Chosen: The Complete Edition (Allure), page 41
“Poor, Grace,” the future corpse said. “As you can see, she’s having a bad time of it and all for your sake, cousin. I do hope that her faith in you isn’t misplaced. Either way, we’ll know soon. Bring the codes to the address included in the package. Come alone. As soon as they are verified, I’ll release her. Otherwise…”
The camera panned back, revealing more devices scattered around the room. At a glance, I saw a whipping post, several welding torches, and a noose hanging from the ceiling, positioned to assure slow strangulation rather than the greater mercy of a quick drop into a broken neck.
“Two hours, cousin. Don’t keep me waiting. If you do…” He shrugged. “I’ll send you whatever’s left of her.”
“You know he’s lying,” Rolf said the moment the video ended. He was sitting beside me, watching as I watched. He hadn’t moved, not a muscle, yet the look in his eyes said everything. Sebastian had gotten to him as effectively as he had to me.
Even so, Rolf added, “The moment he has the codes, you’ve signed your death warrant and Grace’s as well.”
Slowly, I nodded. A part of me wanted to believe that I could atone for everything I had done by dying for her. She would go on, have a life, be loved, grow old in peace and comfort. Except she wouldn’t. All the beauty and light, the goodness and courage that was Grace would be gone from the world. Because of me.
The monster flexed its claws again. In the dark reaches of its mind, the only glimmers of light had come from an inbred sense of duty and honor. It accepted both, relied on them. But now everything was different. What to make of this uncontrollable yearning, a bubbling in the veins, an irresistible euphoria that shattered the darkness and made all things seem possible? It was, in its own way, more frightening than anything that had gone before.
Still, it could not come close to equaling the ultimate terror: If I lost her…
Even the minds of monsters react instinctively to the most potent stimulus. Confronted by an abyss of grief and pain, it turned away, choosing instead to stalk out across its familiar territory where nothing existed except the hunt and the kill.
“What do we know about the address?” I asked, dragging my eyes from an inner landscape that I knew better than to contemplate for too long.
“It’s a small law practice,” Rolf said. “Recently retained by what the attorneys there think is an Italian export firm but is really just another in a long series of cut-outs. They don’t have any idea of what they’ve stepped into but they do have sufficient expertise to determine if the codes are genuine.”
They could be persuaded to lie but I suspected that Sebastian would have put safeguards in place to prevent that. He could have a man of his own inside the firm, watching for any hint of trickery. Whether he had thought of that or not, I couldn’t take the risk.
Two hours. No time at all. Or an eternity.
“Tell the men to be ready.” I stood, took the video, and headed back to my study.
∞ ∞ ∞
Eloise sat back in her chair and folded her hands. Calmly, she said, “That’s certainly a side of Sebastian that I haven’t seen before.”
Her eyes held a hint of muted surprise. The faint curl of her lip suggested mild distaste. Apart from that, she appeared unaffected by what she had just witnessed.
“Do you have any idea where it was filmed?” I asked.
It was a longshot at best but I calculated that Eloise would have investigated Sebastian at least as thoroughly as she had me before ever agreeing to marry him. She was far too intelligent not to learn everything possible about the man with whom she would be sharing bed, if only to get an heir or two. Yet, he had managed to conceal the darkest, foulest aspect of his nature from her.
Which was not to say that Eloise herself didn’t have her own secrets.
I had seen something in her face as she watched the video. An instant of recognition. A moment of unease.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps I was just desperate enough to seek answers where there were none.
Her gaze flicked to me. The monster looked back at her impassively. What little color had been in her face blanched away.
With a last glance at the now blank screen, she said, “I may.”
Chapter Six
Grace
Space heaters glowed in the windowless stone room, dispelling the chill that would otherwise have lurked there. I sat on a couch, staring at the door opposite me. It was closed but that didn’t matter. I knew all too well what was on the other side. The tank, the wheel, all the other terrifying instruments of suffering that I had glimpsed.
I was dressed again, better even than I had been when I had given myself up to save Adam. The white wool dress I wore was simple and elegant, gathered at the waist and reaching to mid-calf. There was even a soft cashmere shawl around my shoulders.
Beneath the clothes, I was clean, having been allowed to bath and shampoo my hair. I fought any urge to be glad of that. The small comfort was a trap, just as the food and water brought to me were. I’d taken enough psychology courses to understand what Sebastian was doing. Give the prisoner hope. Make her believe that the worst was over. Then plunge her back into pain and despair, further weakening whatever strength she had left. It would make for a good show.
Had Maria told Sebastian about the video cameras outside the cell? Was that where he’d gotten the idea of using me to draw Adam to him? I couldn’t blame her if she had but it didn’t matter.
This, all of it--the room, me, the things on the other side of the door--was a trap. It had one purpose only, to lure Adam in, get the codes, and kill him. He would come; I didn’t doubt that for a moment. And when he did--
A quiver of anger moved through me. I grabbed hold of it and held on, sensing through all the shock and fear that it was the most useful response to what was happening.
