Danse Macabre

by Kory M. Shrum

  His ice-cold hand remained clasped around hers, pulling it around in front of her.

  “You have lovely, delicate little fingers.”

  Oh man. Piper had seen the movies. She knew where this was going.

  “Do you make music with these hands?” Petrov asked. His blue eyes, as icy as his fingers, bore into hers.

  “No,” she said. She’d had maybe ten lessons on the piano as a child and played in a recital. When the Saints Go Marching In. She’d been mediocre at best. And she’d taken that guitar class in her first year of college before dropping out, but she couldn’t remember more than a few lines of a couple of songs.

  She suspected the calluses on this Russian’s fingers were from music. Or did he get calluses from murdering people? She’d have to check Lou’s hands next time she had a chance—if she had a chance.

  Petrov separated her index finger from the rest. “I think I’ll take this one for my collection. It’s a beautiful finger.”

  “No,” King said. Not only King. His gruff man voice had been layered with another, higher, feminine groan.

  Piper turned and saw Mel wide-eyed and pleading. Her nostrils flared with each panicked inhalation. It was Mel’s and King’s fear combined, more than her own, that pushed her over the edge into full-blown panic.

  She heard a click and turned back to Petrov in time to see a blade glinting in the light. It was a simple switchblade perhaps six inches long.

  Piper tried to yank her hand back.

  Petrov wouldn’t let go. “I think I’ll take this one, too.”

  He straightened her middle finger pressing it into the side of the first.

  “No, no, no.” Piper squirmed. “Please. Please don’t.”

  “No?” Petrov asked, his smile humorous. “You have eight others. Surely you won’t miss two? And they will look so nice with the others. I have a whole drawer, you see. A drawer full of beautiful lady fingers. I’ve been collecting them since 1998.”

  Piper wanted to throw up again. Her stomach turned, and she was certain that if she did puke on this guy, he would definitely cut her fingers off. Then he would do a lot worse.

  She could get out of this. She could survive it. She only needed a plan.

  Mel’s and King’s insistent begging only made it harder to think. And Petrov seemed to like it. He took pleasure in knowing that hurting her in turn hurt them, too.

  She saw his pleasure, and something inside her cracked. Her fear was lost in a crashing wave of anger.

  “You’re a piece of shit,” Piper said and shoved him back onto his heels.

  The world stopped on a dime. Petrov’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “You like hurting people,” she went on. “How fucked up is that?”

  “You tell me.” He grabbed her hand, twisting the wrist hard enough to make her scream. Then he seized the two fingers he wanted and aligned the knife with the base of her middle digit.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” Piper wailed, squirming. Pain shot through her fingers. She wondered if she was willing to break them to get them away.

  Petrov didn’t seem to hear her. He pressed the blade to the side of Piper’s skin. Red bloomed.

  Her mind devolved into a nonsensical cry. This is it, this is it, this is it.

  She took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was about to happen.

  Until a leather boot shot out of nowhere and slammed into the side of Petrov’s head. The man buckled and crashed onto the floor.

  Piper stared at the boot uncomprehending. Then the leg. Then the gun. And finally, the woman who stood where Petrov had been only a moment before.

  Of all the times she’d been thrilled beyond measure to see Louie Thorne’s face, none of them compared to this moment.

  “Good timing,” Piper said, and her body shook with relief.

  30

  “You okay?” Lou asked, her voice pitched low.

  “Yeah.”

  Lou watched Petrov drag himself up to his feet, righting the overturned chair. Lou stole a glance at the girl and saw she still held her hand, but blood was running down the finger, pooling in the creases. “Are you sure?”

  Piper looked down at her hand and saw the blood. “Oh shit.”

  Konstantine snapped the bonds on Melandra’s wrists. In one fluid movement, the woman had her scarf off her head and was wrapping Piper’s fingers tight.

  “Here,” she said, forcing Piper to cooperate. “Here, let me see it.”

  Konstantine turned to King next.

