by Ally Carter
“Not yet,” he said. “Give me that key!”
April actually smiled at him. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
He seemed to change in the blink of an eye. Or . . . well . . . the blink of a tiny red light.
She could see the moment he heard the subtle buzzing sound that filled the air as the SadieSeer 200 flew closer to them, the red light growing brighter and brighter the closer the little drone drew to where April and Evert stood.
“Kids are obsessed with technology,” April told him. “Or haven’t you heard? We have apps for everything. Games. Homework. Recording murder confessions . . .” He stammered and stumbled back. “That’s not . . .”
“Recording us right now? Of course it is. Right, Sadie?” Then Sadie and Violet appeared down below, a laptop open in Sadie’s arms and a tiny headset over her ears. Violet gave April a thumbs-up as Sadie yelled, “Copy that! We got everything.”
“It’s over,” April told him, but Evert was lunging toward her, knocking her to the ground.
April’s head banged off of the hard stone. Her vision blurred. The key flew from her hand and skidded across the slick patio, and April flashed back to the museum. She almost felt the heat. She could almost smell the smoke. She wanted to cry out for Gabriel, but he wasn’t coming. Not this time. Not ever again.
Then Evert pulled her to her feet, her back to his chest, a knife at her throat.
“I killed my brother and his entire family. Did you really think I wouldn’t kill you too?”
“Hey!”
The word shouldn’t have stopped him, but it did. Or maybe it was the sight of Colin standing on the stone ledge that circled the patio and overlooked the sea, the key dangling from his outstretched hand.
“You’ll let her go, or I’ll let this go. Think I can hit the water from here?” Colin asked. “Bet I can.”
“Do it,” April said. “Colin, throw it!”
“Uh . . . not how you get the crazy guy to drop the knife, love,” he said.
“Do it!” April shouted.
“Let her go.” Tim eased onto the patio. “Then you can have your key back and a nice head start, what do you say?”
“Yeah,” Colin said. “You’re a Winterborne. You’ve got money. I bet you could live a real nice life on some island somewhere.” He smirked. “Or the Alps.”
“Just drop the knife,” Tim reminded the man. “You might even be able to outrun Gabriel Winterborne.”
“My nephew is dead,” Evert said with glee.
“No.” Tim shook his head. “He’s behind you.”
And then Evert laughed. “I’m not going to fall for that—”
“Now,” someone said, and Colin turned, hurling the key out into the ocean.
Evert roared, “No!” and April broke free. Then she was falling again, pushed to the ground as something hurtled toward Evert.
No. Someone.
And it was the most beautiful sight that April had ever seen. The mist stopped and the clouds parted and the sun broke through in the east, bathing Gabriel with its golden glow.
“You’re alive,” she said as if he wasn’t already aware of that fact.
“I’m hard to kill, or haven’t you heard?” Gabriel actually laughed. But it was a joyless sound, and he never once took his gaze off of Evert. “Hello, Uncle.”
Evert was looking around, as if expecting the cavalry to arrive at any moment.
“Your men aren’t coming,” Gabriel said simply, answering the unasked question. “My family’s money was well spent, but my last decade was spent better.”
But Evert only scoffed. “Your family? You should thank me, you know?”
“Thank you for what?” Gabriel asked.
“Without me, you would have been the youngest. The spare’s spare. I made you the heir, you ungrateful . . .”
“Tell me, Uncle, why did you do it? Was it just greed? Money? My father would have given you anything.”
“Why ask when I could take everything!” Evert shouted, and the words flew away on the wind. “I heard him and Father talking. About the business. The house. The Winterborne legacy that they kept locked away and didn’t dare share with me. I heard them! And now . . .” A new light filled his eyes. “And now you’ll never have it. Good. Without the key—”
“What? This key?” Colin did his best to sound innocent, but his eyes were pure mischief as he made a sort of wave and the key appeared in his palm again, as if by magic.
