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“No, he won’t,” I said, calmly. “And he didn’t. Ossian knew she was here, and instead of killing her, he forced himself on her.”
Sinclair sat back against his pillows. “How dare you come in here saying such things. I know Ossian has poor taste but there’s no way in hell he would try something on with that.”
“Well, he did,” I said. “And I’m afraid to say, Father, he’s paid the price.”
Sinclair stopped shaking his head and stared at me.
“What’s happened?”
I looked up at Aro, whose face was dark with the need to twist the knife. Sinclair turned to follow my gaze.
“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Aro said, boring black eyes into Sinclair. “Ossian’s dead.”
Sinclair’s jaw began to tremble and his face spun back to mine. “He isn’t.” He blinked up at me. “He isn’t, is he, Rupert? This is some sort of sick joke.”
I closed my eyes solemnly and shook my head. “I’m sorry Father. Aro’s telling you the truth. Ossian’s dead.”
Sinclair’s whole body began to shake. He reached beneath his pillow and pulled out the bright orange pill bottle I’d seen him use before. He popped the lid and swallowed back two of the round tablets. “It’s not possible,” he said, continuing to shake his head. He sucked in a tight, wheezing breath. “Ossian is indestructible. I made him that way.” His head tipped back suddenly and he shot an accusatory look in my direction. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”
“What have I done with him?” I asked, feigning shock. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You were always jealous of him,” Sinclair accused, his breath shortening. “You hated him so much. You’ve killed him, haven’t you? You hated that he was so successful, that he was our favourite. And then he put his hands on her.”
His sneer found it’s subject and Vivian shuddered.
He panned back to me, eerily. “Have you killed him, Rupert?”
I arched my brows, the truth emboldening me. “No.”
“Then…” he thumped a fist to his chest and coughed, “WHO DID?”
“Are you okay, Father?” I asked. He waved a hand and erupted into a coughing fit. We stood over his bed waiting for it to end but it seemed to go on forever. I glanced across at Aro who nodded almost imperceptibly.
“I’ve no idea,” I said, when the hacking coughs had evolved into a rasping wheeze. “But Ossian had a lot of enemies and one of them put a bullet in his head.”
Sinclair’s eyes widened and he pressed a hand to his throat, clutching it. “Bas…” he managed. “It’s… it’s yours now.”
“It’s no one’s actually,” I said with a shrug.
Sinclair could no longer speak. His free arm waved in front of him as if he was reaching for help.
“It’s gone, Father,” I said, driving the final nail into his coffin. “Up in flames to be precise.”
His lips moved but no sound came out.
“By whom?” I suggested. Sinclair wheezed tightly and nodded.
“Well, me.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I burned the place to the ground, Father.”
His shoulders dropped like a balloon deflating.
“But that’s okay because I’m going to be the Chair of the Consortium now, aren’t it? I can slowly undo all of your great work from over the years. Your legacy will be lost.”
His eyes strained inside their sockets.
“And then, as soon as I find out who my real parents are, I’ll change my name back to theirs. And so will Hector. There’ll be nothing left of you on this island. Only ash.”
He watched me steadily as more blood drained from his face, then his spine snapped backwards as if he were fitting.