If I nurtured the anger, let it grow, I prayed that it would become big and strong enough to block out the fear that threatened to paralyze me. That I dared to do so was a little frightening by itself. It was so contrary to the way life had conditioned me to respond until very recently.
I plucked a crumb of bread from the untouched sandwich on the plate in front of me and thought about Sebastian. He had no interest in me; only Adam mattered to him. That being the case, there was at least a chance that he underestimated what I was capable of.
And what was that exactly?
To just sit there, pitifully glad to be clean, dry, and clothed--for the moment--while fearing what was to come?
Not if I was going to retain even a shred of self-respect.
I stood up, walked over to the door, and opened it.
The room beyond was empty. The halogen lights were off but I could see thanks to a scattering of wall lamps that cast a pale yellow glow. The water in the vat was still, the wheel unmoving.
I stopped at the door on the far side, put my ear to it, and listened. The murmur of voices reached me.
“Any word?”
Sebastian. Unfortunately, I was sufficiently well acquainted with his voice to know it anywhere.
“No, sir, not yet.” Another man, young, deferential.
“He’s not going to give us the codes, at least not without further persuasion.” That voice was older and it, too, was familiar. I had last heard it rising from the base of the tower on Malta, shortly before the duel.
His own father has denounced him. Wasn’t that what Adam said? Yet he had also left open the possibility that the man who had led the Falzon family after his parents’ death might not be entirely reconciled to giving up that position. Might even have killed to acquire it in the first place. I’m withholding judgment until I can determine the full extent of his guilt.
So far as I was concerned, the matter was settled. Sebastian’s father was conspiring with him to kill Adam. A man who could do that would not have hesitated to assassinate anyone who stood between him and the power he craved at all costs.
“Perhaps he is still too weak to give the necessary orders,” Sebastian said.
His father scoffed. “Don’t be a fool. He would never let even a serious wound deter him from doing as he wishes. He’s too strong for that, too driven.”
“You speak of him as though he isn’t really human.” Resentment boiled over in those words, the hurt of a man who had never been quite good enough.
“You are too young to understand what he did when he was still a boy. What he became.”
“You forget, I faced him on the field of honor.”
The older man made a sound of derision. “And you failed. Did you ever wonder why he spared you?”
“Why shouldn’t he have? The method of deciding leadership through single combat was never intended to kill members of the Falzon family. Only to establish primacy.”
“You violated that when you tried to take his head off! After that, he had every right to take your life instead. Sparing you merely showed his contempt for anyone who dares to challenge him.”
Sebastian hesitated. Slowly, as though venturing into unchartered territory, he said, “I disagree. I think he did it because of her. He didn’t want her to see what he really is.”
“Let us hope so,” his father replied. “If he does truly care for her, she will make him vulnerable.”
I had heard enough. My horror and revulsion at the thought that Adam would be harmed, even killed because of me blotted out every other consideration. I had to act.
Looking around quickly, I saw several small, portable welding torches laid out on a table. Pushing any thought of their intended purpose from my mind, I lifted one and examined it carefully.
To my great relief, it was almost identical to those I had used in an art class during my junior year, Metal Sculpture 101. The class had been fun; I’d really enjoyed it. Never in my wildest dreams--or nightmares--could I have imagined that I’d also acquired a skill that might save my life. And possibly Adam’s as well.
But I couldn’t fool myself. As a weapon, the welding torch was far from ideal. For one thing, I’d have to be very close to use it. And then it wouldn’t last long. I’d have one chance, no more.
The beating of my heart became a metronome counting off the passing seconds. Distantly, I thought that it should have been beating faster. But inside I was eerily calm, unflinching in my acceptance of what I had to do.
I was still thinking about that when gunfire rang out above my head, followed by the shouts of men and, very quickly, their screams.
Chapter Seven
Adam
We came down the spiral metal staircase that led from the ground floor of the private home in Montmartre that Eloise had guided us to. The residence was unremarkable in every regard except one; it concealed a portal to the city of darkness that lay deep below the city of light.
Like so many cities in the Old World, Paris was a palimpsest, layer added upon layer, thickening over time. The present, where we dwelled, was only a thin veneer on top of all the sins that had gone before, inevitably to be covered over by those who came after us.
Most Parisians gave no thought to what was under their feet, below the Metro and the sewer lines, below even the jumbled bones of their ancestors stacked in ghoulish displays for the shocked delight of tourists. Only a very few ever ventured into the hundreds of miles of hidden tunnels that ran like glistening arteries through the darkness. Following hand-drawn maps, the ‘cataphiles’, as they called themselves, forded buried canals to swim in ancient quarries filled with crystal clear blue water. In passageways beyond, they partied, staged performances, built candle-draped altars, and created their own versions of cave art.
None of them suspected that the world they boasted was uniquely their own held secrets they would never glimpse, places accessible only to a tiny elite that had their own reasons for preserving them.
“I recognize the mural,” Eloise had said.
“What mural?” I asked.
“See that flash of red, just there, through the open door?”
I looked intently and saw the hint of a writhing limb and a mouth gaping in a silent scream.
“I could be wrong,” she said, “but I think I’ve seen that before.”
