Sands of Time (Out of Time #6) (22 page)

Simon heard what Whiteside was saying, but his eyes were fixed on the drawing of what looked exactly like his pocket watch. The shape, the crown and stem, all of them were an exact match for the watch. It was upside-down, but the resemblance was unmistakable.

“Of course, Aten replaced all of the other gods,” Whiteside said. “That’s undoubtedly what the papyrus was referring to with the sun disk shining in his palm and all that.”

“Yes,” Simon said. Whatever remaining doubts he had that the watch was truly buried with the pharaoh faded away. “Remarkable.”

~ ~ ~

On the fourth day, their boat traversed the last bit of the long u-shaped curve in the Nile that arched to the west and ended near Luxor. Simon could see the Winter Palace standing like a white colossus on shore even from miles away.

The boat pulled up to the landing at the very foot of the hotel. A wobbly, wooden plank was draped across the space between it and the short pier. Beyond that, rows of water steps that had been carved into the rocky bank led from the landing to the forecourt of the grand hotel. From there, double marble staircases led up to a colonnade and the horseshoe-shaped terrace that ran the length of the enormous Winter Palace Hotel.

They crossed the threshold under an immense parapet emblazoned with the hotel’s name and were shown to their rooms. The view from their third-story suite was spectacular. The Nile stretched out in both directions. Across the river sat the Theban Hills, hiding within them the riches of the Valley of the Kings.

Simon and Elizabeth barely had time to shower and change for the party that night. Elizabeth watched for a moment as he wrestled with his bow tie and then took pity on him and brushed his hands away. She gently pinched the knot and adjusted the wings. Satisfied, she patted his chest and turned to admire them both in the mirror.

They looked every inch the 1920 society couple they were supposed to be. His tuxedo was smart and well-pressed, but it was Elizabeth that had his attention. He’d practically had to force her to buy the vintage gown they’d found back home. It was outrageously expensive, but looking at her now, worth every penny. The pale green silk chiffon and embroidered crystals showed off the creamy skin of her shoulders and just enough of her chest to make him slightly uncomfortable. As she turned, the chiffon moved like gossamer, just brushing her knees above her bare and quite lovely legs.

“Ready?”

“Hmmm?”

She smiled, realizing she’d caught him staring. “The party,” she reminded him.

“Right.” Simon held out his arm and they headed downstairs for yet another round of cocktails and smalltalk. God help him.

One of the larger salons had been staged for the cocktail party celebrating Jouvet’s dig, although what there was to celebrate yet eluded Simon. So far as he could tell, the man had found a scarab and willing mark in a rich patron and nothing else.

No one seemed to mind though. Any excuse for a party was welcomed with open arms and hollow legs. Nearly one hundred people mingled inside the plush salon, some in large chairs by the windows enjoying the view of the Nile. Others stood in small packs enjoying the glasses of champagne that continually circulated the room on silver trays. Small talk, gossip, general inanity. Simon was glad, not for the first time, that he’d given up this sort of life.

Elizabeth, always attuned to his moods squeezed his arm and gave him a reassuring smile. He took a bracing breath and they plunged into the fray.

They’d just freed themselves from yet another story about Mrs. Cavandish’s corgis when Jouvet caught them. Simon groaned inwardly and plastered a false smile onto his face.

“Ah,” he said. “There is someone I should like you to meet.”

He pulled them toward a small group who was busily chatting away. At the center, with her back to them, stood a slender woman in a deep purple velvet dress with black, almost aubergine hair.

“My mysterious patroness,” Jouvet said, gesturing to the woman. “Pardon?” He stepped closer to her to get her attention.

“Mrs. Katherine Vale,” Jouvet said. “May I present, Mr. and Mrs. Simon Cross.”

When she turned Simon’s blood ran cold and he heard Elizabeth gasp softly beside him.

Eyes of pale soulless violet.

The rest of the room faded from existence. Jouvet and other partygoers blurred and the hum of voices dulled. Simon stood, frozen for a moment, stunned. All he could see was her, Madame Petrovka, the cold, heartless psychopath standing in front him, smiling.

Her grin broadened, the cat about to eat the canary. Her eyes glittered with barely bridled excitement at his shock and discomposure. Chest rising and falling quickly with excitement, her eyes danced as she tried to control her exhilaration at her moment of triumph.

