Assassin's Honor (11 page)

           
Any other time, the translation would have meant nothing to her. She would have never recognized the significance of the words staring back at her--Tyet of Isis. The pencil slipped out of her numb fingers as she studied her translation. What was the Tyet of Isis, and how in the hell had her father known about it?

           
The sudden howl of a cat outside made her jump to her feet in reaction even as she heard the cat's cry die in an abrupt fashion. In her scramble to stand up she viciously stubbed her toe against the leg of the coffee table.

           
"Damn it to hell!" She hopped a couple of steps to the left as her toe throbbed. "That'll teach me for taking off my shoes.
God that hurts."

           
Still nursing her injured toe, her sideways movement allowed her to see through the darkened kitchen all the way to the back door. She froze as a flash of lightning lit up the back door stoop. Jesus Christ, what the hell was that? Her heart thundered to a halt before it began to pump with the furor of a freight train at full speed. She blinked her eyes and waited for another flash of lightning. When it came, she screamed as the brief flare of light lit up the hooded figure standing outside the kitchen door.

           
For a moment, she stood there totally unable to move. Oh God, Charlie's killer had found her. The description all the workers had given the Cairo police was a damn good match of the person standing at her back door. She looked toward the phone and then the table.
The cipher.
She didn't know why it popped in her head, she simply reacted. Leaping forward, she grunted in pain as she scooped up the papers containing the puzzle and her translation then fled the living room.

           
Behind her the sound of the storm outside grew louder. Jesus, he was in the house. Terror propelled her down the hall to the office. The throbbing in her toe made it difficult to run without pain, but she managed to cover the distance quickly. Slamming the study door closed behind her, she turned the skeleton key and pulled it out of the lock. She stared at the lock for a fleeting moment and remembered how easily her other visitor had gotten into the house. Her gaze jerked toward the tall, wooden statue of the Egyptian sun god, Ra, her mother had found in a Cairo bazaar. In seconds, she'd wedged the carved figure under the doorknob to brace the door shut.

           
Hopefully Ra would live up to his all-powerful reputation and keep the intruder at bay, but she didn't feel like testing that theory. She needed to get out of the house. She flipped the light switch off and plunged herself into darkness. The old terror crept through her and chilled her skin. Shoving the notes she carried into her jeans pocket, she stumbled forward. Hands outstretched, she made her way to the window that overlooked the garden. Lightning flashed again, and her stomach lurched with incredible violence as she thought she saw someone move outside.

           
She darted to the side of the window and pressed her back into the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut to gather her courage. Had the son of a bitch brought friends? Cautiously, she chanced a quick peek out the window. Below her, the garden was dark, but not as dark as the office. Light from neighboring houses created a dim glow in the backyard. Her gaze searched the grounds for any sign of movement, but found nothing. Still breathing heavily with fear, her breath warmed the glass panes. It surprised her. How could she be freezing and still have enough warm air in her lungs to fog up the window? If she weren't ready to throw up, it might be funny. The hall floor creaked softly. Someone was headed toward the office.

           
In the dark, she couldn't see the doorknob, but she heard someone testing it. To hell with this, she'd take her chances outside. At least out there one of the neighbors might hear her if she screamed. Not caring how much noise she made, she struggled with the wooden window. It screeched upward slowly, and she heard the sound of wood splintering behind her as someone tried to force his way past the locked door. The solid statue of Ra held fast against the hard pounding from the other side.

           
Desperate now, she tried to force the window higher, but it wouldn't budge. Behind her, the door hinges protested loudly. Terrified, she slammed the base of her palms up against the top frame of the window. The force of her blow sent her right hand sliding off the wooden frame and straight through the glass. Stunned, she simply stared at her hand sticking through the broken pane, the rain dancing off her fingers.

           
Trembling, she saw dark rivulets of blood dripping off her hand. Getting drunk obviously had analgesic purposes as well. Suddenly, dizziness combined with her nausea. Even with the liquor deadening her senses, her hand still hurt. On fire would have been a more accurate description, and every drop of rain that hit the cut stung like a bee. She drew in a ragged breath as the office door screeched a protest against the attack coming from the other side.

           
Struggling to remain conscious, she tried to navigate her hand past a tall shard of glass. When she couldn't, she started to cry. Goddamn it, what was wrong with her? Crying wouldn't save her life. With a sob, she used her free fist to land a quick blow to the middle of the shard. As the glass broke away from the window, she pulled her hand back inside. She swayed on her feet then bent over and slid the upper half of her body through the window's narrow opening.

           
With a grunt of pain, she slammed her back into the sash to send it crashing upward. In that same instant, she heard the terrible scream of wood ripping away from the door hinges. She couldn't remember exactly how she made it through the window. But in seconds, she found herself lying on the ground. Already soaked from the rain, she scrambled to her feet.

           
She couldn't see the blood soaking the sleeve of her sweater, but she knew what she was feeling wasn't rain. It was too sticky. The ugly memory of Charlie's blood coating her fingers rose to the surface. Brutally, she tossed the thought aside. There wasn't time to dwell on the past if she was going to survive the night. As fast as she could, she ran toward the back of the garden. A stone bit into the bottom of her foot. In the back of her mind, she screamed angrily at herself for removing her shoes. Lightning filled the sky again, and without thinking, she glanced over her shoulder.

           
The sight of a figure leaping out of the office window nearly stopped her heart. Survival mode sent her bolting past the garden gate into the alley. There were dozens of places in the narrow lane where she could hide. Better yet, maybe one of her neighbors had forgotten to lock the entrance to their backyard.

