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Bruno sprang up and upended one of the cots.Bam,the bullet punched through the mattress. Chunks of the latex foam flew. A window shattered. The girl who’d been hit was screaming, a thin, piercing sound. The other kid was yelling, too.
Bam,the bullet tore the wall next to Lily’s head, gouging a hole. She dropped to the ground, crawling between metal posts the clawed feet of metal IV stands, the rolling carts that held medical equipment.
Bam.She poked her head out. Bruno was swinging an IV rack at King, who darted back. The glass bottle of fluid smashed against the wall, liquid splashing, glass tinkling.Bam.Bruno upended another bed frame, pinning King against the wall. He darted out the door while the older man struggled to extricate himself. The bed frame teetered, fell on its side with a clang and a crunch. King took off after Bruno.
The room was silent now, but for the keening of the girl with the grazed arm, which bled, but not profusely. Cold wind whined through the broken window. The gun went off outside—again. And again. Lily flinched each time, hoping they hadn’t found their mark.
She felt deafened. Numbed. Her legs shook and wobbled as she clambered her way over the snarl of wires, cables, overturned beds and IV racks jutting out at crazy angles, to get to the wounded girl, and the boy with her, a freckled kid of about sixteen. Both of them huddled by the wall, looking confused and stoned out of their minds. Exactly why she’d hesitated to mess with them in the first place.
Slowly, relentlessly, her mind had wrapped all the way around this stark new reality without snapping. Bruno had abandoned her.
To be perfectly fair, he was currently being pursued by a madman with a gun. But he believed that she’d set him up. That she’d betrayed him, his family and friends, and deliberately lured him to his death. A bubbly gurgling sound came out of her. The room swirled, wavered and blurred. Snot, everywhere.
So. She was on her own again. To the ends of the universe. So what the fuck else was new.
Onward. She proceeded with grim purpose, grabbing the arm of the first kid, shoving him in the direction of the door, kicking his leg to encourage him to climb. Slowly, clumsily, she got the two young people out of the door, into the corridor. Onward. To the grand staircase, the main entrance. She nudged the young people into a stumbling lope. The huge sky-lit great hall ahead of them glowed, beckoning—
A big hand clamped onto her upper arm, twisting until a shriek of pain jerked out of her throat. Swinging her around, slamming her against the wall.Crack.Oh, God…her head…oh,ouch…
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Hobart snarled.
* * *
Zoe struggled,kicking and thrashing. They’d left her trussed in the SUV and run, when they heard gunshots. Running to show the King how brave, how loyal they were. But she knew the truth. Pigs. Demons.
They thought she was finished, but she would destroy them and save the King. She thought of the day they’d dined together. When he’d said the words that made the universe explode in song.
The memory strengthened her. She had so much love to give him. But first she had to show him her true worth, and destroy his enemies.
She kicked free of the tarp, and maneuvered herself backwards until she found the door release. It opened, dumping her bound body out onto the concrete floor. The contact hurt, every rippled muscle fiber, every inflamed tendon. A chorus of agony. But pain was nothing to her.
She slithered through the huge garage, worming past several cans of gasoline piled against the wall, to the workshop, the circular table saw. She pushed herself up against the edge of the blade, rubbing and scraping at the zip tie until it yielded.
The rush of circulation into her hands almost made her scream. She’d scraped her wrists raw. Blood dripped from her fingertips. But she was on a holy mission. Blood had to be spilled. To purify her, to show King her utter commitment to him. Body and soul.
She groped for a handsaw, and as soon as her slippery fingers would close around it, used it to release her ankles.
Her first act of freedom was to grope for the patches in the pocket of her pants. One of the cards was gone. She counted again. How . . . ?
Whatever. She’d figure it out later. She peeled off three, put them on. A large dose, but she had a very big job to do. Three of them would make her impervious to pain, to fear. To anything.
Two more gunshots in the distance jolted her into action. She grabbed two of the heavy cans of gasoline, and ran into the house.
CHAPTER35
Zwangggh,the bullet slashed through the top of Bruno’s ear, stinging. It plowed into the woodwork, sending splinters and chunks flying. Bruno kept going, blood trickling in front of his ear.
King had a revolver. Bruno had heard six shots. The guy would have to reload, unless he had another gun. He burst out into what had once been the great hall of the turn-of-the-century country mansion, and a towering vaulted ceiling with domes, cupolas, innumerable windows opened up above him. It had been painted white and gold a time long ago, but now the paint was cracked, browned and flaking.
Two symmetrical curving staircases led down to the first floor. He bolted for the nearest one. Julian was at the door, shoving the last of the teenagers out the main entrance. Julian swung around with a shout, pulling out his gun. Bruno lurched to the side.Bam.
He slammed into the banister, bounced off, somersaulted, found his feet. Leaped off, straight at the younger guy. Their bodies slammed together.Bam.The gun discharged, bounced and spun as Julian hit the floor, squashed beneath Bruno’s weight, but the boy was only stunned for an instant. He punched, Bruno blocked. Julian snagged his wrist, twisted until the torque flipped Bruno over. He jabbed a finger under Julian’s jaw. Julian twisted away. Strange, to be so close to a face so like his own, but contorted with killing rage. He flinched back to evade a fatal finger jab to the eye, and it gouged his cheekbone, snagged his eyelid. Blood, filling his eye. His body moved instinctively. Jab, block, kick and punch, chop and stab. Bruno had a slight advantage in height and bulk, but Julian was a decade younger, and Bruno was trashed, on every level. His combat buzz bore him up, but he gained no ground.
They maneuvered for the gun. Julian lunged for it, jerked back to let Bruno’s flash kick swoosh by his face. He dropped, trying to sweep Bruno’s leg from under him. Bruno danced back, rolled, flipped, dove—
Oof,the kid landed on top of him, but he got his arm around Julian’s head from below, and jabbed the gun under the his chin.
And could not shoot. He simply could not pull the trigger.
