by Sharon Wray
Horatio raised his head and dropped it again.
Zack readjusted the mirror and thanked God for the gift of stupid cell phone passwords like Hamlet.
* * *
Allison couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t move. But she could smell the distinct odor of gasoline.
Her frozen body refused to move and not just due to her bound hands, gag, and blindfold. She was also squished between two armed guards. It felt like she was trapped beneath ice, flowing with the cold current yet unable to let anyone on the surface know she was alive. The rag in her mouth made it impossible to swallow. She was completely immobile. She was shocked that she’d even dozed off.
Find a path back.
She moved a finger, but her hands, tied behind her back, had gone numb.
Slowly, she flexed each toe. At first, only her big toe twitched. Then feeling returned to her feet. As her body released the paralysis, she realized they were still driving and she’d no idea where they were going.
“The truck has arrived at Remiel’s safe house,” Isabel said softly from the front seat. “How many gas cans did you bring?”
“Four,” Fenwick said. “Are you still reading that book?”
“Yes. I found documents folded in the back. They’re the photocopied eighteenth-century records Stuart showed me proving that Thomas Toban bought two headstones in St. Philip’s a few days after Mercy and Henry disappeared. One with a broken daisy carved on the front, the other with a skull and crossbones.” Her sigh carried a bitter edge. “Forgeries, probably made by Hezekiah, to keep me away from the Isle of Grace.”
“You betrayed Stuart, Isabel. You lied about working for Remiel and why you wanted Stuart to find those documents. Then you threatened Allison’s life. What did you expect?”
“He loved me.”
“Not enough to give you the treasure,” Fenwick said.
“Be. Quiet,” Isabel said.
“Sooooo.” Fenwick elongated the word as if trying to change the subject. “When we get there, what do we do?”
Allison leaned forward slightly.
“My guess is that Henry Avery had Thomas Toban and Joshua Linguard manage a project that hid the treasure.”
“Except,” Fenwick added, “if I were an evil pirate like Henry Avery, once this project was done, I’d kill everyone involved, including the manager and the builder. Since I’m also a paranoid fuck, I’d kill my lover and use her as a fifolet.”
Allison heard the sound of flipping pages.
“Fifolets are mentioned a lot in this book,” Isabel said. “If Henry Avery killed Mercy to protect the treasure, he may have also killed Joshua Linguard. Two murdered souls doubled the protection.”
“And the treasure?”
“I assume buried beneath Mercy Chastain.” A book slammed shut and Isabel said, “Once we get there, we look for her grave. Ten thousand pounds would buy a hell of a mausoleum.”
“We have to dig up a woman who’s been dead over three hundred years? Whose spirit might be a vengeful ghost?”
“You’re afraid of vengeful ghosts?” Isabel’s laugh sounded almost cruel. “The man who killed his own brother, married his brother’s wife, and allowed his stepson to drown because he had proof of his father’s murder? The man who stole the Witch’s Examination of Mercy Chastain on the day of his brother’s funeral, hid it for sixteen years, only to allow his lover Tarragon to steal it from him? The lover who was not only his wife’s acolyte but is about the same age as his stepdaughter?”
“Yes.”
“Henry Avery isn’t the only evil fuck in this story.” Isabel paused. “Tarragon was right. You do have deep undercurrents.”
They continued talking, but Allison was shaking so hard it was hard to concentrate.
Fenwick had killed her father and Danny?
She struggled not to vomit into her gag.
“Turn onto that dirt road,” Isabel said many minutes later.
The car stopped, and the guard dragged Allison out of the back seat with the warning, “Fight me and I kill you. Got it?”
Allison nodded and walked with him. The ground beneath her sneakers felt sandy yet gravely. The acrid smell of marsh mud, with a hint of pine and gardenias, burned her nose.
Finally, the guard said, “Sit.”
Her legs stiffened and she sat on something hard and cold.
“Stay,” the guard added.
