Fortune (46 page)

Skye inched over to her mother's suitcase and opened it. Inside she saw a pretty, black bag. Skye took it out and ran her fingers over the soft, fuzzy fabric, then the shiny, silver Monarch “M” stamped on it.

Skye opened the bag and beautiful little rocks spilled out. Like the ones Grandfather had shown her down at the store. “Mommy! Look! Pretty stones.”

Her mother whirled, then snatched the pouch away, the jewels scattering across the gleaming wooden floor. “No, Grace! Bad girl!”

Skye brought her hands to her mouth, remembering everything, seeing it with her mind's eye as if it were unfolding before her.

A man, her grandfather, burst into the room. He and her mother began to fight, shouting at each other in a way that frightened Skye. She tried to cover her ears, but she could still hear. Her grandfather hit her mother so hard she fell. Skye wanted to go to her mother, but he scooped her up, meaning to take her away from her mommy. She squirmed and kicked. “Mommy!” she screamed. “I want my mommy!”

Her mother lunged at him. Skye slipped from her grandfather's arms and hit the floor hard. She started to cry. A moment later there had been blood everywhere. Splattering across her while the angel smiled down at her.

Skye made a sound of horror. The angel. The old stone mansion on Astor Street. The curvy Monarch “M.” The butterfly, of course.

A hysterical laugh bubbled to her lips. Why hadn't she seen it? All along, her subconscious had been trying to tell her, trying to warn her. Her headaches. Her constant sense of unease. The claustrophobia she had experienced, her feelings of being trapped.

Her reaction to Griffen's lovemaking.

Griffen. Dear God, Griffen.

He was her brother. The monster from her nightmares, the one she couldn't outrun. He was the horror her mind had blocked out.

She had never been alone, she remembered, never been safe from him. He had followed and tormented her. She remembered waking in the night to find him beside her bed watching her. Or worse, in the bed with her, staring, his breath hot and foul against her face.

Curving her arms around herself, she rocked back and forth, her mind playing a series of dark, distorted images for her.

Griffen lured her outside. He had her kitten, he said. She couldn't have it unless she came out with him. So she followed him into the back garden and out the gate, to the back alley, where her mother had warned her never to go. There was her kitten, in a cardboard box, mewing and crying. But before Skye could get to it, he brought his baseball bat down on the helpless creature. Once. Twice, then a third time. When she screamed, he grabbed her and shook her. “Tell anyone, and I'll do it to you, too. Tell, and I'll do it to your precious mama.”

Skye realized she was sobbing and pressed a fist to her mouth, willing the memories to stop, wishing she could re-close the door, lock it tight for the next twenty years. Maybe forever. But she couldn't control them, and they spilled forth much the same as her tears.

Griffen lay on top of her, holding her down, a hand over her mouth so she couldn't call Nanny or anyone else. She fought as hard as she could, squirming and kicking, but he only laughed. He could do anything he pleased to her. She belonged to him. And just so she wouldn't forget it…He put his hand under her dress then, and pulled aside her underwear. While she cried and silently begged him to stop, stuck his fingers there, inside her, hurting her.

Skye squeezed her thighs together now, hurting, hating him. How could he have done that to her? She'd been a baby. He'd been her brother, her own flesh and blood.

That's why her mother had run with her. No one had believed her about Griffen. No one.

The bastard had found her, somehow. He had tracked her down, laying his trap, much as he had when she was small. Did Adam know who she was? Had Dorothy? She pressed her face to a bed pillow, holding back the sounds of her sobs, afraid Griffen would hear.

She thought back, to glances Griffen and his grandfather had exchanged, to the way they had all welcomed her, as if she was a long lost member of the family; she recalled the things they had said.

“Welcome home, Skye dear.”

“You're part of our family now. Now you can never leave us.”

“You have the gift. It's right that you take Dorothy's place.”

“A brother-and-sister team have always run Monarch's.”

