Amina gasped. Leila met her panicked gaze, then spun around. They needed a place to hide. Or they needed to run. Or—a shadowy figure stepped into the street.
“I had a hundred opportunities to shoot you,” came Abdullah’s voice. Annoyed, as usual.
Leila and Amina both let out audible sighs of relief as he stood before them, his arms folded, vexation written all over his features. His gun strap crossed his front, the end of the barrel peeking over his shoulder.
“You scared us.” Amina held a palm to her chest.
“You should have waited at the house,” Abdullah grunted.
Leila took note: he definitely wasn’t trying to keep his voice down anymore. Was the village safe? Maybe the shooter hadn’t followed them at all.
“We’re looking for water.”
“Waste of time. The wells are most likely dry.”
“So, dear brother, you haven’t bothered to look?” Amina tilted her head.
“No. No need.” Abdullah took a step past her and started down the street, back toward the house. “I will do something productive, like get the camels ready.”
“What have you been doing, then?” Amina called after him, ignoring his question.
Abdullah stopped and turned his head to the side. “Making sure we didn’t have any company.” He resumed his walk. “We leave in twenty minutes.”
Once he turned a corner, Leila and Amina continued in the other direction. Leila felt considerably better. If he had sensed any danger, he would have dragged Amina out of there. For him, his demeanor had been at ease. Leila relaxed her shoulders and her steps lightened.
They passed through the shadows of a narrow alley, flanked by twenty-foot walls on both sides. Above, a strip of blue sky led the way to a plaza. They stopped in the webbed shade of a leafless tree, studying the covered walkway built into the front of the buildings that wrapped around the square. The cobblestone had been laid out in an indecipherable pattern with large and small stones. Near the center of the plaza, a rectangular formation of mud bricks rose from the ground.
“There’s a well,” Amina said and stepped forward. “We’re in luck.”
They walked to the well and slid the wooden planks from the top. Simultaneously, they leaned over the side and looked down. Blackness.
Amina took in a deep breath through her nose. “The air is damp.”
“So there might actually be water down there?” Leila scanned the area for rope, buckets, anything they could use to draw the water, trying not to get her hopes up. They might simply draw up a load of undrinkable mud. Her eyes settled on a stone. Dropping one in would be a simple test to confirm their thoughts before they went through any more trouble. She bent over to grab it.
Her nails scraped the surface of the cobblestone as her fingers enclosed around the rock. It was cool against her palm, the surface rough from exposure to countless dust storms. She held it over the opening to the well. Then she let it fall.
They stared at the black hole, waiting for the splash. A faint chink met her ears.
A deafening blast filled the air. Leila’s heart leaped into her throat. A rush of hot air whizzed past her cheek. A thud came from behind her and splinters of rock sprayed her feet.
Amina screamed, “The roof!”
Leila whirled around and looked up at the nearest building. On the roof, a dark silhouette crouched behind the wall, pointing a long, thin cylinder at them. For a split second, her legs remained frozen, her eyes disbelieving. The silhouette shifted, took aim.
Finally, she stumbled forward, grabbed Amina by the arm and dragged her toward the covered walkway. A few yards and they would be out of sight.
They ran and another shot cracked through the air above them. The echo reverberated through the square as if ten guns had been fired.
Amina tripped, landing on her knees. Leila pulled on her arm and they staggered the last few feet to the safety of the passageway.
Leila threw herself against the wall, her chest heaving. They weren’t totally out of danger yet. They needed to get out of the area. Fast.
Amina folded onto the ground.
“What do we do now?” Leila whispered. She glanced at the closed door to her right. This was a horrible spot to hide. The shooter could burst out at any moment.
No answer came. Instead, Amina looked up at Leila, her eyes round, her mouth gaping in a silent scream.
The blood drained from Leila’s face, a wave of cold freezing her to the wall. Amina held out a palm. Her trembling hand was streaked with crimson. The front of her garment glistened. An agonizing second later, Amina fell forward into a heap.
Shock glued Leila’s feet to her spot, twisting like a knife in her chest. All she could do was watch as a red puddle flowed from under Amina’s unmoving form. Leila clenched her jaw. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t just stand there and watch. She had to do something.
“Please be okay, please be okay,” Leila whispered and dropped at her side, then gently rolled her onto her back. Heart pounding, she cradled Amina’s head between her palms, keeping it off the ground.
Though Amina’s dark eyes were open, they looked past her. Her skin was cool. Moist from sweat. Faint puffs came from her mouth.
“Stay with me,” Leila pleaded. Amina’s eyes fluttered shut.
With a helpless groan, Leila placed Amina’s head on the ground. Now what? How could she stop the bleeding? Elevate. Elevate and apply pressure. That’s all she could do.
She slid off Amina’s scarf and studied the cloth in her hands. It was enough for a bandage. She placed the fabric against the wound and pressed her palm on it. But to elevate? What if the bullet had injured her spine? Moving her would only make it worse. Or kill her.
She leaned down and brushed black strands of hair from Amina’s face. “Talk to me. Please.”
Amina lifted a shaking hand with a soft moan. Her cracked lips moved to form words, but no sound came out.
