Chapter 47

Juliet led Balthasar into her daddy’s bedroom. With Balthasar’s light guiding her, she stayed near the wall and prayed her plan would work. “In there.” She pointed to the closet on the other side of the room. “A metal box in the floor.”

Balthasar wrapped her hair around his hand and dragged her with him. Her bare feet scrambled against the floorboards until he threw her against the wall next to the closet. The floor groaned, and she inched away.

Gun shots reverberated, and the manor trembled.

Eddie ran in, shoulders shaking. He stopped in front of the closet. “We got company.”

Balthasar took out his gun. “Romeo?”

“Don’t see him. At least two guys coming across the field.”

Balthasar fixed the barrel on Juliet. “Where is it?”

“Underneath the floorboards, but I can’t lift it. That’s why it’s still there.”

Balthasar pushed Eddie to his knees. “Find it.”

“It’s a heavy metal box.” Thank goodness for the girl card. “I’ll hold the light.”

More gunfire exploded, and Balthasar went into the hall. Eddie gave her the flashlight, and she intentionally pointed the beam up.

“I can’t see a thing,” Eddie said.

“Left side, toward the back. Feel for a loose board.”

“I need more light.”

She shifted. “Go in farther.”

“I—” A loud creaking was followed by a ripping sound. “No!” Eddie fell to the first floor, and a cloud of dirt and debris blew through the opening. “Help me! Please!”

She stood just as Balthasar backhanded her. She slid across the floor and hit the door jamb. Balthasar stalked her, his weapon pointed. Her head pounded, and she tasted blood.

“Bitch!” He grabbed her arm, forced her into the hallway, and threw her down the stairs. She rolled, trying to keep her arms tucked in, and used her feet to stop herself at the bottom.

Despite her dizziness and aching body, she used the banister to pull herself up, only to see Nate and Grady on their knees with hard eyes and determined jaws. Two soldiers held a gun to each of their heads while Deke pointed his at the still-unconscious Samantha.

The lawyer sat in his chair, licking his lips as if he needed popcorn.

“Nate?” She took a step until Deke pointed his gun at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I know, right?” Deke snickered. “Nate walking and talking? I mean, after all the poisoned dope he’s been taking, I’m surprised he’s not toe-tagged by now.”

She pressed her arm against a sore rib. “You’ve been poisoning Nate?”

Deke snorted. “Nate’s been poisoned off and on since Afghanistan. Easy to do since he’s been too blinded by self-pity to notice those pills he’s been taking were laced with the same stuff as the zombie heroin.”

The shock in Nate’s wide-open eyes had to be mirrored in her own.

Balthasar came up behind her. “Where are the rest of Walker’s men?”

“This is it. The Indian got shot outside.” Deke nodded toward Eddie’s sobbing coming from the kitchen. “What about that racket?”

Balthasar left the room. She made eye contact with Nate, who blinked twice. She knew that meant don’t move. She swallowed, wanting to throw herself at Deke. A pointless move that would get them all killed. A moment later, a gunshot rang out, and Eddie’s cries stopped.

Balthasar came back and stood in front of Nate. Balthasar’s legs were spread, one hand fisted, the other holding the gun. “Where’s Romeo?”

Nate spat. “Rafe left with the Fianna earlier tonight. Warriors broke him out of jail.”

Rafe was gone, and she was too late. All of their lives were now her responsibility.

Balthasar spun around, grabbed her shoulders, and lifted her until her chest hit his. “If you don’t tell me, one of your friends will die.”

A loud roar sounded, and bright lights appeared. A helicopter was landing in front of the manor. By the time she realized what was happening, Balthasar held the misericord to her neck. “Show me. Now.”

“Don’t do it, Juliet,” Nate urged. “Don’t give it to him.”

“If I give it to you and come with you, will you let them go?”

“He won’t,” Grady said. “He’ll kill us the minute you get in that bird.”

“I promise,” Balthasar said. “They go free once I have both vials and you leave with me.”

She nodded.

“Dammit,” Nate’s voice rang out. “Don’t fucking do it.”

The noise and wind from the helicopter whipped around the house. More shots ripped through the night. “I need something to cut the finial off the staircase’s newel post. The one carved with oak leaves.”

Balthasar smiled. When he headed for the stairs, she threw herself onto the lawyer. His bag skittered across the floor, and she rolled toward it. Balthasar reached for her legs, but it was too late. She’d gotten the box and taken out the vial. Before he could stop her, she yanked the cork and threw back the liquid. It was cold and burned her throat on the way down.

Another set of shots reverberated, and a screeching sound filled the air. Lights spun, and a loud whirring came closer and closer. In the noise and chaos, she barely heard Nate screaming “No!” or Balthasar calling her vicious names.

