The Gilded Wolves (The Gilded Wolves #1)(97)

Laila collapsed in the dirt beside him, her face haggard. In her hands was the Horus Eye. Before them, the ground had almost nearly cleared when a handful of Forged knives launched into the air, a blade poised at each of their throats.

“I think this has gone on long enough, don’t you?” asked the doctor mildly.

Enrique could not see his eyes, but he could feel the man’s gaze on him and Hypnos.

“Your friends will die. And then you will die. But you can avoid this … This can be a new world. For all of us. I see your heart, young Patriarch. I see how you struggle … how you do not know which world you belong to, how you feel as though the color of your skin will determine the color of your future. It does not have to be that way. Join us.” The doctor paused, and Enrique imagined that behind his pale mask, he was smiling. “Save yourself … save your friends. She won’t put down the Horus Eye until she knows that she’s lost. All you have to do is give me your Ring.”

Enrique watched as Hypnos struggled to stand. He looked behind him, gaze resting on Tristan, Séverin, Laila, Zofia, and finally … Enrique. Hypnos’s shoulders dropped, his mouth flattening to a taut line. He paled, but then managed a nod. He reached into his jacket, wincing with effort as he drew out his true Ring.

“Ah, I see the young patriarch has seen reason,” said the doctor.

Séverin’s face shuttered, but he held still. Shock rippled across Zofia’s face. How could he? They’d been friends, hadn’t they? Hadn’t they spent hours in the stargazing room? Had he imagined everything?

Enrique dropped his gaze to the dirt floor, the smoothed surface where the perfect mold of a Horus Eye was now partially exposed. The knife pointed at his throat dragged up his skin, as if sensing what he wished to do. Laila met his gaze over the blade, her dark eyes wild.

Hypnos kept his back to them as he stepped forward.

“I shall give it to you,” said Hypnos.

Laila screamed, “What are you doing?”

Hypnos neither turned nor answered. He was nothing more than a rigid shadow. Roux-Joubert wept at the doctor’s feet.

“It’s happening … I shall be a god,” he whispered.

Slowly, the knives dropped from their throats. Enrique breathed deep, something in his chest finally loosening. When he looked up, he saw a small smile flicker on Laila’s face as she looked at Hypnos. Enrique frowned, then his eyes darted to Hypnos. He was still standing, still speaking with the doctor.

“I want assurances that nothing will happen to them.”

“Very well,” said the doctor. “Now give me your Ring.”

Behind his back, Hypnos held out three fingers.

Three.

He curled the ring finger down …

“Wait,” said the doctor.

Two.

A beat of silence passed.

“This isn’t the true Ring,” said the doctor, his voice rising. “You would betray your own like this, Patriarch? For these people?”

“I rather like them,” said Hypnos.

He looked over his shoulder then, the barest of smiles lifting his mouth.

“But then—” Roux-Joubert said.

Enrique scrambled at the dirt, clearing the space.

“Now, Laila!”

She pitched forward, slamming the Horus Eye into the mold. Bright light flashed all around them. The blue light of the rising Fragment started to fade. Little by little, whatever energy had seeped into the catacombs now folded in on itself, like something slipping into ice only for the ice to re-form and wipe away any proof.

The doctor growled, but the moment the Horus Eye touched the ground, he recoiled. As if he couldn’t touch it.

And then, standing at the top of the terraced steps came a low, hair-raising growl: The Sphinx had arrived.

“My Lord,” called Roux-Joubert from the floor. “Please.”

The doctor drew back his foot.

“You led us into a trap.”

“I c-can’t live like this much longer.”

“Then perhaps you shall not live long at all,” said the doctor. He raised one hand, and the uninjured members of the Fallen House fled through the Tezcat, disappearing into the night. Now, the Babel Fragment had fallen back to rest … two frail lights emerged from the ground. One was the Ring of the Fallen House. The other, the Ring of House Kore. The doctor tried to grab both, but then hissed out as if in pain. He dropped the Ring of House Kore to the ground, then shoved the other onto his hand before fleeing through the Tezcat.

Now, the room was nearly empty. The four of them were still huddled together. A handful of unconscious members of the Fallen House dotted the floor. Blood seeped from the sprawled-out body of Roux-Joubert’s accomplice, his blade-brim hat flung out beside him. Roux-Joubert coughed, covering his mouth with stained hands. All around them, the bones of the catacombs crumpled to the ground, zipping back into the niches they had lived in for centuries …

Enrique swayed where he stood, feeling the rush of a thousand people coming around him. The din and shouts of members of the Houses. The mirror seamed up. But beyond the handful of unconscious members, there was nothing left of the Fallen House.

Beside him, he heard Laila let out a cry. Only then did he turn and see Hypnos sprawled out, the cold lights of the catacombs playing across his skin.