Paxton and the Gypsy Blade (41 page)

His lips were compressed into a thin pale line that she found revolting. His eyes were cold and hard, without compassion or even a modicum of kindness. Hating him and tired of the charade, Adriana slowly raised her arms and, with one quick motion, removed mask and wig and threw them at Bliss's feet.

As if already linked by chains, both Bliss and LeBusque leaned forward and stared.

“Get your own damned wine,” Adriana said. “I'm staying right here.”

“Bitch!” LeBusque grunted.

“That's an excellent idea,” Bliss said, and pulled out Ramon's knife. “I'm sure that you and Monsieur LeBusque will have a great deal to discuss while the governor and I take a little trip upstairs to see about his grandsons.”

Sir Theodotus's eyes hardened. “You propose to add kidnapping to high treason?” he asked, holding up the journal.

“Why not?” Bliss asked with a hollow laugh. “Do you have a better idea? Come, come …” Knife at the ready in his right hand, he beckoned to Sir Theodotus with his left. “We don't have all night. Slowly around the desk, if you please. What about you, Henri? Think you can handle the girl alone this time?”

LeBusque smiled lazily, like the hunting cat who knows his kill cannot escape. “Your sarcasm is unnecessary, Trevor. The mademoiselle and I will share a tender moment—” He stopped in mid-sentence when the french doors swung open.

“Who's out there?” Bliss snapped, having to divide his attention between Sir Theodotus and the doors. “Speak up, damn you!”

A faint rumble filled the air and the room shook ever so slightly.

“Just another tremor,” LeBusque said, returning his attention to Adriana.

“Not quite,” said a cold voice.

“My God, it's Paxton!” Sir Theodotus blurted. “But you're dead!”

Bliss stared uncomprehendingly at the figure brandishing a brace of handguns in the doorway. Never having heard of Paxton, LeBusque looked to Bliss to see what he should do. Adriana took advantage of the distraction to crouch and draw the knife she carried in the sheath strapped to her calf.
This time! Now. Now for Giuseppe!

“Watch out, Trevor!” LeBusque grabbed for Adriana as she hurtled past him, but missed.

Bliss caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, twisted and dropped to one knee just in time to shove Adriana past him and avoid the thrust of her knife.

The last thing Tom wanted to do was fire and bring everyone running. “Stop right there!” he yelled before Bliss could strike Adriana from behind. “Now, all of you listen. I don't give a damn about whatever it is you're fighting about. I want my sons and that's all. Now, you—”

The world itself seemed to explode and the light in the room turned red as fiery rock geysered into the sky from the torn summit of The Sleeping Giant. The floor tilted crazily. Adriana tripped over a chair, rolled, and slammed into a bookcase. Sir Theodotus disappeared behind his desk. Bliss and LeBusque somehow collided and, looking like a pair of confused dancers, found themselves pitched out the door into the hall. Tom, feet planted, pistols held out before him, skidded halfway into the room before the floor tilted back again and, as a hundred books flew at him from the bookcase, he managed to stop.

“Tom!” Adriana screamed from beneath the pile of books.

Sir Theodotus crawled from behind the desk and flinched as a lamp crashed to the floor by his side. “My grandsons,” he croaked, appealing to Tom. “The boys! Oh, God, the mountain's coming apart.”

Dust choked the air as Tom dragged Adriana to her feet. “Upstairs,” she yelled. “They're upstairs!”

The rumbling from the earth continued, became a deep hammering roar that leached courage from the bravest of hearts. The ceiling cracked and pieces of plaster fell. A tongue of flame from the fallen lantern caught in the coal oil-impregnated rug and began to spread. “Lead the way,” Tom shouted over the uproar, pushing Adriana toward the door.

They stumbled into the hall and groped their way to the ballroom. Inside, all was chaos. The main chandelier had fallen and had pinned two unfortunate party goers. Food and drink and broken glass littered the floor, and the smells of wine and food mingled with those of sulfur and smoke and dust. Though less than a minute had passed since the initial eruption, the room was empty save for the wounded. The foyer was another matter, as guests and servants and guards all attempted to crowd through the main door.

