Letting out a sharp cry, Miss Lula rocked backward against the wall, bottles of wine clinking in her wake.
But she did not go down. Her eyes glowed with fire.
“Gonna have to do better than that, lady,” she said.
With a grunt, she began to push herself upright.
Amiya dashed across the cellar, high heels clacking. The shoes slowed her down, and she kicked them off.
Snarling like a bear, Miss Lula lunged for her. With her long arm, she was able to snag the hem of Amiya’s dress. She yanked. Fabric ripped, and Amiya spun around like a top, losing herbalance. She tumbled to the floor. The gun clattered out of her grasp and slid away into the shadows.
“I knew you couldn’t be trusted, bitch.” Miss Lula lurched toward her, blood soaking the front of her dress.
Amiya scrambled across the floor. The nearest item in her vicinity was the bottle of Bordeaux that had fallen against the barrel. Screaming, she grabbed the neck of it and swung around with all the strength she could summon into her arm.
The meat of the bottle smashed against Miss Lula’s head. Glass shattered, and fragrant red wine flew in a dark spray. Eyes rolling up to expose the whites, Miss Lula dropped to her knees with a soft moan.
Down, but not dead, Amiya thought.
Amiya raced past her, the torn dress rippling like flames around her legs. She reached the bottom of the staircase and hustled up the steps, the stone cold against her bare feet, but she had so much adrenaline surging through her bloodstream she barely felt it.
She burst through the doorway. She looked around for the padlock but couldn’t see it, realized Miss Lula had probably taken it with her to keep herself from getting locked in, ever the calculating house manager.
Downstairs in the darkness, Miss Lula bellowed, sounding like some creature from an abyss. Soon, she would be back.
Amiya turned and saw Ossie rushing toward her down the long corridor. Perspiration glistened on his face. His eyes were wild with excitement.
“Someone’s setting off bombs!” he shouted. “Everyone’s running around like crazy!”
Nick, Amiya thought immediately, and felt such an intense crush of emotion that if Nick had been nearby, she would have smothered him in kisses.
She grabbed the sleeve of Ossie’s tuxedo jacket.
“Come on, that’s our signal to get out of here,” she said.
48
After igniting a flash-bang in the gazebo at the back of the house, Nick and Raven slipped inside the estate through the doors to the laundry. The eruption was louder than he’d expected, like a series of cherry bombs detonating, but he didn’t want to wait around to assess the response to the explosions. They needed to take immediate advantage of whatever confusion the fireworks created.
The laundry was one of the support structures that flanked the courtyard. Raven assured him that in the evenings it was usually empty of staff.
Inside that dank chamber, a brass wall sconce equipped with a wavering candle provided the only light. Nick saw big steel wash basins on the floor, and piles of linens sitting on a long table. Old-fashioned washboards leaned against a wall, soap congealing on their ridges. There wasn’t a washing machine or clothes dryer in sight.
This place is literally frozen in time, Nick thought.
“I lasted a day working in here before Miss Lula moved me.” Raven sneered. “Hard, nasty work.”
They threaded past the wash basins and table and reached a pair of double doors on the far side of the room. Nick heard commotion outside the room: muffled shouts and the patter of rapid footsteps.
“They’re freaking out in there,” he said.
Raven pushed open the doors. They swung out soundlessly.
The doors led to a wide but short hardwood corridor lit by a couple more wall sconces with candles. Another hallway intersected the passage.
A woman in a dress ran past shrieking, her hair wild and eyes swimming with terror. She didn’t notice them standing there with their guns. She rushed past without slowing.
“What’s the matter with them?” Nick asked.