She was trembling slightly, her coolness burned away by her encounter, however brief, with the monster. I took no comfort from that. Nothing mattered to me except the moment. Grace and I were both trapped within it. I was determined that she, at least, would escape.
The staircase with its tight coil like the inside of a nautilus shell was far from ideal; it spread my assault force out in a single line and lessened the advantage of surprise. But we seized it all the same, exploding into a room where armed men in fatigues were gathered, weapons leaning at their sides as they smoked and drank coffee. Ninety percent of war is waiting, it’s said. Almost all the rest is better not remembered.
We were shooting as we came, quick bursts of bullets shredding the air. In the tight confines of the space, there was nowhere to run. It was over in minutes.
I took an instant to scan the room, saw that Sebastian wasn’t among the dead or dying, and kept going. Two chambers farther on, I found him, standing directly in front of Grace. Incongruously after the video I had seen, she was dressed in white, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, and her expression calm. She looked, I thought, like a bride. Or a sacrifice.
As I stared at her, she turned her head. For an instant, our gazes met.
Hers said, “There you are. I’ve been expecting you.”
Later, I would reflect on that even as I told myself that I had to be wrong, I couldn’t have seen what I thought that I had. Even so, in the most hidden places of my dark soul, I would cling to it.
But first--
Sebastian turned, the automatic weapon he held rising in his hands, aiming directly at me.
Blue fire arched from Grace’s hand directly into his face. He screamed, dropping the weapon, and reeled backward. But only for a moment. Too quickly, his hands lashed out, closing around her slender throat. Her body jerked as he lifted her inches off her feet. The fire sputtered and died. Her fingers clawed at the vise of flesh and bone that was slowly strangling her.
I lifted my own weapon to fire and realized that I could not. Grace stood between me and the man I had come to kill.
No matter. It was better this way. I threw the weapon aside and leaped. We crashed to the floor, all three of us together. I heard the satisfying crunch of bone as my fist shot upward, angling under his ribs. The blow drove all the air out of him. He opened his mouth to scream but could only manage a grunt. Agony and lack of oxygen together made him loosen his grip. Grace tore herself free and rolled away.
Relief flashed through me and was as quickly gone. Even with my men taking control, she was still far from safe. That gave me all the incentive I needed.
Sebastian was strong, I had to give him that, and fueled by rage and pain. But he was no match for the monster.
It should have been over quickly. Would have been if I hadn’t dragged it out. With a weapon or without, I could kill a man in seconds. But I kept Sebastian alive long enough to feel his cheekbones shatter under my fists and savor his screams.
Blood sprayed in my eyes, almost blinding me. It didn’t matter. In my mind, I could still see Grace in the tank. That would have been bad enough but the reality was far worse. Another image taunted me: Grace in the cell where I had put her weeks before.
Grief and guilt burned through my veins. I welcomed the agony when Sebastian, in a last desperate effort, clawed the wound on my shoulder open again. Pain ripped through me, igniting along every nerve, coalescing at the base of my spine and roaring up to short-circuit the higher functions of my brain, leaving only the most primitive in charge.
I grabbed his head and slammed it into the stone floor of the chamber. Once…twice…again. The back of his skull turned to pulp and his eyes stared at me sightlessly. Still I wasn’t satisfied. More blood sprayed over my face and hands. Some of it, maybe even most was mine. I didn’t care. In the distance, I heard Grace’s voice pleading but lost in the red fog of fury, I couldn’t stop.
Not until powerful arms pulled me away, holding me fiercely even as I struggled.
“Enough,” Rolf said. The note of sympathy in his voice--even pity--was jarring. It brought me back abruptly to myself. The full weight of what had just happened slammed down on me. I had saved Grace but in the process, I had also done the unthinkable; she had seen the monster. There could be no going back from that.
Distantly, I heard my heart pounding as though it was about to burst. Darkness was closing in from all sides. I stopped fighting and let it come.
Chapter Eight
Adam
The bleating of a goat woke me. Not the plaintive whinnying of a kid or the reassuring nicker of its mother. This was the full-throated complaint of a male pissed off about something or other. Or just deciding that he liked the sound of his own voice. When the clamor had gone on for several minutes, I opened my eyes.
The ceiling above me was crossed by dark wooden beams and bands of sunlight. Off to one side, I could make out tall windows standing open with a wrought-iron balcony beyond them. Gauzy curtains fluttered on the fragrant air.
Not the Swiss clinic again, thank God. But where?
The thought stirred that I knew this place. Moreover, I associated it with a rare sense of relaxation and ease. Even of happiness.
Despite the goat.
He didn’t go unanswered. The squawks of the ducks he’d disturbed quickly built into a cacophony.
A memory flashed through my mind: A gaggle of downy white bottoms waddling at speed into a pond sprinkled with green lily pads. Beyond, neat fields of grape vines running down gently sloping hillsides. And in the far distance, the broad span of the Rhone flowing toward its rendezvous with the Mediterranean.
I fought to sit up. My body felt too heavy and there was something wrong with my left side. Thick white bandages covered my shoulder. My arm was bent at the elbow and strapped to my chest, immobilized.
