12. Chosen

The flight to Egypt was sad, despite Jean Yves being excited about their arrival, an enthusiasm born of interest, of course, but honest, after all.

Usually Anna would annoy Lara on flights – which were rarely short-timed, in her case – with lots of mindless chattering, moving around in her seat, strolling along the corridor or bothering the cabin crew with insightful questions. Now, the girl sitting next to her remained silent and motionless, at times looking out the window, at times dozing slightly. She didn't eat, she didn't sleep, and she answered everything in monosyllables.

Lara had no intention of pressuring her to speak. Anyway, she already knew everything she needed to know. Anna was angry with her, angry at him and, being in her teens, she didn't know how to manage that anger. For the first time, none of her requests and protests were answered – neither good nor bad. She just didn't know how to react.

As for herself, Lara took advantage of that sudden calm to reflect – and by the time the plane landed at the Cairo airport, she had made a decision.

Anna regained her vitality at Jean Yves' sight, who, for a change, had gone to pick them up at the airport – something never seen before. He must be really impatient, Lara thought sarcastically as she looked at her daughter, suddenly merry and jumpy again, run to Uncle Jean and jump up to him like a frog, hook to his neck and stick a sloppy kiss on his cheek, which he tolerated without complaining. Look at her, Lara growled inwardly. The anger has passed.

"Dear Lara, you can't know how much I appreciate that you changed your mind!" The Egyptologist smiled as he ran to embrace her effusively. Like old times, Lara just tolerated his embrace. "I didn't know what to do to convince you to come here." He peered over Lara's shoulder. "Where's Kurtis?"

Still clutching his huge arm, Anna looked up at Jean. "Dad couldn't come, he's on an important mission." She stressed the last words raising her finger. "But he sent me on behalf of the Lux Veritatis' order."

Lara discreetly covered her mouth while Jean laughed openly. "Très bien! So, let's not waste time. We must find out what those illustrious knights want from you, n'est pas?"

But the British explorer raised a hand, stopping the Frenchman's bubbling enthusiasm. "Halt. Those knights are dead. They have waited, surely, a long time to deliver such an important message." She glanced sideways at the girl, who looked at her annoyed. "It won't matter they wait a little longer. We rest tonight at the hotel, and tomorrow we leave for al-Fayoum, understood?" Resigned, Anna nodded and ran to pick up her luggage a moment later when Lara leaned towards Jean and whispered. "I need to talk to you."

She entered the small motel room before Kurtis and didn't blink when he closed the door behind them. The room was honestly horrendous and filthy, but he didn't apologize or waste time looking for excuses – not that she was expecting them either.

"You'll stay here until I give you new instructions." The former Legionnaire said, dropping a bag on the stinking bed. "I will come from time to time to see you, and I will bring you food, but you can't leave here. Gotcha?"

Barbara nodded. She was standing in front of him, her hands crossed in her lap. She didn't want to show how uncomfortable she felt alone with him in such a narrow room. His manly scent came in intense waves. Again, her delicate nose played tricks on her.

Of course, it wasn't about him. Any other mortal – she hadn't got used to being among them yet – made her feel equally uncomfortable.

"You won't leave this room, you won't answer the phone, you won't open the door if it's not me." Kurtis continued, striding across the room, checking every corner, lifting carpets, pulling curtains. Barbara had to dodge him more than once. "You won't go near the window, you won't open it, you won't pull back the curtains, you won't play music or turn on the TV."

"Am I allowed to shower?" She couldn't contain herself, finally. "Or is smelling like this room part of the plan, too?"

The ex-legionary turned to her. He wasn't smiling. "Was that sarcasm?" He asked. "Okay, disobey me. At your own risk. But when they find you dead I won't approach to check if it's your body or not – watching it on TV will be enough."

He rummaged in his jacket and pulled out a key chain, which he threw on the bedspread.

"Lock yourself when you leave. You have enough food for a week. Don't eat indiscriminately, but don't starve yourself either. I need you strong for what you gotta do." He opened the zipper of the bag. "You've also stuff to treat your surgery wounds. Oh, and some light reading." Now a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. He lifted a thick wad of printed sheets. "That way you'll kill time instead of time killing you."