“Well, hello again,” she said, in a voice so hard and smooth it could have been a knife.

Simon felt an icy hand grip his heart. There was no surprise in her face, no shock. She’d
expected
this,
planned
this. And they’d walked right into it.

“You know each other?” Jouvet said in surprise.

Vale, or whatever the hell she was calling herself these days, laughed. “Yes, we met in San Francisco, wasn’t it? Imagine my surprise when I found out you were here and friends of Henri’s.”

Simon barely found his voice. “Yes.” He reached over and without looking took hold of Elizabeth’s hand. She gripped his tightly.

Vale smiled again and her calculating gaze shifted from Simon to Elizabeth. “You were unmarried when last we saw each other. I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, her voice surprisingly calm.

Vale’s eyes shifted to their joined hands for a moment. “Such a lovely couple. No doubt you have nurseries full of children by now?”

Simon felt Elizabeth start slightly at the mention of children. The movement wasn’t lost on Vale. A small quirk of her lips gave away her pleasure at having found another vulnerability. Her eyes danced over them in delight, taking in every nuance of their clothing, their body language. Delighting in their fear. Every bit of knowledge she gained was a potential weapon in her arsenal of manipulation and cruelty. And all Simon could do was stand there.

His heart thundered in his chest as he tried to regain his feet. He’d like to start by putting one on her bloody throat.

“Mrs. Vale?” he said, hoping no one but her heard the loathing in his voice. “You’ve remarried. Again.”

She stifled her amusement at his jibe and sighed dramatically. “Sadly, my dear husband is no longer with us.”

Simon was disgusted, but hardly surprised. She’d killed her first husband, and who knew how many others.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Elizabeth said, her tone and words compassionate, and only Simon hearing the false note.

The offer of sympathy was unwelcome and her gaze shot to Elizabeth. The mask of calm composure slipped for just a moment and her pure, unadulterated hatred showed through. Elizabeth flinched, and then instinctively, Simon edged forward slightly, putting himself in front of Elizabeth.

The brief flash of anger subsided and Vale’s icy self-assurance returned. She wound her arm through Jouvet’s. “We really should mingle, Henri.” She turned her attention back to Simon and Elizabeth. “It’s
so
nice seeing you again. I do hope we have a chance to catch up later. I’m just dying to hear what you two have been up to.”

Henri, if he’d been aware of any of the subtext, hid it well and blithely escorted Vale toward another group of guests.

Once they’d moved a fair distance away, Elizabeth clutched at Simon’s arm, her eyes wide with the same alarm he felt. “Holy crap.”

Simon watched Vale and Jouvet across the room. “Yes,” he said absently, his mind racing. “Come on.”

He quickly led her from the room, ignoring a greeting from Whiteside as he did. Once they reached the main hall, he turned back to make sure they hadn’t been followed.

“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked.

Simon looked around the busy vestibule. It wouldn’t do. They needed somewhere they couldn’t be seen. “Getting us the hell out of here.”

He took Elizabeth’s arm, but she resisted.

“Elizabeth,” he said and pointed back into the salon. “That woman is insane.”

“Believe me, I know. But we’ve been through this. We can’t go.”

They had, but that was before
she’d
come along. He gave up looking for a place downstairs. Their room would do. “The hell we can’t.”

“Hey,” Jack said, as he hurried to their side. “What’s going on? You ran out of…” His expression darkened. “Jeez. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He paused and then looked anxiously around. “You didn’t, did you?”

“Worse,” Simon said.

“Zombies?”

Simon sighed impatiently. “We’re leaving.”

“No, we’re not.”

Simon glared down at Elizabeth and took a calming breath. It didn’t work.

Jack stared at them both in confusion. “Maybe someone should tell me what’s going on.”

Simon sighed. “Upstairs.”

Jack nodded and followed them up to their room. Once Simon had locked the door behind them, he moved to close the drapes.

“Okay,” Jack said. “What the hell happened back there?”

Elizabeth sat down in a corner of the sofa in the sitting room and played nervously with the piping of one of the throw pillows. “Do you remember what I told you about San Francisco?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, he was being a controlling jerk,” he said, nodding toward Simon, “and you went alone to try to stop some Council guy from dying.”

