by Suki Fleet
Outside in the corridor, a floorboard creaked. The house gave itself away too easily. For the first time Nicky was grateful for it.
Sophie flicked the lighter, terrified. Nicky held his finger to his lips and pointed to the dresser.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he mouthed. “I swear on my life.”
If this house wanted to keep him, it was going to have to fight him first. He was better than this. More than this. It wasn’t over yet.
Cyril5 the knife wielder
Light flashed and the door to the dark room opened a sliver. Nicky pressed himself into the corner behind the door, fingers digging through the thin, dry wallpaper as he tried to disappear.
The door opened a little wider. For a second Cyril’s sharp profile came into view as he peered into the room and quickly pulled back.
“I know you’re in here, Nicky. I can smell your fear.”
Nicky grimaced. He was sick with fear. Sick with waiting for Lance to appear, back from the dead. Sick for this to be over. But Cyril he wasn’t so scared of. Perhaps he should have been.
Stark torchlight lit up the space in front of the door. Nicky dropped down to a crouch. He wasn’t about to just give himself away, Cyril was going to have to do some work to find him.
Cyril took a cautious-looking step into the room. “They first painted the windows black in the war, you know. Don’t suppose Lance ever told you that. Why would he? You don’t talk to dogs, do you. You command them.”
The torchlight flashed over the sofa. The torn sheet Sophie had been restrained with lay on the floor. Cyril’s fingers tensed into claws.
Nicky edged towards the bed and silently slipped beneath it. Cyril started to speak again and took another step into the room. “The first Duke to live at Thorn Hall, my grandfather, lost his mind not long after the windows were painted. Turned into a recluse. Some said it was the paint they used. Something chemical. Others said they suspected there had always been something rotten in his blood. He had a thing about blood. Must be where Lance got his obsession from. Liked to keep little vials of it.
“He killed most of the family, you know. Drowned them in the pool in the woods. All but three of his children. Triplets. A girl and two boys. The police thought the deaths were all a tragic accident. I wish I’d met him, but my father killed him before I was born.” Light spilled low across the floor as Cyril dropped to his knees. Nicky shrank back. “You’re a broken and weak little whore, Nicky. You’ll never survive out there. Give up. Don’t drag this out. You know you’ll never leave this house.”
Nicky dug his fingers into the carpet and focussed on Sophie terrified beneath the dresser. He needed to draw Cyril’s attention to him. He couldn’t afford to hide too well and risk Cyril finding her instead.
Nicky coughed. Made the sound quiet, as though he’d not meant to do it. Cyril swung around.
“So weak, Nicky,” he hissed.
But Cyril was wrong. Nicky wasn’t weak any more. He thought about Cai. Cai had shown him what it was to feel alive again. Really alive. Shown him there was a world full of possibility out there.
When Cyril’s face came into view, Nicky took his chance, kicking out and catching Cyril in the jaw with his bare foot. Cyril recoiled with a startled yell, cupping his face.
Nicky pulled himself out from under the bed. “Lance drugged me and drained my fucking blood to keep me weak. You want me to fucking give up. You make me. Because he couldn’t and he’s a fucking murderer. He couldn’t break me.”
Still cupping his jaw, Cyril fell on his arse and laughed. He threw his head back so far his hat fell off, laughing and laughing.
It wasn’t the reaction Nicky expected. He needed to get Sophie out of there. Maybe if he got Cyril to chase him down, Sophie could take the chance and run.
But as soon as Nicky took a step towards the door, Cyril sprang to his feet and Nicky knew he wouldn’t make it to the door.
“We’re all murderers here, Nicky. And you’re not leaving.”
“So stop me.” The words were out before Nicky had a chance to process them. His heart slammed against his ribs. If he thought about how difficult breathing was becoming, he was pretty certain he was going to have a panic attack. So he didn’t think. Instead he held Cyril’s depthless stare in the stark light.
“I’ll kill everyone you care about. The gardener, the girl. Everyone you’ve ever loved.” Cyril smiled wickedly as he spoke.
Yeah, Cyril was good at threats. Most cowards were.