Evert lunged—fast. But Gabriel was faster. He swatted Evert back, sending him flying across the flagstone patio while Gabriel stalked closer.
April recognized the sound of the sword sliding free of its scabbard. She knew Gabriel’s stance. His tone. His one goal in life.
And she shouted, “Gabriel!” But he didn’t turn around. “Don’t do it.”
“This man killed my family, April.”
“I know. And he’ll go to jail for that.”
Evert was trying to push his way up, but Gabriel kicked him back down.
“This man ruined my life.”
“Your life’s not over yet. Not by a long shot. You have people who care about you. You have Smithers! You have me. You have us!”
“Isabella’s dead!”
And that was all that really mattered. He looked at April, as if all the best-laid plans in this world had boiled down to this one moment, and then he pushed them away. “Go inside.”
“No,” April said.
“Tim, Colin, take her inside. Right now!”
“No! I won’t let you become like him.”
“It’s too late. I’m already like him.” He kept his gaze trained on the uncle who glared up at him, a malicious gleam in his eyes.
“Yes, I think you are,” Evert agreed, but he was wrong.
“You’re nothing like him!” April shouted. “You’re not here to kill him. You’re here to save us, remember? We’re precocious.”
She meant to tease, to make him smile. But he never even looked away from Evert, so she reached for his arm. “Let’s go inside, Gabriel. Let’s go wait for Smithers. Let’s—”
“He won’t kill me, April,” Evert said. “He’s a coward. Why else would he have run away and left Isabella all alone?”
“Not helping your case there, mate,” Colin muttered, and Gabriel pushed April aside.
“He’ll get away with it. He always gets away with it.”
“Not this time,” Tim said. “We have him confessing. We have everything.”
“It won’t be enough.”
“Yes, it will.” Then there was a sound on the wind, faint but growing stronger. Sirens. Red and blue lights swirled across the water as boats raced toward the shore.
“He’s not getting away. See?” She pointed to the police cars coming down the road. “The world is coming.”
But then April heard what she’d said—what it meant. The world was coming to Winterborne House, and to Gabriel, that was more terrifying than all the henchmen and bombs and murderous uncles in the world.
His hand started to shake. The blade of the sword trembled. A light sheen of sweat beaded on his brow.
Sadie and Violet ran through the patio doors, shouting, “The cops are almost here!” Sadie sounded happy and relieved and like the worst day of their lives was finally over. But April wasn’t looking at the madman on the ground anymore. She was looking at the man with the sword and then at the lights swirling in the distance.
“Run,” April said before she could talk herself out of it. “It’s okay. We’ve got him. You can go now. We’ll be okay.”
“What?” Sadie sounded confused, but Tim understood what she was saying.
“Yeah,” he said. “Get out of here. Now. Before it’s too late.”
Evert looked from the police boats to Gabriel to the cliffs, but there was no escape.
“We caught him,” Colin said, catching on. “We have him on video confessing to murdering his entire family. It’s over.”
“Gabriel,” April said, panic in
her voice. “Go.”
He looked at the man at his feet. Then at the sword in his hand. Then at the girl who was saying, “If you don’t want to be back . . . If you don’t want to be Gabriel Winterborne, then go. Find that island or mountain or whatever. Go be happy. She’d want you to be happy.” April looked at Colin and Sadie, Tim and Violet. “We’ll be okay. We’re always okay.”
But April had never been a very good liar. Her voice cracked, and her eyes burned as she shouted, “Just go!”
“Police!” someone yelled inside the house. There were more sirens. And above it all, Smithers was shouting, “Children! Children, where are you?”
April could hear people on the rocks below, and she looked back at her friends and Evert. But Gabriel Winterborne was already gone.
April didn’t want to cry. She told herself she wouldn’t even miss him. He ate her bacon and didn’t laugh at her jokes and never took her seriously when she offered to braid his hair. She didn’t need him. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.
So she wiped at her eyes and yelled, “We’re out here!”
