He looked around. “Zenos,” he called out to his partner.
The other man ran up, slightly out of breath.
Fayez rattled off something in Greek. Zenos took off toward the marina, while Fayez started walking the opposite way.
Sam, holding tight to Remi’s hand, waited a minute, making sure they didn’t return. “What’d he say?”
“He told Zenos to walk on the waterfront.”
Sam rose up high enough to look through the windows of the van. Fayez, apparently, intended to parallel his partner, walking up the street behind the restaurants. Unfortunately, both men were heading in the direction that Sam and Remi needed to go to get back to their motorcycle. “I think if we head up another block, we can parallel the both of them, and keep out of sight.”
They made a right turn, walking up a steep street, the cobblestones slippery from being so worn. Keeping the port on their left, the streets and alleys were easy to navigate as they worked their way west, then south. They turned the corner, then stopped, seeing Fayez blocking their way.
“Time for Plan B,” Sam said, taking her arm.
“Which is what?”
“We run.” He pulled Remi down a narrow, covered street crowded with shops and kiosks. A cacophony of sounds carried toward them, music and the drone of voices. Merchants called out, trying to entice customers into their space, some selling fine linen and Egyptian cotton, others jewelry, souvenirs, and T-shirts. Sam and Remi ran past, then jumped over a dog napping at the entrance of a catwalk between two buildings. The wire-haired mongrel was apparently used to the comings and goings. Sam looked back. “I think we lost him.”
Remi, however, was looking in the opposite direction. “Doesn’t that remind you of the drawing in the back of Zoe’s book?” She pointed at a banner strung across the awning of a ceramics shop on the opposite side of the street.
Sam glanced up as a gust of wind caught at the sign, rippling the material like a ship’s sail. When it finally settled, he saw an angry face surrounded by snakes staring at him. He was about to agree when he heard the sound of footsteps echoing somewhere behind them.
Remi looked up at the Gorgon as they crossed the street. “The professor did say Gorgons ward off evil.”
“Let’s hope she’s right,” Sam said, then drew her inside the store.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
A young man sat on a stool, carving away at a block of wood, while pale-colored shavings accumulated on the floor at his feet.
His dark eyes regarded first her, then Sam, with mild curiosity as Sam returned to the door, keeping watch outside. Remi, trying to look like a normal customer, eyed the ceramic pieces, many depicting the same angry face as that on the sign out front.
She picked up a mug sitting on a shelf, rubbing her thumb over the carving on the mug. “I’d say this looks far closer to Zoe’s sketch, don’t you think?”
Sam glanced over. “Definitely in the face. But Zoe’s sketch has a head full of hair, not snakes.”
He was right about that. Every one of these faces had thick-corded hair with snake heads at the ends. Curious about the origin of the design, she turned to the boy, showing him the mug. “What is this?” she asked in Greek.
He looked up from his carving, his brow furrowing as he glanced from her to Sam, then back. He pointed to his mouth. “To drink. Coffee? Tea?”
She laughed. “I mean the face.” She looked about the shop. “It’s everywhere. What is it?”
“You like this? Everything here, my mother makes.” He called to someone in the back of the shop.
An old woman holding a broom pulled aside a curtain and looked out. She tapped her broom on the floor. Having overheard the conversation, she knew they were Americans and replied in English. “Gorgons. To ward off evil.”
“Gorgons,” he repeated.
“We should buy one,” Remi said to Sam.
“Why?”
“What if it works?”
“You don’t really believe that stuff?”
“Who knows?” She replaced the mug and picked up a quart-size blue pot with what she thought was a delightfully ugly Gorgon face on the front. “We might be pleasantly surprised. I do like this one.”