A brother-and-sister team…Dear God, they had all been in on this, she realized, scrambling off the bed, panic pulling at her. They were all sick, obsessed with who they were and with Monarch's.

They were sick, but Griffen was a monster. She had to get away from him. To do that, she had to get a grip on herself. If she didn't, she wouldn't last thirty minutes out in the cold.

She grabbed her cardigan and put it on, then slipped into her coat. She wrapped her muffler over her head and around her neck, then tucked it under her coat's collar. Saying a silent prayer for help, she crossed to the window, unlocked it and carefully slid it up.

She looked out, judging the distance, getting her bearings. Before her, she saw an expanse of lawn, then a glittering frozen lake beyond. To either side lay heavily wooded property. She could do it. She would make it to the lawn, then head into the forest to her right, going toward town. The moon would light her way.

She climbed onto the ledge and swung her legs out. She heard a sound at her door, like a key being slid into a lock, then turned. She twisted toward the door, eyes wide, heart hammering. The knob turned; the door cracked open.

Griffen! He had come for her.

Taking a deep breath, she jumped.

S
kye landed on the section of roof below. She hadn't realized how steeply pitched it was, and her feet slipped out from under her. She landed on her right side and skidded toward the edge. Gasping, crying, she clawed at the icy shingles, trying desperately to stop her forward momentum. The shingles tore at her bare hands, though they provided nothing for her to grab on to. She pictured herself, tumbling over the edge, landing in a heap, too broken to escape Griffen.

He was above her, watching from the window, laughing.

The laugh of a madman.

She twisted her foot, trying for a toehold. She found one. She wedged her right foot in the gutter, wincing as pain knifed up through her ankle.

It stopped her. Only now she was stuck.

“Skye, my love, going somewhere?” Griffen leaned farther out the window, giggling. “No, apparently not.”

She fought her way into a sitting position, though with her foot twisted sideways in the gutter, it was agony. Once upright, she tugged at her leg, breath coming in small gasps.

“You can't run away from me, Grace. Oh—” He brought a hand to his mouth in an exaggerated oops. “Now I've gone and given it away. You're not Skye Dearborn at all. Your name's really Grace. Grace Elizabeth Monarch.

“See, that's the thing. You're down there working so hard, and you can't run away from me. Destiny can't be changed any more than it can be ignored. Your mother tried, the silly bitch. But that's all behind us now, isn't it, my pet?”

Skye looked up at him, heart thundering, determined not to let him see how frightened she was. She refused to play the terrified victim for him, the child he had tormented and controlled with fear. “What do you want from me?”

“Just for us to be together. Forever. The same thing you always wanted. Remember, Grace?”

“Go to hell. I wouldn't want you if you were the last man on earth.”

He smiled and rested his elbows on the window ledge. “In a way, I
am
the last man on earth. The last one you'll ever know, anyway.” He frowned. “I didn't appreciate your diddling around with that nothing McCord, by the way. I expected more from you, Grace.”

“You're not half the man he is!” she shot back, thinking that maybe, if she rattled him, he would do something stupid, slip up somehow. “You only wish you were.”

He frowned. “Stop that, Grace. I don't like it.”

“That's because it's true. You're just a slimy little bug compared to him. He's better in every way…especially in bed!”

His face contorted with fury, and Skye felt a rush of victory. “I love him,” she said. “And nothing you can do will change that.”

For a moment he looked as if he was going to explode, then he chuckled. “I know what you're doing, darling, and it's not going to work. You're not going to get me all riled up so I forget my plan and go and do something sloppy. Besides, if I were going to get riled up, I would have done it long before now. Between Chance and Terri, you kept me pretty busy.”

Terri. He'd been behind that, too. Of course.
“So, you're the one who sent the rat.”

“The very one. I also left that charming little message for little Raye.” He grinned. “I couldn't have you spending time with her, growing close to her and her little bitch daughter instead of me. I couldn't have it.”

“So, how are you going to make it happen?” she asked, looking at him while concentrating on freeing her foot. “Are you going to kill me, Griffen? Bludgeon me with a baseball bat, the way you did my kitten?”