“We need to search the cemetery for Mercy’s grave.” Isabel gave the guards more details and finished with, “Clayborne, the guards and I will search while you watch Allison. And turn off those damn tree lights.”
Allison heard the sound of boots breaking twigs and walking away.
“Allison,” Fenwick said in a voice that reeked of snarl, “if you promise not to move, I’ll take off your blindfold.”
She nodded. A moment later, she blinked to adjust her eyes. It’d been black behind the blindfold. Fenwick had left the flashlight on top of a tomb, and she could see she was in a cemetery she didn’t recognize with a small white church behind her. The one visible side was dominated by three arched windows flanked by enormous shutters, and someone had strung white lights through the trees.
Construction equipment was lined up nearby, along with a generator and red gas cans. In the distance, she saw flashlights leading deeper into the churchyard.
Something rustled and she looked down. A water moccasin glided by. She whimpered and lifted her feet onto the tomb. She hated snakes.
“Where am I?” She tried to speak through the gag but her words came out garbled.
Instead of responding, Fenwick zip-tied her ankles together, retrieved his flashlight, and disappeared through the back door of the church. A minute later, the tree lights turned off, leaving her in darkness.
Chapter 43
Zack half carried, half dragged Horatio through the back door of Iron Rack’s gym. He’d parked in an alley nearby, and no one had noticed one man carrying another. If anything, a casual observer would think that Zack was helping a drunk friend home.
Pete hurried over. Once they got Horatio tied to a metal chair next to Fortinbras, they blindfolded him.
Pete grabbed Zack’s arm and whispered, “What happened to Horatio’s face?”
“It ran into my fist.”
Pete picked up empty water bottles and a pizza box, tossed them into a nearby recycling bin, and led the way out of the back room. As they strode through the dark gym, Pete told Zack about Rafe being shadow-banned from the Fianna and how they were waiting for a call about where to trade Fortinbras—and now Horatio—for Alex.
“Where is everyone?”
“Squeezed into Kells’s office, waiting for you. Except for Garza and Ty, who are sleeping upstairs, and Rafe, who went to meet a contact.”
Zack paused in front of the door to Kells’s office. Inside he heard Vane talking to the other men in his know-it-all voice that drove Zack insane.
“Sir,” Vane said, “Zack took Allison on an operation to New Orleans. He’s out of control.”
Zack stormed in and the door banged the metal filing cabinet. The temp made his face bead with sweat, and his nose burned with the smell of ramped-up testosterone. “You wanted to see me?”
Kells turned away from the window overlooking the street. He stood taller than the other men in the room, his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Can I assume you have another Fianna warrior tied up in the back room?”
Zack nodded. “Horatio.”
Kells pointed at Cain who was seated near the desk. “Please watch our hostages.”
Cain took off, closing the door behind him. That left Nate standing in a far corner, shoulder against a filing cabinet. Luke sat at the desk behind a laptop. Vane had the chair near the desk and stared at Zack like he was the neighborhood kid about to get grounded. Pete sidled up
to the coffeepot and started pouring.
Kells’s fingers tap-danced on his bicep. “Tell me everything that’s been going on in the past few days. Every moment. Every detail.”
“Sir, with all due respect, Isabel has Allison and possibly my sister. The interrogation can wait.”
“No, it can’t.”
Zack started to leave and Kells said, “Where are you going?”
“You fired me. Remember?”
Kells closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “We’re all stressed—”
“I believe your exact words were don’t come back. I interpret that as being fired.”
“You disobeyed a direct order,” Vane said from his seat. “What did you think was going to happen?”
“How about trusting me for a change?” Zack spoke directly to Kells because none of this was Vane’s business. “You could’ve trusted me to make the right decisions and get the job done.”
“You were—are—being led around by a woman,” Kells said. “Again. The last time—”
“I know what fucking happened.” Zack added a last-ditch “sir” to soften his tone.