  “Louie Abigail Thorne,” Dmitri said, on his feet again. He pulled his shirt down in the front. “You grace us with your presence. Is that all it took? Kidnapping your friends in order to have a little conversation?”

  “Did you try the phone?” she asked.

  Anger flashed in his eyes.

  “Get them out of here,” Konstantine said. She didn’t need to turn her head to know he spoke to King. Lou wanted to keep both of her eyes trained on the man in front of her. She didn’t see a gun. But his men were flanking him now, putting themselves on his side of the room. King, Konstantine, Mel and Piper on hers.

  Because they are mine, she thought. Whether or not she liked it, she was responsible for the lives in this room.

  Maybe not the journalist on the floor. Lou barely recognized the girl under the pulverized flesh. Black and blue bruises so deep Lou wondered if she would ever wake up again.

  “Did you do that?” Lou asked, gesturing to the unconscious girl. The cold, familiar fury was unfurling inside her. The same fury that had filled her chest when she’d put the gun to Angelo Martinelli’s head. Then Nico’s. That fury was her most faithful companion.

  Dmitri seemed to see the shift in her. Whether he realized it or not, he took a wary step back.

  “Did you do that?” Lou asked again, stepping toward him. The men flanking him raised their guns. Several pointed at her head. But the room wasn’t well lit. If Lou was fast enough…

  Dmitri, in a show of composure, pulled the handkerchief from his suit pocket. He wiped Piper’s blood from his skin.

  Piper’s blood.

  You will die tonight, she thought. She might go with him to the gates of hell, but she would deliver him herself.

  “I wanted to know everything there is to know about you,” he said, his voice matter of fact. “Happy birthday, by the way. I owe you a gift.”

  Lou refused to be distracted.

  “Is it really your birthday?” Piper asked behind her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Hush,” Mel said. “For heaven’s sake. And hold up your hand like I told you to.”

  King and Konstantine shuffled on the edge of her vision, looking ready to jump into the fray.

  Lou took another step toward him. It was obvious to her he had to force himself to remain in place.

  “The only child of Jack and Courtney Thorne. Both murdered by his family.” He jabbed a thumb in Konstantine’s direction.

  Konstantine did nothing. His body remained tense, ready for anything. He cast a look Lou’s way.

  “You were then raised by your aunt who shares your peculiar trick.” He seemed to gather himself now. “I would have killed her, if she were not already dead. That would have been a more even trade than this.” He gestured dismissively at the others in the room.

  “Because I killed your son,” she said.

  Hate flashed in his eyes. “And 416 other men that I can account for. But how many in actuality? Do you even know yourself?” He sneered. “I didn’t think so. Your father is avenged. You’re taking lives that are not yours to take!”

  His words hit home. A direct arrow plunked through her chest. All the cold hunger building inside her ceased.

  Petrov found strength in it. “I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  She said nothing.

  “My son was a good boy. He only went on the convoy because I commanded it.”

  “Your mistake,” she said.


  He threw himself at her. She deflected him easily by folding her arm, and sending his energy past her.

  “Why?” he screamed. He beat a fist against his chest. “You know the pain I feel. Here.” He slammed his fist against his chest again. His face was beet red, veins bulging, spittle flying from his mouth with each accusation. “You know what I feel, and yet you do it to others!”

  Konstantine shifted nervously in the corner of her eye. He was waiting for her to do something.

  “Are you god?” Petrov screamed.

  He gestured at her.

  “Are you his angel? Are you so righteous?”

  No, Lou thought. No, I don’t deserve to be the one.

  She had no argument. She hated this man before her, hated everything he stood for. But she could not deny that he spoke truth. And more so, she agreed with him.

  “Give me my gun,” Petrov demanded. He turned to the men behind them.

  “Now!” he screamed.

  A pistol was put in his hand. He pointed the Smith and Wesson at Lou.

  “You had this coming,” he said.

  “I know,” Lou said.