"What is it?"

"A draft of Selma's thesis. I think it might be interesting."

"Thanks for caring about my entertainment." Again, the sarcasm. She was growing bold.

Kurtis cut her short. "I don't give a damn about your entertainment". The jacket was closed with a jerk. "I need you to read it and confirm the names and places of the Cabal fuckers who are still alive, or not, that can still be a problem, or that can move to a secondary place of interest. You have a pencil in the bag. Write down."

"That's an order? This wasn't part of the deal."

"Everything I tell you to do is part of the deal. Period." Turning around, Kurtis strode to the door, but before he opened it, Barbara stopped him. "Wait!"

"What?"

"What happens if you don't return after a week? Maybe it's you who ends up being a corpse on TV."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled with that crooked smile of his. "Then, do what you've been doing pretty good so far." He said. "Run."

That night, under the electric light of the Arabian lanterns Jean had decorating his terrace in Khan-el-Khalili, and after Anna fell exhausted on one of his couches in the warm attic, Lara informed Jean about the current status of Selma's thesis, what happened in Sri Lanka, Marie's illness, and the uncertainties of the future. She only avoided mentioning Kurtis, until, of course, the French Egyptologist ended up reading between the lines, for which he'd always had a talent.

"Not an appropriate time for fights." He commented discreetly, sinking his nose into his glass of Moorish tea. "And there must have been such, since Kurtis is not here dealing with something that affects him as much as the girl." Before Lara could protest, he raised his hand to silence her. "Don't worry, chérie. I don't intend to mess with your private life. You know how to handle this as well as him, I'm certain."

"Rather, your main concern is to enter Loanna's tomb." Lara hinted with a poisonous smile. "And finally own the exclusive publication and divulgation of the study."

"Mais non!" Jean shrugged with pretended innocence. "I care about the kid as much as you. But I doubt we should be worried. Those Lux Veritatis won't hurt her."

"No, of course not." Lara sighed. "Now she's one of them. The earlier we solve this, the better."

Jean leaned over the golden tray and picked up his umpteenth baklava.

"You should stop eating those." The British explorer told him.

"Do I tell you how you should manage your... huh..." He hesitated, looking for the appropriate word. "... partner? Or your daughter? Non? Then let me handle my stomach."

When he had something to do, living was much easier. He thought less and acted more.

After leaving Barbara in that smelly motel at Istanbul's suburbs, secretly praying that Schäffer had decided to take a few days of truce after the Grand Bazaar's fiasco, Kurtis drove back to Cappadocia. Sounded like no big deal, although it took endless hours of road in which he only stopped to rest an hour.

When finally he found himself again in Selma's archaeological dig near Göreme, he hurt in everything that could hurt in a human body, or so it seemed. However, again, that pain was manageable and to some extent it tasted like glory.

It helped him stop thinking.

So, when Selma and Zip told him, worried, that Lara had flown to Egypt and she'd taken Anna with her, he didn't even blink. He just stared at them and then summoned them all – Marie included – in the main barrack, where he cleared a large table and proceeded, without further ado, to update them on the current status of his plan, taking a huge map of the dig, turning it around and beginning to draw sketches and schemes without asking permission.

Not having Lara there, not even his own daughter, had a sad, though obvious perk: nobody interrupted him, nobody questioned him, nobody argued or challenged him. Selma, Zip and Marie just listened to him in silence, with surprised and astonished expressions, looking sideways at each other, but, still silent. Kurtis appreciated it. He hated to repeat himself or even explain himself too much. "Any questions?" He said when done.

The listeners looked at each other for a moment, then Selma timidly raised her hand: "May I ask anything?"

Kurtis raised an eyebrow in a sarcastic gesture. "If it has to do with the plan…"

The Turkish archaeologist took a deep breath. "I still can't believe that Bathsheba's alive..."

"... and that you didn't kill her on the spot." Marie growled between teeth. Like most of those present, she'd very good reasons to hate the ex-Nephilim.

"Dead, she's of no use to me. Alive, she'll be the perfect bait. I already told you she agreed to cooperate." Kurtis looked around among those present. "I'll use my murderous instincts when I catch that bastard Schäffer. Until then, I'll have a cool head."

