rare.”

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “I would like
to think that if he had to do it all over again, he might make a different
choice. He might choose me instead of duty, then I wouldn’t have been available to be selected guardian.

“In the end, his duty killed him and now I am alone. He could have done both, but he wouldn’t take the risk.” She cupped Sabine’s
cheek. “Don’t make the same mistake we made.”

“But our family, our Atlantean heritage, is my destiny,” Sabine said.

“No, child,” Agnes said. “Max is your destiny.”

S
pencer waited outside the marquess’s townhome and watched as Sabine’s three aunts climbed into a carriage. A second rig, this
one filled with two guards sent to protect them, followed. Then, half an hour later, Max received a summons to report immediately
to his club and he left.

He hadn’t left Sabine unprotected. There were guards here, too, that Spencer would have to contend with. But Max’s absence
would give him the opportunity he needed.

It was time, past time really, for him and Sabine to meet.

Sabine tore through another drawer in Max’s desk, but still she found no hint of her missing vial of elixir. More than likely,
that bastard had it with him. Perhaps he was even now meeting with scientists or a writer from the
Times
intending to finally prove the existence of Atlantis. If that happened, she and her aunts would never have any peace, and
her attempts to protect the elixir would never be enough. Not against the whole world.

She dropped the drawer on the floor, not even bothering to replace it in Max’s desk. Since he’d departed nearly half an hour
before, she’d searched a good portion of his study, but her efforts were proving fruitless.

She turned, and she caught sight of the map. He still hadn’t replaced it in its frame, and instead it draped across his desk.
She ran a finger lovingly across the illustration. She should take it. Did it not belong to her people? Had he not stolen
it from the hiding place they’d selected to keep it protected?

He’d worked long and hard to find it where other men, grown men, had failed. Phinneas’s vision had called the finder of the
map a “great one.” But a Seer could be wrong, couldn’t he? Max had only gone after the map to get approval from his family.

He’d never gotten that from them, though. They’d perished before they had the chance to give it.

She traced one of the water rings. She didn’t want to love Max, especially now. But damned if she didn’t love him. And she’d
been right, loving someone else this much hurt.

“Miss Tobias,” a man’s voice came from the doorway behind her. “We finally meet.”

Her blood froze. He was here. The Chosen One. And she was all alone. Slowly she turned to face him, painfully aware that she
had nothing of use on her person to inflict any worthy injury.

But she was the dove, she reminded herself. Agnes had told her she had it within herself to destroy him.

The Chosen One was younger than she had expected. Much younger, as he was probably close to her age, but for whatever reason,
she’d anticipated an older gentleman. And he was handsome, strikingly so, with pitch-black
hair and chilling blue eyes. But
knowing how evil he was ruined his attractiveness.

“You know my name,” she said carefully. “Perhaps I might know yours as well.”

“You’ve been expecting me?” he asked. He moved farther into the room. It was then that Sabine noticed the pistol in his left
hand.

She took a steadying breath. “I knew we would meet one way or another.”

“Spencer Cole, special advisor to the queen, at your service.” He gave her a mocking bow, but never took his eyes off her.

He worked for Queen Victoria. And he’d murdered her generals right under her nose. “Is that how you’ve been able to do it?”
she asked. “How you’ve been able to get close to those generals in order to assassinate them?”

His shoulders rose in a shrug. “Working closely with her majesty does have its benefits.”

She wanted to keep him talking, partly because she was curious about him, but more to buy herself time. She had no idea how
she was going to stop him. Sabine caught sight of Achilles’ sword just to her right. “Does she know?” Sabine asked.

“Not yet. Though I suppose before the day is through she will.” He shrugged, with the casual air of someone discussing the
weather.

“You’re younger than I expected.” She inched herself so that she was within grabbing distance of the sword.

He smiled with a cruel grin. “My birthday is tomorrow, actually. I’ll be—”

“Twenty-five,” she guessed. So they shared a birthday—the Chosen One and the dove. What other connection did she have with
this man?

