Cheyenne smiled, judging the size of her thigh-bone weaponagainst his golf club.
She needed him off guard. She’d had training, but he was bigand powerful. Balance, she reminded herself. Balance and fighting withthe mind, conserving strength.
“No,” she said cheerfully. “She’s still breathing.”
“Not for long, I dare say.”
“Do you know how sick you are?” she asked him.
He shook his head and grew serious. “Sick? No. I’m riddingthe world of the riff-raff, my dear girl, and making it safe for God-fearingmen again.”
“What?”
“Wretches, horrid little creatures. Evil. Each deserved todie, to have their blood drench the earth.”
“You’re crazier than I thought.”
“Not crazy! Offended. Insulted by women of loose morals. Youthink you know, but you do not! And you…as wretched as any of them. Worse. Youthink you are equal to a man? I’ll show you! Tonight’s going to be the bestBlood Night ever.”
He was, beyond a doubt, crazier than she had thought.
But she’d done what was needed. She had riled his temper toa point where he would come at her in a fury.
He lunged as expected, golf club swinging.
She let him use his own weight and momentum against himselfand swept to the side with a split second to spare. The club crashed down onthe coffin, carrying the weight of his arm and shoulder with it.
She raised her thigh bone high and slammed it down on hishead for all she was worth.
Good aim, a direct hit.
He went down, groaning, and then lay still.
She hit him one more time, hard, for good measure.
That wasn’t from any FBI training. That was from watchingfar too many horror and crime movies where the bad guy was trounced—only to getup again.
She moved quickly in the direction from which he had come,the thigh bone still in her hand. The entry to the catacombs had to besomewhere over there, and she had to get out and get help for Edith. Fast.
She followed the light into a second space, the outer roomof the catacomb chambers.
A coffin had been used as a table. Clark Brighton had sethis lantern there. She could see that there was a little ladder beyond it.
It had to lead to a hatch of some kind.
She ran toward the ladder.
Then, suddenly, the hatch opened. Before she could gofarther, a man jumped down and landed before her.
This might be England, but he had a gun.
And it was aimed directly at her.
She backed away slowly, knowing now that Clark Brighton hada partner.
And after the night she’d had, the partner’s identity wasn’tsurprising.
Some of Andre’s instincts had been right.
“Ah, Mr. Bower,” she said. “Why am I not surprised? Let’ssee…Sheila appeared almost immediately after being killed because she hurt yoursense of masculinity. Am I right? Brighton slowly killed the others—with you,in whatever your macho ritual was—but you killed Sheila. Because shehurt your little feelings, right?”
“You’re going to die so much faster than she did, SpecialAgent Bitch!” he said, raising the gun.
It never fired.
Andre leapt down on top of him, and the gun went flying outof Bower’s hand.
They weren’t in the United States. They were Americans,unofficially in Britain. Andre was just a provoked tourist, caught in a violentsituation…
Andre landed hard on Bower. Slammed him to the floor,wrenched him over, and sent a right hook flying into his jaw that seemed toaffect the entire catacombs.
Indeed, a coffin rattled precariously on a shelf.
Another man landed in the catacomb tunnel. Birmingham.
“Give him one for me, too, won’t you?” Birmingham asked.
But she saw Andre wince and then stand. “Sorry, friend. He’salready out cold. And if you don’t mind…”
He took a step toward Cheyenne and pulled her into his armsand held her.
After they’d felt each other’s heartbeats and were reassuredthat they were both alive and well and…together, he pulled away.
“Clark Brighton?” he asked her anxiously.
“Next room. With Edith. We have to get help immediately.She’s still alive, but barely. Oh, my God, if we move fast enough—”
“On it!” Brighton told them, his phone already out.
He called for help and, in just seconds, medical personnelflooded into the catacombs. She and Andre and the inspector moved aside to makeroom.
“You knocked out Clark Brighton?” Birmingham asked her.
“Corpse’s thigh bone,” she said.
“Ah,” Birmingham said, looking at Andre. “So, uh, she tookout one, and you got the other?”
Andre laughed. “Something like that,” he said. “And if wemay…”
“Get out! Get help. You should have your wrist looked at,”he said, pointing at her hand where blood still leaked from the torn fleshabove it.
“I will, I will!” Cheyenne promised. “But now…”
Birmingham moved the little ladder, reaching to give her ahand.
“Oh, uh, if I may?” he asked.
“Always happy for an assist,” she told him, and she couldn’thelp herself. She paused, giving him a smile and a hug before she headed up andout of the tunnel. “Always grateful for help. And courtesy. And decency amongall men and women.”
He smiled at her. “My kind of agent,” he said. “Both ofyou.” He tipped his chin at Andre.
Andre thanked him and followed Cheyenne up the ladder.
She felt his arms around her as they emerged.
The sun was just rising, bursting through the fog and thedarkness of the night.
The day was going to be beautiful.
Epilogue
“You have to listen well, man,” Michael Adair said. He shookhis head. “You can’t tell the Irish from the Scottish? Ah, the first is a lilt,it goes up and down. Beautifully melodic. The second has that burring sound toit, not so musical.”
“He’s only saying that,” Claude Birmingham assured them,“because his dad came here from Dublin, and my mother came from Scotland. TheScots’ accent is soft and sweet and pure as a whisper against oak!”
“Uh…they’re both lovely,” Cheyenne said, quickly adding, “asis the English accent.” She glanced at Eric, who was at the table, too, alongwith Emily and Andre.
The inspectors had stopped by to tell them that,miraculously, Edith Greenbriar was going to live, and she wanted to see them.
“And don’t bother telling me you did nothing to deservegratitude,” Birmingham had said. “Miss Greenbriar considers her life extremelyvaluable. You should be thanked for saving it.”
She and Andre had agreed to go by the hospital.
But they were
