Mystery at the Edge of Madness

by Beth Byers

  She sniffed and sidled a step sideways as he spun in a circle.

  “Paid off young Beau, who told me where the entrance was. Once I found that…well…the passage back to the house isn’t so well disguised. Did you know that there’s a rumor among the Coutelier family that the old grampy, gone mad, buried some of their gold on the land?”

  Severine just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Did Andre believe that nonsense or was that just his excuse for being here?

  “What is your plan?” Severine asked low and even.

  Andre laughed at her. This time the tone was angry and mean, and she found it even more disturbing than that high-pitched cackle.

  “My plan?”

  “Mr. Thorne, Mr. Brand, and Lisette all know that you are the criminal.”

  A sigh was the answer this time, and it lasted far, far too long.

  “There’s only one solution,” he said with a low-chuckle. “A fire and tragedy at the one-time Coutelier mansion. We’ll have to be sure it doesn’t extend too far, of course. Perhaps the only the stables since this place was meant for me.”

  “You plan to kill everyone?”

  “It’s the only thing. Nothing else will do. I’ll barely survive after trying to save everyone.”

  “You could run,” Severine snapped. “You haven’t done anything irrevocable yet. You hit Grandmère and tied up a few people. My auto is on the other side of the flooded water. You could leave, let things die down, and come back later.”

  “And what?” Andre hissed. “You think I don’t know you plan on taking everything away?”

  “You have an inheritance from your father and Grandmère, and I have made no changes to Father’s will. My plan is to pay it out when I turn twenty-one as he should have done in the first place.”

  “That pittance from Lukas is nothing compared to you, Sevie. I won’t be a pauper while you’re the empress. It’s not just. I am the son. I am the eldest. It should be me.”

  Severine didn’t point out that her money had come from the parent they didn’t share. She didn’t point out that inheriting from Grandmère and his father was more than enough money. Instead, she took another step to the side. She was but one step from being able to slip behind one of the pillars.

  “Now, now, Sevie,” Andre said, “you can’t run. I’m bigger than you, faster than you, and smarter than you.”

  Severine did roll her eyes at that one. “You won’t get away with this.”

  “I already have,” Andre said.

  “Mr. Thorne convinced Uncle Alphonse to go for help,” Severine lied, and Andre’s gaze narrowed.

  Slowly, so slowly, he smiled. “You lie as much as your father did.”

  “Do I?” Severine countered. “I was raised by nuns.”

  “No old church woman can remove the devil from a DuNoir,” Andre snapped back, his tone conveying his hatred.

  Severine bit down on her bottom lip when she heard her grandmother moan. Andre glanced over his shoulder, eyes crinkling with a wide smile, and she shuddered when she realized how happy the crumpled form of Grandmère made Andre.

  “She’s old Sevie. Let’s put her out of her misery. Maybe, if you’re very good, I’ll put you in an asylum rather than a grave.”

  As Andre squatted next to Grandmère, Severine fled down one of the eight exits off the round. It seemed to have been what Andre wanted. He laughed, a shrill hyena sound, and she gasped as she heard it echo.

  “Ah-ah, Sevie. You know I like to hunt.”

  His steps were slow and deliberate, but Severine had something he didn’t—the master key.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The secret passage ended in a small shed near the stables, and Severine hurried through the opening, locking the door behind her. She breathed deeply and then heard the sound of her brother throwing himself against the door. It would take only a moment, she imagined, before he remembered he had a gun and was willing to shoot his way through the lock. Or, he might have a key if Beau had given him one. Could there be two master keys? She ran across the pasture and threw herself into the stables.

  The stalls were still filled with horses and she saw a stableboy. His gaze narrowed on her, and he started forward with a determined look on his face. She gasped, realizing he intended to grab her. One of her brother’s men it seemed. Rather than letting him, she opened the first horse stall and let the horse out. She darted down, letting out another and another before she found her old sweetheart, Charon.

