I glance down at my jeans and black corduroy jacket. I’ll never admit that it took me a couple of hours to figure out what to wear; I was going for a cross between looking good and looking like I don’t care. Apparently, “don’t care” won out. I’m about to say something about him lying, but at the last second decide to let it go. “Thanks. Where are we going?”
Drew turns and steps onto the sidewalk. “It’s sort of a secret. All I’ll say is that I promise to get you home safely before curfew.”
I instinctively feel for my phone in the pocket of my jeans. I can always call a cab if I need to go home. If doing what he wants for one night is going to make him go away forever, it seems like a bargain. “Okay.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Really? Great. Don’t comment, just keep your mind open and your opinions to yourself for now. My car’s over here.” Drew leads me down the block to a low-slung black car with a red stripe down the hood. It looks like it would be at home in a superhero movie or on a racetrack. He walks around and opens the passenger door for me, and I slide into a seat that feels like it instantly surrounds me, adjusting to my every move. The interior is all pale gray leather and totally spotless. I look from the chrome dashboard to the steering wheel with the logo I don’t recognize.
“This is your car?” I ask as he eases into the driver’s seat. “What is it, a Ferrari?”
“Bugatti,” he says, patting the dashboard. “It’s a great car for driving around town. Or to Vegas.”
“We’re driving to Vegas?”
He glances at me as the engine roars to life. “I thought about it, but I figured you didn’t have that kind of time.”
I look around the obviously expensive car, really more cockpit than interior, and try to decide whether he’s kidding or not. “So if we’re not going to Vegas, where are we going?”
“You agreed not to comment.”
“Fine. I’ll just sit here and shut up.”
“That’ll work,” he says. We turn toward downtown, but as much as I want to ask more questions, I sit back and look out the window. The driver of every car we pass turns and does a double take at the Bugatti, but Drew doesn’t seem to notice.
I feel the leather seat under my hand. “So your parents are insanely rich?”
Drew settles back in his seat as the car shoots forward. “They are now. I help them out. When I was a kid they were just your average, middle-class couple living in Sydney. Dad’s an engineer and Mum stayed home with us.”
“Now I totally don’t get it. What was all that talk about arriving in San Francisco with just a duffel bag? Kat said that you’re a jewelry designer. She didn’t say anything about race cars.”
“I only design jewelry for fun. As far as most people are concerned, I’m a jewelry designer with an unknown source of family money, and that’s fine,” he says, almost apologetically. “Even Francesca doesn’t know anything close to the truth.”
A shadow passes across his face as he says her name that makes me think something’s going on there. “So what is the truth?”
“Have you been told anything about the Iawi? About Alexandria and the catacombs?”
“I know that the Iawi are really old Akhet. That’s about it.”
Drew nods slowly, and I can tell he’s measuring out the information he’s going to give me. “The first formal organization of Akhet took place in Rhakotis. It’s now called Alexandria.”
“In Egypt,” I say, connecting some of the dots. “Which is why everything has an Egyptian name.”
“Right. When people first began to realize that they were remembering their past lives, they wanted a safe place to store valuables to make their next lives easier. We found that in Rhakotis. Some Iawi keep things in other places too, but Rhakotis is the only sanctioned place for safekeeping.”
I look up at the lighted windows of the high-rises as we pass through the Financial District. “What kinds of valuables?” I finally ask.
“Small things, mostly. Jewels, gold, things like that. Although the past few centuries have brought more opportunity to save things in other places and go back for them in the next lifetime. We’ve gotten more savvy about what types of things people find valuable over the years.” He leans forward with a smile. “Do you have any idea how much a Honus Wagner baseball card is worth these days? I can buy a couple of Bugattis for the value of one little baseball card.”
“That’s it? You just sell baseball cards for a living?”
“No. Every lifetime is more expensive than the last, which is why you always need to build on the money you’ve put aside. Some Akhet skills can come in extraordinarily handy for that. Picking the best of the stock market, knowing which tech companies will probably thrive in the future.” Drew laughs. “It’s pretty simple, really. I have money. Companies need money in order to start up or expand. I give them what they need, and they give me a cut of the profits.” He shifts hard with his right hand. “Raising money is pretty simple once you get the hang of it. We all do it. I’d imagine even your Sekhem friends aren’t hurting for cash.”