Before Kells could respond, Nate moved into the center of the room. “None of this is helping us find Allison or Emilie. Now, I suggest we let Zack tell us what he knows and maybe we can figure this out together.”
Zack sighed and stared at the ceiling covered with brown water spots. It was a miracle this dump didn’t fall in on itself. It took Zack exactly six minutes to lay out everything he’d done and learned—except for the romantic parts. And the part about seeing Kate. Because that would’ve started a war.
When the heavy breathing of his men became too intense, Zack added, “I have no idea where Isabel took Allison or Emilie. I have no research. No clues. Nothing.”
Nate rubbed his forehead. “Maybe if we found the treasure, it wouldn’t matter. We could trade it for the women.”
“Without the witch’s examination’s appendix and Pirate’s Grille,” Zack said, “our only option is finding Mercy Chastain.”
Nate took out his phone. “Alex left me a rambling message about Mercy Chastain. It didn’t make sense until you told us your story.” Nate put the phone on speaker and replayed the message.
Alex’s scratchy voice came through. “Nate. I’m in my brother’s hotel room reading the Witch’s Examination of Mercy Chastain. Part of the proof she offered for her innocence were the apotropaic marks she’d carved in her cell along with the Marian garden she’d planted around her home. Witches couldn’t live anywhere with apotropaic marks and couldn’t grow herbs in a garden devoted to Mary. Mercy mentioned growing rosemary, lilies of the valley, and thistle.
“It’s also clear the charges were made up. In the notes at the end, she mentioned that in return for her release, Nicholas Trott—the chief justice, not the dog—wanted to know the location of Henry Avery’s treasure. Since she didn’t know where it was because it was being built—yes, that’s the word she used—she told him she’d leave him a way to find it. That’s why she came up with the cipher of the apotropaic marks—aka the Pirate’s Grille—and the appendix.
“There’s one more thing. In a book Allison and I found, I saw a receipt from 1704. Thomas Toban and Mercy Chastain spent ten thousand pounds to build something. FYI, I told my brother I’d go with him to Italy in exchange for setting the women free. Don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. If not, it’s been…real.”
Nate hung up the phone. “Obviously Alex, when he left that message, didn’t know we were going to make a trade for him.”
Zack ran his hands over his head. This whole thing had become a nightmare of epic proportions.
“Zack?” Kells took his turn in the center of the small room. “You mentioned Stuart planted thistle, rosemary, and lilies of the valley behind a grave for Allison to find?”
“Yes.” Zack paused, not wanting to talk about Kate’s role.
“Those plants,” Kells said, “represent the Seven Dolors of Mary.”
Luke grimaced. “The what, sir?”
“The sorrows of Mary’s life.” Kells clasped his hands behind neck. “The flight to Egypt, the passion of her son, crucifixion. My wife once wrote an article about them.”
Aaaaand no one wanted to touch that.
“Sir?” Vane raised his hand. “What do these plants have to do with finding the women?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible Stuart knew more about Mercy and the treasure than he told Isabel or the Prince. It’s even possible he knew the location of the treasure.”
Zack closed his eyes. He’d never considered that.
“Alex mentioned the treasure being built,” Nate said. “And a receipt for something that cost ten thousand pounds.”
“That’s two million in today’s currency,” Luke said.
Kells went back to staring out the window. “What cost the pirate Thomas Toban ten thousand pounds in 1704? And how does that tie in to Mercy’s Marian garden?”
“Thomas Toban was from the Isle of Grace,” Luke said. “Maybe it was something Thomas built out there.”
A hot flush rose up Zack’s neck at the same time Kells spun around to face them. “Luke?”
“I’m checking now.” A moment later, Luke said, “There’s no information on who paid for it, but the church known as Saint Mary of Sorrows on the Isle of Grace was completed in 1704. It cost ten thousand pounds. That’s a lot of money for that tiny church.”
