Belladonna, page 24
Malone moved silently to Bella’s side. She wanted to run to him, but his eyes and her instincts cautioned her not to.
Her mind went off on a tangent. “Romaine lives"—that’s what Hobby had said. He’d also said Belladonna was crazy….
Bella shivered. Wind wailed at the walls and eaves. It seemed to her that the mannequins leaned forward, listening to them.
Another shudder worked its way through her. Was it getting darker in here or just creepier?
Donna’s eyes gleamed. Her gaze shifted rapidly between Charmaine and Bella. “A red bicycle, that’s what he gave me, and red boots to match. A pretty color for a pretty girl, he said, but I knew he thought that Bella was prettier. Though how could she be? We looked the same. But if that was true, then I couldn’t be prettier, either, could I?” She raked her twin with a venomous glare and balled her fist. An unbecoming flush mottled her cheeks. “I hated Belladonna. I hated being second. I hated you. I still do. I want you gone. But not quickly, the way Charmaine had it planned. Oh, no, I want to watch you die. I want to see you get ugly.”
“Look, uh, Donna,” Malone began in a reasonable tone.
But Donna was beyond reason, beyond sanity, in Bella’s frightened opinion. And she was waving her gun wildly.
“Shut up, Malone,” she snarled, whirling. “All of you, shut up!”
Somehow Malone managed to edge closer to Bella. Glancing at her briefly he conveyed a message with his eyes: Be ready—
Ready for what? They couldn’t possibly overpower both women, not without at least one of them getting shot.
Charmaine moved in and out among the plastic bodies, her gaze contemplative as she regarded Donna’s red face. “Leave it alone,” she advised, passing behind a pale Chinese mannequin. “Bella’s here. What she remembers is no longer important. Let me deal with it now.”
“No!”
Charmaine’s voice grew firm, rose above the grumbling thunder. “Yes.”
“I’m in charge, Charmaine, not you.” Without warning, Donna grabbed Bella by the arm, yanked her around and jabbed the gun into her ribs. But if Bella recalled one thing about her sister, it was her vanity. Ramming an elbow into Donna’s stomach, she knocked her gun arm aside and, spinning, dragged her fingernails sharply across her sister’s cheek.
“Aagh!” Donna screeched like a shot crow and clapped a hand to her face. “I’ll be scarred!” she shrieked. Lightning emphasized the oozing scratches on her skin. She drew her hand away in horror. “I’m bleeding!”
Malone didn’t hesitate. Thrusting Bella aside, he launched himself at Donna’s gun arm. But she was quick, and livid at this point. She jerked her hand up and pulled the trigger.
Bella landed on her backside with a painful, “Oomph.” Three mannequins toppled over beside her, their garish faces smiling in the dim light. Ignoring them, she pushed the hair from her face and scrambled to her feet. Where had the bullet landed? Where had everyone gone?
“Don’t move,” ordered a deadly calm voice behind her.
Bella obeyed. Trembling, she offered in a semisteady voice, “He’ll kill her, Charmaine.”
“Or she’ll kill him.”
No…
Charmaine raised her voice. “Donna? Where are you?”
A shot embedded itself in one of the plastic stomachs, but where it came from, Bella couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that the sound distracted Charmaine.
Dropping to the floor, Bella scrambled away on her hands and knees.
More shots whizzed by. She felt cool air on her cheeks— not from a door, but from a point above her. The roof, perhaps. Oh, but there were no ladders in here, and she couldn’t leave Malone in any case.
The darkness thickened. Donna’s frenzied shouts overrode the lash of wind, rain and thunder.
Breath held, Bella forged a path through the mannequins. Their fingers tangled in her hair; their faces now seemed to be staring down at her. Like lurid, painted angels, she reflected. Oh, God, where in this nightmare of imitation humanity was Malone?
A shot raced past her, then a second, then a third.
“Where’s Bella?” Donna shouted.
“I have no idea,” Charmaine retorted. “I can’t find either of them.”
Bella’s body went limp with relief. Then she gasped and almost screamed as something touched her hip.
Chapter Nineteen
A hand came down firmly over her mouth. “It’s me,” Malone hissed.
