Raven (Legends Saga Book 2) (24 page)

A hot rush of color filled Edgar’s cheeks
, straight up to his earlobes. “How do you know that name?”

“You
are
not
a simpleton,” Lenore snipped, flipping her blonde curls over her shoulder to glance back at Augustus. “Do yourself a favor and do not pretend to be. You know very well how I know Douglas. You have known since the night you brought me back.”

And there it was. The
secret he had been keeping for fear of upsetting his delicate flower, splayed out naked and exposed. Even so, the guilt he expected did not come. Mainly because the woman before him now could be called many things, but delicate was not one of them.

“
Enough of this.” Edgar’s hand closed around her upper arm as he spun her away from Augustus and toward the exit. “We are leaving.”

He pretended not to notice the smirk of amusement that tugged at her lips, or the fact that she wasn’t
even trying to resist. What he could
not
ignore was her singsong chant that echoed off the hallway walls. “Where are the angels? I counted off three: Pamela, Suzanne, and Natalie. Where are the angels? I counted off three: Pamela, Suzanne, and Natalie.”

Resolve
building, Edgar marched on. All around them the partygoers fell silent, turning their shocked gawks toward the ruckus. The moment they reached the foyer, with its blue light lapping over the walls like soft waves, Lenore yanked her arm back with a sharp snap and broke free from his hold.

Pirouetting to the center of the room
with her skirt fanning out around her, she continued her mantra. “Where are the angels? I counted off three; Pamela, Suzanne, and Natalie.” Mid-spin she paused, her hand fluttering to her mouth in a mock gasp as she feigned innocence to the curious onlookers. “This was their home. Is it taboo for me to utter their names?”

The commotion lured forth the
men from the black room. Lenore turned to welcome them with a wide, villainous grin that injected an acidic burning dread straight in Edgar’s veins.

“Who are you to come into my home and speak the names of those who I have lost?”
Augustus snarled, spittle foaming at the corners of his thick lips.

A respectful woman would have bowed her head in apology and taken a demure step back. Not Lenore. Squaring her shoulders, she tipped her head and allowed her hair to
wave behind her like a silk curtain being drawn. “Who am I?
I
am justice for those that have had their voices stolen from them, and tonight I come for
you
.”

Fighting to maintain his composure in front of his guests, Augustus’s
face bloomed from red to purple. “I will
not
be spoken to in such a fashion in my own home, by a
woman
no less!” His beady-eyed gaze flicked to the well-dressed men that flanked him. “Escort her out. Be quiet about it, lest we ruin the party.”

Lenore shifted her weight from one foot to the other, cocking
each hip in the direction of her sway. Her blatant nonchalance caused warning bells to chime a deafening chorus in Edgar’s mind.
This
was the very reason she wanted to come here. The thought of what could possibly come next in her plan caused streams of sweat to streak down his back. Not for fear of
her
safety, but for that of every bystander in the ostentatious home.

“Lenore,” he rasped, his voice deep with emotion. “Let us take our leave. Clearly, coming here was a mistake.”

“Lenore, is it?” A building of a man with bushy auburn sideburns leered, taking a threatening step closer. “Pretty name for a pretty lass. Unfortunately, sometimes ugly things happen to even the prettiest of women.”

Her narrow shoulder’s sh
aking with a half-heart chuckle, Lenore plucked the mask from her face and tossed it aside. A collective gasp from the onlookers sucked the air from the room. Raising her chin, she seemed to revel in the ghastly pallor the blue light bestowed on her pale skin; sharpening the jagged edges of her scars and filling the hollows beneath her eyes with the shadows of looming fatality.

“Do your worst, sir,” Lenore openly taunted, a devilish gleam brightening her ethereal eyes. “For I shall do mine.”

Nine simple words. That was all it took for
panic to erupt in the manor. Shrieking guests dashed for the door, fearing the wrath they believed to be the mistress of the damned. A skirmish of shoving bodies, frantic shouts, and overturned furniture followed, all with Edgar’s dark angel as the cause. Silently, those with a vested interest—Edgar, Augustus and his crew—watched the spectacle … and waited.

When the last of the footfalls faded into the night, Augustus fixed his murderous stare on Lenore.
“You made a mistake the second you stepped foot in my home. Now, you shall learn what becomes of little girls that do not have the sense to respect their station.” His double chin wobbled as he dipped his head in a brief nod to his men.

The
towering redhead was the first to heed the call, his broad chest swelling with enthusiasm for the charge. Lenore feigned demure, watching his advance through wide, innocent eyes. His face ripened to the hue of his hair in the thunder of his attack. Only when he bore down, merely an arm distance away, did she act. She plucked the torch from its tripod with the ease of freeing a wilted rose from its stem. Hot air whooshed, sparks flew, as she swung at her would-be attacker. The torch connected with his jaw in a bone-crushing crunch, the sickening smell of burning hair immediately filling the space. He didn’t emit so much as a peep when his head snapped back at a grossly unnatural angle.

The muscles of his arms twitched involuntarily.

His eyes rolled back.

In a heap of lifeless
flesh, he thudded to the ground.

Edgar crouched behind a table that had been overturned in the mass exodus,
peering up at his heaving beauty as if seeing her for the first time. Grasping the fabric of her full skirt with her free hand, she hoisted it up just enough to step over the body. One wide stride, with no outward signs of regret for the life she had taken.

“Get the torch!” Augustus boomed, purposely hanging back while the three remaining men
moved in.