Zack followed Kells and his men into the gym. He needed to leave now. “Sir—”
“Zack.” Kells stopped by the door to the back room and held up one hand. “Before we do anything, I want to talk to Horatio.”
That was a pointless task. “Horatio won’t say anything.”
Kells ignored Zack, entered the back room, and stopped.
They all followed, and Vane shook his head.
Yeah, Zack had been worried about this.
Kells looked at Zack, frown locked and loaded. “What happened to Horatio’s face?”
Cain, who sat nearby reading the newspaper, said, “An accident.”
Kells’s sigh filled the room. “I’d like you to leave me, Luke, and Cain alone with Horatio.”
There wasn’t time. “Sir—”
Pete took Zack’s arm and dragged him into the gym. Vane and Nate joined them by the fighting ring.
Zack turned to Pete first. “I’m leaving now. Are you in or out?”
“I’m in, but—”
“Wait!” Vane moved between them, hands on his hips. “Someone has to stay here with Kells and protect Horatio and make the trade for Alex.”
“Kells has Luke and Cain to help him.”
“But”—Vane pointed to the darkness outside the glass front doors—“Rafe has disappeared. Ty and Garza are asleep—”
“No, we’re not,” Garza said as he and Ty came down the stairs. Garza beelined for Zack and gripped his shoulder. “Whatever you need, I’m in.”
Ty came over and crossed his arms. “Me too.”
“I’ll stay here,” Nate said. “To mitigate the freak-out.”
Vane scoffed. “There’s no way Kells will authorize this operation.”
“That’s why we’re not asking him.” Zack pointed to Garza, then Pete. “Get what you need. Because the bikes are still in Charleston, and I don’t want to piss off Kells even more by taking the unit’s cars, we’ll use Allison’s and Garza’s. We leave in five minutes.”
Pete glanced at the closed door leading to the back room. “Our weapons are in there.”
Zack pulled out his gun and checked his magazine. “I have mine.”
“I’ll swing by Rafe’s apartment,” Garza said. “I have a key and know the combo to the gun safe.”
“A cop having access to an ex–Fianna warrior’s weapons?” Pete sh
ook his head. “Because that’s not fucked up.”
“We live in a fucked-up world,” Garza reminded them.
Zack stared at the building’s exposed steel beams that were probably covered with asbestos. Garza’s words were so true.
“Zack?” Vane asked in that annoying way of his. “Kells will fire you again when he discovers you’re choosing the personal over his orders.”
“Honestly, brother, I don’t care.”
“I don’t like it,” Vane said.
“I didn’t ask you to come.”
Vane’s mouth opened and closed like a hooked fish taking his last breath. Then he glanced at the door hiding Kells and Horatio.
Yes, brother. A choice between Kells and the rest of the unit. Which one will you choose?
Vane swallowed and said, “I’ll meet you out front. With the weapons.”
Chapter 44
Alex stretched in the back seat of the black SUV and watched the outside world go by. He wasn’t that familiar with the roads between Charleston and Savannah, but he had the feeling they weren’t going in the direction they should’ve been.
He flexed and unflexed his hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back to Kells and the gym; it was just that the women were still missing. And maybe, if given the chance, he could help.
The tires ground gravel and bounced so hard Alex’s head hit the ceiling. “Marcellus? Where the fuck are we?”
“Attending to another purpose.” Marcellus turned onto a dirt road. “We have one of the Fiend’s men.”
“The guy Zack found at the Usher Society?”
“Aye. He offered information in exchange for his life.” Marcellus shifted the car into a lower gear to drive through a ditch. “Now my brothers and I have anointed our swords and prayed for time.”
“Time to do what?”
“To save Lady Emilie from the Fiend. To save her from death.” Marcellus stopped the car next to four other black SUVs, got out, and slammed the door. Then he went around to open the back and shut it. When Alex heard the distinctive sound of a magazine clicking into a rifle, he tried the door handle. Locked.