Bella relaxed again, but only for a moment. When she turned her head, she saw the blood that trickled over the sleeve of his leather jacket.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered.
He shook his head, eyes darting. “It’s nothing, a scratch. Keep quiet.”
Ahead of them, mannequins began to topple like dominoes. “Where are you?” Donna shrieked.
Bella stifled a gasp as one of the mannequins crashed right before her startled eyes. This one had only a mouth, no nose or eyes. The mouth was curved in a leering smile, as if painted there by Donna’s hand.
“She’s crazy,” Bella breathed to Malone.
“Tell me about it.” He nudged her shoulder. “Okay, go. Head for the door. I think they’re on the far side of the room.”
Thunder rolled across the sky, causing the building to shudder.
More mannequins toppled, the clawed hand of one actually raking through Bella’s hair.
“Stop! Don’t move, either of you.” Donna materialized directly to Bella’s left. “Not a muscle, not even a hair.”
Bella lifted her eyes. “Donna, please don’t,” she whispered.
Eyes glazed, cheeks the color of chalk streaked with crooked lines of red, Donna used both hands to train the gun on Malone.
“Get up,” she growled. “The two of you. Twitch one muscle, Sister, and your lover’s history. You got that?”
Mutely, Bella nodded.
“Good.” With her thumbs, Donna cocked the hammer. “Not that it’ll matter one way or the other. Bye-bye, Mr. Butt—insky.”
“Donna, no!” Desperation made Bella throw herself at her sister. Malone moved at the same time.
The gun went off as Donna teetered backward on her high heels.
“My God!” she gasped, “You bastard…!” Then she staggered sideways.
The reason for her action was not immediately evident, and Malone gave Bella no opportunity to understand it as another shot flew past them. While Donna made a garbled sound and slowly sank to the floor, he shouted, “Run!” and flung Bella unceremoniously into the outstretched arms of a dummy. To her astonishment, he turned his back on Donna’s prostrate form as he did so.
“Get it over with, Rudge,” she heard him say calmly.
Bella’s head snapped up. “Rudge!”
She spied him slumped against the front wall, his jacket bloodier than Malone’s, a cigar clamped, as always, between his teeth, a Magnum resting in his lap.
“Damn bitch Bird,” he grunted, slurring his words. “Shot me. Some payment…” His head lolled to one side on the last word.
A double flash of lightning illuminated his face. His complexion looked as waxen as the dummies’; but for the moment he continued to breathe.
As for Donna… Bella glanced fearfully over her shoulder. “Is she… dead?”
Crouching, Malone touched Donna’s neck. He nodded grimly. “I’m sorry, Bella.”
She bowed her head. “So am I.”
He came up beside her, pulling her into the shelter of his arms and glancing around. “Where’s Charmaine?”
Bella opened her mouth to say she didn’t know, but Charmaine calmly replied, “Right here.” There was no apparent anger in her voice.
Lightning flashed in diamond patterns across her face and neck, creating weird shadows beneath her hazel eyes. A gold wedding band glinted dully on her left ring finger. Amanda, Bella realized, pressing herself against Malone’s arm, had worn only a silver ring on her right forefinger. No wedding or engagement rings. How could she have missed such obvious detail?
The room had taken on a surreal aspect. Mannequin spectators, some standing, some lying flat on their backs, watched the proceedings with seeming fascination.
The rustling Bella had forgotten about filtered down again from the cobwebbed rafters. The lone light bulb swung on its cord, adding to the grotesque shadows that fell across Charmaine and the mannequins. Bella shivered. With her flawless, unlined features, Charmaine Parret could have been a mannequin herself.
The gun in her hand didn’t waver. “I don’t relish what I have to do,” she said, in that same uninflected tone. “But I suspected such an ending was inevitable from the day that harlot nanny of yours took you away. First she stole my husband, then one of my children. As for the other childwell, I blame a large portion of Donna’s affliction on her, as well. Not all of it, mind you. To witness a murder at the tender age of nine would affect the mental balance of anyone, even if that person purported to understand it. Oh, Donna could run the business—run it very well, in fact—but she had a streak of vicious jealousy in her that I never could offset. No, don’t move, Mr. Malone,” she cautioned. “I don’t want to do this, but that isn’t to say I’m not going to. The difference between Donna and me is that I prefer a single thrust to the torture that, unfortunately, was her bent.”