“You might as well try and kill me while you’re at it. Lance is going to prison and he’s never coming out. I’m going to try my fucking hardest to make sure you’re in there too.”
Cyril cackled. “Oh, I’m definitely going to kill you Nicky. We should have played this game before, though. You are so much more fun when you’re frightened for your friends. It was so boring watching you trying to figure out those notes I sent you. Well, the last one had you diving into the dead pool so that was pretty fun. I thought those goggles might remind you of some others, perhaps?”
Nicky felt sick.
“Oh, you really thought they were from Lance? You really thought he cared about you? Did you even feel guilty, Nicky, for not figuring out what he was trying to say?” Cyril reached out as if to touch Nicky’s hair and smiled as Nicky leaned out of his reach. “Lance is definitely dead, my dear little whore. Dead dead dead. We buried him. We had a funeral, don’t you remember? Oh no, you couldn’t make it, could you. Too weak to leave this place. Just like poor old Claudette, your wings have been clipped.”
“If he’s dead, why was he on the CCTV from the flat fire?”
Cyril frowned, his gaze calculating. “You’re so slow, Nicky. That wasn’t Lance. I thought arson was kind of fitting. Benoit did too.”
Nicky didn’t understand. Benoit? But Cyril just kept talking. In love with the sound of his own voice.
“If your stupid oaf of a gardener had gone away and left you alone when I asked him to, he’d still have a roof over his thick skull and I wouldn’t have to bury him and the girl with all the others.
“My father and Lance always did look so alike. Identical twins in a litter of triplets. I can see where your case of mistaken identity came from. Such an easy mistake to make.” He cupped a hand over his face and whispered. “Though I should warn you there’s something wrong with Benoit. Always has been.” He laughed.
Nicky didn’t think he’d ever hated someone quite this much.
“Lance kept you to teach me a lesson, you know. After you escaped. He said I’d been too careless. After Benoit was caught, the police were getting too close. He never believed I had the guts to see things through. But the old man was wrong. You’ve not worked it out yet, have you, Nicky dear?”
Nicky’s throat wanted to close up but he forced himself to keep standing there. To keep breathing. Those weeks were a darkness he never wanted to shine a light on. There was nothing he wanted to work out.
“It was me that night at the club, slipped into the Duke’s skin for the first time. Me who tied you and beat you to a bloody pulp and put you in a hole. Don’t you recognise me, Nicky? Or did you blank it out? We’ve all been the Duke. It’s in our blood.”
There was no air. Nicky couldn’t breathe.
“Oh, I’m so ready for you, Nicky.” Cyril pulled a small curved knife out of his jacket. The blade glinted. “I’m so ready to carve you up.”
Before he could strike, Nicky shoved Cyril backwards and raced for the door.
The room plunged into darkness.
Blind, Nicky kept running. He stumbled and slammed into the wall. The door was near. He knew it was. His fingers scrabbled across the wall, trying to feel for it. Cyril was close behind him. Nicky could hear the whisper of his breath, the noisy tread of his shoes.
Panic threatened to overwhelm him. If he panicked he was going to die here. He didn’t want to die here. He wanted to leave this place, to escape with Cai and Sophie and Loz. He wanted to live th
e life Cyril was determined to take from him. He wanted to show Cyril he hadn’t won. That he’d never win.
Nicky took a deep, deep breath and dropped silently to the floor. The darkness would dance with him. The silence would be his shield.
There were a lot of things Nicky had discovered he could do these past few weeks. And this hiding in the dark and the quiet was one. But if he really wanted to live, if he wanted a fucking chance, he knew he couldn’t run from this any more.
His ghosts were not ghosts. They were here in this house with him. They were monsters in the dark that Nicky had to face. But he would let the light in and make the darkness blaze.
Cyril’s stark light flashed, and the room lit up around him. Nicky turned but not fast enough to see where Cyril was. A second later a hand gripped his hair and yanked him backwards.
Fear flooded through him. The moment so similar to the one in the club two years ago, it threatened to swallow him. Cold metal pressed against his throat and Nicky went still.
It was over.
One small move and Nicky would be gone.
