Page 16 of Consort of the Crime Queen

But with a sudden snap, light floods the room. I freeze, trapped in the blinding glare like an insect under a microscope, my hand on the knob of the front door. Squinting against the brightness I make out two hulking figures in black to the left—guards doing their rounds.

They shout in surprise and charge toward me. Without thinking I grab the nearest object, a large, exquisite vase atop a nearby plinth, and hurl it at them. It shatters spectacularly. Porcelain shards pepper their faces and the men cry out, temporarily blinded. I bolt through the front door, astonished but grateful to find it unlocked.

Cool night air kisses my face as I burst outside. A cobblestone driveway unfurls before me, wrought iron gates gleaming far away at its end. Shouts sound from inside, and I see movement at the end of the drive, too—more guards.

Without thought, I run left, charging around the side of the mansion, past a patio and then a large pool. I'm looking for some way through or over or even under the looming walls, topped with spike-tipped iron. The guards are closing in, and any moment now?—

Then I see it, a small gardening shed set up against the wall. I hurtle toward it and scramble up the side, using a log pile to help me up, and knocking it down in the process. Once on the roof I can just reach the top of the wall, and I yank myself up, heedless of scraping my knees and bare feet on the rough stone wall. I have to be careful to get through the spikes, but I'm skinny enough to slip through them.

For one horrible second I'm falling head-first toward the street below, but I grab on hard to the iron bar at the top of the wall and slam against the stones, my shoulder giving an agonizing jerk. A second later I have to let go, and I land hard on the sidewalk, jarring my ankles and wrists as I land on hands and knees. I lurch upright and into the street, just as blinding light spears my face. Brakes squeal, and I throw up my arms in a useless attempt at protection. Shielding my eyes I make out the silhouette of the taxi that nearly ran me over.

I rush to the passenger door, and the cabbie shrinks away as I wrench open the door and throw myself inside, a bedraggled fugitive in dirt-and-blood-smudged pajamas.

"What the hell?—"

"Please!" The plea tears from my throat. "You have to drive, get me away from here!"

The cabbie stares with an open mouth at the formidable walls to the side of the street. The shouts of the guards echo over the stone walls.

"That's the Imperioli place," he says. I ain't gettin' involved in whatever the hell is happening there, lady. I'd like to stay alive."

I grab his wrist to get his attention and my voice drops, smooth as honey. "Fifty grand. Cash. That's your payment if you get me away from here without questions."

"Fifty grand? Get outta here. You think I'm stupid?"

"Fifty grand. No lie. Or you can take me back here and earn whatever they'll give you for me."

He gives an uneasy glance at the walls of the Imperioli estate, and I smother the impatient scream rising up in me. Another second and I'll have to threaten him instead of cajole, force him out of the cab so I can?—

"Up front?" he asks.

"Upon safe delivery. I promise you, the place we're going will be very grateful to have me back. And if you want that money rather than a bullet in your brain, I suggest you get moving. Fast. The Imperiolis tend to shoot first and ask questions later."

I have no idea if that's true, but it sounds believable. And the driver only eyes me shrewdly for one more second before throwing the car into gear with a grunt. "Buckle up. Where to?"

Relief floods my body as the taxi peels away from the curb. I tell him to just drive, that we need to get out of the city, north-east. The mansion's imposing outline recedes behind us.

I never want to see that godforsaken place again.

As chrome and concrete blur past, tears prick my eyes. Soon the sprawling lights of the city center fade into the haze of suburban streetlamps zipping by. I nestle into cracked vinyl, lean my head against the window, and watch the city as we leave it behind.

Free.

I really am free right now. I could disappear entirely if I wanted to.

But I don't want to. I want Hadria. I want to see her face again, to feel her arms around me, her mouth on mine. God, not soon enough. But every mile brings me closer to her.

Yet disappointment tempers my triumph. When I stood over Nero with vengeance singing in my blood, weapons in hand, I faltered. Lyssa's ruthless lessons should have hardened me beyond restraint. But perhaps even Lyssa can't undo a lifetime of gentleness.

And so Nero lives, free to hunt me down again, free to harm those I love.

Have I damned us all with my weakness?

CHAPTER 9

Hadria

"There's a taxi here, Boss. With a, uh, special passenger," pants the guard who's just burst through the door of the war room.

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