           
Emma tried the first gate she came to.
Locked.
Racing onward, she grabbed the next gate with her good hand and shook the iron scrolled barrier wildly. It didn't budge. Enough with thinking she'd find refuge in someone else's garden. She needed to just run. If she made it to the street, she stood a better chance of someone passing by who could help her.

           
Pain lashed at her soles as she charged forward along the road's gravel surface. She had almost reached the side street when she stumbled over a small hole. Her foot twisted out from underneath her, and she pitched forward. Without thinking, her hands stretched out in front of her in an instinctive reaction to save herself.

           
Gravel bit into the cut on her hand, and she struggled not to faint as her stomach heaved with a sickening lurch at the intense pain. In the back of her mind, a part of her found it odd that she hadn't screamed. For a moment, she lay there as her body sent wave after wave of nausea pouring over her. Then the honk of a horn out in the street pulled her back to her senses. Panic sent her clambering to her feet, and she tried to run. Her ankle almost gave way beneath her.

           
Crying in earnest now, Emma dragged in deep breaths of air as she staggered forward in an attempt to put as much distance between her and the man chasing her. She'd passed at least three houses when she heard him behind her. Unable to stop herself, she looked over her shoulder. Lightning lit up the world around her, and with a scream, she sank to her knees in defeat.

           
Thunder drowned out her shout of terror as she watched her relentless pursuer stride toward her. His dark cloak streaming out behind him, the man epitomized everything her childhood had taught her about the angel of death. Rain glistened on a sword he carried out to the side of him. This was the man the locals had described leaving the scene of Charlie's murder. Oh God, she was going to die just like her parents and Charlie. The man would slit her throat, and she didn't even know why.

Chapter 6

           
ONE hand rubbing his chin, Ares watched Emma wave goodbye to her friend before disappearing back into the house. Beside him, Phae made a soft sound. His gaze flicking in her direction, he frowned.

           
"What?"

           
"I'm sensing something." She leaned forward to study the man as he walked around to the driver's side of the car. With a slight shrug, she shook her head. "No, I guess not."

           
"You're certain?"

           
Frowning, he sent her a sharp look. While there were a few Sicari women with telekinetic abilities, most of them had intuitive abilities that covered a wide spectrum. Phae had inherited their mother's healing and sensory abilities, but her healing abilities were unparalleled. Her gift made her a valuable member of his guild. She grimaced as she shook her head.

           
"No, it was nothing. Sorry. I'm just a bit on edge right now." He nodded. Whatever had made her nervous was affecting him, too. Something didn't feel right. His gut told him that and his gut was never wrong. Impatiently, he waited for Emma's visitor to start his car and leave. The sooner the old man left, the better. If getting Emma to safety meant extreme measures, he'd do it. And he sure as hell didn't need some aging Galahad interfering with his plans.

           
Minutes seemed like hours as the man started his car then disappeared down the length of the street and around the corner. Determined to avoid any surprises, he deliberately waited another twenty minutes, just in case Emma's friend decided to return. When he was ready, he reached out with his thoughts and popped the bulb in the streetlight one car away. An instant later Emma's front porch light winked out, followed by the porch lights of several neighboring houses.

           
A quiet hiss of air escaped Phae's lips. "What the--you didn't do that, did you?"

           
"No," he said in a grim voice. The only light he'd extinguished was the streetlamp. From the look on his sister's face, he knew she'd sensed a threat nearby. The question was who?

           
"It's the same presence I sensed a few minutes ago."

           
"It can't be a Praetorian." He didn't voice the other possibility. If it was a rogue warrior--no, there hadn't been any reports of a rogue Sicari in the guild's vicinity.

           
"Whoever it is, they're powerful, and they're close." Phae's voice held a note of worry. "Maybe we should call for backup."

           
"If this person is that strong, I don't want to wait."

           
With a quick movement, he exited the SUV and discarded his jacket. Seconds later, his hand grasped the smooth leather grip of his weapon from beneath the driver seat. In a quick movement, he pulled the sword from its sheath. It was the weapon of an assassin. The solid weight of the Condottiere blade once used by his great-grandfather provided him with a sense of comfort. The old ways were deeply ingrained in the Sicari. Anyone could take a life with a gun, but it required strength and great skill to do it with a sword. It was the one thing the Praetorians and Sicari had in common, but nothing more.

           
Beneath his black turtleneck shirt, his skin tightened as the crisp fall air and light rain penetrated the knit fabric. A quick upward glance assured him cloud cover and the lack of outdoor lighting would keep their movements virtually undetected. He gestured toward the right side of Emma's house as Phae joined him from the opposite side of the SUV with a small broadsword in her hand.

           
"Take the--"

           
A muted scream pierced the darkness. The distant cry slid through his head like a sword scraping against metal, sharp and pure. Those untrained in the Sicari way would never have heard the sound. Lightning lit up the sky and another clap of thunder drowned out the shriek completely. He didn't finish his command. He simply raced down the street toward Emma's house. Charging through the shadows along the sidewalk, he turned and followed the tall hedge separating Emma's yard from her next-door neighbor.

           
Small splashes of water from the soaked earth flew up and over his leather boots as he raced around the back corner of the house. Another flash of lightning illuminated the yard. The sight of the broken office window pulled him to a slippery halt. Shards of glass lay scattered on the ground.
Broken from the inside.
Ice slid down his spine. Had she broken it herself or had someone else? Another shrill cry ripped through the air.