  When she opened the door for Charon, she grabbed a handful of his mane and pulled herself onto his back, thankful for the years of riding she’d had as a girl. The horse went flying by, and Severine let him thunder out of the stables. He loved to run, or he had loved to run when she last saw him, and she gave him his head. As he went thundering towards through the orchard, Severine caught sight of her brother. She grabbed tightly to the mane and heard the sound of a gunshot a moment later.

  Charon spooked sideways at the sound, and Severine almost lost her grip. She gasped, her fingers and knees almost giving out, but she held on with fierce effort. The horse pounded through the orchard and when he started to pull away from the house, she said a low prayer, reached for a higher grasp of his mane, and pressed her right knee into him as she tried to turn his head the same direction toward one of the trees. Well trained, he turned, then slowed long enough for Severine to let go of the mane and slide from the back of the horse.

  She landed hard and wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t broken her arm, but she pushed up regardless. She heard the howl of Anubis and the higher pitched barks of Kali and Persephone. Severine didn’t run towards them. She knew they’d lead the others to her, and they were all at risk.

  Her brother wasn’t mad. He was spoiled and cruel and entitled, but he’d made a mess of things.

  She curled onto her side and dragged herself behind a tree.

  “Sevie,” he called with that high-pitched shout and then she heard a shot. It hit a tree far behind her. Given she wasn’t struck, she wasn’t sure if he’d even seen her. “Sevie!”

  That was sharp as though he expected her to turn herself over. She swallowed thickly. Why had he messed up her room? Why had he changed it again? Why attack Grandmère?

  “Sevie! Quit being so troublesome. Do as you’re told, girl.”

  Severine got onto her knees and crawled away. She heard another shot, and she closed her eyes and waited for another shot, but it didn’t come.

  Instead, Andre shouted. “Spread out!”

  The servants must have joined him. Would they follow his command? Did they still believe Severine was behind all this?

  “Spread out and find her.”

  “Mr. Andre,” one of the footmen said, “we’ve been told to bring you inside.”

  With that, Severine dared to poke her head out. She could see Andre had entered the orchard and servants were approaching him cautiously.

  “Me?” Andre shouted. “I’ve found the murderess.”

  “No one has been killed,” Grayson Thorne said, stepping out with his hands down low. “This doesn’t have to go further, Charpentier.”

  “There’s treasure,” Andre tempted. “I’ll share it with you.”

  Grayson glanced to the side and Severine saw Mr. Oliver approaching through the trees as well. She heard the unholy howl of Anubis and looked about for him frantically.

  “There’s no treasure,” Grayson told Andre flatly. “You know that.”

  Andre laughed. “I thought there might be.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Grayson told snapped.

  Andre laughed again. He was back to a giggle, and he asked, “How did she get you on her side like this?”

  Grayson’s head tilted and he told Andre simply, “I saw what you did.”

  “What I did?” Andre asked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I saw Severine’s room. I released Lisette and Mr. Brand myself. I saw you drag Severine off. You, sir, are a villain.”

&nb
sp; “How much?” Andre demanded suddenly, assuming that Grayson could be bought.

  “Will your grandmother be purchased as easily as you assume I will be,” Grayson asked easily. “And Severine’s cousins and her uncle and every servant?”

  “They all want their allowances, don’t they?” Andre replied silkily. “They want maybe something a little extra?”

  Severine slowly pushed herself upright, seeing that Lisette was standing with the leashes of her puppies and Uncle Alphonse was clutching Anubis.

  “I’m not for sale,” Grayson told Andre.

  “Everyone needs a little something,” Andre replied. “I can get you a little something.”

  “Your sister inherited from her father. You needed him to die first because you weren’t owed anything in his will. Did you kill your father and mother too?”

  Andre seemed genuinely shocked. “Of course I didn’t.”

  Grayson seemed almost as baffled as Severine felt. She slowly stepped outside of the tree. None of this made sense. Not one bit. Andre was acting well and truly mad, but she didn’t think he was mad in the least. She did think he was stupid and spoiled. Her gaze narrowed on him.

