by Shea Godfrey
Finn felt her voice rise up. “I made up rhymes in dark and scary places, and like a lyre I plucked the tired laces…of my worn out shoes, one foot beneath my heart.”
Petar Dimitrovich stared at her, his eyes filling with shock. He took a step back from her, not because he had to, but because he was frightened. In that moment, he knew that he was going to die, she could see it. “But it was…” His expression turned and she could see his rage at being denied. “But you weren’t there.”
Finn said nothing and he began to panic somewhat. He had absolutely no control over the moment and he had no idea what to do about it.
“It was his favorite poem, that’s all.”
Pietro had been right. Justice would never be enough.
“No, actually, it wasn’t.”
Finn pulled the trigger, dead center of her target, and she kept pulling until she had emptied the clip into his torso. He was pushed back by the force of it, his arms swinging out as he went.
Finn stopped and watched as he teetered, strangely enough, still standing as he tried to suck in a last, useless breath of air.
She lowered her weapon and took the final few steps of Declan’s revenge.
Her boot hit him in the chest and he flipped over the balcony railing and fell.
Finn heard him hit, but she held her ground and remembered the weight and warmth of Declan’s arm thrown about her shoulders. She felt his laughter vibrate in her chest, and she could see him as he ran barefoot through the grass.
She stepped to the stone railing and surveyed the patio below.
The blood of Petar Dimitrovich was splashed on the flat bricks around his broken body, and as Finn stared down at him, a fresh pool began to spread. She turned away as she popped the empty clip from the Sig and dropped it in her jacket pocket.
“It was mine.”
She grabbed a new clip as she stepped through the balcony doors and she shoved it in as she checked the bedroom doors. She stopped where Petar Dimitrovich had stood only a few moments before.
“Who are you?” the old man in the bedroom doorway demanded.
Ketrin Arshavin didn’t look as Asher had once described him, not really, not anymore. He was very square, it was true, but his white hair was a bit wild about his head and his shoulders were somewhat drawn in. He had lost muscle mass and weight from his younger days, and as he stood in the doorway he seemed unsteady on his feet.
His eyes, however, were as she thought they would be, cold, and sinister with loathing for the world around him. His hand also appeared to be extremely steady as he leveled a blue steel .45 caliber directly at her head.
“Where is Petar? What is all this shooting?”
Finn said nothing, uncertain of what she could say. She was looking at the boogeyman, and the creature from beneath the bed. She was looking at the man who had finally run the nimble Asher James to ground, a beautiful fox caught by Ketrin’s hounds. He had gazed down from his rotting throne and fed her beautiful Declan and sweet Isabella to his monster, Dimitrovich. He had destroyed Thomasino Lazarini in one fell swoop, though he hadn’t known it. He was the cruel, pitiless man who had butchered Casey’s parents, and then stolen their child.
Casey had kissed her not half an hour ago, and there had been a brutal fear in her eyes. But Casey had let her go anyway, and she had even managed a careful smile and a firm nod of her head. Casey hadn’t known how brave she was actually being, but Finn would not forget it.
“I will kill you, make no mistake,” Ketrin said.
Finn took a chance. “I’m the one who has your treasure. The one Asher James stole from you.”
Ketrin’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m the one who keeps the memories.”
“Asher James is dead. Pavel killed him.”
“Asher is the one who sent me.”
Ketrin’s heated stare wavered, and he lowered the gun just a bit. “You have the girl? Does she have my key?”
“Ketrin?” A woman’s voice spoke from the bedroom.
His attention shifted back to the bedroom and the gun lowered to his side.
“Ask her where Petar is.”
Finn raised her weapon and took aim as she moved quietly along the sofa. She had no idea who was in the bedroom, but the voice was definitely a woman’s.
Ketrin turned back to Finn and he appeared confused, his cold loathing replaced by disorder and uncertainty. “Where is Petar?”