I remember Griffon saying that money wasn’t a problem when he had the right-handed cello made for me. But he and Janine live in a pretty regular house, and he drives a motorcycle. Not a race car. Although Janine does seem to know a large number of powerful and wealthy people.
“They don’t live like this.”
“I’m sure they could if they wanted to.”
I look over at Drew, and he’s got a broad smile on his face.
“Why are you so happy?”
His smile is instantly replaced by a more serious face. “Sorry, I forgot. No fun around Cole.”
I frown. “That’s not true. I’m plenty fun.”
“We’ll see about that.” He reaches into a space behind my seat. “But I did get you a little something. Just for fun.”
“I don’t want anything else from you,” I say. I already feel a little guilty about the earrings I shoved back into his hands after he went to all the trouble of making them for me.
He holds a bag out to me. “Why not? I already said that money’s not an issue. It’s not a big deal.”
I take the bag and place it in my lap. Inside is a black dress and a shoebox. I lift out the dress and the box—I recognize the designer, because Kat is always going on about their stuff. Inside the shoebox is a pair of high-heeled black platform sandals with red soles. Everything is exactly my size. Suddenly, my face feels hot. I shove it all back in the bag and tuck it behind his seat. “I can’t take these.”
He looks defeated. “Why not? I just saw them and thought about how great they’d look on you.”
“I don’t want them.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says. “I just thought you’d like them.”
“I’m not something else for you to purchase,” I say, anger rising inside me. “I agreed to go with you one more time and that’s it. I’m just fulfilling my end of the bargain.”
He looks so hurt I almost feel like apologizing. “Honestly, I didn’t mean anything. You used to love it when I got you things before. I just thought you still would feel that way.”
“Well, I don’t,” I say. “I’m not Allison anymore.”
He parks the car near a row of warehouses by the piers and turns his steady gaze on me. “Trust me, I know that.”
Drew grabs my hand as he helps me out of the low-slung sports car, but I pull it away and manage to climb out myself. Drew glances back at me, but doesn’t reach for my hand again.
I look around at the alleys full of trash bins and burned-out streetlights as we approach a plain gray door. “Where are we?”
“San Francisco.”
“Funny.” I glance at the nondescript brick building with the rickety-looking fire escape climbing up the side. There’s no sign out front or over the door. I hear sirens in the distance, but other than that, it’s disturbingly quiet out here. I feel for the phone in my pocket. Just in case. “I mean, what is this place?”
“It’s a club,” he says, ringing a bell that’s almost hidden on the right side of the door frame.
“What kind of a club?”
The door opens and we’re ushered into a dark hallway by a man in a suit. “A private club,” he answers.
“Good to see you again Mr. Braithwaite,” the man at the door says.
“Thanks, Max,” Drew says. “Anyone special in tonight?”
“The usual suspects,” he says. He looks at me, but I don’t feel anything menacing in his eyes. “I see you’ve brought us someone new.”
“This is Cole,” Drew says. “She is new. I’m showing her around.”
The man looks approving. “Shewi?”
Drew nods. “Just a few months.”
The man looks surprised, but doesn’t say anything more. Drew smiles at him. “Max likes to call himself an ordinary doorman, but he’s really the master of ceremonies at this place. Nothing happens here that he doesn’t know about. Or approve of.”
Max gives a little bow in my direction. “And your friend here is prone to exaggeration. But welcome to our little home away from home. Enjoy.”
I can hear faint music playing and murmuring voices as we walk down a dimly lit hallway. Drew slows his pace and turns to me. “Sorry about that. Most of the people here are Iawi. Some of them remember lifetimes that stretch back to the beginning of memory. That’s why Max was so surprised that you’re Shewi and so new. Stick with me and you’ll be fine.”
“Wait. This club is for Akhet?”
He nods. “It’s a private club, like I said. There are many places like it all over the world where people like us can come and talk freely, to meet up with people and not have to worry that what we say will be overheard by those who don’t understand. You’d be surprised at the people you can meet in a place like this.”
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