Roarke said, “Quirky kind of guy, huh?” I chuffed a laugh but there was a long silence. The laughter and mayhem of the stage slowly drew to an eerie stop. Roarke put his hands in his pockets and swayed forward and back on his toes as we waited. The silence grew thicker and I looked askance at Roarke, wondering where the heck our tour guide went. Knowing him, Orson may have just gotten distracted.
Then the lights went out.
CHAPTER 64
Finn got out to the lobby, right on the heels of his contact who had brought the note. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“It’s going down now. Here.”
Finn’s eyes shot back to the theater, the crowds were flooding into the lobby. He couldn’t make out Lane or Roarke. He waved down Sam, his head a good six inches over the crowd and easily spotted.
“Sam, we’ve got trouble,” said Finn with a nod toward the stage.
“This is your contact? How’d that happen?” sputtered Sam incredulously.
“Long story. But he says they’re going to go after me here. Now.”
“Oh, shit,” muttered Sam, a hand rubbing his mouth and chin, contemplating the venue and just how hard it would be to keep it all under control.
“Don’t worry,” said Finn. “I have a plan.”
“Actually . . .” said Sam. “So do I. I need to go talk to Jane Bolin. I just spotted her.”
CHAPTER 65
“Roarke?” I said in hushed tones. Nothing. I slowly walked backward to the wall.
What was going on? I wondered. I immediately recalled the moment at the beginning of the play when I had the distinct feeling we were being watched. Oh no. What if Murk’s crew tracked us down and they’re trying to take out Finn here? My mind raced through the possibilities. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. They could easily make an incident here look like a racial disturbance which was already a powder keg.
Anger spread heat right through me, ticked off that they could take something so good, so trailblazing, and taint it . . . it made my blood boil. My hands blindly tried to locate a light switch, a closet to get a safer vantage point, anything.
I went around a corner, completely losing my sense of direction. I felt a rope and followed it down to where it held a sand bag. My heart was beating fast and loud; I was certain anyone could hear it. A trickle of sweat broke out on my forehead. I tried to maintain my calm and slowed my breathing. I tried another wall, finding yet another corner, and walked carefully around it, arms out, trying not to crash into something. Still no sign of Roarke. There was something about being in the dark that fed absolute panic. It was the same thing that made you want to race up the stairs from a basement when a light was extinguished. The fear of something behind you that you couldn’t see.
I suddenly stilled; something was coming. There wasn’t a sound, the air was close with just a slight whisper of a breeze. I waited. The scent of a particular perfume wafted to me.
Daphne was here.
CHAPTER 66
Sam and Finn separated, they’d come back together in the lobby after they’d met with their people. Finn sent his contact to get word to the mayor with their location and the plan, then Fio would get the department on it.
Finn took off his suit coat and rolled his sleeves. He took his gun from his shoulder holster, making sure it was prepped. He hoped he wouldn’t need it. Suddenly, a footstep fell not too far away. In a flash, Finn had his gun leveled.
“Who are you?” he growled. It didn’t look like any of Murk’s guys that he knew of.
The tall, black-haired man with a hawk-like nose had his hands raised, despite the fact that he clearly had a gun. But it remained holstered. He said, “I was sent to lend a hand.”
“What?”
“My boss has a vested interest in a common enemy of ours,” he said, keeping his hands nice and high.
Finn’s mind raced through scenarios and the crews of the criminals he tracked down. Ah, that’s it, he thought. The guy’s mouth twitched a little as he saw Finn’s look of recognition. Finn said, “Venetti thinks Daphne might be here.” It wasn’t a question.
The guy gave a curt nod. Finn lowered his gun a fraction, but said, “How do I know you’re his guy?”
“Venetti said you’d need proof. So he said to tell you that he knew you were watching when he danced with Lane at the Elmo. That he respected that you knew she was safe, that you let them continue their talk.”
Finn raised an eyebrow as he considered.