“Petar is dead.” Finn would never lie about that. She couldn’t. Finn saw Bennet at the top of the stairs and Sina was but a step behind.
“Give me the gun, darling, and we’ll get your treasure,” the woman promised him.
Ketrin held out the gun and Finn adjusted her aim as the woman came into view. She was older, but she was in good shape, her dress formfitting and made of a beautiful dark green wool. Her blond hair was pinned atop her head with an expert twist, and she stepped close to him and took the gun.
“Put it down, please,” Finn ordered in a quiet voice.
The woman held the gun by the barrel and patted Ketrin on the chest. “Wait here for me, all right, darling?” She regarded Finn with interest. “Is Petar Dimitrovich truly dead?”
Finn lowered her arms a bit, which shifted her aim to the floor at the woman’s feet. “It’s all right, Bennet, come ahead.”
Bennet entered the room and Sina followed. Sina stopped about ten feet through the door as Bennet and Danilo moved about the space in an efficient manner. Danilo gave a clipped wave to Bennet before he disappeared into the second bedroom.
Finn met Sina’s eyes, then Sina turned the other way and said, “Ketrin Arshavin?”
“Yes?”
“I am Theresina Lazarini, the daughter of Thomasino Lazarini.”
“Yes,” Ketrin said simply. “I remember you. You were the bitch I couldn’t get to.”
The room was quiet for a long time and Sina did not look away from him, not even for a heartbeat. When Danilo reappeared from the second bedroom, Sina finally turned her attention to the woman. “Who are you?”
“I am Magda Sokolov.”
“Magda, step out of the doorway, please,” Sina ordered in an icy voice and Magda obeyed. Sina held up Pavel Arshavin’s silver-plated, dragon-etched .45 pistol with red maple wood stocks. Bennet took Magda by the arm and seized Ketrin’s weapon. “Do you recognize this gun, Ketrin?”
“That is my son’s gun. Do you know where he is?”
“Yes, I do.”
Finn felt sick to her stomach and there was a bitter taste in her mouth. “Sina?”
Sina met Finn’s eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Where is she?”
“She’s at the gates, by the road still.” Sina’s expression softened, and she even smiled a little. “Why don’t you go and see your girl, Finn, and I’ll finish up here, all right?”
Finn lowered her gun completely and walked away. “Good-bye, Sina.”
“Hey?”
Finn stopped in the doorway.
“Thank you, Finnegan O’Connell.” Sina’s green eyes reminded her again of that day, all those years ago. Theresina Lazarini had been the only one there for her when she had claimed Declan’s body. “Maybe I’ll see you both around San Michele, sometime soon.”
“That would be nice.” Finn’s voice was hoarse as she turned her back. She put one foot in front of the other, and she walked away.
Finn was at the bottom of the stairs when she heard Pavel Arshavin’s gun go off, and it sounded like a cannon as it filled her head with an incredible weight.
A huge hand grabbed her by the left arm and her vision blurred as she tried to adjust. She was about to fall from the last steps, but she was taken by both arms and set squarely onto her feet.
“Here,” he said, and took the Sig from her hand. He lifted her coat. “Arm up.” Finn lifted her left arm and the Sig was placed back in its holster. “There ya go.”
Finn studied his face and tried to place him.
“Enzo, remember?”
/> Finn let out a surprised breath. “I’m sorry about that.”
He shrugged. “I was being a dick. I’ve had worse. Are you gonna be sick?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yeah, well, your pick-up sticks man from the balcony made Carlo puke on his shoes.” He faced her toward the front doors. “Fresh air. Go find it.”
She’s at the gates, by the road still.
“Thank you, Enzo.”
“You’re welcome.”
The body was gone from the front steps, and as she took the stairs to the drive, the pavement was clear until it met the night and she could no longer see. Her legs felt like lead as she walked, but she kept moving forward. She would always look back, she accepted that, but not at this place. This moment would become a ghost, and then perhaps, nothing at all. It would become a corner that her memories would move around and brush past, on their way to someplace clean.