  And he pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  This was it. This was the moment Konstantine would discover if all his efforts had paid off. The best laid plans… He only wished the moment of truth did not come with a gun pointed at his beloved’s head. But that was faith, wasn’t it? One had to have faith that the universe was with you, not against you. And Konstantine thought a life without faith was no life at all.

  The gun clicked. No thunderous report. No bullet was discharged.

  A second empty click. A third.

  “Take a step back, gentlemen,” Konstantine said.

  The men behind Petrov retreated into the darkness, becoming only shadows.

  “That’s enough,” Konstantine said to Petrov.

  Petrov looked at the gun in his hand as if he’d never seen it before.

  But silent disbelief quickly gave way to laughter. He laughed, but there was no humor in it. There was only mad, wild rage.

  “How much?” he asked, turning to Konstantine. “How much did you give them?”

  “Enough,” Konstantine replied. To King he said, “Take them outside.”

  Unlike Petrov’s men, they didn’t obey him. It seemed Lou’s people were as stubborn as she was. He understood. They didn’t want to leave her behind. But they also didn’t want to see what was coming next. Of course, he had no time to reason with them.

  “No!” Petrov wailed. He threw the gun on the ground and stomped his foot like a child. “No! Why should you be the only one who receives revenge? Are you the only one who’s loved someone? Are you the only one?”

  Lou stepped toward him, now fully separating herself from the shadows. She stood in the spotlight above, in full view of Petrov.

  “You’ll have your retribution,” she said.

  It hurt Konstantine to watch her. It was like watching her disrobe for another man. But she removed her guns. She offered them to Konstantine.

  He didn’t want to take them.

  “What are you doing?” Piper asked. “What is she doing?”

  Lou didn’t answer. She stepped up to Petrov, her eyes locked with his.

  “He still has the knife,” Konstantine said.

  “I know.”

  “You don’t have anything.” He was dangerously close to pleading.

  “Konstantine,” she whispered. His name sounded like a warning on her lips. “Cut the lights.”

  He considered refusing her. After all, he could stop this here and now. He could keep her in the light forever. But he’d done that dance with her once before, and not only had he lost, but he’d promised not to interfere again. It didn’t matter that he wanted to say something, anything to deter her. Hell, he wanted to put a bullet in Petrov himself and be done with this.

  He was holding a loaded gun.

  He could do it.

  But he knew this woman, or at least he knew enough to understand that denying her will would only worsen this.

  “As you wish,” he said and raised his hand.

  The lights cut, and darkness flooded the room.

  The women—and King, too—cried out in surprise.

  “Lights,” he said again and they returned.

  But Lou and Petrov were gone.

  31

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Piper approached the man she’d never seen before, the one Lou had called Konstantine. He was taller than her by a good six or seven inches. His leather jacket hung loosely on broad shoulders. When he turned to look at her, she realized he had gorgeous green eyes, even by her standards. “What just happened?”

  “Lou will take care of him,” he said. He waved to the dark above as if he had friends up there. “That is all. Please go.”

  “Will she—” a man began. This voice came from the huddled group of assholes that Piper thought belonged to Petrov, but in fact, seemed to be taking orders from this other guy.

  “You’re safe.” Konstantine cut him with a hard glare. “As long as you don’t betray us.”

  They were satisfied with this answer and slid open the large door. A burst of freezing winter air rushed in.

  “What do you mean she’ll take care of him?” Piper said. She gestured at the pile of guns and—was that a freaking grenade? “Take care of him with what?”

  Piper’s insistence was lost in the shuffle of boots. Then it was only the five of them, including Dani, and whoever might still be watching from the dark above.

  Konstantine peered upward. “Come down here, Luca. Stefano.”

  Boards creaked, and a metal ladder rattled. Then two men appeared.

  “We need to help her,” Piper said, wishing this guy would look at her, and act worried that Lou was out there, by herself with a psycho who wanted to kill her.

