Ash and Quill(115)

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Jess saw that Callum was working his way toward a particular spot as well. He could see the Brightwell guards changing positions. Moving to plan.

"Go," he said, and lifted Morgan's hand to his lips. He kissed the back of it and saw her lips part. She said something, but it was lost in the noise of the crowd around them as the guests spread out.

Then she turned and was gone, walking through the crowd to stand close to Santi. He felt cold. Alone. Separated from them now, the last tie cut, the last chain broken. Already, some of Da's guests were calling for their vehicles. Da had one of his trusted men taking payments-discreetly, of course-at a gilt-edged table set up near the exit. Even the toughs were dressed in real finery this evening, though most looked uncomfortable about it.

Thomas came barreling at him and wrapped him in a smothering embrace. "Thank God I won't have to lecture again." He lowered his voice to a rough whisper. "Where are you going?"

"To piss," Jess said, and shoved him back. "And the joke's on you, Mountain. You'll have to lecture all over Europe before long, once your press becomes famous."

"Ach, you're no fun," Thomas said. "Come back here. Dario's promised to steal one of your father's prized wines."

"I will," Jess said. Thomas started to turn away, and on impulse, Jess held out his hand. Thomas frowned at it. "Congratulations. You've done the impossible, you know. You've made Callum Brightwell believe in something."

"I've made your father believe in money," Thomas said archly, but he took Jess's hand and shook it anyway. He didn't let go. "You don't look well, Jess. Is something wrong?"

"Tired," Jess said, and smiled. "Go on with you. I'll see you soon."

"All right."

He watched Thomas walk away and had to close his eyes and take deep breaths against the pain.

He needed to get to Brendan. He avoided the last few questions with an apologetic smile and jogged up the steps and into the castle hall. Crossed the vast open space with long strides, short of breath, his heart pounding like he'd run a marathon.

He'd almost gotten to the stairs when an arm like an iron bar closed around his throat and pulled him sharply backward, and he felt the sharp sting of a knife under his chin.

"Stay still," Glain said. "And explain to me what the hell you're planning to do." 

"Let go!"

"Not going to happen, Jess. You haven't been right all day. I saw it when you looked at Wolfe. You looked like you were giving a damned eulogy at his grave, and you're going to tell me why!"

"Let me go!"

"If I have to slice you a new smile, Brightwell, I'll-"

Something hit her. Hard. Jess felt the impact of it throw her forward, and he was slammed into the hard stone of the banister. He twisted and grabbed her as she turned toward her attacker, and yanked her around to face him again. He couldn't let her see who had just hit her, and he moved faster than he would have believed possible, and with as much force as he could. With Glain, there was no possibility of pulling a punch.

He hit her square in the right side of the jaw, and felt a bone in his hand give with a bright red slash of pain. Her head snapped to the side, and she went down. He eased her to the floor and checked her pulse. It was there, slow and steady. She was out but wouldn't stay that way for long.

"Dios, is she dead?" Dario asked. He stood there looking as pale as Jess had ever seen him, with a small marble bust clutched in a death grip in his right hand. His voice was shaking. He was shaking.

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be out there, with Morgan!"

"I saw her following you; I had to-"

"Go!" Jess grabbed the bust away, and Dario turned and ran for the castle entrance.

Glain was already starting to rouse-vague movements, eyes rolling behind the closed lids. Jess left the bust there, kicked the knife off into the shadows, and ran to meet his brother.

He found him waiting in the chapel, just where they'd agreed. The peace of the place, the ancient weight of it, felt suffocating, and when Jess came to a halt, he saw the compassion in his brother's face.

"You look as bad as I've ever seen you," Brendan said. "You can still change your mind."

"No. I know what I'm doing."

"It'll be easier for me. You know that."

"Shut up, Scraps."

"Call me that again and I'll knock you over the head and hide you in a corner."

"You thought about doing that already."