Dancing on the Wind

Chapter 37

A good thing the enemy was retreating, for the smoke made Michael choke so badly that for a time he was incapable of firing. When he could speak again, he said, "Close quarters are rotten for fighting-give me an open field any day."

"I prefer shooting cannon from a ship myself." Jason reloaded his pistol. "Lots of fresh air, and the enemy keeps his distance. Shall we get out of this corridor before they rally?"

"Excellent idea." After another fit of coughing, Michael gasped, "Back up to the gallery. There was a door on the far side that might take us down on the other side of the portcullis."

Moving fast, they retraced their path to the cross corridor. They were about to head for the stairs when they heard angry voices in that direction. The guards were planning another assault. Since the sanctuary, complete with Disciples, was the other way, they darted across the intersection into the corridor that was a continuation of the one they had come from.

When they were safely across and out of sight, they halted to consider the next step. Jason said, "Shall we try the stairs anyhow? I suspect that we can outfight any of this lot."

"Probably," Michael agreed, "but we came here to perform a rescue, not start a war. Let's see where this passage goes first. There's air moving through, so it's not a dead end. With luck, we'll find another way up or around to where Luce and the ladies are. This place may be a bloody maze, but it can't cover that great an area."

Jason nodded, and they went ahead with the lantern that had survived the attack. As Michael had hoped, the passage turned and started to double back on itself. The soft chalk in this section was shored up with wooden props. As a mine owner, he recognized the technique. The stone must be particularly bad here, for rough boards had been laid for a floor.

He frowned. There was something odd about the prop ahead…

Because he was studying it, he saw the flash of light as something began whipping toward him at head level. He dived for the floor. "Down!"

The American followed his lead just in time to avoid being decapitated by a blade that swung across the corridor parallel to the floor. It looked like a giant reaper's sickle, with a blade sharp enough to cut an intruder in half.

"Christ!" Jason said breathlessly. "This place is full of nasty little devices. How did we set off this one?"

Michael watched as the blade swung back and disappeared into a slot in the wall. It must have been propelled by a giant spring concealed behind the wooden strut. "These boards weren't put down to cover holes, but to conceal the trigger. I think this light-colored board moved when I stepped on it."

He shoved on it with the heel of his hand. Again the blade swung over their heads with a wicked hiss. After it had folded demurely back into place, Michael said, "The triggers have to be obvious enough so that whoever devised these traps can avoid them himself. If we're careful, we should be able to spot them."

"I wish I shared your touching faith." Jason got cautiously to his feet and stepped over the trigger board. "Blockade running was never like this."

"One of the things I like about Lucien is that life is never dull in his vicinity." Michael stood and raised the lantern, which he had managed to avoid breaking. "Shall we see what lies ahead?"

Travers sketched a mock salute. " 'Lay on, Macduff, and damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!' "

Kit tried to dally, but Mace forced the issue by opening the door before she had finished dressing. His avid expression made her hastily pull the high black boots over her lace stockings. She dared not push him too far. Though Mace might have enjoyed being whipped in the past, tonight he seemed primed for straightforward rape.

When she stood, he ordered, "Turn around."

She obeyed slowly, afraid of what a quick movement might do to her costume, which was the most indecent garment imaginable. In front it was slashed to the navel with leather thongs crisscrossing over bare flesh to hold the fabric together. The arrangement left her breasts and midriff half exposed. Similar slashes revealed provocative swathes of her backside. She felt more naked than if she had been truly nude.

Mace stared at the bright butterfly that was visible through the black lace stocking. "Wonderful! Even the tattoo is the same. But the laces are too loose. I'll tighten them myself."

She tried to back away when he approached her, but he whipped his knife from the scabbard and touched the tip to her throat. "Hold still," he hissed.

For some reason the knife, with its ability to slash and mutilate, was more frightening than the pistol. She stood rigid while he sheathed the blade, then grasped the thongs that laced the chemise over her breasts. He pulled them so tightly her that nipples showed clearly under the tight black satin. She could scarcely breathe, and the thongs would leave a lattice of crimson welts in her bare flesh, if she lived long enough.

"Yet surely you are not quite identical." He tied the bow, but instead of moving away he began to skim his hands over the satin-covered curves of her body. The heat of his palms on her breasts made her flesh recoil.

