Author: Tiffany Reisz

“You know I didn’t imagine them.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve lived your life without fear and without regrets and without giving a damn what anyone thought of you. Don’t start that nonsense now.”

“I left you.”

“You had every right to leave me. My God, Eleanor, the tests I put you through, the trials...”

“Don’t forget that stick you made me water for six months.”

“I remember. I was never shocked that you left me. Only shocked you didn’t leave me sooner.”

“You were kind of a hard-ass,” she said, grinning at the memories that barreled through her mind with the force and speed of a runaway train. Watering that damn dead stick in the ground as if it were a living plant...changing her clothes seven times in a row because Søren had a specific ensemble in mind he wanted her to wear and they wouldn’t leave Kingsley’s house until she guessed what it was and put it on...lying curled up on the floor of the Eighth Circle, his shod feet resting on her back as he used her that night as a footstool and nothing more—he didn’t even beat her or fuck her or even kiss her. She’d been nothing but furniture.

“You’re being too kind.”

“Okay, you were an unbelievable hard-ass.”

“That’s better.”

“I loved it, though. I loved being yours. Even when I carried that stupid watering can out to water that fucking stick, I loved it. I knew you tortured me like that because you loved me, because you wanted me to be strong.”

“You were always strong, Little One. I only ever wanted you to be mine.”

Nora leaned against his chest again and he bent to kiss her forehead.

“I am yours,” she whispered. “I always was. Even when I was with someone else...I was always yours.”

“I know,” he said with utter arrogance.

She growled in frustration and fury. The unfairness, the absolute unfairness, that this injustice, this travesty, was happening to Søren of all people...she could have screamed, could have cried all the way to heaven.

“It’s not fair, it’s not. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.” Nora felt the dagger in her hand and wanted to plunge it into her own heart to give it respite from all the pain. Maybe she would.

“It’s not?” Søren asked, his voice tinged with amusement. “You’ve already decided how we’re supposed to die?”

“I have. I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

“That’s very...Catholic of you,” he said.

“I’ve even seen it.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re going to be one of those men who gets more handsome with every passing year. You’ll be like Christopher Plummer—handsome even when you’re eighty.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk with you about your unhealthy level of interest in him.”

“He’ll return my emails eventually, I know he will.”

“Or file a restraining order.”

Nora laughed as the vision danced across her mind’s eye.

“It’ll be peaceful, quiet...” she said. “You’re fourteen years older than me. I’ve had to face that fact since the day we met. Barring a bus hitting me in downtown Manhattan, you’ll go first.”

“Something I’m profoundly grateful for.”

“You’ll be in the rectory reading the Bible in your favorite chair by the fireplace and you’ll...you’ll fall asleep.” She saw it all in her mind’s eye. The hand holding the Bible...the Bible slipping from his fingers and fluttering to the floor. “That’s where I’ll find you when I sneak in that night. In that chair asleep. And I’ll know...I’ll know you’re gone. And I’ll kiss your beautiful hand and put the Bible on the bookshelf. I’ll take your collar and I’ll go away. I’ll disappear.”

“Into thin air?”

“Almost. I’ll go north to my mother’s convent. I’ll bribe them if I have to, and they’ll let me in. And that’s where I’ll stay the rest of my life.”

“Giving up? That’s not like you, Little One.”

“Not giving up at all. I’ll be so busy I’ll need the quiet of a convent and no distractions. I’m going to write books about us, you and me. And Kingsley and Juliette and Griffin and Michael and Zach and Grace. That’s what I’ll do with my last years.”

“I told you that you weren’t allowed to write about me.”

“You’ll be dead. What do you care?”

“My ghost will be most put out with you.”

“But will your ghost put out?” she teased.

“If you’re good.”

“I won’t be good.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I’ll be wicked until my last day. I’ll write one wild, wicked book after the next. I’ll change our names, change the locations, change the dates, the details. But it’ll be us, our story. I’ll write the books in third person so Zach won’t kill me. He hates first-person novels. Plus if it’s third person I can write about how beautiful and sexy I am and it won’t sound arrogant.”

“Good plan. Will these books be comedies or tragedies?”

“Both. Just like life.”

“Will I be a hero in your stories? Or the villain?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Nora confessed. “But I promise you this...I will give you the last laugh.”

“Then that’s all I can ask.”

“And after I give you the last laugh, I’ll put my pen away and I’ll fall asleep. And when I wake up, you and I will be back together. I’ll be fifteen again and you’ll be twenty-nine and it will all start over again—you and I. That’s how I’ll know I’m in heaven.”

“My Little One...”

“I love you,” she said, not able to go on any longer without him hearing those words, without her saying them. “I always loved you. I never once stopped loving you. All those times I said I hated you, I never meant them, not once. I loved every part of you, every secret, every sin. I love what you are and what you do and how you make me feel so scared and so safe all at the same time. God, I wish I had my collar.”