Finn’s eyes adjusted to the changes around her, and as she moved farther from the lights of the house, she could see more of the winding drive as it stretched out before her. The silhouette in her path seemed to rise up from the blacktop and she let out a breath that stole away the last of her strength.
* * *
Casey’s stride lengthened when Finn stopped, and Casey could hear Asher’s voice within her head. What about when you need it? When you need someone there for you?
Casey came to a stop before her lover, and though she wanted desperately to feel Finn’s arms around her, she did not take that last step. Finn appeared as young and fragile as Casey had ever seen her, caught in the ebb of a rage that had lasted for more than a decade. And yet Casey knew the strength that was there, and the untamed passion. She wasn’t sure if she had ever encountered such determination before, either, but then again, how long had Finn been looking for her, as well?
She could finally give Asher the answer he’d been longing for. Yes, Papa, I have that now, too. You were right.
Finn’s expression was quiet as the shadows played across her face. “Cassandra Marinos.”
Casey swallowed through the tightness of her throat. “Is it done?”
“Yes.”
She reached out and took Finn’s hand.
Finn’s skin was cold, but it would warm up soon enough. There was a tremble in Finn’s fingers and so Casey stepped closer, pulling Finn’s hand to her chest. She held it there with strength and certainty. “Would you like to come home with me now?”
Finn held her eyes for a long time and then she smiled the smallest of smiles. “Yes.”
Casey pulled her with a gentle tug.
Finn walked beside her and Casey saw Jack by the limo as he talked with the driver.
Jack motioned her forward as he opened the back door of the limo and Casey walked them to the long car within a wash of relief. When they had crossed the road, she turned Finn at her shoulders and slid her right hand into Finn’s hair, guiding her lover as she got into the car.
“He’ll take you back to the loft.”
Casey touched Jack’s face. “Thank you, Jack.”
He smiled. “Sure thing, kiddo. Get her outta here.”
The door was shut behind her, and Casey slid along the leather seat until she was able to pull Finn into her arms.
The tenderness of their kiss broke Casey’s heart at last, but the loving warmth of Finn’s mouth upon her own gave her the courage she needed as she pulled Finn onto her lap. Finn turned and surrendered within the warm embrace, and this time, Casey did not let go.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Casey sat crossed-legged on the bed and watched her lover sleep, and though she had waited for Finn earlier in the day, her willpower had finally run out and she had opened Asher’s box.
The latch had been easy, for the replica Houdini lock that held it secure had been the first victory of her childhood training. That Asher had kept it had caused a few tears, but they were good tears. It was a memory she had lost along the way and now it was hers again.
The black lacquer box had been filled with photos. Photos that Casey remembered and photos she hadn’t known existed. School photos and photos of Asher as a young man. Photos of their first trip to the coast, and Asher in his Armani suit. There was even one with Amelie, Asher’s beloved sister, and Casey had stared at it for a long time. She had met Amelie several times, and each time, Amelie had kissed Casey’s cheeks and hugged her so thoroughly that Casey thought she would pop. But it had felt good, too. Good and right, and as it should be.
They had made macarons that day, Amelie and Asher, and they had laughed as the music had played. They had danced about the kitchen, and Amelie had told her about the day Asher had climbed to the top of the house and she’d been forced to fetch him back down. It had been a splendid day, and it was the last time they had seen Amelie alive. Her funeral was one of the first and only times that she had seen Asher openly weep, and she had stayed close to him for nearly a year afterward, so he would know he was not alone. They would never be alone again, as long as they had each other.
Naamah had been tucked into the box, and if a portion of Casey’s memories had not already returned to her earlier in the evening, she wasn’t sure how she might’ve reacted.
The cat was tattered and torn and her fur was beaten down, but she was still blue, and she still held Casey’s secrets within her black button eyes. She had cried quietly for Naamah, and for the lost girl she had been so long ago. And while she held her oldest friend, she had felt the key that was pushed deep within the stuffing of one of Naamah’s legs.