"Before I am done, I will discover the differences," he said huskily. "Since your sister is the wicked twin, I suppose you are the good one." He pinched her nipples with brutal force. "In some ways, that is even more titillating."

She bit her lip to keep from whimpering. She would not give him the satisfaction of showing her disgust, for she sensed that he would revel in a woman's fear.

He stepped back with visible regret. "Later. Now we must collect Cassie the First."

He bound her wrists behind her with a wide scarlet ribbon the exact shade of fresh blood. Then he gestured with his pistol for her to precede him.

The place was a rabbit warren of passages. After several confusing turns, they emerged into a guardroom containing a massive door. Slumbering peacefully on the floor was a bound man.

Mace's face darkened. "Stupid fool!"

Keeping Kit beside him, he threw open the door and gestured for her to enter first. She knew instantly that it had been Kira's prison; the very air was saturated with her twin's essence. But she was gone now; Lucien must have found her. Kit would have crowed with relief if she hadn't feared that doing so would trigger Mace's violence.

He swore viciously, then snarled, "I shall take you to the sanctuary. My associates can play with you while I recover your sister. Now move." He jabbed the pistol barrel into her ribs.

He gave her no opportunity to escape during the nightmare journey. As they neared the large chamber, she heard the buzz of excited voices. The talk ceased as soon as she stepped inside the sanctuary. Every man's gaze went to Kit. She wanted to cringe and cover herself with her hands. Since that was impossible, she thought of a play she had seen about Anne Boleyn, who went to the scaffold with unshakeable dignity.

She withdrew into herself as far as possible, as if she were on stage. This wasn't real, it was only a play. Head high, she walked toward the altar. The two roaring fires made the air very warm, which was welcome given her skimpy attire. She couldn't think of a single other advantage to her situation.

Her path took her through the rings of warrior statues. Close up, they seemed even larger than they had appeared from above. She passed between a Red Indian with a spear and a mailed Crusader, without looking up. But she could not ignore the crowd of scarlet-robed men with their hungry eyes and obscene comments. Worse,some of them fondled her with outrageous intimacy as she walked through the group. She kept moving, her eyes straight ahead, until she reached the altar.

All of her chief suspects were at the forefront of the group. The men behind were other Hellions, but none had seemed important when she was investigating, and that was still true now; they were simply followers. The evil here came from the leaders-it was written on their faces.

Lord Nunfield and Roderick Harford studied her with frank lust. More detached, Chiswick drawled, "So you managed to engage Cassie James. Excellent, Mace. She's enough to titillate even the most jaded palate."

Sir James Westley said cheerily, "I prefer 'em a little meatier myself, but then, we've never sacrificed a female of such distinguished achievements. She'll do splendidly."

Voice portentous, Mace said, "It's even better than you think, gentlemen. This is not Cassie James, but her identical twin sister. Surely you have all dreamed of having twins, equally lovely, equally helpless." His lightless eyes flared with menace. "The real Cassie has become lost in the corridors, so I must go find her."

That aroused another babble of comments. Detachedly, Kit observed that all of the men wore the ceremonial scabbards and holsters. She wondered if the knives would be used on her.

Mace beckoned for his brother to come forward. "Take charge of this one while I find the other," he said in a low voice.

Harford frowned. "I've seen her before." He snapped his fingers. "This is the slut who tried to rob me at the ball!"

"Really?" Mace looked at Kit with respect. "So you braved Blackwell Abbey in your search for your sister. You're a bold wench." Turning back to his brother, he said, "Strathmore came with her, and he seems to have freed the sister. Did you manage to eliminate the other two men?"

Harford scowled. "Afraid not-the guards turned coward under fire, and while they were getting their nerve back, Strathmore's cronies slipped away. They're being hunted, but it could take a while to corner them."

Mace frowned. "I'll keep an eye out while I look for Strathmore and the twin. Since they don't know the passages, it shouldn't take long to find them. When I do, I'll take care of him and bring her here so we can start our ceremony."

Kit gave silent thanks that Mace seemed to be another one who underestimated Lucien. But it was unluckily true that Mace's knowledge of the terrain gave him an enormous advantage.