"If you catch him." Marie said, resentful. "This plan is madness. Terribly risky. Not only you risk our lives, but everyone who attends Selma's presentation. What happens if that psycho fires indiscriminately? How many people will be down?"

"That's not Schäffer's style. It was not Gunderson's style either, nor any of the Cabal's agents. You know that too well. Any other question?"

"Yes." Marie charged again. "Why I haven't been assigned a role in this plan? You leave me aside like old clothes. I'm sick, but not useless. I want to be there, and I want to help."

"It's not just that you're sick." Kurtis replied. "You really can't do anything, except take care of Anna. If things get ugly... take her away from there – and warn the authorities."

Zip tensed in the chair. "Holy shit." He murmured. "Kurt trusting the cops. Well yes, shit must be fucked up to get to that place."

"If we get to that," Kurtis sighed, "cops or not won't make a difference." And then looked at Selma, who watched him in silence. "You'll be on stage, in the middle of everything. Can I count on you? This may go very wrong. And you are there, in the centre of the hurricane."

The Turkish looked at him seriously, and then nodded. "I've waited years for this moment. In one way or another, there are always evil people who stand in the way of destroying my dreams. It will not happen anymore. Count on me."

"At whatever price?" Marie asked, perplexed. "You could die."

"At whatever price. I was born for this." Selma reclined on the chair and relaxed. "I have no further questions."

"Me neither." Zip said quickly. "If the princess agrees, I agree. As for the rest I'm your bitch, dude."

"I'm not." Marie went again. "Why Anna has to be in the middle? Send her back to England, as far as possible from here."

Kurtis, still leaning on the table with the palms of his hands, lowered his head. For a moment he remained silent. Then, he muttered with difficulty. "I need her."

"What?"

"I need Anna. She must be there."

Again, they looked at each other, stupefied. "I need the Gift." Kurtis continued, speaking slowly. "Only she has it now. I can't explain it here, and neither to you. It's something between her and me. It's something she must do for me, now that I no longer have that power."

"She doesn't control her Gift." Marie protested. "She doesn't even know how to use it, she hasn't had time to learn yet and you didn't start to train her. God, she's just a kid! We still don't know the extent of her qualities or the price she'll have to pay for them. And you put her in the middle of this madness..." She stopped abruptly when noticing Kurtis' gaze on her. It was a difficult glance to hold. In her female intuition and old age, Marie understood that it was just as difficult, if not more, for him to make that decision. "I hope you know what you're doing." She concluded. "If someone touches Anna, I..."

I…

Kurtis clenched his teeth. "That's why I need Lara." He clarified. "It'll be up to her to escort and protect her."

Once again, they were looking at each other, hesitantly.

"Lara's not here." Marie said, hating to be, again, the discordant voice. "Let's trust that, when the time comes, she'll cooperate with us."

And she had the courtesy to say us, although Kurtis captured the real meaning of her phrase.

"She'll cooperate." He closed his eyes, exhausted. "She has to cooperate."

The shotgun was laying on the table, cold, motionless and apparently harmless, hiding, for a change, its lethal capacity. The winter sun that filtered through the canvas of the Jeep shone brightly on its metal surface.

Anna reached out and gently stroked the weapon's butt, clad in beautiful, polished and varnished dark wood.

"Stop it." Lara growled, without turning around. "I'm watching you."

The girl wondered if her mother had a bat's hearing, since she didn't seem to have grown eyes on the back of her neck. Still showing her back to her, Lara was adjusting the cartridge belts to her thighs - and yet, she'd seen her. She withdrew her hand.

"When will you teach me to shoot?"

"When you are of age."

"When will I be of age?"

Lara finished adjusting the strap and, sighing, turned around. "We've talked about this before. When you became an adult, period."

"That's far away!" The girl protested, frustrated.

"As it should be – and now move away. Next time you touch something from my arsenal, I'll..."

"…you'll pack me back to England, I know." Anna jumped off the stool and pulled away, pouting with her lips.

"Be content with being the sudden centre of interest of knights killed centuries ago." Lara sheathed the pistols in the holsters she'd just adjusted. "Believe me, you don't need guns. You've pretty enough already."

