Page 33 of Mistress of Darkness

Chapter 16

Cautiously, Robert rose and slowly moved toward Regina. Although he looked down on the kneeling woman, he kept Christopher in his peripheral vision. If he could get a clear path to his brother, he might be able to tackle and subdue him long enough for Gwen to escape with her sister.

“I see how your mind turns, dear brother,” Christopher warned him, stepping behind Regina. He pointed a pistol at each of the women. “Do not mistake chivalry for stupidity.” He motioned with the pistol. “Up, up. Get her on her feet.”

Robert did as he was told, supporting Regina under one arm as he helped her to stand. Though she swayed, he managed to keep her on her feet. She was in a frightful state, and he could only imagine that the tenacity of the Archer women must be formidable to survive under these circumstances—for survive they would. If he had to give his life in order to prevail, he would do it.

“We are going on a trip, brother,” Christopher said. “Get up,” he snapped at Gwen.

As she slowly rose, she asked, “Where…where are we going?”

“It will be a short trip, just up the stairs.” He motioned with a jerk of his head. “We’re going to Robert’s bedchamber.” He leered at her. “I believe you know the way.”

With one hand still under Regina’s arm, Robert held out a hand to Gwen. “Come,” was all he said.

As they exited the library and mounted the first steps, he glanced over his shoulder. Though likely mad, his brother was not foolish, and made sure to stay well back.

“What can we do?” Gwen whispered.

“If I say to run,” he said under his breath, “grab your sister and–”

“Tut, tut,” Christopher said, and Robert heard him cock one of the pistols. “There’ll be none of that.”

They climbed the stairs slowly to allow for Regina’s stumbling, wobbly gait. Though Robert watched for his chance to attack his brother, while yet keeping the women safe, there was simply no opportunity. Christopher had been very clever to use two pistols to keep him at bay.

As they walked to the bedroom, Gwen sniffed the air. “What is that smell?”

Robert frowned. There was a familiar scent that he couldn’t place, growing stronger as they approached his bedchamber. Gwen clutched his hand. “What is that?” she said, louder this time.

But before Robert could answer, he heard Christopher running, but couldn’t turn in time. His brother shoved both pistols in his back and pushed with all his might. Gwen and Regina had no choice but to follow as Gwen clung to him and he supported her sister. Together they careened through the door, toppling onto the floor in a tangle.

Robert immediately tried to push himself up, but his hands pressed into the sopping rug and slipped. He could only watch as Christopher picked up a ready candle next to the door and tossed it on the floor between them.

“No escape this time, brother,” Christopher said, stepping quickly backward through the door, before locking it.

Flames leaped from the candle and raced unbelievably fast toward the three of them. Only then did Robert realize what his brother had done.

“Oil,” he grunted, as he stood on the slippery mess. “Hurry.”

Gwen was already trying to stand, but struggling to help Regina, who was still bound. As the blaze roared to life around them, Robert rushed to them, slipping and sliding. “Gwen,” he yelled, as he grabbed Regina’s arm, “it’s too slippery. You must crawl.” He pointed in the one direction that was clear of fire. “That way.”

Even as the heat and flames spread behind them, Robert dragged Regina after Gwen and finally off the burning rug. Smoke was beginning to fill the room. Without more air, they wouldn’t burn to death, they’d suffocate. But the rug—and the fire—stood between him and the window.

Though his boots still slipped on the floorboards, the more steps he took the better grip they had. He tried in vain to open the locked doorknob and then saw his solution.

“Gwen,” he yelled. “Cover Regina!”

He picked up the largest chair in the room, gave himself a quarter spin, and hurled it at the window. Gwen dove over Regina, covering her sister with her body.

With a deafening crash, the shattered pane of glass flew outward with the chair, smoke pouring out with it. Robert dashed to the desk, shoving it off the rug just before the fire reached it. Next came the table and chair as he pulled them off the rug to safety, though they were singed.

“You can’t save all the furniture!” Gwen yelled, as she tugged her sister further away from the growing conflagration.

He picked up the edge of the oil soaked rug and rolled it. “I’m not!”

Gwen must have realized his intention as she ran to his side and landed on her knees. Together they folded the burning textile over on itself, then over again.

“Stand back!” he said, as he picked up the rug, hauled it to the window, and shoved it over the edge of the sill.