Chasing Shadows (51 page)

What she didn’t understand, accident or no, was why he had killed
Edith
. What purpose had it served to masquerade as the Shadow? How could a man she had trusted so implicitly lie to her and comfort her when he had been the reason for her grief?  

Sarah felt a sharp jab of disgusted betrayal behind her ribs, followed quickly by a pang of fear as a memory assaulted her, leaving her breathless. She recalled the raspy sound of the man’s familiar voice, one that she now realized had not belonged to the physician at all. Though she hadn’t seen it, she could hear the scuffle in the back of her mind, the solid
thunk
, the sound of creaking hinges. Then Edith burst into the room, and Damien was leaning on the chest—for support, Sarah had assumed. Now she realized with increasing dread that they had nearly caught him in the act of stashing Gabriel’s dead body.     

She could hardly bring herself to acknowledge the horrifying evidence that Damien had killed Dunlivey and Edith. The man who had laughed with her in the snow and made her feel special—that man did not exist. It was all a lie. The Damien Lisandro she knew was a deceiving murderer.

And she had played right into his hands, believing the lie because she wanted it to be true. How had she been such a fool? She had been deceived, yes, but she had been fool enough to let herself be led into the charade in the first place.

Sarah was suddenly very aware that a murderer twice over had been living across the hall from her. A shiver snaked over her spine at the thought that she had been living mere feet from Edith’s killer. And then, unbidden, she remembered the way Damien made her smile, how he’d held her so tenderly, like she was something precious, and the way that he, shaking and frightened as the tremors overcame his body, had asked her to stay with him. How could that frightened boy be the same monster she envisioned? She couldn’t even compare the two.

She wanted to deny it, to deny all of it—the fact that he had written the letter, her suspicions that he was a cold-blooded killer, and her growing dread that he was involved with Cadius. The only proof she had was the letter he had sealed, and she doubted that would hold up against someone with his connections. She could never get him to confess, even if she had the courage to confront him. What else was there?

The physician.

His face came to the forefront of her mind, startling her in its clarity. He was the only one who knew the truth, who could confirm her suspicions.

With this in mind, Sarah set off for the tower that held the prisoner she sought.

~Chapter 44~

Damien’s door was cracked, and she snuck past his room with a thumping pulse before breaking out into a dead run. The textured paper of the letter brushed against her wrist; she had stuffed the envelope up her sleeve for safekeeping in case Damien discovered her, but she was alone in the hall.

It was eerily quiet as she raced up the steps, skirts hiked, her ragged breaths echoing between the walls of the tight staircase. Nearly fifty steps later, Sarah gasped for breath at the top as she got her bearings. The long corridor that stretched off to the right was immersed in shadows, and she couldn’t make out the end as the passage faded into inky blackness. But it was the vacant cell that concerned her.

She stumbled forward, needing to be sure and unwilling to believe he wasn’t here. The door was open, a single key lodged in the lock and the rest dangling from the ring against the bars. She stepped into the cell with hesitant steps. A bird flapped its wings somewhere outside the tiny window high on the left wall—too far up for anyone to see outside, but she suspected the window’s only purpose was to fill a dead man with the maddening possibility of a glimpse of the sky before he was executed.

Sarah shivered.

But Malcolm wasn’t there.
Maybe he’s in another tower
, she reasoned, even as she felt her heart sink. The thought was weak and formed out of desperation as the walls of the cramped cell pressed in on her. Her eyes searched the space, hoping the physician had left a clue behind. Then she froze, realizing that the sound of the bird’s chirps had been eclipsed by the hurried shuffle of boots on the staircase behind her.

She spun. Damien rounded the corner to the top, immediately catching her wide-eyed, fearful expression. His own face was pained, and he held up his hands as if trying to calm a frightened animal. In one hand was the seal she had dropped on her desk, and with frightening clarity, she realized he’d been in her room. He
knew!

The envelope crinkled inside her sleeve as she fisted her hands. Sarah swallowed, fear coiling in her stomach. She retreated into the cell, though every instinct in her cried out for open spaces.

“Please, let me explain.” Damien’s voice was soft, but distress tainted his words. He took another step toward her into the cell, moving slowly.

She jerked back and hit her shoulder on the wall, planting herself in the corner of the cell, as though it would prevent him from reaching her. “D-don’t come near me.”

He winced at her fear and distrust. Still, he advanced. “It isn’t what you think.”

“Where’s the physician?” she demanded shakily. She tried to mask her fear, but she was quickly losing control over her emotions. She felt betrayed and angry and sorrowful over the fact that this man still had some amount of control over her: She
wanted
to believe him. That was the only reason she hadn’t run from him screaming—to hear him out—though it was also due, in part, to the fact that he blocked her way.