  Then Konstantine did look at her. “This is her fight. If she wanted our help, she would have—”

  “How do you even know Lou?” Piper cried. “Did Dmitri say your family killed her family? Did I hear that right?”

  “We need to get Dani to a hospital,” Mel said, drawing all of their attentions to the girl on the floor. “He took her finger.”

  “It’s here,” one of the men said. He stepped forward and offered Mel the bundle.

  At this, Piper let the conversation go. As much as she wanted to know all about this Konstantine guy and where he fit into Lou’s life, Dani didn’t have the time.

  Her face was swollen in a way that hurt to look at. Both eyes were blackened shut and her lips were so large that it was as if bees had stung them. Her throat was also purple, and no doubt her clothes hid more damage.

  I forgive you, Piper thought, resisting the urge to brush the hair out of Dani’s face. Even a slight touch would likely cause her unbearable pain. Piper forgave her for being a snoop because she knew—absolutely knew—this could’ve been her lying there. Those guys could’ve easily gotten hold of Piper and beaten her for information on Lou.

  I’ll forgive you if you don’t die.

  “Let me help,” King said, trying to get to Dani’s other side and lifting the girl off the unforgiving concrete floor.

  “I’ll get the door,” Piper said when it seemed that Mel and King didn’t need any help. To Konstantine, “Do you have a car or something?”

  He exchanged a look with his two henchmen.

  “È fuori.”

  What was that? Italian? she wondered. It sounded Italian. She’d seen Under the Tuscan Sun about twenty times with her mother, and she was pretty sure that’s what she was hearing. So Konstantine was Italian. She resisted the urge to grumble and roll her eyes.

  “Through here,” Konstantine said, stepping through the door she held open.

  The night air was freezing. January, even in New Orleans, wasn’t the time to be going around without a coat.

  The taillights of a BMW SUV flashed. Piper turned to see one of the men—Stefano or Luca—hand the keys
to Konstantine.

  “I’ll drive you to the hospital,” he said.

  “Let me,” King said, opening his hands for the keys. “I know where it is.”

  Konstantine relinquished the keys.

  “Piper and Mel can sit in the back with her. You can have shotgun.”

  Konstantine regarded them: King, Mel, Piper and the whimpering Dani between them. Piper wasn’t sure how to read that expression. Okay, so he was somewhat attractive, she had to admit. If one was into muscle and smoldering eyes and dark brooding stares.

  “No,” he said, finally. “You go on.”

  “Thank you,” Mel said, adjusting Dani in her grip. “You saved our lives.”

  “No,” he said with a faint smile. “Lou is the one to thank for that.”

  Then he turned and walked away from the warehouse with his two men in tow. They fell into hushed Italian as they went.

  Damn, she thought.

  Dani groaned.

  “Come on,” Mel said, opening the passenger door. “She could be hemorrhaging to death.”

  “I doubt it,” Piper said, sliding into the backseat. It was nice and reeked of leather. I can’t compete with this. Who the hell produces BMW SUVs on demand?

  She reached across the seat and placed Dani into the middle so Mel could slide in after her. King was already in the front seat, the whole vehicle rocking with his massive form as he settled behind the wheel. He moved the seat back and flipped up the visor.

  “Nice,” he said. “You think we’ll get to keep it? Oh shit, Piper look in the back.”

  “Why?”

  “Please look in the back.”

  Piper leaned over the headrest separating her seat from the cargo area. There was nothing but darkness back there. A pristinely vacuumed floor. She told King so.

  “It doesn’t mean there aren’t drugs in this car,” Mel said.

  “Drugs?” Piper said, buckling herself in. She tried to position Dani’s head on her lap but nothing looked comfortable.

  “Let’s hope the car is clean,” King said, wagging his eyebrows in the rearview mirror. He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

  He’s relieved that we didn’t die, she thought. And Piper had to admit it, she was pretty damn relieved, too. She opened and closed her fist, staring at the two fingers she’d almost lost, as if to assure herself they were still there.