“How did you know?” he asked.

“It’s mine as well.”

For a moment it seemed as if they were strangers meeting for the first time and exchanging pleasantries, but of course, this
was much more than that. Lives depended on the outcome of this meeting. Lives quite precious to her.

“The prophecy states nothing about my sharing a birthday with a guardian.” He tilted his head with curiosity. “Nor do my grandfather’s
instructions,” he said.

She wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword. So far he hadn’t seemed to notice her standing over the weapon. She did
her best to lift the sword, but it would not budge. The heavy gold weapon sat firmly against the wood of Max’s desk. She looked
up to find him watching her in amusement.

“Even if you could lift that, you can’t hurt me,” he said.

“I never said I was the guardian.” Again she tried to move the sword, but could not leverage it.

“If not the guardian, who else would you be?” He walked slowly toward her, not in a casual manner, but with the slow, steady
gait of predator as it circles its prey.

A chill shivered down her back. She wished Phinneas’s vision had given her clearer instructions on how to destroy this man.

“Not the guardian.” He looked down at his hand, then held it up to show her his ring. “You’re telling the truth. Were you
the guardian, this would be glowing red. But we obviously have a connection. A shared destiny,” he said. “And I know you know
who that third guardian must be. One of your aunts, but which one?”

“It would seem my destiny is to destroy you,” she said, knowing her words would present no threat.

“You?” He chuckled. “I suppose you fancy yourself the dove, then?” He took several steps toward her, closing the distance.
He smiled, but the humor never reached his cold eyes. His right hand snaked around her wrist, holding her in place. “Have
you ever really looked at a dove? They’re such delicate, defenseless creatures. Fragile, really.”

He ran the cold metal of his pistol down her cheek, and she willed herself not to move. She refused to show him the fear surging
through her.

“I’ve always been fascinated with doves,” he continued. “I’m sure you understand why, given the prophecy. As a boy I studied
them. Put them in cages and simply watched them.” His icy eyes bore into her. “There are hundreds of ways to kill a dove once
you’ve caught one. I can crush their bones with a single twist of my hands. I’ve ripped off their wings, broken their necks—”

She wrenched free of his hold and moved to the other side of the room. He was worse than she’d imagined. She’d expected the
Chosen One to be clever, and while certainly a killer, she’d thought he’d be focused on the fulfillment of the prophecy, not
a malevolent man who obviously relished torture. Bile churned through her stomach.

He held his arms open and again came toward her. “Do your worst, dove,” he said. Then he burst into chilling laughter.

Had she been able to lift that sword, she would have had the perfect opportunity to run him through. But she had nothing.
“What happens now?” she asked. “You’ve killed seven generals, nine people including Madigan and Phinneas. And no doubt I’ll
be next. After I’m dead,” she said, “what will you do?” She had not yet resigned herself to death. But she knew he was skilled
and deadly, and
that even in extraordinary circumstances, she was at an extreme disadvantage.

He leaned his hip against Max’s desk. “I’m truly happy you asked, Sabine,” he said. “I’ve longed to share this with someone.
Thanks to the elixir from the other two guardians, I have been able to start feeding it slowly to the new lieutenant-generals”—he
pointed the pistol at her—“who, coincidentally, I was able to hand-select.”

Sabine listened to his words, but surveyed the room, searching for something, anything that would serve as a weapon. Max was
conservative in his decor, and aside from his books and the necessities of the room—chairs, desk, sofa—there wasn’t much else.
And then she remembered. The spear. It was old, and it was dull, but remarkably, it was also exposed. Max had broken the case
and hadn’t replaced the glass yet. She knew the spear was behind Spencer, on the other side of Max’s desk.

“Having the queen’s ear has been key in all of this,” Spencer continued, “but it hasn’t been easy, I assure you.”

He shoved off the desk with a speed she hadn’t been prepared for and closed in on her. She, in turn, moved away from him.
It was an odd dance of life and death.