A man had entered a little more than thirty minutes before, and now another man, followed by a constable, stepped into the small shop. Something was happening in there, something he knew had to do with the prophecy. He could feel it. She was nearby. The guardian was in that shop.
Quietly, he walked across the street and kept his body up against the wall so he was not seen. He looked down at his hand, and the ring glowed bright, the color of fresh blood, just as it had done when he’d found the other two guardians. This was the place.
His grandfather would be so proud. Finally, he would fulfill what his ancestors had begun. Atlantis had once been a handful of battles away from becoming the ruling nation of all, and his ancestors had been part of that. But then the guardians had fled, taking their elixir with them.
And the military had suffered. Without the elixir to give them extra strength and cunning, they had failed and ultimately been destroyed and defeated.
But he had been selected as the Chosen One to see their plans through to completion. And now he was very close. Satisfaction and excitement surged through him.
Now he needed only to bide his time until he could get her alone. Or perhaps he didn’t even need her, only needed to get into that shop and find her amphora. If she was not sleeping here, she might not have the elixir with her. No, it was best if he followed her until he could have a few moments alone with her.
He had found the third guardian, and finally the prophecy would be fulfilled.
A couple of hours later, Sabine and Max finally arrived back at his house. The police had come and taken Cassandra’s body away. Thank God, Max had called on his friend Justin to come to her shop. She could only imagine trying to explain Cassandra’s death to an inspector. No doubt Sabine and Calliope would have been accused of poisoning the woman. But Max had given his statement swearing that when he’d arrived both she and Calliope were tied up, and Cassandra had consumed the liquid of her own volition.
Justin had referred to the liquid as poison in the official documentation. He said it would be easier than attempting to explain the mystical elixir from Atlantis.
Weariness settled on Sabine’s shoulders like a great overcoat, heavy and cumbersome, as she followed Max up the steps into his townhome.
Behind them, carriage wheels rolled to a stop.
“Max,” a man said.
They turned to find Justin.
“What is it?” Max asked. “Surely you’re not here to arrest her.”
“No, of course not.” Justin made his way up the steps and into the entryway. “I wanted to let you both know that we picked up Johns, Cassandra’s man. He’s already confessed to a murder.”
Relief washed over Sabine so forcefully she nearly collapsed. “Truly?” she asked. Could it possibly be over even without the dove? Had the Chosen One simply destroyed herself through her own vanity? Perhaps that had been it all along—the elixir was the dove.
“The generals’ murders?” Max asked.
Justin shook his head. “He hasn’t given us any specific details, but I think it’s only a matter of time before it all comes out.”
“Still doesn’t make much sense,” Max said. “I don’t understand why Cassandra would kill military leaders.”
“The prophecy,” Sabine said. “If she was the Chosen One, it was commanded of her.”
Max nodded. “I can’t argue with a confession. And this is Cassandra; she hasn’t always made a lot of sense to me.”
“I thought you would want to know tonight,” Justin said.
“Appreciate it. Oh, and Justin, if Johns says anything about the prophecy, let us know. Perhaps we have it backward, and he was the Chosen One, and Cassandra was helping him. I just want to be certain.”
“Absolutely,” Justin said. “Well, you two have a lovely evening.” He smiled and gave Sabine a wink before he left by the front door.
Together, she and Max made their way to his study. “Do you really think it’s finally over?” Sabine asked.
“The prophecy, the Chosen One, all of it?”
He closed the door behind them. “Yes, I think it’s over. Would you care for a drink?”
“Perhaps a small one.” She stood in the center of the Persian rug. “Should we return that sword?” She motioned to the massive blade leaning against his desk.
He smiled. “Perhaps we’ll hold on to it for a while longer.”
He handed her the glass, and she took a small sip, allowing the brandy to slide down her throat slowly before she took another.