The earth shook again. A lantern in the foyer crashed. Burning coal oil spread across the polished wood floor, and what had been panic became sheer terror as the crazed mob, ignoring a half-dozen windows in the adjacent rooms, fought to exit through the door.

“Is there another way?” Tom shouted.

Adriana pulled him back into the ballroom and led the way to a second door that opened into the hall behind the foyer. The foot of the stairway still inaccessible, Tom grabbed the railing and vaulted onto the stairs, then reached over and pulled Adriana up. The guard posted at the top of the stairs was gone. In his place, another fire from a broken lantern had spread to a tapestry and flames licked up the wall. His face grim in the lurid light, Tom ripped the fabric from the wall, covered the burning part with that which had yet to catch fire, and stamped it out, so that at least that fire wouldn't block their way when they left.

“This way,” Adriana called, already halfway down the hall.

The whole building swayed sickeningly. Lurching from wall to wall, Tom rushed to catch up to Adriana, and burst into the room where the boys were supposed to be. “Jason! Joseph!” he roared.

A single lantern hanging from the ceiling swung from side to side. Grotesque shadows danced like mad demons on the walls.

“Jason! Jos—”

“Daddy?” Terrified, the boys had taken refuge under Joseph's bed. “Daddy!” Jason piped, rolling into the open.

Tom wrapped one arm around Jason, helped Joseph out from under the bed, and held them both.

“Where you been, Daddy?” Joseph asked, his arms wrapped around his father's neck.

“Time for that later,” Tom said. “Are you all right?” He held them at arm's length and looked them over briefly. “Jason?”

“Yes.”

“Joseph?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”
No time. No time to rejoice. Hurry.…
“Stay with Adriana a minute.” He rose, went to the window, and threw open the shutters. “Damn,” he swore, reeling away from the blast of heat that burned his face.

Behind him, Adriana pressed the boys' faces to her breast so they couldn't see the horror that was descending upon them. The top of The Sleeping Giant was hidden in a huge cloud of smoke that blotted out the sky. Below it, the forest was afire and, creeping through the fire, a white-hot tongue of lava oozed down the side of the mountain toward the mansion.

“Listen to me,” Tom said, taking a precious moment. “You're going to have to be very brave boys, do you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” two small, frightened voices said in unison.

“Do exactly
what
I say,
when
I say, all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He helped Adriana to her feet, handed Joseph to her, and picked up Jason. “Our only chance is to make it to the water,” he told Adriana. “Stay close. Don't get separated.”

The temperature was rising alarmingly. The hall was choked with fumes and smoke, illuminated feebly by a fire at the far end. Keeping low, below the heaviest layer of smoke, they scuttled down the hall and then stopped at the stairs where, four steps down, Sir Theodotus held a pistol aimed at Tom.

“Pa-paw Theo!” Joseph squealed. “See? My papa's come!”

“Aren't you glad?” Jason added. “Now we don't have to be afraid.”

Sir Theodotus's coat was torn. He'd lost his wig and tears tracked through the soot and dust covering his face. “They're all I have of her,” he sobbed. “All—”

“No, Topaz!” Tom yelled suddenly. “Don't! It's all right!”

Sir Theodotus looked around and saw an Indian at the bottom of the stairs. Both the man's arms were raised, and each hand held a knife ready for throwing. Slowly, his wits recovered, Sir Theodotus turned so the Indian could see that his gun was no longer aimed at Tom, then carefully took if off cock and lowered it. “Very well, Paxton,” he said as Topaz sheathed his knives. His eyes met Tom's, and he read in that single implacable eye the message of love and conciliation he'd refused to read there five years earlier. “You win. I've a boat in a small cove below the house. With luck … at least we won't be trapped in town with everyone else. Follow me!”

Tom supporting Adriana, they took the stairs two at a time, tried to turn left, but were blocked by a wall of fire. “You want me to carry boy?” Topaz asked Adriana.

“No,” Tom shouted above the roar of the flames. “She can handle him. Keep your hands free just in case. Here. Take this, too,” he added, thrusting one of his pistols into Topaz's hand.

The front door was blocked by a dozen dead and wounded victims of the earlier crush. Sir Theodotus, ignoring one man's plea for assistance, turned right, into the ballroom. “Help me!” he yelled, pointing to a chair and then to one of the windows.

