Page 43 of Us in Ruins
Craning over her shoulder, Van said, “Too old. We’re looking for something from the last century.”
They wove between the stacks, deeper and deeper into the archives. Something crashed behind them, the sound of a locked door splintering, and Margot pinched her eyes closed. The legionary. They didn’t have much time.
Van reached into the shelf below and wiggled out an armful of books with deckle edges and white linen covers. “Look for any trades out of Pompeii.”
Handing a few to Margot, they wasted no time flipping through the records—tidy, dark black lines of text that Margot had to squint to read. Each time she discarded a book, Van handed her another.
Thumbing through the pages, Margot caught glimpses of the past—a few handfuls of expeditions dating back to Van’s era, a couple of German archaeologists, someone British, a pair of Swedish names. Each one of them scraping at the earth, trying to reap what it had sown.
One cropped up a few times. Atlas Exploration Company.
“Atlas had his own company?” Margot asked.
Van made a noise caught halfway between a sigh and a snort. “And he never let anyone forget it.”
Margot skimmed her index finger down the page. There were too many trades to count. Atlas Exploration Company sent shipments to the Museo Storico Navale di Venezia, Galleria dell’Accademia di Firenze, and about a thousand other museums across Italy. Dread congealed in her stomach. They’d never have time to hunt through them.
“These stop the same year you disappeared,” she said, resting her painted nail on the last transaction.
Van nodded. “I guess it’s bad press to have a crew member die on your watch. His family probably pulled his funding and forced him to go home.”
But Margot tapped that last trade, something tugging at her thoughts like a loose thread. “You said Atlas had been the one to complete the trial of Aura, right? So, he would have known where to look for the shard after it reset.”
“He wouldn’t have traded it,” Van said. Quick, tense. “I know Atlas. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to find the Vase.”
“Maybe it was an act of protection.” Margot’s thoughts were spinning so quickly, she could hardly keep up. “Think about it. The only way to put together the Vase is to have all five shards. Alone, it looks like any other piece of pottery. He couldn’t get the rest of the shards, but as long as this one was missing, no one else could either.”
A few stacks over, an entire shelf of documents collapsed. Reverberations shuddered through Margot’s joints. The legionary stomped into view, striking against the cases with the hilt of his sword. Each pulverized bookshelf brought him closer.
Margot held her breath, didn’t dare to blink, in case any of those movements would give away their admittedly lackluster hiding spot. Suddenly she understood every deer in every headlight. Terror coursed down her spine, zinging through her central nervous system and inching toward a full-blown panic attack.
Van tore the page from the ledger and folded it into his pocket. The noise drew the attention of the legionary. “Time to run.”
Immediately, Van’s hand found Margot’s. This time, his fingers laced with hers, and he hauled her between the stacks. The soldier tore after them. One massive hand gripped the side of a mahogany shelf and tugged, toppling it as if it were weightless. Books spilled, hardcovers splaying and pages tearing, as it slammed into the next shelf. That one knocked into the next and the next, falling like dominoes.
The force of each downed bookcase jolted through Margot’s bones. Propelling her forward, she gripped tighter to Van’s hand. Books cascaded around them as shelves on each side staggered.
Margot and Van ran until they couldn’t, until the museum spat them out through a doorway and they landed in a heap on the floors of an exhibit hall, all glossy marble and pristine glass cases like there wasn’t a living, breathing statue trying to kill them.
Van hurtled upright, but Margot moved too slowly. The legionary’s path of destruction had gotten him too close too fast. Now, his stone hand wrapped around her throat and hoisted her into the air. She didn’t even have time to scream.
His hold tightened, and Margot pried at his grip. But she wasn’t strong enough to break marble with her bare hands, so all her thrashing did nothing to slow the steady squeeze of its knuckles around her windpipe. If anything, it made him clench harder. Like he was annoyed. Could statues be annoyed?
Her vision blurred. Through the fog, she watched Van analyzing the situation. His gaze fell on her backpack, and the shards he knew it held, and then on her, caught as she was, in an unwinnable scenario. She would have yelled in rage if she had the breath—Van, weighing his options, like maybe she was optional.
Then, as if prodded, he lurched into motion.
For a second, he vanished past her periphery. There was a shatter—a glass case, maybe—and then the blare of an alarm. Red lights flared through the room, and an automated Italian voice warbled over invisible speakers.
Not good. Incredibly not good. Bad times a thousand.
Amid the black spots crowding her vision, Van reappeared holding a medieval lance with a rusted blade. Raising it overhead, he lunged it into the statue’s bicep, piercing the stone. The legionary’s grip slackened. Margot slammed against the floor and gasped for air, eyes stinging and throat chafed.
While Margot sputtered, Van sparred the soldier. His swordsmanship needed polishing, but he managed to disarm the statue, the marble sword clanging down to the tiles. It did little to dissuade him. The legionary landed jabs against the planes of Van—his ribs, his shoulders. He stumbled back, gasping as each blow fell.
Margot lifted onto her hands and knees, wobbly. She didn’t want to see Van beaten to a pulp any more than she wanted to be arrested for destruction of property. Even if that property had a serious bone to pick with her.
In the corners of her vision, a legion of uniformed guards—flesh and blood ones, thankfully, but only by a small margin—aimed down the hallway. Oh no. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen going to her brain, but they seemed to be multiplying.