She opened her mind enough to search for her sister. As soon as she did, her heart spasmed with fear.

Lucien and Kira were close, dangerously close.

The twists and turns of the passages were hopelessly confusing. As they searched for a way through, Lucien's anxiety kept building. Then Kira stopped dead, her face ashen. "Dear God, he's got Kit!"

Her words confirmed Lucien's worst fears. "You're sure?"

"Positive." Kira pointed ahead and to the right. "She's that way." Her face crumpled and tears showed in her eyes. "She's frightened half to death."

The same hazy expression that he had seen so often on Kit's face was now clouding Kira's. Knowing he must catch her before she slid away, he asked, "Has she been physically harmed?"

"I don't think so." Kira exhaled, her face clearing a little. "It's my fault Kit is in danger. If I hadn't gone on the stage, this wouldn't have happened. Kit was right to object-she's always right."

He took her elbow, saying firmly, "You can feel guilty later. Now we have to find Kit and get her away from Mace."

Making a supreme effort, Kira focused herself and started forward. But knowing Kit's general direction was a far cry from finding the route. The corridors twisted infuriatingly, leading to dead ends, shrines to gargoylelike deities, and more bones. Neither of them spoke, for Kira needed all of her concentration to track her sister.

Finally they turned a corner and saw a pair of tapestry curtains ahead. On the other side was brighter light and rumbling voices. Lucien halted. "I think we've found Mace's sanctuary and his beastly associates. Wait here while I take a closer look."

Kira bit her lip. "Kit is that way."

"Yes, but not necessarily in the sanctuary itself," he said as he led her back around the corner. "If she isn't there, it will be safer to try to go around. Wait here and don't move." He hated leaving her, but if he was seen and captured, at least she would have some, chance of escaping into the tunnels.

Remembering that Kit had said her sister was a good shot, he pulled out the pistol he had taken from the guard. "You should be safe for the few moments it will take me to investigate, but would you like this, just in case?"

She nodded and tucked her whip under her arm, accepting the gun with visible relief. As she expertly broke open the pistol to check that it was in firing condition, she said, "It's good to have a weapon after months of being helpless."

Feeling reasonably sure she would be safe, he rounded the corner and silently went down the passage to the tapestry curtains. He parted them a crack and looked through. As he had guessed it was the sanctuary, complete with warrior statues, bonfires, and scarlet-clad Disciples. His gaze went immediately to Mace, who was striding arrogantly away from the center of the circle.

If Mace was present, Kit must be as well. He scanned the circle, and found her standing in front of the altar with Roderick Harford's knife at her breast. Even though she was dressed exactly like Kira, she managed to look as dignified as Marie Antoinette surrounded by peasants.

The sight sent berserker rage flaring through him. He wanted to hurl himself into the room and dismember every man there. Reminding himself that mindless impulse wouldn't save her, he clamped down his fury and weighed the possible courses of action.

There were at least a dozen men there, all carrying knives and pistols. Though they might not all be party to the full spectrum of Mace's evil, none could be counted on as allies. It took only a few seconds to reach the grim conclusion that there was nothing he could do that might not endanger Kit.

Intuition said that the longer she was in the hands of Mace and Harford, the greater the risk to her. Therefore, he must act immediately. A pity that Michael and Jason weren't here, but he dared not wait to find them.

There was a chance, slim but better than none, that he could free Kit by pure effrontery. Pistol in hand, he pushed aside the tapestry and stepped into the light. Pitching his voice so that it would dominate the chamber, he barked, "Let her go, Harford."

Everyone turned and stared at him with surprise. Kit's gaze met his, stark with relief. He hoped to God that her faith in him wasn't misplaced.

Recovering quickly from his shock, Mace said jovially, "Ah, Lucifer. You've come to join us. I was afraid that because of the weather, you might not get here in time to play your role." As he spoke, he edged back toward the altar.

"Stop pretending," Lucien said flatly. "This is no game, but criminal folly. If you don't release her, you or your brother will die." He started to move forward through the ring of statues.

Eyes sparkling with malice, Mace cried, "The time has come to seal the circle!" He leaned down and wrenched on a long lever that rose from the floor next to the altar.

The statues came alive.