  “Why are you doing this?” Severine asked. “Here I am, Andre. Tell me what’s happening.”

  He smirked at her. “Father disowned me, Sevie. I need money. I owe people. You have to go away. I’m sorry, but you have to go away. I’ll take good care of you.” His unctuous lie made her shudder.

  “What if I take care of you, instead?” she offered. “Mr. Brand’s orders from my father are to do what I say.”

  “People hate Brand, Sevie. Father’s partners. Uncle Alphonse. Our cousins. They’ll be on my side.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Uncle Alphonse said. Severine glanced his way and saw he’d been drawn closer by the lunging Anubis. “I won’t put my niece in an asylum for Flora’s boy. Didn’t like her. Don’t like you. Don’t care for your Grandmère.”

  If only, Severine thought, that charming tone and those pretty words were believable. She thought that Alphonse would throw her away as easily. In fact, she thought the only thing he wanted was the income that had been left to his sons.

  “Sevie knows I care about her,” Uncle Alphonse continued.

  She barely kept herself from snorting.

  “Sevie is a child,” Andre snapped.

  “Severine,” she said for herself, “wonders who is pulling your strings, Andre.”

  He spun on her with a furious gaze.

  “The person who you owe money?”

  His growing fury was edge with amusement.

  “No,” she added, “not that person. Someone who pulls your debtor’s strings. A spider and you’re not even the fly. You are whatever the flies eat. Poor Andre, you must hate that.”

  His gaze narrowed on her with dark, furious hatred. “Shut up.”

  “Someone imaginative owns you. I bet you bungled their plan, didn’t you? That nonsense with my bedroom. Cleaning it up before I could be hysterical about it. Before you could claim that I was mad and to look at the return to normalcy.” She laughed meanly and her brother’s fists clenched. That was it for her. “Oh you did bungle it. I bet you’re going to be scolded like the fool you are.”

  Her brother lifted his hand, pointing the gun at her. She caressed the gun in her own pocket. But no. She wouldn’t fire at her brother. She wouldn’t take that sin on her soul. Not for justice for parents such as her own.

  “You don’t know anything.”

  She licked her lips, knowing she didn’t need to speak loudly. “Don’t I? I know who you are Andre. Just like my father did. I know what you are.”

  “Stop,” Uncle Alphonse said, “you’re driving him mad.”

  She laughed lightly as if she were without fear. “Spoiled.”

  Andre flinched.

  “As cruel and spoiled as Mother.”

  Grayson must have seen the fury break in Andre’s expression because he called, “Anubis, verteidigen.”

  Defend. Protect. Grayson knew the command.

  Her dog yanked himself free as Severine drew her pistol, ensuring that her brother’s focus would be on her rather than her protector. Her brother pulled the trigger just as Anubis struck.

  Lisette screamed and Grayson cursed. Severine, however, fell. Lisette must have let go of the puppies leashes because when she opened her eyes they were there to lick her cheeks and attend to her. She groaned and pushed herself up to find Anubis holding her brother on the ground by fierce teeth on his throat.

  Lisette dropped to her knees next to Severine. Severine handed Lisette her good arm and Lisette hauled her to her feet. Her brother was well and truly caught. She hissed instructions to Mr. Oliver on her Grandmère’s location and gave him the master key. Mr. Oliver nodded and rushed away just as Severine knelt next to her brother and placed her pistol against her brother’s head.

  “Anubis,” she said, ignoring the blood in her shoulder, her broken wrist, “die freisetzung.”

  Her dog let go of her brother’s neck and she told him to protect once again.

  “Severine,” her uncle started, but she snapped at him.

  “Quiet! Tell me who is controlling you, Andre.”

  He laughed.

  “Tell me!”

  “No,” he said stubbornly, turning and pressing his head into the gun. “Pull the trigger, Sevie.”

  She shook her head.

  “Send me to hell, Sevie. Release me.”

  “Tell me,” she begged. “Tell me why.”