“And I do have this.” Some of the higher-up guys with Venetti were given a gold ring with the Venetti crest on it. He waggled his right hand for Finn to see.
“All right,” said Finn, lowering his gun completely. He also knew that if the guy had wanted to take him out, he could have from afar already. By the time Finn had seen him, he could have easily shot him if that had been his aim. “What’s your name?” he asked, coming closer.
“Rafael Catalano. Call me Raff.”
Sweet Jesus.
CHAPTER 67
O, full of scorpions is my mind!
—Macbeth, Macbeth
The scent of that perfume didn’t bring about just any fear, it was primal. The desire to panic that I’d had before in the dark, alone and lost in the maze that was the backstage, was nothing compared to what I felt now.
I was still holding my breath, my lungs burning. I slowly let it out, my heart thumping, shaky. Everything was silent. The scent grew stronger.
I gingerly bent down, gently feeling around for anything that might help me. I tried not to knock anything over or make a sound. I found some bottles and more sand bags. Then I felt a smooth, metal rectangle that was a hefty weight in my palm. I flipped the lid. I had an idea.
I carefully took off my shoes so my footsteps would be stealthy. I retrieved my dagger from its silken holster in the wide belt of my skirt. I rubbed the pearl handle with my thumb like a lucky rabbit’s foot. I held it in my left hand, the heavy rectangle in my right, the cap flipped off and ready.
It was still pitch black, I was unable to see my hand before my face. A whisper of wind came from behind me, which probably meant a door. I faintly heard voices coming from the theater, but most people had already left. The actors were quick in getting their street clothes on, ready to go have some fun after the show. I eased my way toward that door, fighting the frantic notion that I should run screaming.
A voice somewhere nearby echoed all around me. “Hello, Lane.”
My heart stopped. I braced myself, raised the Zippo lighter, and lit it, hoping the flare would startle her. I let out a yelp as Daphne’s white face lit up within a couple feet of my own. I threw the lighter right at her face. It smashed her nose with a crunch as I turned and fled past her, having seen a doorway in the split second of light.
She growled with rage and pain, which spurred me on, reminding me she was just human. Horrifying. But just human.
I gripped my dagger, point down, ready. I’m not sure I could actually stab someone, but I would be very willing to throw it at that damn woman.
I found the doorway. I slipped through, and felt it before I heard it. Searing pain hit the outside of my arm, spinning me around with the force. The bullet hit the wall in front of me, having deeply grazed my arm. Daphne was behind about fifteen feet. I scrambled down the hallway, skittering around corners, holding my arm. The pain could easily make me pass out, but I kept my anger near the surface to keep me moving, forcing myself to think of the people I cared about the most. Here in the building.
CHAPTER 68
A gun went off. Raff and Finn shot their eyes to each other and simultaneously turned and ran in the direction of that sound.
Fear ripped through Finn, knowing Daphne was here, knowing she had it out for Lane. What did Lane know? Why was Daphne desperate to get her out of the way after all these years?
He and Raff stopped at the edge of the stage right entrance. There were hallways like a dark maze leading off into several directions. Th
ey went toward the back, the darkest parts. After passing countless curtains and ropes and costume racks, they heard a shuffling sound behind a doorway. He nodded to Raff as they each took one side of the door. Raff kicked it open and they both surged in.
“Roarke!” Finn grabbed the gag from his mouth and quickly unbound him as Raff kept watch.
“Daphne’s here. It was Murk who grabbed me. I managed to get a couple of punches in, but he knocked me out.” Finn saw a broken lamp in shatters on the ground, Murk’s obvious weapon of choice. “Who the hell is that?” asked Roarke, nodding to Raff.
“Long story. On our side. Let’s go.”
The three of them raced out of the room, but came to a standstill at a corridor that was pitch black, as staunch as a brick wall. Finn lit a match to give them a little vision, in hopes of finding a fuse box or a main switch to get the lights back on.
