Death Du Jour

“You lie!”

“You’re not going to hit your cosmic quota.”

“The signs have been sent. The apocalypse is now and we will rise from the ashes!”

Her eyes were black holes in the flickering light. I recognized the look for what it was. Madness.

I was about to respond when I heard the snarling and yapping of dogs. The sound was coming from deep inside the lodge.

I yanked desperately, but the ropes only tightened. My breathing turned to frenzied gasping. It was reflex, unthinking struggle.

I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t get free! And what if I did? I was there among them.

“Please,” I begged.

Elle stared, her eyes unfeeling.

A sob escaped me as the barking grew louder. I continued to thrash. I would not submit passively, however hopeless my resistance.

What had the others done? I saw the torn flesh and punctured skulls. The barking turned to growls. The dogs were very near. Fear beyond control overcame me.

I twisted to see and my eyes swept across the bay window. My heart froze. Had I seen figures moving outside?

Don’t draw attention to the window!

I dropped my gaze and rotated back to Elle, still straining, but my thoughts now on the outside. Was there still hope of rescue?

Elle watched me wordlessly. One second passed. Two. Five. I spun myself to the right and stole another peek.

Through the ice and condensation I saw a shadow slide from left to right.

Distract her!

I pivoted back and fixed my eyes on Elle. The window was to her left.

The barking grew louder. Closer.

Say anything!

“Harry doesn’t believe in—”

The door burst inward, then I heard deep voices.

“Police!”

Boots chocked on hardwood.

“Haut les mains!” Hands up!

Snarling and yelping. Shouts. A scream.

Elle’s mouth turned to an oval, then to a thin, dark line. She drew a gun from the folds of her dress and aimed it at something behind me.

The instant her eyes left me I wrapped my fingers around the ropes, threw my hips forward, kicked out with my feet, and arched toward her. Pain screamed through my shoulders and wrists as my body swung out, my arms in full extension. I flexed my hips and brought my boots up, hitting her arm with the full force of my weight. The gun flew across the room and out of my field of vision.

My feet slammed to the floor and I scrabbled backward to relieve the pressure on my upper limbs. When I looked up, Elle stood frozen, an SQ muzzle trained on her chest. One dark braid had fallen and looped her forehead like a brocade sash.

I felt hands on my back and heard voices speak to me. Then I was free and strong arms half dragged, half carried me to a couch. I smelled wintry air and wet wool. English Leather.

“Calmez-vous, madame. Tout va bien.”

My arms were lead, my knees were jelly. I wanted to sink back and sleep forever but I struggled to stand.

“Ma soeur! I have to find my sister!”

“Tout est bien, madame.” Hands pressed me back into the cushions.

More boots. Doors. Shouted commands. I saw Elle and Daniel Jeannotte handcuffed and led away.

“Where’s Ryan? Do you know Andrew Ryan?”

“Take it easy, you’re going to be fine.” English.

I tried to pry myself loose.

“Is Ryan all right?”

“Relax.”

Then Harry was beside me, eyes enormous in the dreamlike gloom.

“I’m scared,” she murmured in a thick, slurry voice.