Chapter 32 #2
It was more than a little theatrical, and I was certain it had been done on purpose.
Even the moonlight shone through the large stained-glass window behind him as if to grant him a halo was for effect.
What he didn’t realize was that the colored panels also formed silhouettes, and when he straightened, two dark shapes on either side of his head appeared to give him lopsided horns.
“Verity,” he crooned, descending the pulpit’s stairs. “How kind of you to join us.”
“Yes, well, this outfit needed some class. Eddy.”
The brute behind me tightened his arms, apparently taking exception to my tone, and I involuntarily grunted.
“There’s no need for that,” Ardmore told the man, his voice hardening. “This will be effective enough in keeping Mrs. Kent under control.” He lifted his hand to reveal a pistol. “After all, she’s already seen what it can do.”
Rage spiked through me as he confirmed what I suspected. That this was the same gun he’d used to shoot Alec.
“The two of you, go finish the job. But don’t light anything until I give the order.”
I nearly dropped to my knees as I was released but managed to right myself at the last moment.
“And keep an eye out for any of Mrs. Kent’s friends.”
I looked up to find him watching me. His face was now in shadow, but I still caught the gleam of his teeth being bared in a malicious smile.
“No need to spare their lives, just so long as you don’t draw attention to yourselves while killing them.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from protesting.
He waited until the men had retreated the way we’d come before speaking again. “I see you met Bridget.”
“Yes.” There was no use denying it. “A lovely woman. It’s hard to believe she helped raise a monster.”
“She had nothing to do with it.” He strode several steps nearer to me, gesturing with his gun as if it were a handkerchief or a fan.
However, he stopped far enough way that I couldn’t leap for the pistol and knock it from his hand before he fired.
I wondered whether I could shuffle those extra steps closer myself, if I kept him talking.
He tsked. “I can see what you’re thinking, Verity.” He flashed his teeth. “I always know what you’re thinking.”
I glared at him with all the wrath I held in my body. “Do you know what I’m thinking now?”
He arched his eyebrows. “Such unladylike language.”
“My mother always did despair about my comportment,” I quipped in return. “But why are you doing this?” I demanded. “Do you truly not care how many lives you take?”
He shrugged. “Everyone must die someday.”
I shook my head. “You cannot be this callous. I simply cannot believe even you can be so heartless.”
His eyes glinted with derision. “How is that possible after everything you saw during the war? People do heartless things all the time, and they’ll continue to do heartless things.
As long as there are people who believe themselves superior to others for one reason or another, they will do heartless, despicable things. You can’t stop them.”
I recognized who he was referring to and why. “People like your father, you mean? People like you,” I challenged, knowing he wouldn’t like the comparison.
His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I am undoubtedly superior. But listen to me. You can’t stop them.”
“But you did.”
He stilled, and I realized I’d finally succeeded in surprising him.
“Your father was your first victim, wasn’t he? You stopped him before he could hurt anyone else.”
His expression tightened with what I could only describe as regret. “Not soon enough.” Then he seemed to shake himself, his gaze hardening as it swept me from head to toe. “And neither will you.”
“I stopped you from using the phosgene,” I countered.
“Have you?”
Alarm flooded me at the implication, but I pushed it aside. He was toying with me. He had to be. “Yes,” I stated adamantly. “I have.”
He blinked slowly. “I suppose we shall see. Or rather … I will.”
I stiffened as he lifted his gun, aiming it at me.
“It’s been enjoyable sparring with you, Mrs. Kent. You’ve proved a more stimulating opponent than most. But I’m afraid our little bout must come to an end. Consider this lights out.”
My heart pounded in my ears as I flung my hand out toward him, not knowing what else to do. “No, wait!”
He tilted his head. “Don’t worry. Your husband will be joining you soon.”
“How about now?” A voice called from above as the clap of a pistol shot reverberated through the air, but not from Ardmore’s gun. Not when he instinctively ducked his shoulders. But the bullet missed him, striking the tile floor beside him and shattering it.
However, it did distract Ardmore long enough for me to lower my body and charge into him.
The gun went off wildly as we tumbled to the floor.