Her body felt heavy, and her limbs became paralyzed.

“Juliet!” Rafe stood at the top of the stairs, holding an enormous gun. She’d never seen him like this before. In black combat pants and boots, no shirt, tattoos littering his arms, and the blue ribbon.

But it was the look in his eyes that shattered her heart into a million pieces. A huge push of air blew through the room, and something crashed into the other side of the house. The shock wave swept dust and sharp debris into a mini tornado. She tried to turn her head, except she couldn’t move.

The chaos gave Nate a chance to elbow his guard, take his gun, and kill him before turning the weapon on Deke. Grady ducked and rolled until he came up behind his soldier and ran a knife across his neck. Her lungs slowed down, and she began to choke. But she kept her gaze on Rafe running down the stairs and launching himself at Balthasar. Both men hit the ground at the same time everything went gray.

* * *

Rafe threw himself on top of Balthasar with a roar and a knife. He’d dropped the guns and machete out of a pure rage to rip Balthasar’s throat with his bare hands. The personal was always physical.

They landed at the bottom of the stairs, and Rafe dug his boot against the riser for leverage. But Balthasar was hopped up on desperation. They both knew the truth. Even though the Prince would hunt Balthasar down for leaving the Fianna, if Juliet died, Rafe would torture Balthasar until he begged for death.

Balthasar grunted and tossed Rafe off. He rolled away and landed on one knee. When Balthasar stood, Rafe attacked. The knife sliced Balthasar’s abdomen, but it wasn’t deep enough to do damage. Balthasar grunted and swung a roundhouse kick into Rafe’s gut. He fell to his knees, breathing hard, still clutching the knife.

Off to the side, he saw Juliet’s body lying lifeless and pale. Was she breathing?

“Nate! Check on Juliet.” Rafe stood, trying not to favor his left side. He didn’t want to give Balthasar any indication that his ribs felt like they’d been snapped.

Balthasar circled him, holding his own knife. The whirring sounds from the helo rotors ceased, which meant it’d crashed and died in the conservatory. That’s what happens when a sniper kills the pilot and hits the tail rotor. Hopefully the whole thing wouldn’t drain fuel, build up vapor, and ignite.

“’Tis foolish, this game we play,” Balthasar said.

“You should’ve thought about that before you betrayed the Prince.”

“The perfect Romeo. The favored son. Always listened to, never berated. How I hated you.” Balthasar charged and nailed Rafe into the wall. Balthasar’s elbows in Rafe’s chest forced the breath from his crushed lungs.

Rafe drove the knife toward Balthasar’s neck until he deflected it with his arm. The knife skidded across the floor. The entire house shook as if the manor was saying enough.

“I never wanted the favor.” Rafe spat out blood. “From the moment I tithed, all I wanted was out.”

Balthasar opened both arms, his lips twisted. “Why join us, Brother?”

“I wasn’t given a fucking choice.” Rafe swung, his fist hitting Balthasar’s jaw. Pain shot from his knuckles through his shoulder.

Balthasar backhanded Rafe, and he fell against the wall. Pieces of the ceiling rained on them, and he used the distraction to dive for the knife. He rolled and swung up just as Balthasar came down. The knife caught Balthasar in the spleen, and he fell onto his knees. He roared and lunged, catching Rafe’s legs. They both hit the ground hard, and Rafe freed a leg to kick Balthasar in the face.

Balthasar grabbed Rafe’s wrist. “You’ll never win, Romeo. The Prince is wrong about the lily. It’s too late. Remiel has everything he needs to destroy you all.”

Rafe spat in Balthasar’s face and pulled out his nine-mil. “Shut the fuck up.”

Balthasar went for the gun. Rafe fired into Balthasar’s chest. The close-range shot deafened the room, and the stench of burning flesh made Rafe gag. Balthasar’s eyes widened, his head tilted, his mouth opened. An unspoken scream stuck in an impossible question: Romeo had beaten him?

Balthasar fell, his breath stuttering while his hand covered the bleeding hole.

Rafe didn’t wait for death. Juliet and Samantha were gone, as were Grady and Nate.

An explosion from the conservatory sent a gust of hot air spiked with splinters and pieces of metal through the foyer. The man with the briefcase lay beneath a roof beam, his round, lifeless eyes matching his open lips.

Rafe covered his face and turned to leave when Nate ran back in. He found the machete on the stairs and began chopping at a carved finial. “Are these oak leaves?”

“No idea.” The room filled with a darker smoke, confirming fears of a fire. “We have to leave.”

