CHAPTER 34 #2
"Hello, Lady Elodie," Vane says smoothly. "Or is it 'The Muse' now?"
I grip the skillet. "How did you find us?"
"Money leaves a trail," Vane says, closing the umbrella. "Even crypto. Even Swiss accounts. You moved a lot of money this week, darling. Buying a villa? Hiring a private doctor? Very sloppy."
He walks toward me. "Where is he?"
"He's dead," I lie. "The sepsis took him."
Vane laughs. "We both know that's not true. Graves is too stubborn to die." He gestures to his men. "Find him. Bring him to me. Alive. I want to bleed him myself."
The men move toward the stairs. "NO!" I scream. I swing the skillet at Vane. He catches my wrist. Easily. He twists it. I drop the pan. Clang. He slaps me. Hard. I fall to the floor, tasting blood.
"You humiliated me," Vane hisses, standing over me. "In my own casino. You took my money. You took my key. You put a knife to my throat." He kicks me in the ribs. "Tonight, I take it all back."
He reaches down to grab my hair. BANG.
Vane’s shoulder explodes. He screams, spinning around. Alaric is standing at the top of the stairs. He is holding the hunting rifle from the cabinet. An old bolt-action Winchester. He works the bolt. Click-clack. He aims.
"Get away from her," Alaric roars.
The two guards pull their weapons. Submachine guns. They fire. RAT-TAT-TAT. Alaric dives behind the banister. Wood splinters rain down on the foyer.
"Kill him!" Vane screams, clutching his shoulder. "Kill them both!"
I am on the floor. The gun—the SIG—is upstairs on the nightstand. I have nothing. Except... The umbrella. Vane dropped it. It has a long, steel tip.
I roll. I grab the umbrella. One of the guards is standing near me, aiming up at the balcony. I thrust upward. I drive the steel tip into the back of his knee. He buckles, roaring in pain. He falls.
I scramble up. I run for the kitchen. "Alaric! The kitchen!"
Alaric pops up. He fires again. BANG. He hits the second guard in the chest. The man stumbles but doesn't fall. Body armor. Alaric jumps. He vaults over the railing. It’s a fifteen-foot drop. He lands in a crouch, groaning as his bad leg takes the impact. He sprints toward me.
Bullets chew up the floor behind him. We dive into the kitchen. I slam the heavy oak door. I throw the deadbolt. It won't hold them for long.
"The rifle?" I ask.
"Empty," Alaric says, tossing it aside. "I had two rounds."
"They have automatics."
"We have the house," Alaric says. He is breathing hard, but he is focused. "We know the terrain. They don't."
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bullets punch through the door. "The cellar," Alaric whispers. "There is a wine lift. A dumbwaiter. It goes to the sub-basement."
"And then?"
"And then we turn the lights out." He points to the fuse box on the wall. "Kill the power. I have night vision goggles in the study cache. But they are upstairs."
"We can't go upstairs."
"We don't need goggles," Alaric says, his eyes gleaming in the dark. "We have ears."
He pulls the fuse box open. He yanks the master breaker. The villa goes black. Pitch black. The gunfire stops. The men outside the door pause. They are blind.
"They have flashlights," I whisper.
"Flashlights create tunnels," Alaric says. "They narrow the vision. We stay in the periphery."
He opens the dumbwaiter hatch. "Get in."
"It's too small for both of us."
"You go down," he says. "I'll draw them to the library."
"No! We stay together!"
"Elodie, listen to me. Vane is bleeding. He will be slow. The guards are the threat. I will flank them. You go to the cellar. Get the fuse for the generator. If we need light, we need it on our terms."
"Alaric..."
He kisses me. Hard. Quick. "Go. Trust the duet."
I climb into the dumbwaiter. It smells of old wine and mold. He lowers me down. I descend into the dark.
I reach the cellar. It is cold. Damp. I crawl out. I am alone in the dark. I hear footsteps above me. Heavy boots on wood. And Vane’s voice. "Find them! Burn this house down if you have to!"
I feel around in the dark. Rows of bottles. Wine. Alcohol. Flammable.
I smile. Alaric taught me well. Burn it down.
I grab a bottle. I smash the neck against a stone pillar. I grab a rag from a cleaning shelf. I stuff it in. I have a lighter in my pocket—I started smoking again in the motel. A Molotov cocktail.
I hear a creak. The cellar stairs. Someone is coming down. A beam of light cuts through the darkness. "Clear right," a voice says.
I crouch behind a barrel. The guard walks past me. He doesn't see me. I light the rag. The flame flares up, bright and orange. The guard spins around. "What the—"
I throw it. The bottle hits him in the chest. It breaks. The alcohol ignites. He screams. He becomes a human torch. The fire spreads to the wine rack. Old, dry wood. The cellar begins to burn.
"Fire!" the guard screams, running back up the stairs.
I run to the back of the cellar. There is a coal chute. I climb up. I emerge in the garden. The rain is pouring down. I look at the house. Smoke is pouring from the cellar vents.
I see movement in the library window. Flashes of gunfire. Alaric is fighting.
I have to help him. I run to the terrace doors. I pick up a stone. I smash the glass. I climb in. I am in the music room. The piano looms in the dark.
I hear a struggle in the hallway. "Got you, you bastard!" A thud. A groan.
I run into the hall. Alaric is on the floor. Vane is standing over him. He has a gun pointed at Alaric’s head. Vane is pale, clutching his bleeding shoulder, but he is triumphant. "Game over, Count."
Alaric looks up. He sees me behind Vane. He doesn't signal. He just stares at Vane. "I fold," Alaric says.
"Smart move," Vane sneers. "Say goodbye."
I don't have a gun. I don't have a knife. I have a piece of glass from the broken door in my hand. I lunge. I don't aim for the neck. Vane is too tall. I aim for the knee. I slash his hamstring.
Vane screams. He collapses, his leg giving out. The gun flies from his hand. Alaric grabs it before it hits the floor. He rolls onto his back. He aims. BANG.
Vane’s head snaps back. A hole appears in his forehead. He falls. Dead.
Silence returns to the villa. Broken only by the crackle of the fire below us and the rain outside.
Alaric lies on the floor, panting. I crawl to him. "Are you okay?"
He nods. "Just... tired." He looks at Vane’s body. "He followed the money."
"I know."
"We can't stay here," Alaric says. "The fire... and the police will come."
"We just got here," I whisper, tears pricking my eyes. "It was our sanctuary."
"Sanctuaries are temporary," Alaric says, sitting up. "We are not meant for peace, Elodie. We are meant for the storm."
He stands up. He helps me up. We look at the burning house. Villa Diodati. The place where monsters are made.
"Let it burn," Alaric says.
We walk out into the rain. We get into the Audi. We drive away. Behind us, the flames consume the past. The piano. The bed. The dream.
We are back on the road. We have the money. We have each other. And we have a world that is afraid of us.
"Where to?" I ask, watching the fire fade in the rearview mirror.
Alaric looks at the map on the dashboard. "East," he says. "To the Balkans. To the wild places where the law doesn't reach."
He takes my hand. "The concert continues, petite. We just changed venues."
I squeeze his hand. "What are we playing next?"
Alaric smiles. The silver fire burns brighter than ever. "War," he says. "We are playing War."