She had no idea what lock it would open, or what treasure it might reveal, but it was a tarnished brass mystery that still caught the light when she held it up.
There were a dozen names upon a heavy piece of paper that was sealed in an envelope, and there had been other photos, as well, tucked in a tall, narrow book about Secretariat. The book had made her smile when she saw it, and she noted how the pages were worn down, and almost I every page was marked with notes. The notes made no sense to her. Many of them appeared to be in a code of sorts, though she had no idea what that code might be.
The black-and-white photos tucked within the pages of the book had revealed to her yet another incredible, stunning mystery, and a memory that she could not quite grasp, no matter how hard she reached for it. Though perhaps, she would find some of her answers in the morning, when the woman she loved woke up beside her. The wonder of that, of being in love and loved in return, defied description, or at least her ability to put those feelings into words. But add to it what those photos contained, and her world had been tipped on its axis.
“Asher’s Van Gogh,” she whispered aloud and Finn turned onto her side and faced Casey.
It was an invitation and Casey gladly accepted. She put the box and its mysteries on the bedside table, and then she climbed beneath the sheet and woven blanket. She tucked in as close to Finn as she possibly could and Finn’s left arm took hold of her.
Casey’s tears came again and she pulled her arms in as she yielded to the quiet strength of the woman who held her, even while she slept. She had no explanation for the capricious whims of fate, or the secretive workings of the world, nor could her logic illuminate the broken clock of her memories. But she did know that in this particular instance, it didn’t matter.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Novi Sad, Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia
June 1986
Asher shook Ian’s hand. His grip was perhaps too tight, but he couldn’t help it. “It is too much. I may not be the best man in the world, but I cannot take so much.” He held out the roll of bills that Ian had given him. It was a bit more than a thousand dollars in American money. With the exchange rate at the moment, he could almost double that if he worked the system.
“I will not take it back. That would be bad luck.”
“I cannot thank you enough, my friend, truly. I will pay you back. I swear it.”
Ian smiled. “And that would brea
k my heart. Use that money to get home. Use it for food, and for a warmer coat for Cassandra. It’s summer, I know, but sometimes the nights get cold. Finn gets cold. Use it to fix the car if my father’s repairs aren’t as perfect as he says they are.”
Asher laughed in a quiet manner.
“Or use it to help you get a fresh start, once you’re back in France.”
Asher didn’t know what to say, not to any of it. He had never been on the receiving end of such a gift before. “I can work. I am good at many things.”
“Taking care of a child, it can change your plans in a heartbeat. Just take the money, Asher. Perhaps she will stay with Amelie, but perhaps she’ll go with you. She seems fairly attached.”
“You will see.” Asher was certain of his words. The sun had gone down and they needed to be on the road. “I will find a way to repay you. Somehow. Someday, perhaps.”
Ian agreed with a nod and held out his hand again. “All right. Someday.”
Asher shook it. “Does she really seem to like me?”
“Yes, she does, and quite a lot, from what I can tell.”
Asher turned, and both he and Ian watched as Cassandra stood beside Finn. They had towed the Renault up to the house, where Ian’s father had worked his considerable magic on all sorts of mechanical injuries. He had fixed Asher’s silver angel until she purred like a brand-new car, and Asher could have wept.
Finn held Cassandra’s stuffed cat and scratched at the ears, and though it was something simple, Casey seemed enchanted by the entire scenario. Casey had smiled only at Finn, and when Finn whispered to the stuffed cat, as if she shared a secret, Casey’s eyes became full and a smile slipped quickly across her lips.
Asher’s voice was soft. “Today, it is the first I have seen her even smile.”
“Mister Asher?”
Declan slid to a stop and Asher reached out and steadied him. “You are too fast to be a human being.” Asher laughed. “You must be a superhero, like in the comics.”
Declan’s smile lit up his entire face. “I’m faster than Finn.”