“Help me!” Nate dropped the machete and tried to twist off the finial. “Don’t break it.”

“Break what?”

“Twist, dammit!”

They both coughed, and smoke obscured the few flashlights that had lit the room. Rafe grabbed the finial with Nate and twisted. After two good tugs, they screwed it off. It was hollow inside.

Nate tossed it and headed for the other one.

“We have to leave.” Smoke rolled down the stairs and was creeping out of the dining room. Another eardrum-shattering explosion hit, and the second floor lost what was left of the roof.

“Turn!” Nate’s face, covered in soot and blood, wore a fierceness Rafe had never seen before.

He used the last of his strength and turned. It took four turns with the strength of two men, but the finial came off. Inside the hollow area was a small vial.

“Grab that briefcase.” Nate cradled the finial and ran out.

Rafe found the briefcase near the door and followed. The hot handle burned his hand, and he clutched it to his chest. Outside in the night air, he coughed and doubled over. His lungs felt like they’d been scorched, and his watery eyes blinded him. He stumbled down the stairs, barely aware of Garza taking the case and Pete holding him up. Together, they ran from the blazing house. Somehow they got Rafe over the mud pits, but then he stopped near Pops and Jimmy. Samantha was now in Pete’s arms, and he held her close.

Samantha was awake and alive, thank God.

A few feet away, Arragon held Juliet in his arms. Her eyes were open; her head and arms hung down, unmoving. Her bare legs were covered in soot and blood, her long hair a tangled mess. Her chest was still. No undulations. No coughs. No breaths.

Rafe fell to his knees. His mind broken into a million no no no nos.

“Lay her down!” Nate threw away the finial. “Open her airway.”

Pete and Garza laid her out while Arragon stretched her head back. Nate uncorked the vial and held it to her lips.

Samantha sat on the other side and held her hand. “How do we know—”

“We don’t.” Nate tilted the bottle. Some liquid rolled down the side of her mouth, and Nate gently wiped it away with the edge of his filthy T-shirt. Then he checked her pupils with a small flashlight Pops had given him. “Pete, when I say, start CPR. And don’t you fucking stop until she’s breathing again.”

Rafe crawled over to her and took Arragon’s place. But his former trainer didn’t go far. Arragon sat next to Samantha and closed his hand over both of the women’s. Pops stood nearby, his mouth moving in a silent prayer.

“I know you,” Samantha’s weak voice came out husky. “You came into the shop yesterday and bought all of Abigail Casey’s prints.”

Arragon bowed his head. “Aye.”

“Pete?” Nate used a flashlight to check her pupils again. “Now.”

Pete took over with chest compressions while Nate kept time.

“Talk to her, Rafe,” Nate commanded. “Tell her she can’t leave.”

“She’s—”

“She’s not, Pops. She’s stuck in a seizure-like paralysis, and there’s still a chance. Talk to her, Rafe.”

Rafe lay next to her in the opposite direction, head to head but with his body out of the way. He coughed, and it felt like his lungs broke apart in his chest. He’d inhaled too much smoke and couldn’t even give his own breath to save her. “Please, sweetheart. Fight. Harder than you ever have before.”

Pete continued with the compressions and breaths while Nate counted. Now Pops, Garza, Grady, and the Boudreaux boys surrounded them. All breathing heavily, offering her the air she couldn’t find.

“Come on, Juliet,” Nate demanded, “don’t you die on us.”

Pete stopped to wipe his brow, and Nate counted under his breath while he checked her eyes again. “On the count of three, start the compressions again.”

“But—”

“Do it.”

A fireball blew off the top of the house, and a rush of hot air drove over them. The trees and bushes close to the house started to burn as well.

“Should we call someone?” Garza asked.

“No one to call,” Jimmy said. “Besides, the mud is a natural fire break.”

“Pete,” Nate ordered. “Compressions. Now.”

Arragon and Samantha moved so Garza could kneel on Juliet’s other side and place his hands on her chest. “I’ll compress, you blow.”

Once Nate started the count again, Rafe whispered, “Come back to me.”

Sweat beaded her forehead, and her pulse barely blipped.

“Are you sure about this?” Garza asked Nate.

“I was reading about Anne’s poison. It causes a seizure-like paralysis throughout the body that eventually reaches the lungs and heart. We gave her the antidote, and now we have to get her heart pumping.”

“That antidote was over three hundred years old,” Samantha said.

Arragon took Samantha’s hand and kissed the palm. “Fair lady, if the poison worked, so will the cure.”

“If that was the cure,” Pete said softly.

“If you’re not going to help”—Nate flicked the light and checked her pupils for the third time—“shut the hell up. On the count of three, we start again.”