Simon scowled at Jack’s interpretation, accurate though it might be, and pushed ahead. “The antecedent of a Council member.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Charles Graham, a Council member from our time had abandoned his partner in 1888 London. She went a bit mad and ended up in Bedlam, the mental hospital.”

“Right,” Jack said, as he took a chair opposite her. “She escaped the looney bin, pretended to be a psychic and tried to kill the guy’s great, great grandfather or something.”

“Did kill him,” Simon corrected. He walked over to the seating area, but remained standing. He stared down at Jack. “She tortured the man with the ghost of his dead child until he went mad and killed himself.”

Jack nodded, his usual casual flippancy gone now. “But his wife was already pregnant so your Charles Graham lived. What was her name? Madame—”

“Petrovka,” Simon finished for him. “But she’s going by the name of Katherine Vale now.”

Jack sat up in alarm. “Now? You mean she’s here?”

“And seriously scarier than I remember,” Elizabeth said. “And she was pretty scary then.”

Simon had to agree. There was always an unhinged nature to the woman, there had to be considering what she’d done, but now, the way she’d looked at Elizabeth…It was absolutely terrifying.

He put that thought aside and refocused. “She’s Henri Jouvet’s mysterious benefactor.”

“But wait,” Jack said, sitting forward. “Didn’t you trick her into going back to the asylum with a rigged watch?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I did.”

“We did,” Simon corrected her. Elizabeth had always harbored guilt about that, although he couldn’t fathom why. The woman was a cold-blooded killer, and one that hated them with a passion. They’d deceived her into using a watch, but instead of granting her freedom, it had landed her back in Bedlam, her prison for twelve years.

Simon tried to put the pieces together. “Somehow she’s managed to escape. Again.”

“Or somebody got her out,” Jack said.

Elizabeth looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

Jack shrugged. “She was a Council member, right?”

Simon nodded and sat down next to Elizabeth.

“That Travers guy said there was a Shadow Council made up of, well, evil Council members,” Jack said. “I’d say she fits the bill pretty well.”

Simon’s anxiety rose at the thought, but it made sense. Or it was starting to.

“If I were up to no good, working for the Shadow Council,” Jack continued, “I’d recruit people who had experience with time travel and maybe a grudge or two against the good guys for added inspiration.”

Elizabeth whistled softly. “She’s got those. In spades.”

Simon took hold of Elizabeth’s hand and remembered something Travers had told them. “And not just against us. No wonder Charles Graham is running for his life.”

“Do you think she tried to kill him?” Elizabeth asked and then rolled her eyes at what she saw was a silly question. “Of course, she did. She’s…”

“Insane,” Simon supplied.

“Well, true,” Elizabeth conceded. “But clever, too.”

“That’s a bad combination,” Jack said.

Simon’s frown deepened. “She knew we were going to be at that party.”

“Maybe she just found out?” Jack suggested.

“No, the look on her face, that was from a woman who’d anticipated this, savored it,” Simon said. “I don’t know when she knew or how she knew but…maybe Jouvet mentioned us.” He turned to Elizabeth. “Speaking of whom you will not be spending any more time with.”

Elizabeth didn’t argue but, Simon noticed, she didn’t agree either.

He was about to remind her of the dangers when she said softly, “Maybe she found out we were coming here and all of this is for us?”

“No,” Simon said. “I don’t think so. I think she’s here for the watch. Why else would she fund Jouvet’s dig?”

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “And the Cult of Sekhmet? They must be working for her. They killed Mason, stole his watch from Jack and have done everything they can to keep us from finding out where Shelton’s watch was.” She looked at Simon curiously. “But why would they help her?”

“She can be very convincing, can’t she?” Simon said, wishing he could spare her the truth of it, but knowing he couldn’t. “And I’m sure the cult was not an arbitrary choice on her part. Sekhmet is the goddess of vengeance.”

“Against us,” Elizabeth said.

Simon arched his eyebrows and shook his head. “Perhaps.”

“Well, the good news is,” Jack said, scratching his chin in thought, “that you’re not dead.”

“Yes, I like to think that’s good news,” Simon said blandly.