Anna rolled her eyes and pushed the canvas out of the entrance with a swipe to get out. While she finished adjusting her backpack, she thought about how technically useless all those preparatory were. The Lux Veritatis wouldn't attack Anna, and in case the episode of Sri Lanka was repeated, there was little to nothing she could do to help her. Except hold her in her arms, as she'd already done.

The belt was adjusted with energy. In short, it was a habit. In the open field, without her equipment, she felt naked, whether she really needed it or not. Besides, it wasn't that she relied exclusively on it. She knew how to improvise. She knew how to get out of trouble. She knew how to quickly recompose this equipment if she lost it. She hadn't missed chances to put herself to the test.

But after Sri Lanka, she was overcome by uncertainty. Sri Lanka... she'd been about to die. And unlike Egypt itself, many years ago, this time not only her would have been affected.

She didn't know what to expect from that bizarre meeting, nor how to be useful to Anna in such a situation.

She missed Kurtis – and she despised herself for that.

Sixteen years, and hardly a thing had changed in the oasis of Al-Fayoum. True, Jean had cleaned the area: now it wasn't all just sand, palm trees and a few scattered shops. There were prefabricated concrete caissons, a parking area – which often ended up also buried by sand – and a fence around the entrance to the sanctuary that was Loanna von Skopf's last resting place.

A part of Lara felt sorry for the Egyptologist, who had long wanted to enter that place and open their secrets to the world. In a way, it was like cutting off his wings.

Anna stood obediently waiting at the entrance to the tunnel, her eyes fixed on the Lux Veritatis symbol engraved on the arch's lintel. Suddenly she looked serious and thoughtful.

"Are you scared?" Lara said, finishing adjusting the gloves.

The girl snorted. "Meeeeee? Of course not!" She put her arms akimbo. "Are we going or not?"

"Let's go."

She was tenacious, sensible, obedient, and cooperative. Kurtis had to give her that.

After a week, he found her as he'd left her, only that the room was cleaner, tidier, smelled better – was the aroma that wafted in the air lavender? The food had been consumed for the most part, but not in its entirety, and she was almost done reading Selma's thesis.

He found Barbara away from the door and the window, which hadn't been touched, not on the stained desk and the threadbare chair, but on the floor, behind the bed, her back against the wall, the folios arranged around her – and focused on writing something on the margins of what seemed to be the last sheets.

When he entered, the woman jumped and hurried to cover her shoulders with a shawl, since she was only wearing a nightgown. He could have knocked, she thought angrily. But then she dismissed the idea as stupid. By now, she should already know better.

Without further delay, Kurtis slammed the door, threw the bag aside and went to her in two strides. Barbara pressed her back against the wall, but he barely looked at her. He grabbed a bunch of pages and looked at her notes on the side-lines.

"Good girl." He commented. She wasn't sure if that was sarcasm. "Be a dear and gimme the short version."

"It's an excellent work, but..."

"Don't care about the thesis. I'm talking about Cabal members she mentions. If any of them, apart from Schäffer, can suppose a problem to us after this is published."

Barbara sighed. "None. They are all dead." She shrugged. "Good work, by the way."

Kurtis looked at her out of the corner of his eye for a moment.

"Stop it." She sighed again, tired. "We both have been doing our own research all these years, right? I used to look for the few Cabal members who escaped from the police, and you, to kill them."

She saw the man standing up, walking to the crumpled desk chair, collapsing on top of it and continuing to leaf through the papers. "And despite that," he murmured, "we never crossed paths."

"I already told you, I learn fast." Barbara shook her hair. The scent of lavender intensified. "I get why you'd take care of Hugh. After all, he was a spy. But what was Karl's fault? He was just a guard. Or the nurses..."

"Murderers." Kurtis mumbled. "Torturers. Sadists. Disgusting assholes without morals or values."

"They carried out orders."

"And I protect my family." The man smiled with that feral grimace. "Have we finished with this constructive speech?"

"Yes."

"Fine." He got up and began to stretch his muscles. "Tonight, I sleep here," he ignored the woman's displeased face, "and you can take the bed, I don't want it. But I'm busted off the road and I need to rest. Now you pack your things and be ready to leave tomorrow morning."

