Page 32 of Black Hearts

As for the mansion itself, the Georgian architectural style was beautiful. The whole place looked like something right out of a home and garden magazine, even when the gardens and other surrounds were wrapped in curling blankets of fresh snow. No one would ever suspect what this place was used for, but once you knew, that bucolic beauty immediately faded away. To me, the house looked cold, hostile and ominous, remembering too many twisted, shameful things that had happened within its walls since its inception as a hive of wickedness.

It had three stories with fourteen large white-trimmed sash windows along the top two stories on the front side. The back side had the same number. The bottom story had less windows to make space for the main entrance and back doors, and the sides were narrower with only six windows on the upper stories and large terrace doors on the ground floor.

From all that, we’d figured there were five entrances to the place. There was the main entrance in the front, the two terrace doors on either side of the house, a big door in the middle of the back side, and a smaller one off to the side of that which was presumably an old servant’s entrance. As well as those entrances, there was also the door which led inside from the greenhouse.

There was a smaller outbuilding off to the right side, near the parking spaces. It seemed to be used as a garage, and also a place for the guards to live if they didn’t have their own places nearby or in the city. It was made with the same Georgian-style architecture as the house, with red brick and white sash windows.

We hadn’t just checked out the appearance of the place, obviously. We’d noted down all the daily routines, too. From certain angles, we’d been able to see through some of the windows with the high-powered binoculars. This allowed us to get an idea of how many people we were dealing with on the inside as well as the outside.

We’d been able to figure that there were around thirty kids and teens currently imprisoned in the mansion. They seemed to be allowed to wear whatever clothes they wanted, but they all had black collars with flashing amber lights near their throat. Alex said they were probably tracking devices which would alert the guards if they ever managed to get outside and run away.

They had breakfast, lunch and dinner every day in one big room near the kitchen. After that, they seemed to be allowed to wander around the house, but never outside. They went back to their rooms at eight p.m. on the dot. The only time they deviated from this schedule was when a ‘visitor’ came for one of them, aka a Circle member.

There were also twelve maids working at the mansion, and as far as we knew, they were all prisoners too. They certainly didn’t look happy, and they all wore collars as well, along with matching uniforms of black pants and white silk shirts.

That added up to forty-two people to save.

As for the others, we’d deduced that there were eight guards on the property at all times, working eight hour shifts. This meant there were twenty-four guards altogether. Every one of them had two-way radio contact with each other during their shifts.

There were always two guarding the front, two out the back, one to the left side of the house, one to the right, and one circulating throughout the house. The final one slowly patrolled the perimeter of the property in a black car, presumably checking to make sure no one was hanging around the area; hikers, bird-watchers, adventurous teenagers, and so on. The guard currently on patrol duty had driven past my stakeout place behind the fence four times today, which meant each lap of the property took about one hour.

One of the back guards also seemed to function as a driver when necessary—the same job that used to belong to Dan Vallone. Every few days he’d leave in a van and return with crates upon crates of food before hauling it all into the house. The Circle were a bunch of psychopaths, but they seemed to keep their prisoners and employees well-fed.

It was hardly a favor. They simply needed them healthy so they could keep them as long as possible. Torturing and beating a kid was fun to them, but that same kid dying of natural causes from malnutrition when they weren’t around obviously wasn’t as much ‘fun’. Hence the regular meals.

We assumed that all of the guards would be present on the night of the party on December 1st, seeing as it was going to be such a big event. That meant we didn’t have to worry about any of them getting away via pure luck of shift timing once we’d rescued the kids and destroyed the rest of the Circle.

We also knew from Dwyer’s phone call to William that there were forty-nine remaining Circle members. Seeing as Dwyer was gone now, that left forty-eight. That plus the guards meant there were seventy-two people we needed to get rid of.

Before we’d arrived at an exact number, it hadn’t really hit me just how much blood would be on our hands once we were done. Now it finally had. I knew it should bother me—seventy-two was a lot—but it didn’t. The Circle had sown a dark seed years ago, and after germinating and growing for a long time, it was finally going to bloom with fire and blood and shattered bones.

So their deaths didn’t worry me. The only thing that actually bothered me right now was the concern that we wouldn’t be able to get all the kids and maids out safely.

We had a plan, though, formulated over steaming cups of coffee and sleepless nights at our motel. Every proper circle had a beginning and an end, and we were closing this Circle for good. It was only fitting.

We packed up my stuff from my spy nook and trudged through the nature reserve to Alex’s car, which we’d parked over a mile away from the other side of it just to be safe. Then we headed back into the city; a forty minute drive from where we were.

It was shopping time.

We had a lot of things to buy for our plan, but we couldn’t get them all at the same store, or else we’d raise suspicions, given the nature of some of the purchases we needed to make. We were disguised, so no one would know it was us, but still, we didn’t want to make anyone’s hackles go up for any reason. As far as they would know, we were just a happy couple picking up some bits and pieces we needed for our new home.

Most of the things we needed could be bought at hardware or home improvement stores. We didn’t go to the one I used to work at, even though it was one of the biggest and best stores in the city. As good as my disguise was, I was sure my old workmates would still eventually recognize me if they stared long enough.

My wig might make me blonde, and my eyes were a different color with the lenses, but no amount of makeup could alter my features to the point where I was a completely different person. Contouring slimmed my nose and gave me higher cheekbones, but it was still my face. Those who knew me and looked long enough would know that.

I missed my friends and old work colleagues deeply, but I couldn’t return until Alex and I had eliminated the Circle. Until then, no one could know I was alive. The Circle thought I was dead, thanks to Dwyer, and we needed to keep up that lie for now. And so I had to remain in the shadows, letting everyone who ever knew me think I was gone forever.

Alex dumped three bags of ammonium nitrate fertilizer near the checkout of the final store we visited. We already had rolls of cotton wool, stacks of newspapers, a basil plant, and diesel fuel sitting in the trunk of our car, among other smaller bits and pieces from a tech store.

“I’m glad you used to work at a place like this,” he murmured with twinkling eyes as we waited for a staff member to serve us. “You know all the good tricks. Like this.” He gestured at the fertilizer, then went on. “And how to poison people with cockroach baits when they piss you off.”

My heart lurched and my stomach knotted with horror and regret. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, not meeting his eyes. “I wish I never hurt you like that.”

The memory of him writhing in agony on the shelter floor as he tried to speak hit me like a tidal wave, and something suddenly occurred to me. The words he’d been trying to get out that evening must have been: Kill me if you have to, but please stay here. It’s not safe out there. And he was right. He’d only ever cared about my safety, even back when I’d wished nothing but pain and death upon him. He would’ve willingly sacrificed himself if it meant that I got to live.

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Oh, angel,” he said softly. “That was a poor attempt on my behalf at a joke. I should know by now—I’m not very funny, am I?”

I looked up and gave him a faint smile. “Maybe it will be funny in a few more years, in a really morbid way.”

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