"Miss Holmes," said the Ankh, "are you attempting to live up to the reputation of your family as well? That plan doesn't seem to have worked in your favor."
Considering that I had a gun pressed into my side, my companion was wounded (possibly mortally), and no one knew where we were, even I couldn't make a convincing counterargument. Neither Miss Stoker nor I had done a particularly admirable job of carrying out our duties thus far.
Instead, I tried to think of a way out of our predicament, and for the first time, I felt a tremor of apprehension. The weight of the gun in my pocket mocked me with its uselessness. I eased away from my guard.
"It's fortuitous that you've both chosen to join me here tonight," said the Ankh, stroking her mustache with gloved fingers. "The two of you could be useful. Imagine what the life forces of a Stoker and a Holmes would bring to the resurrected Sekhmet. And what power I'll have when she's brought back to life."
"Don't be absurd," I said with great bravado. If the Ankh meant to give my life force to Sekhmet, I was no longer in danger from the gun poking my side. "You don't truly believe you can resurrect a goddess by . . . what? Collecting artifacts that might have belonged to her? I've never heard anything so ridiculous."
The Ankh didn't take my bait. "Believe what you will." She aimed the pistol at me and gestured to the woman at my side. "Bastet, attend to Miss Exington. She's in the way."
As Bastet moved away to do her mistress's bidding, I glanced at Hathor and his companion. They were watching, giving me no opportunity to pull out my firearm. I looked at Miss Stoker. To my horror, she'd slumped to the floor and sat with her head sagging to the side. Blood soaked the wall and floor around her.
Was she dead? Hadn't she told me multiple times that vampire hunters had great strength, speed, and healing capabilities. How could she be dead?
I started toward my companion. "She's hurt," I said when the Ankh's cold eyes fastened on me.
"That was my intent," said our malevolent hostess. "But feel free to see to her if you like. The less blood she loses, the more useful she'll be."
"Miss Stoker," I said as I knelt next to her, "Evaline." The pungent scent of blood filled my nose. "Let me help you." I began to feel around in an attempt to stanch her wound, but she closed her fingers around my wrist. Her grip was astonishingly strong.
I looked at her, able to see her face unobstructed for the first time. The fogginess had disappeared. Her eyes, downcast until now, when they fastened on mine, were as sharp as they'd ever been.
"Keep talking. I'm going to make a distraction," she murmured. "When I do, the door . . . it's in the back . . ."
"All right," I said, glancing over at the Ankh. She was rearranging the wires from the device as Bastet and Hathor moved Miss Exington's limp body away. The other guard watched me with a cold gaze. I manipulated myself so that the side with my firearm was out of his sight. "Miss Stoker, I-"
"I should have stopped it. I could have stopped it, and I didn't." Her voice broke. She looked down at the blood on her hand, dried and cracked. I wasn't certain if she was truly seeing it, or looking at something that wasn't actually there.
"Evaline," I began again. Trying to be inconspicuous, I pushed my gun out without putting my hand in the pocket. She turned away. Her beautiful face had become stone.
"Get away from her."
I jolted, looking up to see Hathor's companion standing over me, pointing a gun. It had enough gadgets and gears on it that I wasn't inclined to ignore his warning.
Reluctantly, I stood, using my foot and the cover of my skirts to slide the weapon firmly up against Miss Stoker. "She's badly hurt," I said as the guard gestured me to stand against the wall at what he must consider a safe distance from my companion.
"More's the pity," said the Ankh from her position behind the table. She looked purposefully at Hathor, who moved off the dais to stand over my companion. "I dislike being rushed. But we can't have her dying before I'm finished, so let us hurry with the preparations."
"Lilly Corteville escaped from you," I said. I could use my attempts to distract the Ankh by getting confirmation for my deductions. "She was meant to be attached to the cuff, wasn't she? But she got away before you could do it."
The Ankh looked at me, her shadowed, black-ringed eyes shining with dark pleasure. Even now that I knew she was Lady Cosgrove-Pitt, I still couldn't see it in her eyes.
"You are a clever one," she said. "Perhaps worthy of the Holmes name after all. Yes indeed, each of the instruments must be given the power of a life force in order to become reanimated. And it occurs to me that the stronger and more worthy the life force of the animator is, the more powerful Sekhmet will be. That is why I find it serendipitous to have two excellent candidates for the diadem. You and your companion."
"You took the life force from Mayellen and Allison the same way you did from Della Exington," I said as the Ankh made her preparations at the table. "Why did you leave their bodies where they could be found?"
"Surely you can deduce that, Miss Holmes."
"One can only assume it was to make it look as if they'd taken their own lives. If bodies were found murdered, then there would be a crime to investigate, and you could be discovered. If they were found to have taken their own lives, there would be no investigation. And even if the bodies were simply disposed of, there would still be an investigation into their disappearance. Mayellen Hodgeworth was the one who was attached to the scepter. You were witnessed leaving the museum with it-and the statue of Sekhmet-on the night she was killed. After she was killed. You did it there, didn't you?"
"Apparently my confidence in you wasn't misplaced after all," our hostess commented as she added some dried substance that smelled musty and old to the bowl. "There'd surely be a place for one like you in Sekhmet's court, once she's resurrected."
"I'm afraid I must decline."
"That wasn't an invitation, Miss Holmes. I was merely making idle conversation."
The Ankh picked up the crown, presumably the final of the four instruments. Except . . . according to the message I'd received from Dylan, he'd located the diadem. The real one, if his information from the future was correct. The one the Ankh held resembled the drawings I'd seen, but it wasn't identical. My mind began to click through the possible ways to utilize this information. I continued my interrogation. "And you left the scarabs near the bodies for what reason? Surely not to lead us here, to you?"