Then there was the pounding of heavy footsteps, shouts and cries, and police officers swarming the grounds, shouting, “Who’s there?”
“We live . . .” Tim started, but then he seemed to realize the officers weren’t looking at the five ragged orphans with a billionaire on the ground at their feet. No, the officers were looking behind them.
And then slowly—so slowly April might have thought it was a dream—someone emerged from the rocky outcropping at the edge of the cliffs—hands raised. No coat. No sword. No knife. Just the ragged beard and too-long hair of a man who had to think about the answer.
“I’m . . . I’m Gabriel Winterborne.”
37
The Legacy of the Winterbornes
Turns out, coming back from the dead is exhausting.
There are interviews and exams. Questions and concerns. And paperwork. So much paperwork. Not to mention the makeover sequences, which aren’t nearly as fun as they look in the movies. Or maybe that was only true for Gabriel Winterborne.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Sadie said as they lay on their stomachs looking down at the man who sat at the big table in the center of the library’s main floor. Every few minutes, Smithers would bring in a new stack of papers Gabriel didn’t read or food Gabriel didn’t eat, but then the doorbell would ring again and Smithers would have to go turn someone else away.
The man in the cellar was gone, replaced by a shell that April no longer recognized. He didn’t even growl anymore.
“He growling yet?” Colin asked, dropping to lie beside Sadie. Tim and Violet joined April on her other side.
“No,” Sadie said. “And it’s weird. I miss the growling. And the beard.”
Violet giggled. “I liked the beard. It made him look like a pirate.”
“Right?” Sadie said. “The beard worked.”
“You do realize I can hear you?” he shouted, but didn’t look up. “This room echoes. For future reference.”
April didn’t know whether she should laugh or apologize.
“Master Gabriel.” Smithers reappeared at the door. “We’ve had a delivery, and—”
“I don’t want any more files,” Gabriel snapped. “So tell the police or the FBI or whoever else is digging around in my uncle’s dirty laundry that I don’t care how many skeletons they’ve turned up. I don’t need copies of every warrant or subpoena or—”
“But, sir . . .” Smithers trailed off as people started streaming through the library’s doors, carrying crates and wheeling dollies. Soon the room was full of boxes and Gabriel was looking around like it was the worst kind of Christmas morning.
Which was too much for five kids to resist. In a flash, they were all up and rushing down the stairs and toward the giant boxes. Well, everyone except April.
She stood perfectly still for a long time, staring. Because those boxes seemed . . . familiar. She remembered clinging to one just like them as she kicked against the current. She remembered men carrying them to Evert’s house in the middle of the night. April remembered . . .
The museum.
When Smithers put down the crowbar and pulled out the first of the paintings, April was hit by a wave of déjà vu. And regret. And a little bit of confusion mixed with smoke because April knew that painting. That painting was supposed to be a pile of ash.
“Hey, I know these!” Colin was saying, but he sounded as perplexed as April looked. “I thought they were in the museum that April burned up.”
“I didn’t burn it up on . . .” April started but trailed off when she saw Gabriel’s face go white as he drew a piece of paper from one of the crates. His hand shook. And then the paper fluttered to the ground.
A moment later, Sadie screamed as she plucked it off the floor and shouted, “Ms. Nelson!”
“What’s—” Colin started, but Sadie shushed him. And then she started to read.
Dear Gabriel,
Welcome home. I always knew you were alive. It just would have been nice if you’d bothered telling me before we both almost died, but, when it comes to you, I’m used to disappointment.
I was able to track these down. In case you were wondering, Evert had copies made, loaned those to the museum, then set it on fire to claim the insurance. Evidently, he had no idea we’d tagged the originals with GPS ages ago (not the sharpest knife in the drawer, your uncle).
Regardless, I thought I’d see them returned to you. Consider it my last act as the head of the Winterborne Foundation.
Good luck, G.
You’re going to need it.