“Is this the torch to which you are referring?” Lenore asked
in a tone as smooth as velvet, before coolly casting her weapon aside. The hand woven rug ignited in an eager blaze, causing the two men moving in from the right to pull up short.

The heavier set of the three d
ucked to the left, out of the range of the licking flames. Lowering his shoulder, he prepared to plow right through Lenore’s slim frame. Achieving the same practiced grace of a trained matador, she spun clear of his assault, somehow managing to snake an arm over his shoulder in the process to seize him by the chest. She heaved him off his feet with a jerk and twist, the result audibly fatal. He drew his last gurgled breath, staring into the vacant eyes of his friend who had gone before him on the great journey into the beyond.

Smoke and flames filled the room, a ravenous beast lapping up substance wherever it could be found. Covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve
, Edgar crept around the outskirts of the foyer in search of an opportunity to whisk Lenore from the growing inferno. Regrettably, he wasn’t the only one looking for such a chance. A grey-haired man, with his scraggly pony-tail knotted at the nape of his neck, dodged his way between the flames.

His thin lips curled
back, to reveal a front tooth missing from his snarl. “Let us see how you fair against a real ma—”

Lenore’s hand darted out,
her clamped digits catching his throat and cutting off his attempted threat. “I think I am fairing quite well, thank you.” 

Motion to the right whipped her head around. Augustus
had pivoted on his heel and was retreating back down the hall. Grinding her teeth in frustration, Lenore administered one quick pulse of her hand that crushed her captor’s windpipe.

“Lenore!” Edgar
’s scream morphed into a coughing fit, the smoke chaffing his throat raw. “Please, my flower, stop this! Let us take our leave now before the opportunity escapes us!”

“
Nothing
will escape me this night.” An icy chill of determination turned her bold statement into an open threat.

Seemingly oblivious to the sweltering blaze around her,
Lenore stalked after Augustus. The last, and gangliest, member of his crew positioned himself directly in her path. His quaking hands rose—as if it was possible to stop a rampant freight train with a stick. Amethyst eyes bored right through him. Lenore’s slender fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, casual as an afterthought, and flung him headlong into the sea of flames crackling behind her. Ignoring his agonized shrieks, she continued on in her pursuit.

Edgar
longed to offer the man aid, yet found himself helpless to do anything more than watch in horror as the flames quickly stilled his writhing. Placing one hand against the wall, Edgar forced himself to stumble on, the heat of the room scorching his skin like brisket on a spit. Three bends in the hall and the air become more breathable—a reprieve he knew would be fleeting.

Blinking hard to clear his
tearing eyes, Edgar called out once more, “Lenore?”

The only response he received came in the form of a loud crash from around the next bend that shook the floor beneath his feet. The
high-pitched scream that followed could have easily belonged to a slightly deranged woman, or a man terrified to his very core. Pushing himself off the wall, Edgar raced on, his shoes clacking over the wood floors.

The black room—with its
lapping and rolling shimmers of crimson—provided a fitting backdrop for the deadly showdown. Augustus had somehow produced a pearl-handled dagger with which he lashed out wildly to keep the glowering Lenore at bay.

“Keep her away from me!”
the quivering man pleaded, his gaze risking a momentary flick to Edgar. “I can reward you generously!”

“And there we find the motivating force behind Augustus Fantaine.” L
enore prowled the length of the room, back and forth like a caged animal. “Monetary gain, even if it is acquired in the most bloody and barbaric of ways. Tell me, did Pamela, Suzanne, and Natalie
pay
for this party? Did their pounds of flesh allow for this elaborate show?”

“I
have no idea to what you are referring,” Augustus stammered, his panicked gaze searching the room for an escape route. “My family was lost to the plague. It was a horrid, unspeakable tragedy.”

Lenore paused, her slender arms folding in front of her. “The plague in your own home, yet
you
survived? If lies could swell the tongue you would be choking on your own deceit.”

“I speak the truth! They were
everything to me and I lost them!” He rendered his argument invalid by lunging for Lenore’s mid-section with his readied blade.

Her face devoid of emotion,
Lenore caught his wrist and squeezed in a white-knuckle grasp that stole a yelp from his lips. “You did not
lose
them. You knew right where they were …
and
who you were turning them over to.”

Sweat dripp
ing from his brow, Augustus frantically shook his head. “No …
no
! You are mistaken! I would never—”

Placing one finger to
his lips, Lenore quietly shushed him, “
Shhhh
, free the burdens from your soul while you still can.
Admit
that you never thought of them, at all, after the bounty changed hands. After you saw the betrayal and hurt on their faces. After you handed over
your own wife and children
, you never gave them a second thought. Did you?”

Edgar’s head volleyed from Lenore
, to Augustus, and back again, his pulse pounding in his ears. Bile burned the back of his throat in disgust over this revelation. “Is
this
why you brought me here? Lenore, are they speaking to you?”

Augustus’s eyes widened
. Desperately he tried to pull away, but could gain no ground. “
I knew it
! You are some sort of
witch
!”

Slowly, Lenore turned his wrist. Angling the blade still clasped in his hand, she forced it to his throat with enough pressure to dimple the skin. Taking a brazen step forward, she wet her lips and let her voice drop to a seductive murmur.
“Witches work their magicks from afar. What I plan to do will be done at the most
intimate
of proximities.”

Edgar’s mouth opened and shut
, his deficient mind searching for some approach that would sway her from this quest. “Lenore,” he pleaded, “you do not have to do this—”

“Oh, but I do.”
Both her hands closed around Augustus’s, securing the dagger from slipping free from his fingers. “Did you think they made it quick for them, Augustus?”