He leaned his hip against Max’s desk. “I’m truly happy you asked, Sabine,” he said. “I’ve longed to share this with someone. Thanks to the elixir from the other two guardians, I have been able to start feeding it slowly to the new lieutenant-generals”—he pointed the pistol at her—“who, coincidentally, I was able to hand-select.”
Sabine listened to his words, but surveyed the room, searching for something, anything that would serve as a weapon. Max was conservative in his decor, and aside from his books and the necessities of the room—chairs, desk, sofa—there wasn’t much else. And then she remembered. The spear. It was old, and it was dull, but remarkably, it was also exposed. Max had broken the case and hadn’t replaced the glass yet. She knew the spear was behind Spencer, on the other side of Max’s desk.
“Having the queen’s ear has been key in all of this,” Spencer continued, “but it hasn’t been easy, I assure you.”
He shoved off the desk with a speed she hadn’t been prepared for and closed in on her. She, in turn, moved away from him. It was an odd dance of life and death.
“The queen is an old woman now,” he said. “But she is not daft and trusts none too easily. I bided my time with her. Waited patiently. Now she trusts me implicitly.”
“Why give the officers the elixir?” Sabine asked. She needed to get him around to the other side of the desk with her. But how?
“Do you not know our own history?” He tsked with his tongue. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” He sighed and rolled his eyes as if having to explain something so basic to her truly tried his patience. “The elixir made our army indestructible. And we were so close; the army had invaded several countries and we’d secured control over their governments. Now my new army will be the same,” he said.
“You are Atlantean?” Sabine asked. It made sense, she supposed, but it did surprise her. She’d taken for granted that her people, the ones who had fled the destruction of Atlantis, would have learned from their mistakes. She stepped backward.
His eyes narrowed, and he followed. “Of course. Some of my ancestors fled with yours, on the ships here. One of them reluctantly. But he was smart. Knew that someday one from his line would rise up and complete what had been started. He stole the prophecy from the Seer’s book. For generations, those notes were lost to my family, until my grandfather came upon them. He taught me the ways of our people, the true Atlanteans, with bravery and courage, and not weakness and fear.
“The prophecy is my destiny.” He touched his chest as he spoke. “I must fulfill it, restore Atlantis to her former glory, and finish the work of our army. And being the sole owner of all three elixirs will give me immortality.”
Immortality—it was why the guardians were so carefully selected, why they weren’t allowed to be together with other guardians. The temptation to never grow old was too significant. Now she knew where the rumor about the fountain of youth had started.
“You do realize that Atlantis can never be restored,” she told him. “It sank into the ocean eons ago. There is probably nothing left of it.” She felt a pang of sadness at the thought. But she did not want to have anything in common with this man. Again she moved, trying to angle herself in a position to grab the spear.
He frowned. “Not the actual Atlantis; I’m no fool. But rather the ways of the Atlanteans. We were on the brink of domination. So close to having every ruler, every king, every emperor kneel to our own. I will restore that.”
“And you intend to do so with England’s army?” she asked.
“Yes, I am the Chosen One. Think of it; the elixir fed to an entire army. I will have soldiers who are indestructible. An army under my control that cannot be defeated.”
He was mad. Utterly and inexcusably mad. “Do you truly think other nations will allow that?” she asked.
“Other armies won’t stand a chance against my own. England already has the strongest military in the world. Now I will make them indestructible.”
“Other countries will band together to stop you. You will create a state of permanent war. England will be destroyed,” she said.
His lip curled in a sneer. “England matters naught to me. Perhaps I will rule elsewhere. Greece is probably closest to our homeland.” He shrugged. “I’ll move my army there.”
Arrogance was never an attractive quality, but it was even less so when the man in question believed he’d one day rule the world. Her people had planned to do that, and it had literally consumed their continent. Had no one learned from that experience?
“Enough chatter.” He held his hand up to silence her. “You know why I’ve come.”
“I told you, I’m not the guardian; I don’t have the elixir,” she said plainly.
She was very close to the spear. She stood directly behind Max’s desk, and the spear was behind her. Not near enough to allow her to grasp it, though. If she made a direct move for it, he would kill her. He would find Agnes eventually, with or without Sabine alive. It would simply be more convenient for him if she cooperated.
“But you know where she is. Your aunt. Which one is it?” He licked his lips. “I saw them leave in a carriage earlier. Did they go to the shop, Sabine? Or perhaps back to their village?”
While he was talking, she took two steps backward toward the spear.
“I will find them. And my ring will reveal to me which one guards the remaining elixir.” He smiled—a cruel and heartless grin that chilled her to her bones. “I will kill you if I have to.” He meant it. She knew that. “Just as I have done with those who came before you.”
“Perhaps you will. But certainly you didn’t miss the part of the prophecy that detailsyourdestruction.”
Max had waited patiently in the research library at Solomon’s for over an hour. Perhaps patiently was an exaggeration, but at least he hadn’t throttled anyone yet. He’d been sent a letter from someone in the club, and Max had assumed it was Marcus. He hadn’t wanted to leave Sabine alone, but he’d had enough men guarding the house to know she would be safe.
But Marcus was not to be found, and no one at the club had seen him all day.
Max shoved his hand into his pocket as he paced the library. The glass vial of elixir brushed against his fingertips. He’d brought it along to show Marcus.