Malone endeavored to ease Bella behind him, but she refused to let him become Charmaine’s primary target.
“You won’t get away with it,” he said levelly. “It’s gone too far this time. You know that, Charmaine.”
The woman glanced at Donna’s unmoving form, then lifted her eyes to his. “Birds fly,” she replied. “I can, too. Don’t worry, Bella, this won’t hurt. Hobby was lucky, you know, to die as easily as he did at your sister’s hands. Fortunately for him, the season being what it is, there were too many people on the piers for her to indulge her whim as she undoubtedly did with Tock—and would surely have done with you and Mr. Malone, as well. She delighted in pain before the fact and mutilation after. As I said, it depended on the circumstances.”
Rain pelted the walls and high roof. But it was the eerie howl of the wind that made Bella’s skin crawl, as if the mannequins were laughing wildly at the scene unfolding in their midst. She looked at Malone who gave his head an unknowing shake. “Why pain?” she managed to ask.
Dull light and shadow marbled Charmaine’s face. “Who knows? Probably because pain isn’t pretty. Donna enjoyed seeing other people at their worst. That might stem from the fact that she was a twin. Certainly she was jealous of you.”
Malone raised a skeptical brow. “Jealous because Bella was supposed to take over the business?”
“Yes. But more, I think, because Bella was older than her.”
“By two minutes,” Bella murmured. “She really was crazy.”
“Unbalanced,” Charmaine corrected. The gun came up a notch. “I, on the other hand, am perfectly balanced. Oh, I’m vain, I won’t deny that, and cold as milk from a witch’s—well, you know the expression. But my sanity’s never been in question.”
“What about your maternal instincts?” Malone demanded.
She challenged them with her eyes. “I’ve never had any, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, Bella. I wish it could have been different. If it’s any consolation to you, Amanda was more your mother than I could ever have been.” The corners of her mouth tilted. “Goodbye, Belladonna.”
The light bulb continued to swing on its cord. Lightning flickered. Fireworks exploded and thunder crashed. For a split second the room turned black—a split second during, which Bella and Malone both reacted to the threat before them.
Muttering a prayer, Bella grabbed one of the mannequins’ outstretched hands. Yanking hard, she swung it heavily into Charmaine’s shoulder. At the same instant, Malone brought his foot up and kicked the gun away.
Off-balance, Charmaine clawed at the air. But all she could do was manage to catch the light bulb as it swung toward her. She collided with Bella, who collided with Malone. Then she lost her balance completely and stumbled forward.
“Be careful!” Bella gasped, trying to maintain her own balance. But Malone held her tightly against him, pressing her face into his shoulder.
“Don’t,” he said. When she would have looked anyway, he pressed his mouth against her hair and repeated harshly, “Don’t.”
But she had to see, had to know. Turning slowly, Bella scanned the dim and dusty floor. She spotted Charmaine facedown, lying half on top of Donna, half on a mannequin, unmoving yet unmarked, as far as she could determine.
She dug her fingers into Malone’s forearms. “What happened? Is she dead?”
Without answering, he set her aside and walked over to the women. The lightning cast long, macabre shadows over the bodies of her mother and sister. Bella sank to her knees as Malone rolled Charmaine Parret onto her back. There between the woman’s ribs she spied a knife—a long, slender pink knife exactly like the one in her nightmares, only deadlier. A letter opener once, it was now a razor-sharp weapon.
“Donna was holding it,” he revealed. “It’s been modified. She probably used it to cut off Tock’s fingers and intended to use it on you in a similar fashion.”
Bella blinked, unbelieving. “Malone, look at it. This is the same weapon Robert was killed with. And look! On the top. It’s a raven.”
He returned to her, drawing her to her feet. “It could be any bird, Bella.”