But out the corner of his eye he saw a flick of light from in the direction of the dresser. Sophie. Suddenly the old carpet was alight, flames spreading like a wave.
Behind him, Cyril shifted. Distracted for a fraction of a second. It was all Nicky needed.
He took a shuddering breath, telling himself he couldn’t give up so easily.
This wasn’t two years ago. Two years ago, Nicky had nothing to live for. Two years ago, he didn’t know what it was he wanted. Two years ago, he had no one to keep safe from harm.
This was now.
With every ounce of strength and willpower he possessed, he flung himself backwards, throwing Cyril’s weight towards the other end of the room, towards the blacked-out window.
Pain bit into his skin as Cyril tried to press the knife down, but Nicky ducked and instead the knife tore through his hair.
Glass shattered, startling and loud, as they hit the window, and moonlight flooded the room. Cyril snatched at Nicky, at the window frame, at the shards, but Nicky’s momentum carried them both backwards until all that was left was air. Nicky threw his arms out at the last moment, his fingers gripping onto the nearest side of the window frame, his heels pressed painfully into the carpet as Cyril tipped into the darkness. Barely holding on, Nicky knew he was going to fall. Gravity held him in its unrelenting grasp.
But a hand clutched his arm and, with a fierce jerk, pulled him back into the room. Sophie’s arms gripped him tight.
Nicky’s heart hammered against his ribs and for a moment he couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears. He couldn’t quite believe Cyril was gone.
Then Sophie was tugging at his arm. Her mouth opening and closing. Yelling. Desperate. Coughing.
The darkness was alight around them. Flames licked across every surface in the room. Nicky knew they had to get out of there. But first he had to see outside to make sure Cyril was really gone. He turned and peered out of the window. All he could see was the blackness of the hedge that must have broken Cyril’s fall.
Mother dearest
This was not the time to wonder what had happened to Cyril. If they didn’t get out now, they were going to be trapped. And whether Cyril was dead or just wounded, Nicky wasn’t jumping out of that window after him. Gripping Sophie’s hand and keeping low, Nicky found a path to the door around the side of the room.
The heat was terrifying. Unbreathable. Desperate for air, Nicky dragged the door open and made for the main staircase, pulling Sophie after him. The fire burst into the corridor with a whoosh of heat, lighting the house up in a way Nicky had never seen it before.
Somehow it seemed smaller. Less terrifying. Or perhaps everything was less terrifying than the fire.
No. Not everything.
At the top of the staircase, Nicky skidded to a halt, throwing his arm out so Sophie didn’t rush headlong into whatever was unfolding below.
Claudette stood in the middle of the staircase, gun raised and pointing at someone Nicky knew he’d never seen before, but who he recognised instantly.
Even with the cap on his head, Benoit was so like Lance it messed with Nicky’s head. But he wasn’t Lance. This was the man who’d set fire to Cai’s flat. The man who’d kidnapped Sophie. The man Cyril said was his father.
Fox Mask crouched on the floor of the entrance hall a few feet away from Lance’s twin, leaning over a figure laid out on the floor. Nicky’s heart clenched painfully as he realised it was Cai.
Behind him, Sophie gasped Cai’s name, her fingers digging into his arm.
“Claudette,” Nicky called.
Claudette rolled her shoulder but didn’t respond. Nicky knew she’d heard him.
He didn’t even know what he was going to say. He just needed to get to Cai and get both Sophie and Cai outside and away from the monster at the bottom of the stairs, without being shot.
“There’s a fire. I’ve got a girl with me who has nothing to do with all of this. She was kidnapped. Please let us past.” He let the plea sound in his voice. He’d get on his fucking knees if he had to.
“No. Not yet,” Claudette said. She sounded far away. “First I deal with my brother, then I deal with my son.”
Her son? Before Nicky could even comprehend what she was saying, the shot reverberated around the entrance hall. Nicky grabbed hold of Sophie and pulled her to the floor.
With a heavy thump, Benoit dropped to his knees at the bottom of the stairs. Blood began to darken his shoulder. Not once did he take his eyes off Claudette.
