The Water Queens (Keeper of the Water) (25 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Come with me, Mentor,” Amelia Earhart says urgently.

I’m relieved to see her
and
Harriet but now is not the time to stand around and get reacquainted.

“We need to help Harriet
now!
” I say.

I nearly drag her a few feet in Harriet’s direction, even as most in the crowd have dispersed and the band of girls rushes after her into the city. But Amelia does not loosen her grip; normally a follower, it’s uncharacteristic for her to be so forceful in holding me back.

“Harriet will be fine,” Amelia says. “At least I hope. She saw you headed toward the wall and caused the distraction to stop the guards from spotting you. She wouldn’t want you following her and messing that up. Now hurry up and come with me before more queens show up and we’re the only ones left.”

Indeed standing in place makes us stationary targets and several more black-clad queens soon arrive. I allow Amelia to pull me away and we blend into the crowd rushing back into the city. In the background, we hear the sound of police sirens and people yelling over bullhorns. It’s hard to force myself to move at such a slow pace, to fall in line with the thousands of people hurrying to the nearest city streets. More than once I try to pull away from them but Amelia holds me back and hisses at me to stop from making myself a target.

Once we reach a standstill on the nearest street, I steal a glance back at Alhambra. Just beyond the far end of the impressive palace, a large ravine separates the main building from a much smaller section. I’m not sure
how
I suddenly know but there’s no doubt in my mind that Cassie is being kept in this separate part. I’m about to share this information with Amelia when I spot a speeding blur of movement rushing toward the crowd. I turn my head to the side to avoid being seen but in that split second, I recognize the face of Catherine the Great.

My body tenses; at any moment, I fully expect a pair of twin short swords to be slammed into my spine. I abhor the idea of being killed with my back turned like a coward but the attack never comes. Within seconds, I sense that Catherine has sped through the crowd and out of sight. Still, I don’t plan on hanging around long enough for the next queen to spot us. Amelia and I may not use our incredible speed but we’re still stronger than the rest of the people around us. We push our way through the crowd and turn down several streets before my heart stops hammering in my chest.

Once we turn down several dark alleys and finally have a moment of privacy, I can’t keep quiet any longer.

“Cassie’s not even being held in the larger part of Alhambra,” I say. “She’s in the much smaller section across the ravine.”

I expect Amelia to disagree with me or question how I know this; instead, she merely nods.

“We know.”

“You
do
? How?”

“The Royal Guards and band of children watch Alhambra for signs of the ‘assassins’ – and you were lucky enough to show up when Catherine the Great came by for a quick patrol,” Amelia explains. “But the rest of the Queen Clan usually guards the Palacio de Generalife, the smaller section of palace.”

“Then why weren’t you and Harriet watching
that
part?”

Amelia shakes her head. “Not enough people over there, we can’t blend into a crowd the way we can here. We spend most of our time watching Generalife from afar, studying patterns of the guards, looking for any way to get inside, though we still don’t know what we’d do if we ever got inside. And today we came over here to keep an eye out for you.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” I ask.

“Harriet,” Amelia says. “She had one of her dreams, knew our mentor would be returning to help us.”

“I’m glad to see both of my recruits but that’s not the reason I’ve come to Spain,” I say, not wanting there to be any confusion about my motives.

Before we can discuss things further, a nearby siren interrupts our conversation and we rush deeper into the city, separating from the rest of the crowd. We pick up the pace, weaving in and out of streets and alleys until we must’ve traveled several miles through Granada. I have no idea where we’re going but I follow my recruit without question, fully trusting wherever she’s headed.

We finally reach the darkest, narrowest alley yet, one with a large brick wall at the end. I’m about to point out that we’ve painted ourselves into a corner when Amelia stops in front of another innocuous door, one that looks like hundreds of others we sped past. She grabs the rusted handle and slides it to the side, the metal groaning in protest. She only opens it a foot before squeezing inside; I follow, having a bit more difficulty considering all the stuff strapped to my back.

We’re inside a battered old storage warehouse. Several glass windows are busted, through which just enough outside light filters to allow me to see. The tiny patter of scurrying feet across the floor worries me until I see it’s just a few rats; on second thought, the rodents don’t make me feel any better. Several large broken crates are scattered about the empty space but it’s clear this place has been abandoned a long time. Amelia slides the door closed but waits near it for a few silent minutes, just listening. Outside, a police car speeds by, its blue lights flashing through the windows. I hold my breath but the lights disappear and the siren fades into the distance, along with the rest of the crowd noise.

Amelia finally begins to cross the large warehouse.

“This way, Mentor,” she says.

At the far end of the room, she approaches another large crate pushed against the wall; this one isn’t broken and empty. I don’t know what’s inside – I doubt it’s important – but it must be heavy because Amelia struggles to push it out of the way. Once it finally budges, she uncovers a door behind and pushes it open. She motions me into another room; this one is pitch black, no windows at all, though it
feels
much smaller than the last one. Amelia drags the crate back in front of the door before shutting it. I sense her moving in the darkness around me and moments later she turns on one… two… three small gas lanterns that illuminate the room in a soft glow.

I’m about to ask where she’s taken me but I see for myself. The room
is
small – maybe an office for the former warehouse – and three old mattresses are pushed against the far wall. The opposite wall is covered with diagrams and drawings and photographs. I pick up one of the lanterns and move it closer to the photos, headshots of nearly a dozen people, all but one covered with a large red X. That final person sends chills down my spine and a burst of anger through my chest: Cassie.

Countess Isabella
, I remind myself, especially when I see the picture of Count Cristiano next to her. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the rest of these people are the eliminated Spanish royalty.

