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“Let them go,” Jacques said. “This isn’t a prison.” His voice was cold, emotionless, but I saw the naked pain in his eyes. Quickly, I looked away, before I could change my mind.
It didn’t take long to pack my bags, once I’d made up my mind to go. On some level, I supposed I’d been preparing for this day for a long time. Before long, the seven of us had gathered in the foyer, a grim reprisal of Isabel’s departure the night before. It didn’t escape my notice that while Jacques had hidden himself away when Isabel left, he was here for this. Whether that meant he cared more or less, I couldn’t be sure.
“Well,” I said, suddenly at a loss for words. “I suppose this is it.”
Étienne bore a pained expression. I was surprised that he had elected to stay; for all his pushing to get Jacques to embrace the outside world again, it seemed his loyalty to Jacques outweighed his desire to rejoin the world.
“You all know how to reach me, if you need to,” I said. I looked at Jacques, who turned his face away. “There’s some food prepared in the kitchen, so you won’t starve right away.” Bernard almost smiled at this.
“What will we do without your delicious cooking?” he asked.
“I'm sure you’ll find a way,” I said. At that, we all fell silent, unsure of what more there was to say.
Étienne cleared his throat, but before he could speak, we were interrupted by the clear sound of shattering glass from somewhere in the back of the house.
“What was that?” Vincent asked, alarmed.
“I think it was a window,” Raphael said. “Maybe a bird flew into it?”
“It would have to be one hell of a big bird,” Alexandre pointed out. We fell quiet, listening intently. The long, low creak of a floorboard sounded from somewhere nearby. Bernard sucked in his breath.
“Merde,” he whispered.
“There’s someone in the house,” Jacques said, his voice low.
After that, the silence was pierced by the shrieking sound of the fire alarm, and all hell broke loose.
23
Isabel
When I finally came to, I had no idea how much time had passed. My vision was blurry, and my temple ached where Luis had hit me. Gingerly, I touched it, checking for blood. A large lump had already formed, but my fingers came away dry. Small favors.
Suddenly, I remembered: Jacques and the others. They weren’t safe. Luis was on his way there, could be there already. I had to warn them. I fumbled for my phone, but it wasn’t there. Luis must have taken it. I swore.
Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. There was no telling what kind of head start Luis had on me; even if I left now, I would never beat Luis to the castle. I didn’t even have a car. I was tempted to give in to despair, to curl up into myself and weep for everything I had lost, everything that had been taken from me. My head throbbed. I was fairly certain I had a concussion.
A sudden pounding at the front door startled me out of my misery. “Isabel Perez!” an unfamiliar voice called. “Isabel, are you in there?”
I ran to the door, heart pounding. No one knew I was here. Carefully, I checked the peephole to find two uniformed police officers waiting on the front steps. I threw open the door, practically sobbing with relief. “I’m here,” I said. “But Luis —” I stopped, feeling suddenly woozy.
One of the cops reached for me in alarm, catching me just before I collapsed to the floor. “Ma’am, are you all right? Are you injured? Where is Luis Alvarez?”
“He’s gone,” I said. “Please, we have to go. We have to stop him.” I knew I was babbling, not making sense. The cops exchanged glances with each other. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to slow down, to compose my thoughts. Time was of the essence; we needed to reach Luis before he could do anything drastic.
“My husband — estranged husband — has had a mental break,” I said. “He has a gun, and he’s on his way to my — my former employer’s home. We need to go, we need to stop him.”
“All right, Ma’am,” said the cop who was still supporting me by the arm. His name tag read White. “Let’s take a deep breath, and tell us what happened.”
“There isn’t time,” I said, desperate. “We need to go now. We have to stop him.”
The other cop spoke up. “Why don’t you tell us where your husband is going, and we’ll send someone out there to take a look at things.”
I gave them the address, and the officer mumbled something into his radio. “Please,” I begged. “I have to go to them. I have to make sure they’re okay.”