Damien hesitated, eyes crinkling in pain. He stopped close enough to touch her, stuffing the seal in his pocket, though he didn’t reach out. It would only make things worse for her, and it pained Sarah to know that he could still read her so well and cared enough to respect her wishes. “The physician was hanged before dawn. I did not order the execution to be moved.”

“But you followed orders and passed along the message.” She saw the answer in his espresso eyes before he nodded regretfully. Realization hit her like a battering ram. She now knew it had been Dunlivey that Damien had fought with, but why had she not considered the physician’s innocence in light of this? “Malcolm didn’t even attack you, did he? Why frame an innocent man?”

Damien’s eyes were so sorrowful it broke her heart. She tried to harden herself against him, to tamp down the sympathy she felt at the regret in his gaze.

“Because it was convenient,” he whispered, mouth tipping ruefully. “I was ordered to
dismiss
him, and the opportunity seemed to present itself perfectly.” The way he grimaced over the word caused Sarah to think that he hadn’t been commanded to “dismiss” him at all.    

A thought struck her, turning her stomach. “Lisandro was written all over his cell,” she breathed in accusation. “You must have seen that he’d etched it into the stone at some point. It wasn’t out of obsessive retribution, was it? He was sending a warning!” All along he was trying to point out that he was innocent, and Sarah had assumed the physician was crazy. She had done nothing to get him out, and now he was dead.

“I never intended for it to end this way.” Damien reached out to touch her cheek, as if to offer comfort. She imagined it was the same hand that had ended Gabriel’s life. 

Swatting it away, Sarah glared at him, feeling bolder by the minute as her indignation overshadowed her fear and common sense. “You’re a murderer, and you expect me to believe this dribble?”

He froze, shocked at her outburst. She drove the knife in deeper, though her hands were trembling. “I know you killed Dunlivey. I saw his body where you hid it and witnessed your cronies light him up in the forest. Were you the one who had the evidence destroyed, or was that someone else’s doing, too? Cadius, perhaps?” In the back of her mind, Sarah was aware that it was entirely unwise to taunt a murderer, but she was beyond holding back.

Damien looked as though his legs wouldn’t hold him. He shook his head in shock. “How did you—” His head swiveled as he shot a glance down the corridor. Lowering his voice, he whispered desperately, “I’m no murderer.”

“Oh, right.”

His hand flew around her arm in a flash, eyes on fire with the need for her to understand. Sarah winced at his grip. “Honestly! His contract was terminated, and he wouldn’t go peaceably. Dunlivey drew a knife, and when we struggled, he lost his balance and caught his head on the corner of the chest. I panicked and hid his body inside and had just wiped the blood off the edge when you came in.” Sarah recalled Will’s finger grazing the splintered corner of the wood and allowed herself to wonder if there might be some truth to his claim.

Narrowing her eyes at how easily he could sway her, Sarah asked, “And did you stab yourself to make it look like you were the victim?”

Damien shook his head so vehemently it displaced his perfectly arranged locks. “He must have nicked me as he went down. I didn’t even realize he’d stabbed me, I was so frightened at what I had done.”

She didn’t want to believe him, but the panicked sincerity in his eyes made her wonder. “If you were so worried about being found out, then why did it take you so long to get rid of him?”

Fidgeting anxiously, his grip on her arm tightened. She hid her wince with a steadfast glare. “I tried, several times, to dispose of the body, but there was always someone nearby. So I locked the door from the outside and hoped no one would discover him in the meantime.”

He said it like his actions were warranted, like they made sense. Sarah swallowed. Maybe in his mind they did.

“Do you at least regret killing him?” she asked, slightly exasperated. Some part of her wanted to see the old Damien, the one she had started to fall for. 

His sigh was heavy. “I won’t lie to you,” he whispered. Throat working convulsively, he answered, “No, I don’t entirely regret it.” She blinked in surprise at his candor, and by the way he rushed on to explain, she knew her disappointment was palpable. “I didn’t want to, but I had to do it! He would have killed her if I hadn’t gotten to him first.”

His hand slid up her arm to cradle her cheek, eyes filled with torment and regret. She wondered whom he was protecting when his voice softened and he leaned closer, as if to brush his lips to hers. Eyes warm, he whispered, “But I am no murderer, Sarah. I’d never hurt you. And if I have any unwarranted sins, surely your goodness will wipe them clean.”

He was insane! Alarmed at her desire to believe him, added to her rising anxiety as he leaned in, Sarah lost it.

