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“Alicia had Derrick bound in a similar manner to the one Sylvia described Alicia using for her husband. That night, Alicia left the room, and when Derrick started to talk about the mastermind, Alicia killed him. My friend said…said it was a hard thing to watch. Seeing him twitch, his eyes roll back in his head. A woman who could do that…”
“Deserves exactly what she’s going to get when we catch her.”
“If she’s hurt Sylvia…” Hugo began.
“She’ll answer to me,” Lancelot finished.
Hugo shook his head. “She’ll answer to us.”
That vow hovered in the air as Lancelot accelerated even more. The last hour of the trip was spent in silence, both of them considering what happened next.
The closer they got, the less he could deny that his first objective was to extract Sylvia safely. It should be to capture Alicia, but he needed Sylvia safe.
After that…well…Lancelot—no, in this case, Charlie—was very good at his job.
“There.” Hugo pointed to the turnoff. Lancelot forced himself not to run every red light as they drove through Palm Coast toward the location of Sylvia’s car.
They both released a sigh of relief when they spotted the car in the parking lot.
“She’s still here,” Hugo breathed.
Lancelot pulled up to the entrance, handed the keys to the sleepy-looking valet, then grabbed his knapsack from the back seat. It contained two guns and the Bowie knife. “Let’s go save our woman.”
* * *
It was three a.m. Sylvia dampened a scratchy brown paper towel from the all-night diner’s bathroom and used it to wipe her face. The cold water felt good, a wake-up that her system needed. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous night, and now she was on the run with her former high school teacher.
Sylvia abandoned the paper towel, bent over, and splashed handfuls of water directly onto her face like she was in some facial cleanser commercial. Dripping and sputtering, she straightened and once more looked in the mirror, shivering as water ran down her neck.
This was crazy. The whole thing was crazy.
Worse, Alicia was crazy.
And she was a fool for not seeing it back at the resort.
Behind her, the bathroom door opened. “Sylvia dear, we must go.”
Sylvia grabbed a fresh paper towel, blotted at herself, then turned. Her steps slowed as they walked through the almost-deserted dining room. She should stop and ask the waitress where the closest big hospital was.
Because that’s what they needed. A hospital.
If the waitress had looked up, Sylvia might have stopped, but she didn’t. Not sure what to do, she walked outside and climbed back into the passenger seat of the rental car.
Sylvia waited until they’d pulled out, back onto the nearly deserted highway. “Alicia,” she said tentatively, “why don’t we go to the police?”
“You’re starting to doubt the truth of what I’ve told you.”
“It’s not that…” It was exactly that. Since getting into the car an hour ago, Alicia had been telling her all about this secret society, and the more she talked, the more insane it got. “But this secret society—”
“The Masters’ Admiralty.”
“—who were, at one point the Illuminati—”
“Yes.”
“—have their headquarters in an ancient castle—”
“They have several strongholds throughout Europe.”
