'They don't have to, my dear Melancholy,' Hugo said with a solemn smile. 'You are women in a man's world. The late Duke, God rest his soul, kept his last wife trapped in the attic for years. Even her children didn't know she was still alive. I hear she was completely out of her mind by the time she finally succumbed to a merciful death.' An edge of menace crept into his voice. 'And unless your behaviour pleases me, you can look forward to the same fate.'
Elizabeth crossed the floor to where Berto and Tatiana were sitting. She was wearing a new cloak; a strange white affair with a patchwork effect and a high collar. It moved as she did, with a lightness that belied the weight of the material.
'Come, Tatiana,' she said, holding out her hand. 'It is long past your bedtime and it has been a terrible, traumatic day. Let us retire and leave these grown-ups to their bickering.'
'I'm not going anywhere,' Tatiana retorted.
'Now,' Berto said through gritted teeth. 'Now, Tatty!'
Her shameful act of exposure took the others by surprise – but it was nothing compared to their reaction as her pet engimal burst from beneath her dress and erupted into a deafening cacophony of metallic drumbeats accompanying what sounded like giant church bells crashing to the ground from a great height. Everyone gasped in pain and covered their ears – except Roberto. Launching himself out of his chair, he jabbed his rigid fingers into the windpipe of the nearest Gideonette, seizing the pistol from his cousin's hand and kicking him in the stomach, knocking him back against the wall. Elizabeth had her back turned and did not hear Hugo's warning over the ear- splitting noise. Berto swung his arm round her neck and pressed the gun against her temple, yelling something nobody could hear.
'Hush,' said Tatiana, and the bird went quiet, fluttering down to settle on her wrist.
Every other pistol in the room was now pointing at him, and Daisy carefully moved out of their line of fire, searching for a weapon of her own. She picked up a poker from the fireplace, concealing it in the folds of her skirt. Berto had fooled her and everyone else; his simpering had just been an act – and it had worked.
'We're walking out of here and you're not going to stop us,' Berto was saying.
'No, I don't think you're going anywhere,' Hugo replied.
Berto tightened his grip on Elizabeth's neck and pointed the gun at Hugo, firing off a shot. The bullet hit the wall over Hugo's shoulder.
'I only need one hostage,' Berto warned him. 'The next shot will take you between the eyes.'
Hugo spared his sister a glance and she managed a strained smile as she gasped for breath. His eyes flicked back to Berto's.
'You're not a killer, Roberto,' he said. 'You show your weakness in every move that you make, every word that you say. Your father said you always lacked nerve. You won't hurt my sister.'
'The hell I won't!' Berto yelled, his voice a little too shrill.
Even from beyond the grave, it seemed that Edgar was undermining his sons. Daisy gripped the handle of the poker, sidling up behind Gideon, whose attention was fixed on the hostage situation. If anyone made a move towards her husband, Gideon was going to get it over the back of the head.
'Give me the weapon, Roberto,' Hugo said gently, holding out his hand. 'You don't want it to go like this. Think of your sister. She could get hurt.'
'I can look after myself,' Tatiana informed him tartly.
'We're getting out of here,' Berto said tightly, but he sounded less confident now.
He went to move, but Elizabeth would not walk and he nearly tripped over her.
'Move!' he cried.
Elizabeth looked to her brother. His face was expressionless. He gave a barely perceptible nod. Her cloak let out a rising hum and then burst into pieces. Dozens of leaf-lights, each one no heavier than the page of a book, swept back over Berto, their paper-thin edges cutting gashes into his skin and clothes. Elizabeth knocked his gun- hand aside and stepped away, making a pushing motion with her other hand. The leaf-lights obeyed, whirling in a loop and coming at him again. He disappeared in a blizzard of blinding white movement, letting out a panicked cry as he was carried backwards and thrown through the window with a great crash of glass and wood.
He tumbled backwards, screaming into empty space, thirty storeys above the ground.
Daisy gave a gasp, dropping the poker and rushing towards the window. Hugo stepped into her path, catching hold of her and pulling her to his chest.
'It's best you don't look, child,' he said in a soothing tone. 'Best that you don't look.'
She shrieked like an animal at him, clawing at his face, but he was too strong. Grabbing her wrists, he gripped them in one hand as he used the other to press her face against his shoulder, and she burst out into helpless sobs.
'Shhh. It's all over now,' he whispered.
It was. She had no more fight left in her. She didn't even have her dignity left. Collapsing against him, her body shook as she cried for her dead husband, her best friend.
The others crowded towards the window, but Tatiana reached it first. From somewhere below the window came a long, fearful moan.
'He's not dead!' Tatty exclaimed.
Daisy caught her breath. She felt Hugo's grip relax as he looked over in surprise and she pushed away from him, rushing to the window. Elbowing her way through the Gideonettes, she leaned out through the broken glass. In the light of the windows two storeys down, she could see Roberto suspended out in the darkness as if by magic.
But then she saw what had saved him. He was bent backwards over the broad neck of a gargoyle and was hanging on precariously to one of its horns.
'Hold on, my love!' she called to him. 'We're coming for you!'
He was obviously in severe pain and could only answer with another moan. She tried to get out past Gideon and his sons, intent on making for the stairs. They held her, turning to Hugo for instructions. He grinned, tugging at his moustache.
'Let us save the young whelp,' he laughed. 'This is the most entertaining night I've had in centuries!'
Despite the hindrance of their hooped skirts, Daisy and Tatiana were first to the door and led the charge down the stairs to Roberto's floor. Only Brunhilde stayed to watch from above. Leaning her hands on the glass-strewn windowsill, she stuck the top half of her body out of the window and opened her mouth wide, letting a thread of spittle drip from her tongue. Then she became completely still. Roberto stared up at her in bewilderment until he realized what she was doing. She was pretending to be a gargoyle.
Nathaniel knew that Slattery would be coming after them, so he led Francie cross-country, winding through the fields and narrow lanes, stumbling over the rough ground in the dim light from the sky. He couldn't stop thinking about Clancy, sure that his manservant must be dead by now. Gerald had taken one look at the wound and shaken his head, but Nate had urged him to do everything he could. Nate nearly tripped on a rabbit hole in the middle of the field and was brought back to his own predicament. He and Francie had been on the move for nearly two hours, but as the sky began to brighten, any hope of making the train station at Kingstown before dawn slowly faded with the darkness. From there he could catch a train to the south and seek refuge with some relatives in Cork.
They were descending a grassy hill, wet and muddied from their flight through the countryside. They could see lights in the windows of one building on the road. It was a pub, and Nate turned towards it, hoping he could borrow or buy a horse from someone within.
As they drew closer, they could hear the sounds of singing voices, fiddles, tin whistles and the beat of bodhrans. There appeared to be a party going on within.
'Must be a wake, to be goin' on at this hour,' Francie said. 'I wonder who for? I know this pub – it's Hanratty's. We're near Stepaside.'
'Hanratty's. That's a Fenian pub, isn't it?' Nate asked.
'Aye, I don't think yeh'll be too welcome there, sir.'
'We'll see about that,' Nate declared, striding ahead.