"Where are we going?"

"Cappadocia. Göreme, to be more precise."

Barbara paled abruptly, and a nervous twitch appeared on the semi-paralyzed side of her face.

"No."

"Excuse me, I'm not asking for your opinion." Kurtis laughed lightly.

"I don't want…"

He raised an eyebrow. "Bad conscience? Too late for that." He dropped the papers on the worn desk. "As you will understand, I can't insert you in the plan without introducing you. Now they know you're alive. They will cooperate."

"Even Lara Croft?"

For a moment, he watched her silently, as he doubted. "No. She doesn't know yet. She's in Egypt, with my daughter."

They measured themselves in silence for a moment. In the end, she confessed: "I don't want to meet her."

"Wise of you. Lara's much less reasonable and compassionate than me. And her resentment can last a long time, I know well." He let out a bitter laugh. "But you have no choice. You'll have to cooperate. I hope she does too."

"And if not? I just get a bullet in the head?"

"Probably." He smiled again with that crooked grimace. "I forgave, and I've been trying to forget, what you did to her. But she never signed on for that. Anyway, you won't meet until I'm sure she's gonna cooperate. Until then you will stay in a hotel in Göreme, better than this one, likely," he looked around, "so try to rest. What happens from now ain't gonna be easy."

Barbara rose heavily from the floor. Her movements, Kurtis noticed, were still clumsy and cautious. She'd gained some weight, but she was still weak. Maybe too much.

But he couldn't afford to be concerned. In silence, he apologized – for he couldn't afford to even apologize out loud either.

"One last detail." He said behind her back, interrupting her when she was already in the bathroom. "The latter doesn't apply to my daughter. I don't want you near her."

"We'll necessarily have to coincide. She's a child. Children are curious about..."

"You won't approach her, you won't talk to her, you won't touch her. If she approaches you, you turn around and go away. Understood?"

Barbara sighed. "Yes. But I'm no longer a threat, as I told you. I'd never hurt a child..."

"Of course not. But it's her I'm protecting you from."

The woman raised her eyebrows again. Kurtis laughed. "I can tell you don't know shit about my daughter. Better that way."

There they were, firm in the darkness. Still vigilant, still faithful. In their pathetic endurance and loyalty there was something sad, something infinitely bleak, but at the same time, dignified and majestic.

"Oh, whoa." Anna gasped, with wide eyes. "Amazeballs."

The two skeletons remained on either side of the gate giving access to the large circular chamber that was Loanna's tomb. Nothing had changed. No trap had been activated. Lara hadn't need to fear for Anna's safety. Years ago, she'd entered with a Lux Veritatis who blocked them with his aura – and now she'd another at her side who, passively, unknowingly, was doing the same as her father years ago.

Fascinating, she thought. And frustrating at the same time. There was no challenge. No excitement. She sighed.

She noticed Anna grabbing her hand and twisting it, still gawking at the immobile skeletons. "Can we get closer now?"

Lara took a step forward, with the girl clutching her arm. "You're scared."

"I'm not!"

"You're tearing my arm."

"'Coz you're very slow!"

Slow, me? Lara was about to outburst when, suddenly, the skeletons moved.

In unison, gracefully, as shoal at sea, they stepped forward and unsheathed their swords. The screech of rusty metal ripped through the thick, silent air.

Anna screamed, more of excitement than of fear, but Lara had already pushed her back and placed herself in front of her, covering her, one hand on the gun, already with the safety catch removed – but her caution was unnecessary. Again, gracefully, with a solemn and majestic movement, the two skeletons made an arc in the air with their blades, knelt before them and plunged their swords into the ground, in front of them, taking the hilt with their skeletal hands and bowing their heads in respect, and rested their foreheads on the pommel of the sword.

"Holy shit!" Anna released. "This is fucking cool!"

And then they spoke. Lara already knew that multiple voice – so confusing, upsetting, that seemed to speak through a dream, a nebula, a curtain of water. Human voices, male voices, but distant, ethereal. Ancient.

