used all her strength to keep them sealed tight. No one could bust through this hold—
The doors flew open. The men barreled through her, making her shiver as though she'd walked through a cobweb. A gust of wind rushed inside, following them in to stir the leaves and grit coating the floor.
Just how strong were they? Yes, they were huge, but she'd held the doors with what had to be the strength of twenty men.
Once inside the darkened room, Nikolai cast a chain across the floor with no care for her Italian marble.
The lunatic broke free once more, making it to his feet. He was towering! He lumbered toward the door, but his bound ankles ensured that he careened into an antique armoire covered with a sheet. It collapsed under the impact. Crushed.
She'd had to dance two performances to afford that piece, and remembered lovingly polishing it herself. It was one of the few original furnishings that remained.
After Murdoch and Sebastian hoisted him out of the wreckage, Murdoch wrapped his thick arm around Conrad's neck, cupping the back of Conrad's head with his free hand. She could see that Murdoch was tightening this hold with all his might, his face drawn with the effort, the muscles in his neck standing out with strain.
Somehow Conrad was unaffected for long moments. Eventually, his thrashing eased and he went limp. While Murdoch laid him on the ground, Nikolai hastily affixed the chain to the same radiator he'd tested last night, then attached the other end to Conrad's handcuffs.
That's why Nikolai had been inspecting it? Because he intended to jail this lunatic here?
Why here?
'Could you have found an eerier place to keep him?' Sebastian said between breaths as they all stood. At that instant, lightning crackled just outside. The high stained-glass windows were broken in places and cast tinted light, distorting the shadows within. 'Why not use the old mill?'
'Someone might come across him there,' Murdoch answered. 'And Kristoff knows about the mill. If he or his men discover what we're planning... '
Who's Kristoff? What are they planning?
Nikolai added, 'Besides, Elancourt was recommended to me.'
'Who would ever recommend this?' Sebastian waved a hand around. 'It looks straight from a horror movie.' She wished he was wrong, but a bolt flashed then; hued shadows appeared to slither and pounce. Sebastian raised his brows as if his point had been made.
Nikolai's gaze focused on his brothers' faces, studying their reactions as he answered, 'Nïx did.' He hesitated, seeming not to know if they'd laugh, rail, or nod.
Murdoch shrugged and Sebastian nodded grimly.
Who's Nïx?
Sebastian glanced around. 'Raises my hackles, though'—another flash of lightning—'almost like it's... haunted.'
Sebastian gets a cookie.
'And you know that's something for me to say. It's spooked Conrad as well.'
Yes, because otherwise he clearly would be fine.
'The weather makes it seem worse.' Nikolai ran his hand through his wet hair, then wiped his face with his shirttail. 'And if there are spirits lingering about? You forget what we are—any ghosts would do well to fear us.'
Fear them? No living thing could touch her.
'It's actually ideal because the place scares people away,' Nikolai continued over another bout of thunder. 'And the Valkyrie compound isn't far from here—not many from the Lore will venture anywhere near their home.'
Valkyrie? Lore? She remembered a newspaper article a few years back on 'Gang Speak.' These men were speaking Gang. They had to be.
Murdoch said, 'Perhaps the Valkyrie won't appreciate vampires so close to Val Hall.'
Vampires? Not Gang? They're all mad. Mon Dieu, I need a bourbon.
'Is it even habitable?' Sebastian asked in a scoffing voice.
Nikolai nodded. 'The structure and the roof are solid—'
As rock.
'—and once we do some modifications, it'll be suitable for our purposes. We'll fix just what we need: a couple of bedrooms, a shower, the kitchen. I already had the witches come around today to do an enclosure spell along the perimeter of the estate. As long as Conrad's wearing those chains, he can't escape the boundary.'
Witches? Oh, come now! Néomi moved to rub her temple, felt nothing, but was somewhat soothed by the familiar act.
In the lull, Murdoch cased the main salon, plucking at cobwebs. 'Conrad knew we were going to be at the tavern.'
'No doubt of it,' Nikolai answered, crossing to a dirt-caked window to glance outside. 'He was awaiting us. To kill us.'
'Obviously he's gotten good at it.' Sebastian patted his ribs in an assessing manner and winced. Looking more closely, she could see that they all seemed injured in some way. Even Conrad appeared to have been clawed across the chest by some beast. 'He likes it.'
Likes to kill? A murderer in my home. Again. Was he the same kind of man as Louis—one who would stab a defenseless woman through the heart? Tamp it down, Néomi... . The wind picked up. Control the emotion.
Murdoch said, 'I suppose he'd have to, if the word about his occupation is true.'
A professional killer?
'Finding him now... it couldn't come at a worse time,' Sebastian said. 'How are we going to manage this?'
'We fight a war, deceive our king, try not to worry about our Kaderin and Myst, all the while attempting to salvage Con's sanity,' Nikolai replied evenly.
Murdoch lifted a brow. 'And here I thought we would be busy.'
The brothers began exploring nearby rooms, testing wood for rot and pulling sheets from furniture, examining their surroundings.
In the past, she'd been fortunate with those who'd occupied Elancourt. Nice families had come and gone, a few harmless vagrants. Nothing about these men said We're nice and harmless!
Especially not the chained murderer. He lay on the floor, blood collecting at the corner of his parted lips to drip down.
Drip... drip... A crimson pool was stark against her marble. Just as before. Tamp it down. Control it.
The madman's eyes flashed open. She couldn't warn the others! In the space of a bolt of lightning, he somehow shot to his chained feet, hobbling forward with unnatural speed. Before she could even raise her arms to exert pressure against him, he'd stretched the chain taut... the radiator was bending under the pressure.
He couldn't break it. Imposs—
Like a whip, it snapped free as he charged across the room for the door—the door where she stood. As she stared in disbelief, the radiator trailed in his wake, destroying everything in its wildly sweeping path.
Suddenly, the underfloor web of attached heating pipes burst up through the floor, foot after foot of groaning metal and exploding marble and splinters.
The three men dove for him once more, the pile of them skidding to a stop right at her slippers.
She gaped. Her home, her beloved home. In fifteen minutes, the madman had wrought more destruction to Elancourt than it had sustained in the last eighty years.
Her hands fisted. Control it. But her hair had already begun to swirl about her face, rose petals floating in a tempest around her body. Outside, the wind kicked up, streaming through the holes in the high windows, sweeping the grit and dust until she was able to see all the destruction.
The marble! When her eyes watered with frustration, rain poured outside.
Tamp it down.
Too late. Lightning bombarded the house, illuminating the night like successive bomb blasts. From under the pile of men, Conrad yanked his head up at her.
