“I…” Baahir muttered, voice shaking, “I don’t think this was in the Bible.”
“No,” Ifza said, swallowing hard, “this… this is something else.”
“Something magnificent.”
Both Baahir and Ifza turned toward Khaliq, a man who was wholly enthralled by what he saw. There was joy in his eyes. He looked like a child on Christmas morning.
Grant’s eyes were completely black. They contained none of the separations of color. The pupils, irises, and whites were all an inky black.
The doctor pressed his back against the glass as if anticipating what was about to transpire.
Grant Upton slid down from the table and attacked.
The doctor didn’t stand a chance.
Ifza turned away first, raising a shaking hand to her mouth.
Baahir wasn’t far behind her, seeing blood spray into the air in his periphery. It slathered the window in a healthy layer. He held back the contents of his stomach and stumbled back toward the elevator.
“Wha—” he gagged, “What happened to him?”
“Grandfather said that our sacred bloodline keeps us protected from the effects the hellstone has on the unworthy.”
“And those that don’t share our lineage?” Baahir asked.
Ifza looked at him. Her hard eyes had been softened by the carnal display. “They become something worse than death.”
Fear. It was the first emotion Baahir had seen out of the killer other than rage.
The elevator door slid open, and out stepped one of the large guards from upstairs. He pushed past Baahir, slowing when he took in the gruesome scene. Still, he continued forward and swiftly conversed with his superiors.
Baahir didn’t hear much, but what he did hear lifted his spirits.
Zahra?
Ifza stepped around the guard and bore holes into Baahir. “It seems that your dear sister has survived. She’s been spotted in Port Said and is traveling with a man who has long been a thorn in our side.”
Khaliq growled and headed back into the room across the hall from the surgical suite. The man’s change in demeanor hinted that he knew who Ifza was talking about.
“Oh, yeah?” Baahir asked, blowing out a long breath. “Who is it I should thank?”
Ifza regained her composure and said, “Waleed Badawi.”
Baahir burst out in laughter. “Uncle Wally? That’s the guy you’ve been having trouble with?” This news also called into question Wally’s relationship with the Kane family. Knowing what he knew now meant that Wally, plainly, was not his uncle.
So, who is Waleed Badawi, really?
Ifza’s phone vibrated again. She procured it from her pocket and shouted for her brother. Khaliq reappeared, no longer wearing his Anubian crown. His gold jewelry was gone, as well. The shendyt-kilt was the only covering Khaliq had on from his kingly wardrobe.
“We have our location,” she said. “And it is…familiar.”
Baahir didn’t know what that meant, nor did he have the opportunity to ask.
A strong hand slapped against the window, startling almost everyone. Of the four people in the hallway, Khaliq had been the only one showing no emotion, whatsoever. He stared at the figure moving behind the crimson smear, an intrigued look on his face.
“What will happen to him?” Baahir asked.
A wave of sadness and regret suddenly washed over Khaliq. “Mr. Upton has served his purpose. He will now be terminated and studied.” Khaliq didn’t look away. “Ifza, intercept Ms. Kane.” He finally took his eyes off the carnage and gave the woman a look that Baahir figured he typically used on his enemies. “Don’t fail me again.”
Ifza shrank away. Fear crept into her eyes. “My men are closing in as we speak.” She glanced at Baahir. “I’ve given them the order to do whatever is necessary to stop her. I will join them shortly.”
Khaliq nodded. “Good. I will lead a team into the desert and face my destiny.” His eyes moved from Ifza to Baahir. “And you, cousin, are coming with me.”
Chapter 60
Zahra
The world was fuzzy and muffled. Zahra couldn’t make out what she was seeing, only that she was currently still indoors — inside the shopping mall. There were a few people rushing about, but the place was mostly deserted now. A security guard was across the way, trying to usher an older couple outside.
She tried to sit up but couldn’t muster the strength, not yet. So, she just laid there — somewhere. Her head flopped to the right, and she spotted a familiar face. It was painted white and had big, red lips and an equally red, poofy wig.
Ronald McDonald? She blinked and shook her head. Am I in hell?
As her vision cleared, Zahra realized that, no, she wasn’t in hell, though her stomach would beg to differ based on where she had found herself. Zahra had landed atop the front counter of an Egyptian McDonald’s food court eatery.
Footsteps announced someone’s arrival. Zahra had no idea whether that someone was a friend or foe. The sound of a pistol’s hammer being locked back gave her the answer to her question. They were not friendly. She turned away from the kitchen area and looked out over the quick serve. A masked figure dressed in all black paused when he was spotted.
“Hello,” Zahra said, exhausted. She slowly sat up. “Can I take your order?”
“No,” the assailant replied, “but you can die.”
Before Zahra could respond, the man was shot from behind. When he fell, she saw the man’s killer, and her savior.
She gazed down at the dead man. “Would you like fries with that?” Zahra tentatively slid down from the counter. “Thanks, Wally.” It should have surprised her to see Wally take another man’s life so dispassionately, but she was rapidly understanding that the man wasn’t what he seemed.
Nothing in Zahra’s personal life was what it seemed.
He rushed over to her, limping worse than ever. “In the name of Allah, how are you still alive?”
She snickered and grabbed her side. “I… I sometimes ask myself the same question.”
Screams could still be heard everywhere around them as they neared the closest exit point. Wally led Zahra over to a crumbled section of wall and helped her down to street level. He disappeared back inside before following her. For her part, Zahra stumbled over to a light post and leaned against it, and waited. Wally reappeared moments later with a pair of dark shawls. He shimmied down to her and carefully outfitted her head and shoulders in the garment. He also adorned the other shawl.
“We must be careful,” he explained.
She understood. If the Scales of Anubis still had people in the vicinity, he and Zahra needed to conceal their identities before heading out.
The filthy, dust-covered duo entered the throng of equally grimy onlookers and emergency workers and disappeared without additional confrontation. No one within earshot of the demolition had been spared by the advancing plume of white and gray. The chorus of sirens diminished as Zahra and Wally distanced themselves from what would surely be labeled as a terror attack — which it was. The oldest concrete lighthouse in the world was no more.
And once again, Zahra was at the center of the confrontation.
First, the museum. Now, this.
“Come,” Wally said, ushering her along. “Over here.”
They slipped into an alley and kept moving. Zahra had no idea where they were going, but Wally did. This was his stomping grounds, after all. He knew the streets of Port Said better than anyone. He had spent his entire life living within the city limits. It also meant that the lighthouse’s destruction had surely hit him hard, personally. It had been his people’s crown jewel.