Falconi, which would be the next best thing,” another voice said. It was calmer than the voice identified as Thatcher, and bore a slight accent that was not Egyptian but might have been Greek. This could be Pavli. “He might have done, Captain, had you not failed so completely.”
“And now, when your incompetence has been so far indulged,” Thatcher broke in again, “you have the gall to berate your men for losing him tonight? You are overmatched, Captain. You have been beaten, and we cannot afford that kind of failure.”
“My Lord Thatcher,” El-Nemr’s voice called out in fear, “I beg of you, do not!”
There was a crackle of otherworldly energy that rang throughout the building, and El-Nemr cried out in anguish. Kit stepped forward as if to throw herself over the banister and into the fray on impulse, but the Red Panda grabbed her arm and motioned back the way they had come in.
“The Eye of Anubis is a mighty prize,” a voice boomed in anger, “and Maxwell Falconi is the key. If we lose either of them due to your bungling, Captain, you will suffer as no man before ever has!”
The unearthly light flashed again and the tortured cries of El-Nemr rang out through the house . But the upper levels were empty except for the silent darkness of the night.
Thirteen
It was the sound that made Kit Baxter open her eyes. It was a small sound to be sure, but it was repetitive and her first thought was that she wished it would stop.
Her second thought was that there was bright sunlight creeping in around the edges of the thick, dark curtains in the hotel room, which meant that he had let her sleep until morning.
She sat bolt upright in indignation and discovered that the small sound she had been hearing was the Red Panda on the floor doing push-ups. He had clearly been at it for a while, as his breathing had become audible, and this had been the very small noise that she had heard in her sleep.
“I knew it!” she said crossly.
“Good morning, Kit,” he said, as much as possible as if he had not broken a promise to wake her after three hours to take the second shift. They had been quite some time making it back to their hotel, as neither of the transportation options they had used in getting there were really available to them for the return journey. Absent a significant height to throw herself off of, the Flying Squirrel couldn’t hope to pull off a glide like the one that had brought her there. And while stealing one of the cars at the old house would have been child’s play, it also would have tipped off their rivals to their presence. If one was very good with the controls for their Static Shoes, one could adapt the system that they used when running over rooftops to land travel, alternating attraction and repulsion with the powerful field generators in the shoes. The result was a strange loping stride with a pretty impressive top speed, but the trip back to the hotel had still taken a long time.
It was clear that their enemies knew where they were, and that for safety’s sake they would have to spend what was left of the night in the same room. This had happened on a few prior occasions, though usually one of them was unconscious at the time. And any situation dangerous enough to merit shared quarters meant that one of them would have to stay awake and watch. Given that each of them had senses honed by practise and heightened by danger, this was probably unnecessary, but even Kit Baxter would never have joked that he ought to curl up next to her. She was certain she could never get the words out without tripping over her own tongue in excitement, and then it wouldn’t exactly be a joke, just horrifically awkward. So she had behaved herself and lay down to sleep while he kept guard. It actually felt like a fairly cozy arrangement, and about as domestic as they got, and Kit Baxter’s last, contented thought before falling asleep was that there had to be something really wrong with them.
But that
“And now, when your incompetence has been so far indulged,” Thatcher broke in again, “you have the gall to berate your men for losing him tonight? You are overmatched, Captain. You have been beaten, and we cannot afford that kind of failure.”
“My Lord Thatcher,” El-Nemr’s voice called out in fear, “I beg of you, do not!”
There was a crackle of otherworldly energy that rang throughout the building, and El-Nemr cried out in anguish. Kit stepped forward as if to throw herself over the banister and into the fray on impulse, but the Red Panda grabbed her arm and motioned back the way they had come in.
“The Eye of Anubis is a mighty prize,” a voice boomed in anger, “and Maxwell Falconi is the key. If we lose either of them due to your bungling, Captain, you will suffer as no man before ever has!”
The unearthly light flashed again and the tortured cries of El-Nemr rang out through the house . But the upper levels were empty except for the silent darkness of the night.
Thirteen
It was the sound that made Kit Baxter open her eyes. It was a small sound to be sure, but it was repetitive and her first thought was that she wished it would stop.
Her second thought was that there was bright sunlight creeping in around the edges of the thick, dark curtains in the hotel room, which meant that he had let her sleep until morning.
She sat bolt upright in indignation and discovered that the small sound she had been hearing was the Red Panda on the floor doing push-ups. He had clearly been at it for a while, as his breathing had become audible, and this had been the very small noise that she had heard in her sleep.
“I knew it!” she said crossly.
“Good morning, Kit,” he said, as much as possible as if he had not broken a promise to wake her after three hours to take the second shift. They had been quite some time making it back to their hotel, as neither of the transportation options they had used in getting there were really available to them for the return journey. Absent a significant height to throw herself off of, the Flying Squirrel couldn’t hope to pull off a glide like the one that had brought her there. And while stealing one of the cars at the old house would have been child’s play, it also would have tipped off their rivals to their presence. If one was very good with the controls for their Static Shoes, one could adapt the system that they used when running over rooftops to land travel, alternating attraction and repulsion with the powerful field generators in the shoes. The result was a strange loping stride with a pretty impressive top speed, but the trip back to the hotel had still taken a long time.
It was clear that their enemies knew where they were, and that for safety’s sake they would have to spend what was left of the night in the same room. This had happened on a few prior occasions, though usually one of them was unconscious at the time. And any situation dangerous enough to merit shared quarters meant that one of them would have to stay awake and watch. Given that each of them had senses honed by practise and heightened by danger, this was probably unnecessary, but even Kit Baxter would never have joked that he ought to curl up next to her. She was certain she could never get the words out without tripping over her own tongue in excitement, and then it wouldn’t exactly be a joke, just horrifically awkward. So she had behaved herself and lay down to sleep while he kept guard. It actually felt like a fairly cozy arrangement, and about as domestic as they got, and Kit Baxter’s last, contented thought before falling asleep was that there had to be something really wrong with them.
But that
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