“And I love you, John Henry Langsford.”
“You have done all you can to destroy us, baroness, and you have failed,” Constance declared, stepping closer to Iris in a protective gesture. “Evil like yours can never defeat true love.”
“It is not over, Mrs. Shipley,” the baroness said. “You know not what you are up against.”
*
A radiant glowsurrounded Iris, an aura-like cloak that wavered and shimmered like a ruby. Gabriella remembered reading in a magazine that the ruby symbolized love, loyalty, creativity, and passion. Everyone was drawn to the strange light beam that emanated from the painting.
Gabriella saw something in the painting she’d never noticed before—the artist’s hand extending to the woman on the bed wore a ruby set in gold on his first finger. There was a text scrolling around the stone that appeared indecipherable. Yet Gaby could hear her own voice reading the text in her head, in an ancient language she recognized. It was the language of Aranthur and Velia, the language she’d heard during her vision of a past life at the burial chamber in Populonia.
She could feel Velia, the Etruscan priestess, in her mind, and the voice rang pure as a bell.
“The gift of time is precious and should be spent well. There can be no reward for those who use and abuse our small allotment for selfish gain. Those that ignore the warning of the sacred trust will not find favor with the Holy One. Hold fast to the ring, for its power is great. The red stone bestows the breath of life or soaks the ground with the defiler’s blood. Yours is the choice—do with it as you will, but know the consequences. Make no plea of ignorance, for none will find acceptance from the universal tribunal. The punishment will be the loss of time forever. Only the truth will prevail and bring peace and lasting love. Only love will bring enlightenment. It is not gold or gems that are the most precious things in the world, but love.”
“I will see you in hell,” screamed Catarina.
“Not this time, contessa,” said Iris, who stepped closer to the painting. The red aura surrounding her grew brighter the nearer she got to the portal.
The contessa followed, her eyes gleaming wickedly. “Killing you will be the greatest pleasure I have ever known. Wolf Krämer, the Nazi who shot your parents, was a capable killer, but he let his lust cloud his judgment, destroying him in the end. He was sloppy, but I am not.”
She inched nearer but was suddenly stopped. Colin, Xavier, Jack, and Beauford moved in front of her, forming a wall of solid muscle that blocked her from going farther.
But Catarina merely laughed, producing a rondel dagger. She held the thin, pointed knife over her head threateningly. “How many of you will I kill before I am stopped?”
In unison, Emily, Jenee, and Gaby cried out, “No!”
Meanwhile, Iris had reached the painting and, turning, faced her enemy. “You will not harm them. Thank you, my friends, but you must step away from her. This is between Catarina and me.”
The men stepped to each side, forming a line of solid bodies that would force Catarina to run the gauntlet to reach Iris. Meanwhile, Gaby stood with Em and Jenee on one side of Iris, with Constance and Cynthia on the other.
“Iris, dear friend, be careful,” Constance said.
“I am not afraid.” Iris turned to Constance, whose eyes were swimming with tears. “We have already said our farewells,ma chère amie. But I want you to remember that I will never forget you, Constance.”
“Nor I you, dearest Iris.”
Behind Iris, the painting had begun to ripple as if waves washed its surface. The image of the candle on the table next to the bed started to flicker, casting light and shadow as the painting came to life.
Marco’s head turned slowly, his gaze landing on Catarina. His charcoal eyes seemed lit with a blazing fire that made Gaby shudder.
“Marco,” Catarina called, “you cannot save her. She will never leave through the portal without me. She is no match for me or my magic, and neither are you.” She touched the emerald pendant around her neck, and a blinding beam of green light engulfed the room, swallowing the ruby glow.
The eerie green light was so overpowering that Gaby had to shield her eyes to adjust to the brightness. Peering through her fingers, she saw Marco point his finger ringed with the ruby toward Caterina. Like a laser, a beam of red light burst from his ring, driving Catarina backward. She was stunned at first, but then a hysterical laugh poured from her. The ear-piercing sound echoed around the room. But Marco and Iris stood calm, radiating strength.
Gaby could see that not even a bolt of lightning could have displaced their determination. They were fighting for their lives, and they were fighting for their love and future.
She glanced at Emily and couldn’t understand the smile on her lips. Jenee was smiling too. They knew something Gaby did not—but then again, what they’d experienced in London and Paris could not have been that dissimilar to this. They believed in Marco and Iris, and she took their belief to heart. She needed to believe too. Gaby could feel a powerful energy from everyone in the room, uniting them as a force for good against Catarina’s evil.
A formidable gust of wind lifted Gabriella’s hair. It was eerie, and the same as what she’d felt when she’d time-traveled. The swirling, spinning vortex emerged from the painting. Every second, the decibel level of howling wind grew, and the lights in the library flickered.
Catarina arched like a cat ready to pounce, and her eyes looked as black as her heart. Her voice rose above the gusts, repeating an indecipherable incantation. It sounded like an ancient tongue.
Iris’s eyes closed, and she threw her head back, opening her arms wide as if in supplication. Marco’s hand wearing the ruby ring reached through the swirling vortex of the painting, and a beam of light shot from the gem that he pointed at Catarina.
His voice filled the silence. “Il tuo regno di terrore finisce qui!”
Gabriella shuddered at Marco’s powerful vow:Your reign of terror ends here!