—Izzy
P.S. Please tell April the fire wasn’t entirely her fault. The whole place was a powder keg before she ever broke in.
P.P.S. With my resignation you will, of course, become the legal guardian of the children.
April looked at the paper and then replayed the words over and over and over in her mind. Alive. Ms. Nelson was alive, and the guilt that had been weighing April down for days was lifted and she felt like she might float away.
“I told you she was alive!” Colin was shouting, and they were all dancing and screaming, but April wasn’t watching the kids. She was watching the man who stood at the windows, looking out at the sea.
April wasn’t sure what had made him so pale—word that Izzy was alive or that she wasn’t coming back. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was now responsible for the kids who were whooping and hollering and scattering straw and packing peanuts all over the library.
“She’ll come back,” April told him.
“No. If she wanted to be back, she would be. No one can make Izzy do something she doesn’t want to do. We always had that in common.”
“She’s just mad you stayed away. She’ll get over it.”
“Will she?” He looked at her like he honestly wanted an answer.
“Sure. Yeah. Of course.”
But his smile was forced. Even without the beard, he was still handsome, but he wasn’t her Gabriel. And she missed him.
“It’s backward.”
April heard the words, but she wasn’t paying attention. Not really. Not until she felt the tugging on her sleeve and turned to see Violet pointing at the fireplace, saying, “Look, April. It’s backward.”
Then April followed Violet’s finger. By that time, April was used to the sight of the Winterborne crest. It was in spoons and on plates, embroidered on towels and woven into carpets. April half expected to see it on the toilet paper sometimes, but Violet was right, whoever had made the fireplace in the library had made a mistake. The distinctive WB of the crest was, in fact, backward.
“Ooh, good eye, Vi,” Colin was saying, but April couldn’t take her gaze off of the indentation in the stone.
Her hand went to the key that she still wore around her neck out of habit. It didn’t burn anymore. Or call to her. But something in the little backward symbol drew her closer. And closer.
They�
��d been looking for a keyhole for weeks, but what if they were wrong? What if the key didn’t go in? What if it went on?
Before April even realized she was doing it, she was holding her key to the crest and placing it over the impression in the stone.
It fit. Exactly.
Everyone froze.
“Probably a coincidence, right?” April asked, but her heart was beating faster. Her breath was coming harder. And then she felt an oh-so-subtle click as she pressed the key into the impression. She wasn’t breathing at all when she was able to turn the key, spinning it around like the hands of a clock.
And then the floor began to move.
It was like one of Sadie’s inventions had gone rogue and multiplied and maybe been dosed with some kind of radioactive tonic, because the stones near the fireplace were cascading, dropping, click click click down into the floor—like dominoes—forming a spiral staircase that descended into darkness. Except . . . it wasn’t dark. Not for long.
Flash.
Flint brushed against steel and the smell of gas was strong as lights flickered on one after the other, filling the space with a warm yellow glow.
“Violet! You found it!” Colin blurted as they all looked at Gabriel’s stunned face.
“Stay here,” Gabriel said, before stepping onto the first stone step. A moment later, he stopped. And spun. And stared down at the five kids who were following him. “I thought I said stay there?”
“Oh, you did,” Colin told him. “We just didn’t listen.”
And after that, no one spoke again. No one dared. They just walked down and down and down, through cobwebs and dust, footsteps echoing on stone, until the air turned fresher and colder and April half expected to come out in the sea.
But it wasn’t the sea. And it wasn’t the cellar. It was more like a cave. Or a church. Or both.
“Helloooo!” Colin shouted, and the sound echoed, but he looked disappointed. “This isn’t much of a treasure if you ask me. But don’t tell Evil Uncle Evert that if you visit him. Tell him you found a mountain of gold or diamonds. Or something better than . . .”
He pointed at the massive room full of mats and targets, dummies and ropes suspended from the ceiling. It was like what Gabriel had tried to make in the cellar, except bigger and better and older.