He looked almost comically surprised. “You've regained your memory, Grace.”

“That's right, and soon enough to realize what a slimy piece of refuse you are.”

“A surprise, but good. Now you understand how important, how right it is for us to be together. And Grace,
kill
is such an ugly word. I prefer
joined in death.
”

Joined in death.
Terror took her breath; she fought it off. “How are you going to do it, Griffen? If not a baseball bat, how?”

He laughed, the sound high, like a child's. “That's for me to know and you to find out.”

“I don't think so.” With an almighty tug, Skye freed her foot. Fire shot up her leg. She leaped off the edge.

The snow cushioned her fall, though the impact knocked the wind out of her. It took a moment to get it back. When she did, she scrambled to her feet and started to run, though it felt more like wading, the snow was so deep.

From the house, she heard a door slam, heard feet pounding across the deck. “Grace,” he called. “Why are you wasting our time and all this energy? You're not going anywhere. The nearest house on either side is a mile and a half, and those homes are closed for the winter. Just like ours.”

She dared a glance back, he was well behind her, but gaining fast, she saw. She turned her gaze back to the line of trees, fixing on them, pushing harder, each step taking a Herculean effort.

“It was so easy, once I found you. We have Chance to thank for that. I recognized his name from one of the P.I.'s reports. I hired him, cultivated a friendship, then let him unwittingly lead me to you.”

She reached the stand of trees and with a cry of relief, plunged into the woods. It was much darker, the snow not as deep. But the going was treacherous. She picked her way around fallen trees and a labyrinth of thick, dead underbrush.

Griffen made his way into the woods. He snapped on a flashlight and the beam cut across her path. “Little Grace, little Grace, come show your face.”

She heard him moving deeper, stopping every so often as if to get his bearings. “I can't believe you're treating me this way,” he said, chiding her as he would a child. “After everything I've done for you. I love you, Grace.”

Out of breath, drenched with sweat, Skye stopped, pressing herself up against a tree. She listened, straining to make sure he was still behind her. That he wasn't circling around her. The forest played tricks on her ears, bouncing the sound off the trees, making it difficult to get her bearings.

“Do you know what I've done for you, the concessions I've made? Dorothy, for one. She was my aunt, I loved her. But I killed her. So we could be together.

“Then there was little Stephanie, the one they thought could replace you—” He stopped moving, and she saw the flashlight beam sweep back and forth. “I took care of her. For you. No one could take your place, Grace. It was the one time I was disappointed in Granddad. He was hoping
she
would have the gift. He was making noises like he thought she might. How could
she
have it, when you already did?”

Skye brought her hand to her mouth. His little sister, the one who had drowned in the bath.
Her
little sister, she realized. It hadn't been an accident at all. She pressed herself closer to the tree, heart thundering, struggling to get hold of her emotions.

“You know, we're really here because of your mother.” He made a sound of disgust. “She's the one who fouled everything up, as usual. She came to town, she found out about us. She tried to find you at the store. She got me instead.”

Her mother was in Chicago? Looking for her? The gems, Skye realized, joy blooming inside her. Her mother had sent them, of course.

“Unfortunately, I had to kill her. Snapped her neck, just like that.”

“No!” The word raced past her lips. “No! You bastard!” Sobbing, Skye started to run as fast as she could, branches ripping at her face and hands. She tripped on a fallen tree and fell, then dragged herself to her feet.

He'd killed her mother. Dear God, her mother.

She ran until she could run no more, until her lungs burned and it felt as if her heart were going to burst right out of her chest. She took cover behind a tree, pressing up against it.

A twig snapped nearby. Her heart flew to her throat. He was closer than she'd thought. She looked frantically around for a weapon, something to use against him. Her gaze landed on a thick piece of branch on the ground to her left. She bent and as quietly as she could, picked it up. Arms quivering with the effort, she lifted it over her head, waiting. He drew closer. Closer. She held her breath.