Topaz picked up the chair, heaved it through the frames, and broke out the remaining glass at the bottom. He stepped through, helped Adriana, then Tom, then Sir Theodotus just as the ceiling gave way and buried the room in chunks of plaster and wood beams. “Which way?” Tom yelled.

“Tom!”

“It's Maurice,” Adriana cried.

Maurice and Sanchez hurried toward them from the front of the house and joined them on the verandah. Behind them, the forest was an inferno and the white tongue of lava advanced ever closer. “No goin' around that,” Maurice shouted. “Jesus, you ever see anything like it?”

“We've got to get around the house,” Sir Theodotus interrupted.

“He's on our side?” Sanchez asked in astonishment.

“You weren't either, once,” Tom pointed out. “C'mon, let's go.”

“Not around front,” Maurice said as Sir Theodotus started that way. “It's an unholy mess. Here,” he said to Adriana. “Give me that young'un.”

The heat was growing painfully intense and the noise was becoming deafening. Shielding themselves and the boys as best they could, they followed Sir Theodotus to the relative coolness at the far side of the mansion and stopped to catch their breath and take their bearings. Lighted as bright as day by the surrounding fires, the south lawn looked as if a battle had been fought there. The horses were trapped by fire on one side and high walls on all the others. Some, hauling conveyances, plunged about madly, others with broken legs lay thrashing and screaming in pain. “The gate's over there,” Sir Theodotus explained, his voice weak from exhaustion and fear. “If I fall, a path winds down—”

“You won't,” Tom said, nodding for Sanchez to lend the older man a hand. “Hold on to my belt,” he told Adriana as he started across the lawn, “and everybody keep an eye out for the horses.”

Time stood still in that plunging, headlong flight from the fires of hell. Mercifully, Topaz paused to slit the throats of three screaming horses with shattered legs. Behind them, the mansion caved in as yet another strong tremor shook the ground. Tom tripped and fell, but somehow managed not to crush Jason; Adriana helped him up and started him in the right direction.

The gate had been torn from its hinges. Single file, they entered the forest and forged quickly ahead through the shadows. To their right, a massive white-hot chunk of lava fell from the sky and set the trees afire. Behind them, a tremendous explosion rocked them almost senseless, and more trees caught fire and crashed to the ground. Adriana's eyes streamed tears, her cheeks felt parched, her mouth was dry as chalk. The path was treacherously narrow and sloped sharply. Running blindly after Tom, she stumbled, willed her numbed legs and feet to obey, and somehow kept her balance and cheated death.

Down from the governor's roost with its view of the sea, away from the port now obscured by the intervening hills, away from the inexorable pursuing flow of deadly lava, down to the water's edge … a gale of fresh air, sucked in to replace the heated air rising from the conflagration, cooled her face. Her lungs seared, her sides splitting, her legs cramping, Adriana staggered down the last few feet of incline and almost fell as the ground leveled and her feet dug into soft sand.

The cove was small, its waters shallow. To the east, a waterfall dropped over a sheer rock wall that jutted into the Caribbean and protected the cove from the Atlantic trades. “I'm not much of a sailor, so it hasn't been in the water very often,” Sir Theodotus shouted against the unnatural wind. He pointed out an overturned hull that had been pulled far up the beach. “The sail and mast are underneath.”

“It'll have to do. You two take the boys,” Tom yelled, and hurried off to help turn over the boat and haul it into the water.

Adriana looked back the way they'd come. The green, wet subtropical forest was no match for the temperatures generated by the volcano. Dried and withered by the heated air sucked into the fire storm, tree after tree, each one closer to the shore, exploded into flames.

“You knew he was alive, didn't you?” Sir Theodotus yelled as he and Adriana led the boys toward the water.

“Yes, but only a few days ago.”

“So while I was preoccupied with Bliss … ahhh, never mind. Maybe it serves me right.”

“Are we gonna die, 'Driana?” Joseph asked tearfully.

“Of course not.” She almost choked on the words, but forced herself to smile and say them. “Your father's here to take you home. He's not going to let a little volcano stop him. Now, let's get wet so the heat won't bother us. Just lie down and stay close to the edge …”

“You come too, Pa-paw Theo,” Jason called, his eyes wide and innocent.