The bullet whizzed past my head. Recovering first, I drove my elbow into the joint of his shoulder with all the force I could muster.
He cried out in pain as the pistol went flying.
But as I scrambled after it, he wrenched my arm, knocking me down.
I kicked out, landing a solid blow to his chest, but somehow he still managed to grapple me, driving his fist into my abdomen.
It was very near the spot where I’d only recently healed from King’s blow, leaving me reeling and gasping for air.
Before I could regain my wits, Ardmore had straddled me and wrapped his hands around my throat.
His eyes bulged with fury and spittle flew from his lips as he squeezed. “You have crossed me for the last time.”
Spots began to form before my eyes as I flailed, trying to make him stop.
I flung my hand upward with two of my fingers extended, trying to gouge out his eyes, but he easily reared away.
I bent my knees, trying to gain leverage to try to throw him off me, but I didn’t have the strength.
My lungs burned, begging for air, but I couldn’t draw any in.
I could hear shouts, but they sounded as if they were coming from far away.
That’s when I remembered the dagger strapped to my thigh.
I could just touch it, but my dress was in the way.
Desperately, I pulled at the fabric, dragging it up with my fingers inch by inch until finally I could grasp the hilt.
Then with the last ounce of will within me, I wrenched it free from the sheath and plunged it into Ardmore’s side.
He uttered an agonized wheezing sound and then his fingers went slack, allowing me to draw a frantic breath into my lungs. He toppled to the side, and I rolled away, gulping air through a throat that felt raw and too thin.
“Verity,” Sidney exclaimed, and then he was on his knees beside me, yanking my mask and wig from my head as he scoured my features. “Are you hurt? Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I croaked.
“Yes to which?” he demanded, but all I could do was shake my head. He gathered me close as I continued to struggle to breathe and to slow my racing heart. After a few moments, he turned toward Maxwell and Willoughby, who were now squatting beside us. “Is he …?”
“Dead,” Willoughby stated decisively. “I should be irate with you for robbing me of my revenge,” he told me. Then his gaze softened. “But I’m simply glad you’re alive.”
I nodded. I think he knew I would have gladly given him the honor. I felt no elation at Ardmore’s death, only resignation and gratefulness that it wasn’t my body lying here growing cold as life ebbed out of me.
Sidney pulled my dagger from Ardmore’s side, his gaze lifting to mine. Neither of us said a word, both recognizing that Alec and Collins’s gift had saved me.
I tried to push upright. “The gelignite,” I managed to squeak out, anxious to stop Ardmore’s men.
“We found it,” Sidney said. “And Ardmore’s men.”
I relapsed back into his arms. “How?”
He nodded at the captain. “Maxwell was following your trail …”
“I tracked down the girl you followed who’d gotten sick.
She was arguing with another girl over money,” he explained.
“And I managed to extract from them that a number of the girls had been bribed to carry in packages under their gowns.” He arched his eyebrows.
“Fifty quid apiece.” That was a large sum for what must have seemed a simple task.
“They told me where they were supposed to deliver the packages, and I arrived at the Record Tower just as Kent and this fellow came hurtling up the stairs.” He eyed him aslant.
Evidently, Maxwell didn’t know precisely who Willoughby was, but his suspicions were aroused.
“We tracked down the guard Gallagher,” Sidney interjected, taking up the story. “And he had remembered something else. A fourth letter. He swore Harlow had traced the letters ‘ARDR’ into his palm.”
I frowned, for that wasn’t how Ardmore was spelled.
Sidney nodded in understanding. “We realized Harlow hadn’t been spelling ‘Ardmore’ after all, but ‘Wardrobe’ as in Wardrobe Tower.”
I straightened. That was another older name for the Record Tower.
“After that, it was fairly easy to convince him to escort us inside the castle to verify it. He’s standing guard in the tower now with both of Ardmore’s men tied up.”
I slumped against him in relief. We’d stopped Ardmore from blowing up Dublin Castle. We’d prevented him from killing countless numbers of lives and escalating this war to unspeakably appalling levels. And he could no longer plot to harm anyone else. It was over.
Or almost.