  “It’s like you said.” Her brother laughed, sounding drunk. “I went from man to child. To captain of my own fate to puppet. From prince of New Orleans to slave.” An actual tear slipped down Andre’s face, and he gasped suddenly, “Grandmère!”

  Severine didn’t believe that supposed repentance for a second. “Tell me who it is, Andre, and we won’t press charges. We’ll all lie. It was an accident. Mr. Brand will pay out your inheritance and you can leave New Orleans. You can live a life elsewhere. Make something new that isn’t poisoned by being mixed up with the DuNoirs.”

  He stared at her. “I don’t believe you, Sevie.”

  For once she saw true emotion that belied his words. The self-interest had filled his gaze and there was a shred of hope at the mention of the money. “Tell me what you know.”

  He shook his head ruefully. “Drunken partying during Mardi Gras. I—I got in over my head. I did something that could ruin me, and I’ve been a puppet ever since.”

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Someone doesn’t what you playing in your father’s estate. Brand was to keep it running. You, however, you can change anything. You might find things out. You could ruin someone if those nuns infected you with the morals your father didn’t possess.” The bitter hard laugh made Severine wince for them both. Greed and jealousy were the true motives, she thought as she stared at his dissipated face with the soft chin she’d never bothered to notice before.

  Severine’s gaze narrowed. “What did you do?”

  Andre pressed his lips together mutely.

  “That bad?” Severine’s voice was disgusted and she was having to fight for focus with the growing pain as she calmed down. Her whole arm, her wrist, her shoulder, her side from where she’d landed falling off the horse, her whole body really. She was a mess and it would take a while to recover.

  “Andre, let us help you,” she said low.

  Uncle Alphonse grunted and then Mr. Brand dropped to his knees next to her. “Severine, you need a doctor.”

  “The road is blocked,” she told him. She looked back at her brother. “Won’t you help me?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “If you won’t murder me, Sevie, the puppet master will.”

  She knew that stubborn look and because of it, she let Mr. Brand lift her into his arms. “Lock him in the cellars,” he ordered and then carried Severine away from the scene.

  As he carried her, chased by her dogs, back to the ho
use, she told him, “I’ve always wished you were my brother instead.”

  He pressed a brotherly kiss on her forehead. “Myself as well, little Severine.”

  She let her eyes close because another memory was hitting her fiercely. “It was you who took me away from their bodies.”

  Mr. Brand grunted.

  “I didn’t cry,” she told him.

  “You were in shock, little love,” he said gently.

  He called her little love then too, she remembered. “I never cried.”

  He didn’t have an answer for that, but the doors of the house were being thrown open, and she was settled soon after on a sofa in the parlor. Severine shuddered as she glanced around the room, once again sensing her mother’s presence. What had happened, all those years ago, and why had someone tried to use Andre?

  Chapter Twenty

  “Is he still not speaking?” Severine asked. She was standing near the window, looking down at the garden.

  “He’s still not speaking,” Mr. Brand replied carefully. “He refuses to speak at all other than to ask when he’ll be taken away.”

  She nodded and turned. Her shoulder ached and her wrist was wrapped carefully in a splint, but she was fortunate that one of the stable hands had spent the war as a medic. He had forgiven her loosing the horses when he saw injuries.

  Her pain was pounding, but it was time. She’d almost gone to her grave and she’d realized she couldn’t do that until she had faced the past one more time.

  Severine left Mr. Brand silently. She walked towards her bedroom. Rather than turning up the stairs to the tower room, however, she opened a side door. There was a small staircase that led from the master wing to the outside. It curved around the side of the house, and Severine floated down those steps once again.

  At the base of the steps was a walled private garden. It had been intended for the lady of the house and it had not been used by Flora. She had seen it, claimed it, and then never gone back to it. Severine, however, had loved the little walled garden. She’d loved the way the birds made protected little nests where their fledglings could grow safer and stronger and the little flowers that grew between the rose bushes. She loved the small fountain at the center of the garden.