Raff said, “There! I’ll get it.” The match went out just as Raff reached the large handle. With a chunk, the lights came back on.
“Roarke, I sent word to Fio and the department. Go meet them! We’ll find Lane,” said Finn urgently. Roarke nodded and raced out.
As Roarke left, Raff came back. He and Finn looked around, getting their bearings. Over to the right, directly behind the main stage, was a door. With blood on it.
CHAPTER 69
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
—Macbeth, Macbeth
The lights came on.
I dodged into a dark closet and closed the door, bolting it shut. Bam! Daphne slammed up against the door in total fury. I hit the ground and slithered as far to the side as possible, ready for her gun to shoot up the door. Instead, I heard a frustrated grunt as she hit the door with her fists. Then silence.
After a few moments, I crept over and looked out the bottom slit. There weren’t any shadows or feet waiting. I knew her; she’d have shot up the door if she could. She must’ve had to run off. Either I had reinforcements coming or she had a bigger job to finish.
Finn. He was the main goal; I was probably the frosting on the cake. I put my ear to the slit under the door, trying with all my might to hear anything that gave it away that Daphne might be lying in wait.
If she was there, I didn’t want anything to give it away that I was coming out, giving her time to prepare. So I threw the bolt and charged out the door, knife slashing. The hall was empty. I spotted a pile of fabric, waiting to be made into a costume. I ripped a long piece and wrapped it around my throbbing arm, tying a knot and pulling it tight with my teeth. The pain bit through me, but I managed to keep silent, clenching my jaw.
I was on the stage left side. I knew there were more people around by the sounds I was hearing, but I didn’t know who. A bird’s-eye view would be helpful. I looked up at the catwalk above me. That’ll do.
I started up the rickety stairs that were steep enough to be considered a ladder. I made it to the metal catwalk, happy to have just stockings on my feet instead of noisy shoes. I carefully crept along, getting the view behind the stage that I’d craved. Far to the back on the left, I saw two men that I swear were Finn and a stranger. Maybe Finn found another officer in the crowd. They were carefully stepping around stage props and weaving through the numerous curtains.
On the other side, I watched as Murk and the mean derby-hatted guy made their way closer to Finn, guns drawn. But where was Daphne? She couldn’t be far. I caught a swish of light blond hair in a spotlight maybe twenty feet from that guy with Finn. Daphne glimpsed something of interest, and bent over. With one hand she grabbed what turned out to be a stage dummy. She threw it down savagely.
That was it. I’d seen her do that very thing once before. I figured it out. Hot damn. I took one more look at the three separate parties, all moving around in the semi-dark stage lighting like rats in a maze.
If I yelled out, I could give Finn some warning, but I’d also give away my position.
“Finn! Two at your twelve o’clock, Daphne at six!”
I ducked down as a bullet went whizzing past. She’s such a bitch. I clambered along and found the stairs farthest from Daphne. I practically slid down them. Daphne’s main objective was supposed to get Finn, but from her savage state, I was pretty sure her emotion would override her logic and compel her to do what she wanted most. Finish me off.
I wound my way toward Finn and away from Daphne. I knew the general way, but once again right within the winding passages, it was easy to get lost. I figured it out, increasing speed to try to get to them, but then came to a skittering stop, my stockinged feet slipping on the floor. Despite my best efforts, Murk and that Mr. Wulf with the derby hat had Finn and his partner cornered with Daphne cackling behind. I hid behind a red settee, hoping the shadows gave me some cover.
Murk was trying to take the lead. “We need to take Finn out back. We have to make sure it looks like one of them did it, but we may as well kill the other one here.”
I was seething. Knowing what their wretched plan was, and the fact that Finn was within reach of that woman. Suddenly, several things happened all at once. I viciously threw my dagger as hard as I could, Wulf suddenly turned to Murk and backed him into the corner, and a door opened with Sam and two other officers, guns leveled.