She slapped him so hard the clap echoed through the corridor like a crack of thunder. Damien reeled, losing his grip on her as he slammed into the wall. She saw her chance and bolted around him, running for the door and grabbing hold of it. With a terrible, stridulous sound as it scraped the stones, she slammed the door closed behind her. The force dislodged the key from the lock, and the ring clattered to the floor, skittering a few feet away.

Sarah watched its progress with a panicked gaze and ran to snatch it off the floor, wasting precious seconds she didn’t have. Damien was already on his feet by the time she fumbled to shove a key into the lock. It jammed inside, and she wrenched it free, groping for the next one, her panic increasing with each rapid pulse of her heart. Which one was it?

Her palms were slick, hands trembling uncontrollably. She tried two more, praying she hadn’t gone too fast and missed the right one. Her anxiety grew and, though she knew she had to focus, she couldn’t help glancing up. She let out a startled gasp as Damien charged for the door.

She inserted the key into the lock, rattling the others against the bars. It stuck. Panicked, Sarah jerked it to the right and ripped the key from the hole just as Damien’s hand shot out for her. With a cry of alarm, she lurched back, losing her balance. He reached through the bars, gripping her forearm so tightly that she nearly cried out as his hold forced her against the cell.

“Let me go!” she shrieked, trying to wrench free. But he was too frantic to release her, eyes wild with fright as he pressed his face against the bars, like some feral animal that found itself in a trap. 

“Sarah, please don’t do this,” he pleaded, face so near to her own. “This is bigger than either of us.”

Knowing she couldn’t let him escape, she chucked the keys behind her to keep them from his reach. Damien watched them slide toward the stairs, but he quickly turned his attention back to her. “You must understand that so much of what I’ve done was to keep you safe. You’re in danger.”

“And what about Cadius? Did
he
have me moved so you could keep tabs on me?”

His silence was answer enough, and Sarah glared at him. He was quick to add, “But I only followed through because I wanted to watch out for you: keeping you close meant ensuring your safety, and I was never going to inform him of your dealings. I turned his confidence around to
protect
you.”

“Oh, so now you’re worried about me?” she retorted bitterly. “You tried to shoot me!”

His eyes softened along with his grip. “I was never going to. I’ve always cared about you, and I have done so much to keep you safe. I would never hurt you,” he said again.

Sarah wrenched free of his grasp, eyes blazing. “You killed Edith! And you
held
me after, like you were an innocent.” He winced, but didn’t deny it; she could tell he was tired of lying to her.

Tears of agonized disgust filled her eyes. “You’ve already hurt me, Damien, you’re just too selfish to see it.” She couldn’t keep her voice from quavering. 

His expression was tormented as his eyes closed.
Good.
At that moment, she wanted to hurt him.

“Do you have any idea,” he whispered faintly, “how it tore at me to know I had taken the life of an innocent—someone you cared for? And I could never ask for forgiveness without admitting my guilt. I would have to carry that alone.” Damien opened his eyes, and they bore into hers, searching for some sign of trust. “But I told you it was an accident. Surely you must believe me when I say that no one was supposed to get hurt.”

Sarah glared at him. “Everything I
believed
about you is a lie. You betrayed my trust, manipulated me, and pretended to be my friend. Any amount of faith I ever had in you was buried in the ground right along with Edith.”

Why was she still standing there? She should leave him and never look back. But she stayed rooted to the spot, needing to know
why
he had been there, why it had happened the way it did. She couldn’t walk away with so many unanswered questions. “What was the whole point of the ruse with Robert, anyway? Why single him out?” 

He hesitated, dipping his head in defeat until his hair fell through the bars. “His interest in the vigilante was one of the deciding factors, but I cannot say more than that; it’s too dangerous.” She scoffed.

Damien pressed closer to the barrier, as though he could slip through to the other side and convince her of his innocence. His words came out sounding choked. “I want you to know,” he said, “I
need
you to know that what I feel for you is not a lie. So please believe me when I say that it is too dangerous to tell you, that you will be in greater peril if I reveal my reasons. Everything I’ve done is to protect you, and I will not undo that and risk your safety.”

His tone was so earnest, but how could she trust him? Brokenly, she asked, “And I’m supposed to believe all this? You’ve only caused me hurt.” 

“I saved your life!” Damien cried out suddenly, gripping the bars. His words were filled with frustration over the fact that he was getting nowhere with her. Face awash in misery and defeat, he said more quietly, “I’ve been protecting you for months and would never dream of turning my back on you now. Isn’t that worth something?”