Chapter Forty-One
In which Scarlett is going to owe some serious cash to the Swear Jar.
Scarlett…
“You’re wasting your time with this little demonstration.”
How is my voice so calm?
Xavier picks up a long blade, appreciating the gleam of light along the metal. “How so, my sweet canvas?”
“You want the Banner Syndicate.” I stroll a little, casually putting the bed between us. “You want the money, the control over all the distribution routes.”
He smiles genially. “And I have them now that your useless family is burnt to ash. A nice touch, I thought.”
“They’re not my family. And that’s not the point. You can’t get the business without marrying me. You want Boston, don’t you? I could almost feel it when you talked about your plans.”
Cocking his head, he eyes me like I’m a Barbie doll who just sat up and began reciting quantum physics.
“I’m already married. Sir. You could never kill Wallace. He will find me, you already know that. Just go. Go back to Moscow.”
Loud, hearty laughter echoes through the room, making me flinch. “I will be returning to Moscow with you, my canvas. I will keep carving on you and sending the videos back to MacTavish.” He points to the camera. “When he agrees to an annulment to stop your suffering, we’ll be married.”
“Ye witless fucking cocksplat.” I’m laughing too, it’s crazy laughing. “Ye mangled apricot hellbeast. A knuckle-brained fart lozenge, ye are.”
And then he comes for me, slapping me hard, knocking me to the bed.
I scream, kicking and thrashing, shoving pillows at him in a pathetic feather-filled defense but he cuts through them and finally pins me down, his knees pressing painfully on my arms. He laughs at me as I howl.
A black streak flies through the air, hitting his head and knocking him back off me. Murder Mittens emits an ear-piercing screech as she tears at his face, needle sharp teeth digging into his head, biting at his eyes, the impact of her little body sends the scalpel flying from his hand.
Xavier roars, ripping my kitty off him, throwing her across the room.
“Don’t you fucking touch my cat!” The scalpel is in my hand, slippery from my sweat and I drive it down with all my strength, fingernails digging into his neck. He’s strong, much stronger than me and he twists, almost throwing me off him and the blade drives into his shoulder instead of his throat.
I sink my teeth into his cheek, biting and tearing as he twists my wrist viciously. His blood floods into my mouth, rank and coppery. The scalpel drops and we’re both scrambling for it and my baby is back, clawing and hissing, going for his eyes.
It’s not enough. Xavier rears up, throwing me against the bed and MM just escaping his foot. He grabs an enormous kitchen knife from the tray.
“I’m going to keep you alive for years,” he rasps, blood shooting from the wound in his shoulder, smeared all over his face from Murder Mittens' claws and making his wild eyes glow like a demon’s.
The window behind me explodes inwards, glass flying everywhere as a man bursts through the shattered frame, hitting the floor and rolling gracefully to his feet.
He charges like a freight train across the room at Xavier, they crash together and the momentum sends them against the door and then right through it, into the hall.
It’s Wallace.
Stumbling over the long skirt of my dress I race after them. They’re braced against the banister, ripping and tearing at each other.
I see the railing bend under their weight, groaning, and then the old wood cracks. The handrail splits, chunks of wood flying loose and spindles shattering. Wallace and Xavier fall through the gap.
An angel. Falling from heaven. His wings are on fire, flames flaring from the tip of the feathers, turning them black.
Dropping to my knees by the splintered remains of the banister, I see Wallace, caught in the lower rungs of the crystal chandelier. Unconscious, I think, his back bent in an impossible arch.
Xavier. Fucking Xavier is holding onto the chandelier’s chain, climbing up, his hand almost touching me.
He’s grinning, a bloody grin, and I grab the only intact newel post, hanging on as I lean out into empty space and I drive the scalpel into his throat with all of my strength.
It stays there, wedged against bone. He looks shocked.
Genuinely surprised. I grab a piece of broken wood and hit him in the face.
He makes a horrible noise, like he’s gargling with his own blood.
“Fucking die already! Just fucking die!”
He does, falling to the stone floor three stories below with a nauseatingly wet thud, like a sack of meat.
“Scarlett!” Michael’s there, pulling me up. “Wallace! Where?”
“Down. On the chandelier. Don’t let him fall. He’s singeing his wings.”
My legs won’t hold me so I sit there as Michael races down to the second story and manages to get his arm around the broken and twisted loops, pulling Wallace loose. The massive chandelier falls, landing on Xavier with a glorious spray of crystal.