Unfortunately, Guy was widening the distance between them simply because he was running without hundreds of pounds of armor. Gaston’s pace had not slacked, merely the fact that Guy’s had increased. Gaston began to reconsider throwing his sword yet extremely reluctant to hand Guy a potential advantage. But it was increasingly evident if he did not do something quickly, Guy would lose him shortly. And he meant to have Guy at any cost.
Guy breezed past the rooms that had housed Jasmine, Rory and Skye. Rooms he had raped them in, rooms where Jasmine had borne his bastard. Rooms full of shame and pain and horror. The rooms were silent now, having once been filled with screams and pleas from frightened young women.
Guy did not give them a second glance; he was too busy putting space between him and the Dark One. De Russe’s footsteps were falling behind him and Guy began to feel a seed of hope that he could somehow lose him, at least long enoughto gain a weapon. Triumph began to rear its head in Guy’s mind as he rounded the corner and headed down another corridor; he knew he was gaining the edge until he saw Rory standing in front of him.
Guy stumbled to a halt, astonished beyond belief. Gaston rounded the corner and saw Guy standing there, victory within his grasp until he too saw Rory standing several feet in front of Guy. Gaston came to a halt and nearly tripped over a rug in his amazement.
Rory just stood there, gazing at Guy serenely. It was an expression Gaston had never seen before on her face, and he furthermore wondered if he was hallucinating. Guy was frozen to the spot in front of him; Gaston should have taken the opportunity to kill him right there, but he couldn’t seem to overcome his shock at seeing a ghost.
“Rory!” Guy bellowed.
The apparition did not respond to him, simply continuing to gaze as if she were looking right through him. Dressed in the emerald green surcoat she had been buried in, Gaston took a good hard look. Never had he seen her look lovelier, her red hair flowing and soft, her pretty face bordering on a smile. In spite of his shock, he found himself smiling at the surprise of it all.
“You said she was dead!” Guy boomed.
“She is,” Gaston replied with amazing calm.
Guy clenched his fists, terrified out of his mind. “Good God!”
Rory had effectively blocked his path down the corridor. Rather than rush a specter, Guy turned abruptly to his left and chose another route. The route to the tower.
Gaston let him go for a moment, knowing there was nowhere to go inside the tower. Instead, he continued to gaze at Rory and was not surprised when the vision focused on him. His smile grew wider and he swore he saw her smile broaden, too. It was as if she were lending Gaston assistance by sending Guy into thetwisting confines of the tower. As if she had known that Guy was gaining headway on Gaston and most likely would have evaded him down the length of the long corridor.
Gaston took a step toward her, his initial shock turning into fascination. She continued to smile at him and he could see every detail on her face, Remington’s eyes, Jasmine’s nose. There was no light, no aura. Had he reached out to touch her, he would have sworn he would have grasped flesh.
“Rory?” he said timidly.
She did not answer him but continued to look at him gently. He heard sounds in the tower and briefly turned to look, but his attention riveted back to the apparition in front of him. As helpless as she had been all these years against Guy Stoneley, she had contributed heavily to the final battle to do away with his evil once and for all.
“Thank you,” Gaston whispered.
He ducked inside the tower. Guy was two stories above him rushing for the room in which Charles, Dane and Trenton were held. Gaston eyed the man a moment before mounting the stairs, knowing there was nowhere for Guy to go once he reached the top. His pace slowed dramatically as he climbed.
Guy saw Gaston below him as he reached the door to the tower. Laying into the latch heavily, he was shocked to find it bolted from the inside. Angered and panicked, he rattled it loudly.
“Who’s in here?” he yelled. “Open the damn door.”
There was no response forthcoming. Again, he rattled the latch so heavily that he cut his palms on the iron handle. He kicked at the door, all the while hearing Gaston’s footsteps drawing closer and closer. Anxiety cut at him; unless he was planning to jump or unless he found a weapon, quickly, he was as good a dead. De Russe was closing in on him.
He began to kick at the door as if he could force it open. He punched at it, driving his fists against the oak as he did when he beat his wife. The Dark One was on the landing below him and Guy could feel the weight of his stare, knowing that when he turned to face him that he would only read death in his eyes.
But he couldn’t help himself from peering over his shoulder. De Russe was approaching him with the look of the Grim Reaper, his massive sword gleaming in the weak light. Panic shot through Guy and he pounded on the door one last time, as if that would make any difference. As if somehow fate would step in and open it.
But the door remained closed. Guy, hysterical with anxiety, knew he was breathing his last. As a final show of bravery, or mayhap cowardice, he turned to face the Dark One.
Smoky orbs met with ice blue. Gaston paused six steps down from Guy, staring at his quarry with open contempt. There was something he wanted to say before he gutted the man.
“What I do now, I do on behalf of Remi and Rory, Jasmine and Skye. Women you tortured for nine long years. When I drive my blade into your gut, it will be small compensation for those years you stole from them, but it’s the least I can do. Their comfort will have to come from the fact that you will burn in the sulfur pits for all eternity,” he was calm and controlled as he raised his blade. “But most of all, I do this for Remington.”
Guy was ashen as he listened to the speech. His mouth worked as he formed a reply when the tower door flew open.
“My lord! Your weapon!” Charles cried.
Guy whirled around and caught the dull blade. Glee and hope flooded him and he crowed with the thrill of a second chance. In a flash, he spun around to Gaston and held high the blade.
“Pretty speech, de Russe!” he exclaimed. “Now let us see who indeed is going to burn in the sulfur pits of hell.”
Gaston was stunned at Charles’ action, betrayal at the deepest level. Horrified, he wondered if Charles had not killed Dane and Trenton and if all along he was allied with Guy. But he couldn’t linger on that thought now, not with an imminent attack on his hands.