“We can’t stay here.” Leila wrapped her hand around Amina’s cold fingers. “I’m going to take you back to the house. Do you think you can walk? I’ll try and carry you, but…” She looked up and scanned the square. Abdullah would have heard the shots. He would be here any second. She could scream for him but the shooter—
“Leila, why don’t you come out now?” a honeyed voice called into the square.
Her heart turned to ice.
“My aim is improving. So, it would be easier for you,” the voice went on, confident, gloating, “for me, and your friends, if we ended this now.”
Amina’s breathing grew ragged, and Leila pressed her free hand against her clammy cheek in reassurance.
This is all my fault. He was after her. He didn’t care who got caught in the crossfire. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, her eyes burning.
“Who are you?” she yelled, her voice thick.
“You don’t remember me?” The shooter sounded offended but she could hear his smile. “But we’ve met before. Briefly.”
Leila closed her eyes as she searched her memory. How was she supposed to remember a voice? Didn’t he have a name? His accent was British, but there was no way she could place him without knowing his face.
“Maybe you need a reminder. It was a year ago now. At the Cairo Museum in the Neferkheri exhibit. Like I said, it was a brief encounter.”
With her eyes still shut, she furrowed her brow. She’d been there a few times, right after getting out of the hospital. It wasn’t possible to spend a lot of time in the exhibit like she had wanted. With doctor visits, court appearances, plus getting her studies back in order—everything was a blur.
Yet one visit to the museum still stood out to her. She and Xander had made dinner plans. It was their first time going out. And Xander was late.
So she had done what anyone would do—wandered around the exhibit. The only strange thing that had happened was someone had spoken to her, out of the blue. A tall, lanky man with white blond hair and eyes she’d never forget. Blue as ice. Streaked with lightning.
“You remember now?”
That hadn’t been the first time she’d seen those eyes. Once in the abandoned Weston Manor, when she went in to search for clues linking Xander with Faris. She’d been caught, and the only thing she saw of the man were his eyes, so light they nearly glowed in the dark.
No, she’d never forgotten those eyes, nor the frozen feeling they overpowered her with.
She sucked in a lungful of air. Why on earth was he doing this?
“What do you want?” she cried, lowering her head. A heavy breath quaked beneath her, and Leila squeezed Amina’s hand. She squeezed back.
Stay with me.
“I think you know exactly what I want,” the man’s voice drawled. “Why don’t you come out now so we can stop playing this game?”
The man was delusional. There was no way. She studied Amina’s ghostly face, streaked with blood.
“You’re going to be okay,” Leila whispered, then added another layer to the bandage. The cloth was soaked, her own hand stained red. But she kept her palm firmly against the wound. She would stay right here at Amina’s side. She’d never show herself to the shooter. As long as she stalled, they still had a chance. Abdullah couldn’t be far off.
She lifted her chin and glared at the roof. “First tell me why.”
“Why?” the man huffed. “Well, that’s a long story and I don’t plan on sitting here all day. Either you step out now or I—”
“Amina!” Abdullah’s scream echoed off the buildings.
Leila whipped her head around. A black robed figure ran across the courtyard.
“Don’t,” she cried out. Another gunshot cracked over the square.
Abdullah threw himself behind the shriveled tree. Bullets hit the trunk, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. Abdullah shrugged his gun into his hands, tucked it between his chin and his shoulder. No hesitation. He aimed and fired.
Once the echoes faded, Abdullah slipped out from behind the tree. He grabbed Leila’s shoulder and pulled her away from Amina, then knelt by his sister’s side. His gun clattered to the ground and he placed a hand on her cheek.
Amina’s chest still rose and fell, her breathing louder, more labored than before. Without a word, he gathered her into his arms and strode off.
From her spot on the ground, Leila stared at the gun, smoke still rising from the barrel, reeking of hot metal. Did he hit the shooter?
She didn’t want to stick around and wait for him to pop back up again. Before she could lose sight of Abdullah, she grabbed the gun and hurried after him. As she left the cover of the overhang, she looked up.
The man had vanished from the rooftop. She slung the gun’s strap over her shoulder and ran. Instead of going across the courtyard, the way they came, Abdullah ducked into the alley directly next to the building.
Leila followed, keeping as close to the wall as possible. Amina’s hand hung limply, slapping against Abdullah’s leg with each long step.
Hang in there.
Abdullah rushed through the dizzying maze of narrow streets and alleys. When they arrived back at the house, Leila ran ahead to hold the door, then shut and locked it once they were all inside.
After that, all she could do was watch, helpless, as Abdullah lay Amina on the couch, the entire front of her dress now stained a bright red. Abdullah knelt on the floor, holding her hand to his face.
“What can we do?” Leila asked, searching the living room and kitchen for something that could be used for more bandages. Anything until they could get Amina to a doctor.
She remembered the blankets upstairs. The least they could do was keep her warm.
“Nothing,” Abdullah said.
Leila stopped at the bottom of the steps. A rock formed in her chest. He couldn’t mean that.
“There’s nothing you can do.” He slowly leaned forward, resting his head on Amina’s stomach.
Leila took a step back, unable to breathe. Her eyes locked onto Amina’s face. Blood seeped from her lips. Her cheeks were gray under the splotches of dirt. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Leila’s gaze dropped to Amina’s hand, hanging over the side of the couch, unmoving. A drop of red splashed to the floor from a fingertip. A coldness overcame Leila. Her mind screamed denial. Amina was gone.