Welcome, Anna Croft, daughter of Lara Croft, the Amazon, to whom the angels came; daughter of Kurtis Heissturm, the Warrior, the Son of Light, the one who returned from the Vortex, the chosen by the mother of all Nephili.

The girl's jaw dropped in a stunned expression. Then she tugged at her mother's sleeve. "That's me! You hear them? You hear them? They are talking to me!" She jumped nervously on her feet. "What a fucking blast!"

"Anna Croft," Lara mumbled between teeth, "daughter of the Amazon and the Warrior, if you swear again like a bloody cutthroat I'm slapping you in a way you'll fly before these piles of bones. Got it?"

Fear not, Amazon, chosen by the angels, whom we honour for your sacrifice. We shall not harm the Daughter of Light, the fruit of your womb, your gift to mankind, the one we were waiting for, the one that will close the cycle.

"What do you mean...?" Anna asked, but Lara interrupted her by raising her hand, and then she took a step forward. "What are you talking about?"

We will only deliver our message to the chosen...

"No." Lara shook her head, gracefully swinging the braid at her back. "Since you honour my sacrifice and she's my gift to mankind, or whatever, you will talk to me now, and answer my questions. Or else I'll take her from here and you can keep waiting for a few more years. What difference will it make to you, anyway?" The smiling skulls watched her in silence for a moment. Lara didn't wait for an answer. "What does it mean to close the cycle? The cycle was closed. The Vortex's gates closed behind Kurtis..." She glanced sideways at Anna, who was looking at her silently. "They closed behind us. What does this mean now?"

The cycle never closed. Had it been so, the chosen one wouldn't have manifested the Gift. But she absolutely needs it. Although the Vortex's gates were blocked, there are still demons loose in the world.

"Kurtis takes care of them. He's always done it." Lara took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. "And he always will."

He no longer has the Gift. He can fight with his human strength, but it's limited now. Impotent against the great demons. If he continues to face them, they will kill him. But that's no longer relevant. He already played his part and fulfilled his mission.

Anna blinked suddenly and turned to them. "Hey!" She protested, frowning. "Bitch say what? That my father is not relevant?"

He was the protector of mankind, one more of our brethren, as we all were before him. But now you are the protectress. Now you assume his role.

"Enough." Lara said, tensing. "Let me through. I must talk to Loanna."

Lady Loanna won't talk to you, Amazon, chosen by the angels. You can't communicate with her. But the Daughter of Light can. We'll let her through.

"How dare you block my way?" The explorer closed her fists, tensing the muscles. "I can still kick your arses like in old times. You're slow and clumsy. I will pass."

Our humble bones are no more than, like ourselves, servants of the Light. Kick us, Amazon, we'll consider it an honour – but you won't pass. Lady Loanna's message must be delivered only to your daughter, your sacrifice, your gift to mankind – or not delivered at all, and then, woe to her, to you and the Warrior. Woe to the whole of mankind. But what difference will it make to us, anyway?

Anna winced. Were those bags of bones challenging her mother?

For a moment, Lara glared at them in silence. Then she shook her head, turned to Anna and knelt to be at her height. "We don't have time for this. You're going to enter alone." She indicated. "She won't hurt you. Don't be afraid."

"I won't." Anna assured, although she'd begun to wring her fingers.

"Don't touch or damage anything, either. When you have the message, come back. I'll be waiting for you."

The girl, suddenly serious, nodded. Then she took a deep breath and turned to the skeletons. These, as if driven by a spring, rose up, stepped aside, clearing the entrance, and stood facing each other, crossing their blades on high.

Then a memory came back to Lara. Fratribus collatis ianuae patent.

So many years ago, before Anna was born, before Kurtis meant something to her, despite he was already there, for her. Prague. The Vault of Trophies.

The brothers reunited see the gates thrown open.

The carved knights, crossing their blades on high. The same position. The same meaning.

The path was open.

Lara watched the thin silhouette of her daughter pass between the two skeletons. At one point, the girl couldn't resist and put a finger between the ribs behind the broken breastplate of one of the knights, but he didn't move an inch.

"Well, see you later, alligator!" She said cheerfully. "I'm coming right away!"

And she got lost in the tunnel.