He stepped past her hiding place and she swung, hitting him hard in the chest. With a grunt of pain, he stumbled backward. “That's for my mother, you bastard!” She swung again, this time connecting with the right side of his face. “And that's for me!”

His head snapped sideways and he toppled, his expression one of complete and utter surprise. She threw the branch at him and ran.

The trees cleared suddenly, and the lake lay before her, gleaming in the moonlight. She heard Griffen drag himself to his feet, grunting in pain, gasping for air. There was nowhere for her to go but forward, onto the lake. She saw lights on the other side. If she could get across, she would find help.

Holding her breath, Skye stepped onto the lake. It held, feeling solid beneath her. She began to make her way across the slick surface, inch by careful inch, saved only by the fresh snow on top of the ice. Still, her Nikes didn't give her much traction, and she had to go slow or fall.

He was stronger, faster. He had the advantage of snow boots. She couldn't beat him to the other side, she realized. And on the ice she lost the ability to stop, catch her breath and hide.

For all the good it would do her, she realized. She wasn't going to make it out of this. She was numb with the cold already, exhausted. Griffen was gaining on her with every step. And even if she made it to the woods, what could she do? Hide and freeze to death? Tears swamped her, she fought them, knowing they would only sap the little bit of energy and will she had left.

She changed her direction, angling toward the Monarch place, toward their dock that stuck out onto the lake like a bony, dark finger. She took one last, longing glance at the lights on the other side, trying to memorize their location, when she thought she heard her name.

She stopped and listened, then heard her name again.
Chance. It was Chance. He had come for her.
A moment later, she heard barking.
He had Moo.

“Chance!” she screamed, almost sobbing with relief. “I'm here! I'm here!”

“Skye! Where are you?”

She saw him then, standing on the Monarchs' deck. She waved her arms and screamed again. “Here, Chance! Here! On the lake.”

Chance must have spotted her, because he started to run toward the dock, Moo with him.

“No!” Griffen bellowed. “He won't have you!” Griffen lunged at her, falling, hitting the ice, his fingers brushing against her ankle. Skye screamed again, lurching away from him.

The ice began to crack. She stopped and, horrified, watched as weblike veins shot through the ice at her feet. She looked up. “Chance! The lake! It's cracking!”

“Keep coming!” he shouted. “I'll get you, I promise.”

Skye ran, the ice shifting beneath her feet, the crackling and groaning sound becoming louder, more ominous. She could see the movement of the water below.

A cry of despair flew to her lips. She didn't want to die.

“You're almost there, Skye. You're going to make it. You're—”

The ice gave beneath her feet. She went down. The cold paralyzed her. It drenched her clothes, seeming to triple her weight, dragging her down. Her head slid under and for a fraction of a second, she considered giving up, just letting go and allowing the cold to take her. She was so tired. It seemed so hopeless.

Then she heard Chance's voice calling her, and she began to fight, kicking her way to the surface. Gasping for air, she grabbed at the edge of the ice in front of her, trying to get leverage.

Every time she did, the ice broke off.

She heard Griffen in the water behind her, struggling, flailing his arms and legs.

Chance was at the edge of the dock, climbing down the ladder attached to the side. “Come on, baby, you can do it.” Holding on to a rung of the ladder with one hand, Chance reached out his other. “Come on, Skye. Baby, grab my hand!”

She reached. Their fingers brushed. With a cry, she slipped and went under. She fought her way up, the layers of sodden clothes dragging at her. She broke the surface; she reached for Chance's hand.

Their fingers connected; his closed around hers. He began to haul her toward him.

Something closed around her ankle. Griffen. He had her ankle, he was pulling her down. She looked back, hysterical. He wasn't trying to save himself, she realized. He wanted her to go down with him.

Forever. They would be together forever.

“Don't let go, Chance! Don't let—”

Her hand slipped from his; her head went under. She was going to die, Skye realized. This was it, the end. She saw Griffen then, below her in the water, looking up at her, his mouth twisted into a grotesque smile.