“Once we figured out where the queens were and what they were up to, we rushed to Spain to try to stop them,” Amelia explains. “But the king was already dead, as were many of his closest relatives. We made our last stand to save the king’s brother,
anything
to stop Cassie’s rise to power. I even lost my…” She stops talking for a moment when her voice cracks. “Babe even lost her life to those
queens
during the attack. And look what good we did in the long run.”

Light from the lanterns glows across Amelia’s face. With her hood finally pulled back, I notice how different she looks from the last time I saw her. Gone is the sparkle in her eye, the feisty exuberance that once made her such a joy to be around. Even her short pixie-ish hair is long and scraggly, which perfectly matches the crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes, the wrinkles on her brow, the general haggard look of a woman clearly exhausted.

“We were no closer to stopping Cassie but now that Harriet has shown herself, it will be damn near impossible to get close to the palace again,” Amelia says.

She turns on a small, 13-inch TV in the corner of the room, which already shows footage of the crowd’s confusion from a few minutes earlier. The headline at the bottom of the screen reads: POTENTIAL ASSASSIN SIGHTING AT ALHAMBRA. I suddenly feel terrible.

“I’m so sorry if I’m the reason she showed herself,” I say. “I never meant for that to happen.”

Amelia nods her head. For the first time since I’ve seen her again, the slightest smile crosses her lips; she looks like herself again for a brief moment. She steps forward and puts her arms around me, laying her head against my chest like a child.

“I never thought I’d see you again, Mentor,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re here. Harriet and I have no idea what Cassie is up to.”

“I’ve come to Spain to find my daughter,” I say. “ And that’s the
only
reason I’m here.”

I don’t mean to sound so harsh, so uncaring, as Amelia hangs her head and steps back from me.

“Several years ago, Harriet dreamed you had a little girl,” Amelia says, though she will not look at me now. “What’s happened to her?”

I give her the quick synopsis of Janey’s disappearance and our search of the second ferry off Andros, of the unknown results of John searching the first ferry. When I see the concerned look on Amelia’s face – the way she genuinely appears worried for a young girl she doesn’t even know – I feel even worse about summarily dismissing the chance of helping my two recruits on the noblest mission possible. I’ve been downright hostile about my intentions even though Amelia and Harriet have done nothing but put themselves at greater risk so I wouldn’t be caught by Catherine and the band of girls.

“She might be safe with her father somewhere?” she asks.

That very idea sends my heart aflutter but somewhere in the back of the mind – where reality often belies my fondest wishes – I know that’s not the case.

“She
might
be,” I offer weakly. “But I don’t think so. I can’t stop worrying that Cassie already has her, or at least her queens do.”

“Then it’s more important than ever that we work together,” Amelia says. “Even if we have different goals.”

I know she’s right. I turn away from the big section of photographs – they’re not important anymore since only one member of royalty is still alive. I turn my attention back to the rest of the wall’s information, including diagrams and pictures of Alhambra and its smaller section across the ravine, Generalife.

“Tell me everything about how you’ve tracked Cassie the last six years,” I tell Amelia.

My recruit nods. “After we went our separate ways in the jungle, Harriet, Babe and I figured Cassie would return to her homeland. Once the heat died down from the hijacking and nothing more surfaced about who was responsible, the
Lost Princess
suddenly appeared in Spain. We figured that would be her power play; hate to admit it but Cassie’s always been smart like that.”

Amelia’s praise irks me. She proceeds to explain how the three true remaining Amazons shadowed the Queen Clan for years. Their plan was to avoid being seen by the queens so they’d have the element of surprise when the time came to strike. But the queens were a lot more resourceful than Amelia hoped and eventually noticed their tail. Amelia, Harriet and Babe had a few run-ins with the queens over the years but never got close to Cassie.

“For that matter, I’m not sure what we would’ve done
had
we caught her,” she says. “Once she was linked with Count Cristiano in the tabloids, we knew that would lead to trouble. Soon they were married and the king and other royals began being murdered. The three of us focused on keeping the others alive at all cost; the world might’ve fallen for the brave countess routine but we knew what Cassie was really attempting.

“Unfortunately we arrived too late to stop most of the attacks; say what you will about Catherine the Great – and I’m pretty sure Harriet has said it
all
already – but her attacks on the Spanish royalty were well-coordinated and deadly efficient. We finally caught up with them during their assault on the king’s brother. Not surprisingly, Harriet had her hands full with Catherine; sometimes I wonder if her desire to find the queens was to finally have a chance to battle her old nemesis. Babe and I were left to deal with the other queens
and
the guards protecting the king’s brother, who had no idea we were actually trying to help. Eventually we were overwhelmed and Babe launched herself in front of the man next in line for the throne. She died for her effort. It was a vicious battle and we eventually would’ve been struck down ourselves had one of the queens’ lookouts not called for them to retreat.”

“Mary,” I say, remembering her version of the story that syncs perfectly with Amelia’s.

Amelia looks surprised yet the sound of the name still disgusts her. “How did you know?”

I shrug. I don’t know why I’m hesitant to tell her
how
I know that. “Lucky guess.”

“I
thought
I recognized her voice. Whether she meant to or not, she probably saved Harriet and me by doing that, not that she cared considering what happened to Babe. Once Cassie and her husband were the final royals alive, we knew it’d be a matter of time before the
Lost Princess
was made queen; we at least thought she’d wait a while before killing off Count Cristiano. As soon as they were both shot, Harriet and I were surprised but should’ve known she’d make herself a martyr to gain more popularity.”