“You don’t need it. I know who you are, who you belong to.”

“I promised you forever.” Nora remembered that day in the police station when it seemed her life would end at age fifteen, and this man, this priest, who said he would save her if she promised to do everything he told her to do forever. Forever, she had said. “Forever isn’t long enough.”

“And I promised you everything in return,” Søren said. Nora looked at the dagger in her hand, the gun at Søren’s head. “I meant it.”

“Enough,” Marie-Laure said. “My feet are getting tired and you’re both starting to bore me. Damon, if she doesn’t kill him in one minute, kill her.”

Nora kissed Søren and he returned the kiss ardently, longingly, deeply, with such love it felt as if he kissed the very heart of her.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered against her lips. “This life is nothing but one blink of God’s eyes. He’ll blink again, and we’ll be back together.”

“Are you sure I’ll go to heaven?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t be heaven without you.”

Marie-Laure reached down and pulled out Søren’s white Roman collar. Brusquely she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open. Seeing her touching him, baring his chest to the entire room, Nora felt the rightness in what she was about to do. To let any hands other than hands of adoration, devotion and love touch Søren’s body seemed the greatest abomination, the deepest blasphemy, the unforgivable sin. Better to see him die than suffer that indignity. Better for them both to die.

“Now.” Marie-Laure was still standing so close she would feel Søren’s last breath on her feet when he fell.

Nora heard Damon checking his clip.

“Now,” Søren said. “Don’t hesitate, Eleanor. Do it because you love me, as you love me.”

“I do love you,” she said, and knew it might be the last words he ever heard from her. “Forever.”

Nora gripped the handle of the dagger and started to raise it.

She prayed a final prayer.

God...give me good aim and the strength to use it.

In less than the time it took God to blink, it was over.

33

THE KING

The words on the note Søren left him told Kingsley everything he needed to know.

I would have done the same for you.

Kingsley saw the words and believed in them, which is why, even with the woman he loved thousands of miles away and carrying his child, he knew he would have to risk death, risk anything, to save this man who would have risked all to save him.

He drove to Elizabeth’s house at breakneck speed, cursing Søren’s noble, foolish heart the entire way there. He couldn’t waste a moment coming up with a plan or a strategy. He’d either save Søren and Nora or he would die with them.

Once at the house he willed himself to stay calm, stay quiet. He went through the window again but instead of hiding in the pantry, he raced around the house until he found them. At the library door he paused and took a deep breath. He had two guns fully loaded and cocked. He prayed it would be enough.

Peering in the door he saw he wasn’t too late. Nora and Søren were still alive, still breathing, but they both had guns aimed at their heads. And Marie-Laure stood close, staring at them and smiling, smiling and waiting.

Waiting for what?

Kingsley saw it, the knife in Nora’s hand. Marie-Laure was making Nora kill Søren. But Nora wouldn’t do that...not even with a gun to her head. She’d die first before she hurt him. And yet the knife rose higher and higher.

Her hand trembled only a moment before it steadied and she took a quick breath in.

Kingsley raised his gun. The first shot would start the war. If he shot the man at Nora’s back, the man behind Søren could shoot him. Shoot Søren’s guard and Nora would die. Shoot Marie-Laure and they all could die.

He made up his mind in an instant. He had no other choice.

He aimed his gun at Nora.

Part Five

CHECK

34

THE QUEEN

Nora brought the dagger down and at the last moment turned and plunged it deep into Marie-Laure’s thigh. Her scream of shock and pain momentarily confused both Damon and Andrei into inaction. Bullets whirled all around her, bullying the air. Where did they come from? What was happening? She could see nothing. Someone had her trapped, pinned down. She could barely breathe.

Then the guns went silent as death, and she smelled death in the room. Copper and smoke.

But whose death? She feared opening her eyes. If she kept them closed, then she would never know the answer to her question. If she opened her eyes she would see who had died and she couldn’t face that, not yet. Someone held her in his arms, held her tight. She decided to keep her eyes closed and stay there.

Forever.

35

THE KING

The men shot wildly in their confusion and Kingsley killed the guards before they even saw who it was who brought death to their doorstep. Kingsley rushed toward Søren and Nora but soon had reason to regret that choice.

Marie-Laure wrenched the dagger from her leg and came at Kingsley with it. She thrust it through his side. He grabbed her, trying to restrain her. In such close quarters he couldn’t get a shot off without hitting himself. The gun clattered to the floor. She clawed at his face, fighting him like a wild animal. She managed to fight her way out of his arms. Dropping to the floor she grabbed the gun and aimed it at the corner of the room—right at Søren’s back.