Jools looked up fearfully as Alexios returned and flung the door open. He was alone. He strode in and grabbed her arm. “Come with me. It’s time to go.”
She drew back, her thoughts racing. “Where are we going?” He didn’t answer; instead he thrust Jools out the door, still gripping her arm, and propelled her down the hall alongside him. It was all she could do to keep up. At the end of the hall he turned, and she saw a narrow staircase rising up before them into the shadows.
“Go,” he commanded, and released her arm as he forced her up the stairs.
There was nothing she could do but comply. Alexios was taller and far stronger than she; and even if she turned around and kicked him in the balls, one of his minions would grab her and drag her back to him. And having already experienced a small taste of Alexios’s anger, Jools had no desire to experience it again.
At the top of the stairs was a door. He reached around her to throw it open and shoved her roughly inside, then followed her. He locked the door and pocketed the key. Jools realized they were in the attic. It was a proper old-fashioned attic, with a floor and sloping walls, and it ran the entire length of the house. The centre of the roof was flat – a mansard, if she remembered her study of Second Empire French architecture correctly. Lots of French houses had them. She glimpsed the sea through one of the salt-clouded windows. Most of them looked as if they’d not been opened in many years.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Alexios made his way to the nearest window and reached out to open it. It didn’t budge. “Looks as if they’re painted shut,” Jools ventured, and raised her brow. “Overlooked that, did you?”
“Shut up.” He slid a small, pearl-handled switchblade knife from his pocket and knelt before the window. Grimly he wedged the blade between the windowsill and the lower sash and began working it through the layers of paint. It was a slow process, but Alexios worked feverishly and with focused determination and, little by little, the blade did its job.
“What will you do, once you get that window open?” she enquired, and crossed her arms loosely against her chest.
“Push you out, if you don’t shut up.”
Jools blanched. “You wouldn’t.”
He didn’t answer, but slanted a glance at her and away again as he continued to thrust his blade through the layers of paint.
She knew without question that he would do it; he’d push her out the window with nary a qualm. Unless I shove him out first, Jools told herself grimly, and moved away to study the attic further. She glanced up. Beyond the shadows and festoons of cobwebs, she saw the outline of a trapdoor in the centre of the flat portion of the ceiling above them.
Had Alexios seen it as well? Somehow, she didn’t think so. Surely he wouldn’t waste his time trying to open one of those paint-encrusted windows if he had. The trapdoor must lead out to some sort of walkway or observation deck on the roof.
Her heartbeat quickened. A rope was tied to the door’s handle. If she made her way a bit closer, without Alexios noticing, she could just about reach the dangling end of the rope, and she might, possibly, manage to escape…
As she took a couple of tentative steps closer to the trapdoor, Jools paused. She heard voices and footsteps somewhere just below. Male voices, and not those of the guards either. Alexios heard them as well.
“The police,” he muttered, and cursed as he glanced through the glass. Half a dozen squad cars surrounded one side of the house. With a couple of last, savage thrusts, he worked the windowsill free and shoved it upwards, the wood groaning in protest.
“You can’t get away,” Jools said, matter-of-factly.
“They’ve surrounded the house, and I’m sure they’re on their way up here.”
“I will get away, and you’re going with me,” he told her, and lunged to grab her, switchblade in hand. “Or I’ll cut you to ribbons before they ever arrive.”
Jools twisted and kicked him hard in the shins. He let out a hiss of pain, and his grip on her wrist slackened enough for her to wrench free. She turned away and ran down the walkway towards the stairway door, dodging spider webs and knocking over a dressmaker’s dummy, with Alexios in close pursuit behind her.
She flung herself at the door and pounded on the panels, screaming, “We’re up here! In the attic! Please, please help!” Alexios was on her almost immediately. He clapped his hand over her mouth and dragged her back, kicking and struggling wildly, back towards the window. She felt the knife blade pierce her through the waistband of her jeans; she cried out in terror and pain and tried desperately to twist away.
“Stop fighting me,” he breathed in her ear, “or I swear I’ll kill you right now.”
She went limp in his arms as footsteps rounded the hallway below and pounded up the attic stairs.
“That’s better, querida,” he murmured. “You know, I thought you cared for me. But you betrayed me, little one…just like all the rest.” He thrust her in front of the window, keeping his fingers wrapped firmly around her upper arm. “A pity, because I actually grew fond of you. I liked your spirit. Your defiance. Now, though…you’re nothing more than a way out of here.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Jools managed to ask.
He didn’t answer. He tightened his grip on her arm as someone tried the doorknob.
“Hang on, Jools,” Jack called out, his words grim with determination. “We’ll have you out of there in two ticks.” He slammed his shoulder hard against the wood.
Alexios pushed her up against the window ledge. “It’s time to go, querida. You first.”
“No!” Wild with fear, she fought to twist free from his grip. As the door behind them splintered and crashed open, Alexios cursed and dragged Jools in front of him and held his switchblade to her throat.
“Stop right there,” he warned Jack. Just behind his half-brother stood his father – their father, Nikkos – along with half a dozen armed police officers. “Or I’ll cut your niece’s pretty face, Jakkos. Then…” He paused. “I’ll kill her.”
“This isn’t her fight, Alexios.” Jack’s voice was steady but undercut with contempt. “She’s a kid. Do the right thing and let her go, mate. Whatever your quibble with me, or our father – it’s nothing to do with Jools.”
Jools’s eyes widened. Her Uncle Jack and this madman were brothers?
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Jakkos,” Alexios corrected him. “It’s everything to do with her. She was the only way I could think of to entice you back from halfway round the world. She’s the only person you care about, really, isn’t she?”
“I care about you, Alex,” Jack said, and shrugged. His face hardened. “About as much as you care about me.”
“You left me behind,” Alexios accused his half-brother contemptuously. “You went off to London with your mother, and left me with him. How could you expect me to become anything but another monster?”
“So what is it you want from me now?”
“I want you to acknowledge your mistake in leaving me behind.” He jerked his head at Nikkos. “In leaving me at his mercy.”
“Don’t give me that ‘abandonment’ crap,” Jack said sharply.
“You and the old man were always alike – sociopaths without scruples or morals or a single shred of decency. And those are your good points.”
“You wound my pride, Jakkos.”
“Fuck your pride. Let Jools go.”
“Don’t you see? I can’t do that.” He swung one leg over the window ledge, his arm still wrapped firmly around Jools’s waist, the blade still at her throat.
“I think, perhaps, I’ll throw your niece over the edge of the roof.” He paused and added, “Unless you can convince me otherwise?”
“Take me instead.” Jack stepped closer. “Come on, Alex – leave Jools out of it. Let her go and take me.”
Alexios met his half-brother’s eyes, and for a fraction of a second, he considered the idea. “I like it,” he mused, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll have a dramatic final confrontation between good – that would be you, Jakkos – and evil. That would be me.” He paused. “What do you say, Jakkos? Are you willing to go mano a mano with me on the rooftop?
Before Jack could answer, he heard a commotion on the stairs behind him, followed by a hoarse cry.
“Let go of her, you crazy bastard!” Oliver shouted, and hurled himself like a juggernaut straight at Alexios.
Startled, Alexios froze. Acting on pure instinct, he thrust Jools forward as hard as he could, straight into her father’s arms. In an instant he was gone, vanished out the window and away onto the roof.