We opened each door as we made our way down the hall. I saw a bathroom, two bedrooms, a sitting room, and a small office. Fletcher found a staircase on her side, so we headed up to the next floor. She poked her nose out at the top before we let ourselves out into a sprawling library. Fletcher gasped, desire rising in her eyes. Shelves marched from floor to ceiling, polished wooden ladders leaning against them at irregular intervals. Plush armchairs were scattered throughout the room, low tables in between them, but as in the den, the space had an unused feel to it. There was no dust, but nor was there a single book out of place, and I wondered if the books could even breathe, packed so neatly in with each other.
“No time,” I said, because I could see that Fletcher was about to be sucked away by the tomes.
She gave me a sad look but followed me around the perimeter of the room as I went looking for a way out. The library was eerily silent without the rustle of turning pages and the quiet sound of breathing.
I threw open a door to a small security office, startling the woman watching security camera feeds on a set of tiny monitors. She jumped violently as the door hit the wall and spun in her chair, but I already had my gun up and pointed at her. It was the woman with the braided crown, whom we’d met at the Castle of Old Wick.
“Don’t try anything,” I said, gesturing to the red button she was reaching for with my gun. Her hand froze, then slunk sullenly back into her lap as she glared up at me. “Good. Now take us to your leader.”
Behind me, Fletcher groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“If I say no?” the woman asked.
My eyes flicked across the grainy monitors behind her. Figures ran across several of them, diving in and out of cover as gunshots turned the picture white for a second. Our pursuers had broken through the back door and were moving quickly through the building, and the woman was trying to stall us so they could get here.
“I will shoot you,” I said. “Up.”
“You won’t--” she began, but I shot her in the shoulder. I didn’t like people telling me what I would or wouldn’t do. The retort was near deafening in the small room, and the residual gunpowder stung my nose.
“Shit, Callum,” Fletcher said.
“Leader. Now,” I said. “I don’t like to repeat myself.”
The woman clutched at her shoulder, blood seeping between her fingers. She looked at me like I was crazy, but I wasn’t the one kidnapping children. I gestured at the door with my gun, impatience growing in my gut as I watched the four other lackeys pound down the long corridor towards the stairs.
The woman stood, grimaced as she almost lost her balance, and left the office, shooting withering glares at Fletcher and me as if looks could actually kill. “This way,” she said grumpily and pointed towards a door with leaves carved around the frame.
I motioned for her to go first, gun pointed at her back to make sure she didn’t get any tricksy ideas. Our pursuers burst into the library just as we reached the door. Fletcher spun and fired above their heads as I seized the woman’s collar before she could dive to the side and run away. She spluttered, choking, and I dragged her backwards. I didn’t have enough hands to open the door.
“Fletcher!” I ordered and took over covering our asses as she threw the door open.
I shoved the woman through and shut us in, plunging us into darkness. Fletcher found the light switch before the other woman could make a move, and then we were running up the stairs to the sound of feet pounding across the library floor.
We tumbled out onto the third floor, and I slipped on the red runner on the floor, banging into the wall. The woman took off, but Fletcher dropped and swept her leg in a circle, catching the woman before she made it three steps. She cried out as she hit the ground on her injured shoulder, but I didn’t have much sympathy for kidnappers.
I hauled her upright as Fletcher shoved a decorative dresser in front of the door. Someone ran into it a second later. “Mick!” the woman yelled.
“Sarah!” a man shouted back. “Open this door!” He, or one of his friends, shot at the lock, but it didn’t do much good with the dresser there.
“Which way?” I said, and Sarah pointed to the left.
I squinted at her, trying to decide if she was telling us the truth or just stalling until the others could breakthrough into the hallway. The door at the end of the corridor was made of a dark, gleaming wood, geometric designs carved into it, and I figured if I were richer than sin, I’d have my office behind a door like that.
I nodded to Fletcher, and she approached cautiously as I kept an eye on Sarah. Fletcher pressed her ear to the door, eyes closed for a second, and then motioned me forward. Something crashed against the door to the stairs, and the dresser tipped over, spilling our four harried pursuers into the corridor. I threw Sarah into them. One of the men tried to catch her but failed, and all five of them went down in a tangle of limbs and angry shouting as I raced towards Fletcher and Holden’s office.
We burst through the door before the people behind us could recover, and we immediately worked together to push a large armoire in front of it. Panting, I leaned against the cherry wood, hoping my pulse would drop before I gave myself a heart attack.
“Can I help you?” a man with an American accent asked, and I raised
