Sabine swore.
“I’m beginning to wonder if this quest isn’t meant to kill us rather than provide something to save us,” Max said. He took a deep breath. “Where’s that clue?” he asked.
Thankfully she’d stuffed the bag in her pocket when the ceiling had begun to crumble. She peeled away the leather and found inside another papyrus note, written in the same handwriting. “‘Bathed in blood, the dove commands by blade,’” Sabine read. “Perhaps we are to kill him with some sort of knife or sword.”
Max nodded. “I think this confirms that the dove is a weapon. We should get to the carriage before it gets any darker. Hopefully our driver has waited for us.”
“You paid him well enough to wait an entire year,” Sabine said.
They walked in silence for several moments before Max spoke again. “‘Bathed in blood’?”
“Well, that’s not a clue. Where are we supposed to search for a weapon?” she asked impatiently. “There are millions of them all over the world,” Sabine said.
She was not the guardian, but Madigan had sent her to find the map. He’d essentially set her on this journey, and whether she felt prepared did not matter. Agnes needed her help.
“Yes, there are weapons all over. But this quest was created by your people, so I believe we’re dealing with only those here in England. And we can assume it’s old. Judging by the age of that house, I’d guess these clues are about three hundred years old.”
She took a sobering breath. He was right. They would persevere. Training or not, she had to succeed in this. And so far, they had managed to accomplish all the tasks set for them. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, they made an excellent team.
“We can start at the British Museum,” Max suggested. “They have a rather large weapon collection.”
Sabine and Max made it safely to the confines of their carriage and set out on their way back to London. They had a few hours’ ride ahead of them, and it was already late. Her heart still beat wildly, pounding in her ears.
Max sat across from her, his legs taking up most of the space between them. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“A little scared, perhaps, but I’m in one piece.”
“Always a good sign.”
Blood still oozed from his wound, so she leaned forward to examine his arm.
“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to pull it away from her. But it looked deep enough for some concern.
“Hold still,” she told him. She grabbed the fabric of his sleeve at the seam by his shoulder and pulled. It ripped, and she kept tugging until it slid off his arm.
“That was my favorite shirt,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “You can buy another.” She used the inside of the sleeve to wipe the excessive blood away. “This doesn’t look good.” She rummaged through her bag but there were no supplies for stitches. “If we don’t attend to this, it will become infected.”
“No. It will be all right. I’m certain I’ve had worse,” he said, but she could see the pain around his eyes.
She didn’t want to use the elixir, and she wasn’t truly authorized to do so outside of assisting the Healer. But she had no choice. If she did nothing, they risked the wound festering until infection poisoned his blood. So she reached into her bodice and pulled on the gold chain attached to the small vial. She removed the necklace, then popped off the lid. She twisted his arm so she had a better view.
“What is that?” he asked.
She met his glance, but said nothing as she poured one drop onto the wound.
He jerked his arm away. “Bloody hell, that burns!”
“Hold still,” she said. She placed another tiny drop onto his arm, and he didn’t move.
“That’s elixir,” he said. He leaned forward and craned his neck to try to see the vial she held.
She replaced the lid and quickly dropped the necklace back inside the bodice of her dress.
“Do you always carry elixir with you?”
“We like to have some in case of emergency,” she said, trying to keep her face void of expression.