My dagger hit Daphne in the shoulder, slamming her to the floor so hard, a hidden trap door opened and she fell through. I got to the hole in the floor and saw her scamper away, holding her arm, the blood on her chest matching the blood on her nose from my lighter.
I couldn’t figure out who was working with who, but it seemed like the good guys were winning and all I knew was I needed to get Daphne. Roarke bounded in and yelled, “They’re on their way!”
“Who?” barked Finn.
“Everyone.”
“She’s going toward the front of the building. Come on!” I yelled. We all ran toward the front. The police had the front doors secured, so we raced up the wide theater stairs on either side as if we were going to the balcony seats. Up one more flight. There stood Daphne, bloody, disheveled . . . and smiling. Finn raised his gun, but she ducked to the side and ran up the next set of stairs.
We ran up after her, then a loud crash echoed through the place. When we reached the topmost level, she was waiting for us with her face radiating great expectation. She was standing in the broken-out window.
CHAPTER 70
Here’s the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
—Lady Macbeth, Macbeth
We all came to an abrupt stop. Daphne had no gun in her hand and one arm was holding the place where she had yanked my dagger out of her shoulder. I spotted it lying underneath the window with a coating of her blood smeared across the smooth blade. The window was at least twelve feet tall with the middle panes able to swing out. She’d smashed the window open with something big like a chair. Now she stood there, glaring at us with a tantalizing smile.
The mask over the face that could be lovely at times had faltered. Now she looked like that time I’d first met her at Metropolitan Hospital Lunatic Asylum. Little veins had popped to the surface of her paper-white skin. The look in her eyes made me wonder again if she could summon both lunacy and lucidity at will.
“Stop, it’s over,” commanded Finn.
It was like she didn’t even hear him; she only had eyes for me. “You remembered, didn’t you?” she said silkily.
I nodded. “Yes. You’re through. It’s done.”
She shook her head a little dreamily and looked around like a child in a fanciful dream. She said with a singsong voice, “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow . . . oh, it’s not over.” Finn and Roarke and I all exchanged dubious glances.
Then she leveled her gaze at me, skewering me with her eyes. Her voice lowered and she said solemnly, “Oh, I’ll be seeing you again, Lane. Soon.”
She jumped.
We raced to the broken window and looked below a few stories. There stood four men holding a life net.
“Oh my God,” said Roarke. “Like the one we saw outside the asylum against the wall.”
Daphne got up from the net and yelled up to us, “I told you. I’ll see you soon, darling.”
Finn tried shooting down toward them, but he only could get off a couple shots before they scurried away.
All three of us leaned back from the window and looked at each other with wonder.
I said, “I loathe her. But I really admire her contingency plans.”
Finn and Roarke barked out a laugh. Finn looked at the bloody bandage around my arm. “We better get you looked at. The bullet must’ve just grazed you, otherwise you’d be in much worse shape.”
“Yeah, I saw the bullet hit the door. My arm’s not going to look too good in my sleeveless dresses anymore,” I said with a forlorn grimace.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Finn as he came up close to me as Roarke descended the stairs. “I think you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Inside and out.”
Good thing. I was never going to be a dainty flower. I’d dated plenty of guys who wanted a woman to pretty much never use her brain or her courage. I was bored within seconds. Finn was different, which made the air fairly sizzle when I was near him.
We made our way down the stairs in time to catch up with Sam and his officers, not to mention almost the entire cast of Voodoo. In front of them all stood a formidable woman with her arms crossed, ready for battle. Sam had the wretched and sweaty Eugene Murk in custody. Just as we made it to the front entrance, in barged all the reinforcements I could ever want.
Fiorello was first in line, bellowing and screeching, followed by about twenty officers. They all came to a staggering halt in front of us. I looked at Sam and shook my head, giving him a wink. Murk looked like a greasy rag doll in the grasp of such a large and competent officer.
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