From the rafters, the rustling sound came again. Bella’s eyes rose to the darkened hollow, and this time she saw the creature responsible for the noise. A large black raven sat perfectly still on a cross beam, staring down at the bodies of the women below.
Oh, Lord. Squeezing her eyes shut, Bella leaned against Malone’s warm, solid body. In the end, even the Birds hadn’t been able to escape Chen-Li’s raven of death. The shadow had crossed her path, but she’d survived. And so had Malone. A feeling of warmth spread through her as she rested her head against his shoulder. Thank God, so had Malone…
Above them the raven let out a harsh croak and, spreading its wings, flew off into the darkness. A raven that reminded Bella strongly of a crow…
“IT SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN like that,” Bella said sadly several hours later. “My twin sister, my mother and my uncle were the Birds. So was my father at one time.” She sighed. “Swift, Parret and Crowe. Romaine—from Robert and Charmaine. I should have realized that as soon as Donna told me that Amanda wasn’t my mother. It could only have been Charmaine.”
From the circle of Malone’s arms, she let her eyes wander around the crowded club—the Dragon’s Tail Club in Chinatown, where it seemed to Malone that half the city had gathered to ring in the New Year. It was done, finished as far as the Birds were concerned—but not for Bella, and therefore, not for him.
He released a heavy breath. Damn, but he wished he didn’t love her. Or maybe he just wished he didn’t love her so much. He would have gone for the Birds with his bare hands if they had harmed her before he reached the House of Mann this afternoon.
The Dragon’s Tail was a sea of post-Christmas color. Green, red, gold and silver streamers, glittering stars and twinkling lights made a mockery of the storm outside. Rudge was alive and in the hospital. Would charges be laid against him? Malone doubted it. After all, the bounty hunter had saved their lives by shooting Donna.
Malone let his hand trail through Bella’s silky hair. “I should have known that picture Rudge gave me wasn’t you” There were differences even when Donna disguised herself as you. She was very hard.”
Bella leaned against him, watching the revelry on the dance floor, her back pressed temptingly to his front. “I took a good look at that picture before we turned it over to the police, Malone. Donna looked a lot like me. You couldn’t possibly have known. No one could have. I didn’t anticipate a twin, so why should you? It’s Hobby’s message I’ve been thinking about—well, among other things. I thought it said that Belladonna was mad, but now I realize that Bella came at the end of one line and Donna at the beginning of the next one. He left out the comma.”
“Ergo, we read the name as Belladonna rather than as two separate names. A small but important omission.”
“Mmm.” Nudging him gently in the stomach, Bella glanced into his hooded eyes. “Do you want to dance? It’s almost midnight, you know. Your cousin’s been out there for an hour already.”
Malone’s gaze shifted to Ronnie and his cousin, Diana. Diana grinned and waggled her fingers at them.
She’d loaned Bella a long black sliver of a dress that clung to every curve of her slender body. Simple though it was— it had only one sleeve and virtually no back—on her that damned dress was driving him to distraction.
Bella led him to the dance floor, musing, “There were other things, too, Malone, other details that I missed.”
“Such as?”
“Amanda wore a faded denim pantsuit, hardly any makeup and only one ring, which wasn’t a wedding band. My mother had someone who’d worked for a fashion designer make her clothes, hired a personal cosmetician and was married. Most married women wear wedding rings.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stared up at him. “I remember more things now, but not all of them. I do remember Donna throwing her toys against the wall because of the pony Hobby gave me. I also realize that it wasn’t a mirror I saw on the other side of the room the day my father was killed, because the girl I saw didn’t have pigtails, and Donna was right, I always wore my hair in pigtails, braids or a ponytail.”
Malone studied her beautiful, troubled face. “Did Lona know the truth?”
“I think she knew part of it. She mentioned a letter. I think Amanda must have written to Lona before she left England. And I’m not sure, but I have a feeling that the picture case was the only thing the Alaskan police found after the crash. They never did, and probably never will, locate Amanda’s body.”
Malone glanced away for a moment, then back into her cloudy eyes. “She was your mother, you know. Amanda, not Charmaine. She saved your life and gave her own in the process. No mother could have done more.”
