Serenity Blake and the Eye of the Pharaoh by Natalie G. Owens

Author:Natalie G. Owens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rose of Atlantis Press

Within twenty-four hours, we were on a plane to Cairo. More importantly, Crowley had been in touch with someone there, and a related investigation was underway. If we wanted answers, we needed to be on site.

Thankfully, the scorching hot Egyptian summer hadn’t yet started, but it would be round the corner. As we descended the plane in the early evening, the aircraft surrounded by the most impressive crowd of spirits I’d ever seen congregated in one spot, the desert breeze came at us mildly pleasant and soothing.

It wasn’t an unpleasant trip to the hotel, where Zen and I would stay in one room and Alistair was given the one next door. Thankfully, although his attitude had been frosty at first, it was never in question that he’d join us on this trip—so at least I didn’t have to deal with all the unresolved tension that had simmered between us just yet. More of a relief, he seemed to be back to his old self. Before going in our respective suites, we agreed to meet at the dining room in an hour.

I unlocked my bag, fished out a clean pair of underwear, jeans, and t-shirt, and raced to the bathroom, beating Zen by a split second.

“I won’t be long!” I called out when I caught her sour expression. After our trip, we both wanted out of our clothes and a nice shower.

Slipping inside the stall adorned with mosaic tile all around, I started the rain head shower. The water ran down my back, and I sighed in pleasure. Thoughts of the whirlwind events of the last few days rushed to the forefront of my mind as I leaned in and enjoyed the soothing pour gliding down my skin.

So now here I was, turning off the faucet and toweling myself dry in an upscale Cairo hotel. Crowley had insisted on putting us up in decent lodgings, and that made me wonder just how much financial support and reach the IPIA had. The man had never spoken much about his personal situation, or how he ran this underground yet surprisingly resourceful organization. Still, against my better judgment and solely based on a gut feeling, I trusted him—and I trusted Connie.

Just before we’d taken off from Heathrow, he had let me know nobody by the name of Nabil Mansour had boarded an EgyptAir flight that day, or even that week as per Julie’s notes. The man might have used a different airline, but then why send the actual flight number to Julie? I’d speculated he could have used a fake passport, but Crowley had that covered, too—all the passengers on that flight checked out. Something was definitely wrong here, even only based on the fact the police were involved. So, Crowley was putting me in touch with Khalid Saeed of the Egypt Interpol office, with whom I was scheduled to meet tomorrow.

But why Interpol?

Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I made quick work of getting dressed and waking up my towel-dried hair by raking my fingers through it.

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