Fox Mask crouched low over Cai, her hands pressed to her ears.
Claudette spoke again. But not to Nicky. “I killed Lance. I was too scared to shoot him, so I put hemlock in his food. But I’m not scared any more. Hear that, Benoit? I will kill you, then I will kill our son. You will hurt no one else.”
The next shot threw Benoit backwards, and he sprawled across the marble, clutching his stomach. His cap rolled away into the darkness. Sophie covered her ears, sobbing and coughing into Nicky’s chest. Smoke had begun to thicken the air. Flames swept around them.
Slowly, Benoit sat back up.
Nicky shook his head. Enough. They couldn’t stay here, watching this, choking on smoke. They needed to get out.
“Stay behind me. Right behind me,” he said, grabbing Sophie’s hand.
Pressed up against the bannister, they moved slowly down the stairs.
“She’s just a kid,” Nicky said as they passed Claudette. “I’m getting her out of here.”
Claudette didn’t even look at him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
They made it to the bottom of the stairs. No more shots rang out.
Nicky skidded to a halt beside Cai, who was groaning and clutching his head. He glanced at Fox Mask. She was injured, her leg soaked in blood. She didn’t look much of a threat.
“Tell me I’m not dreaming and you’re both okay,” Cai gasped, trying to push himself upright. Sophie reached for Cai’s hand and held it tight.
“We’re okay,” Nicky said shakily, wanting to just stop, curl up on Cai’s chest and hold him tight, but knowing he couldn’t. They had to go.
Nicky wasn’t sure how much determination he had left. He guessed he’d find out soon enough.
Sophie and Fox Mask crawled to help as he gripped Cai under the shoulders. Cai tried to lift himself but he swayed and looked as though he was going to fall.
Nicky caught him. Lay him back down. He had no idea where any of his strength was coming from.
Between them, they dragged Cai down the smoky corridor and towards the kitchen. They were almost outside when the next shot rang out. Nicky tensed but kept going.
Outside, the lawn was wet and cold. Exhausted, Nicky collapsed. He barely knew where he was. Somehow, Cai’s hand found his, and Nicky gripped on to it like a tether. No one spoke. It was all too much. But Nicky couldn’t close his eyes, not yet. The house was glowi
ng. Fire roaring through it so fast, it was as though it had been built to burn.
Sky full of sparks
Two ambulances, several fire engines and even more police cars filled the drive.
One ambulance had taken Soph to hospital already, and Loz had gone with her. The horrific-looking bruise down one side of Loz’s face needed looking at.
Cai would have to wait to find out what had happened. As soon as the police had found out his name, he’d been given a police escort—Officer Carl—and he hadn’t been allowed to say anything to Soph or Loz but goodbye. It didn’t bode well.
Fox Mask had got to go in another ambulance. She’d looked hollow-eyed and haunted, and one of the paramedics was concerned she was going into shock from blood loss.
Nicky had stolen a foil blanket from somewhere and sat with Cai in one of the two ambulances that were left, as Sue, the sneezing paramedic, checked Cai’s injuries. Every so often Sue would stop, dart out the ambulance and, doubled over, have a sneezing fit at the gravel.
“It’s the smoke,” she sniffed. She kept apologizing.
Officer Carl wanted to know if Cai was fit enough to go down to the station.
“No,” Sue said briskly. “Smoke inhalation. Burns. Head injury. He needs to go to hospital. They both do.” She glanced at Nicky, who’d so far managed to avoid much attention, other than being asked his name by Cai’s grim-looking police escort. Then she stepped out the back of the ambulance to sort out the paperwork with her colleague.
“I’ll come with you to the police station after,” Nicky said. “Give you that alibi. They can’t fucking hold you, then, right?” Nicky’s hands were shaking under the blanket. Cai could see he was trying to hide them.
“I messed up my probation. They can do what they like.” Cai knew there was a high chance he’d go back inside for that alone. He had to accept it. There was no point in pretending to Nicky that things were going to go any other way. It would only make things worse when it came to saying goodbye. Getting Nicky away from this place was worth any amount of prison time.
