“I’m fine,” Charles muttered, eyelids fluttering. “Sleeping.”
“Sleeping!” Mary echoed in a singsong tone.
Thom looked at Cora and she nodded, trying to convey that
she was fine, too. He reached up and smoothed the hair back from
her forehead, and she leaned into his fingers, closing her eyes and,
for a brief moment, letting herself feel safe.
Minnie walked in next, a short knife from the kitchen clutched
in her fist. She let out a small sob when she saw Cora, but did not run
to her. Instead, she put herself between Cora and Alden, knife
held at the ready.
And finally Arthur, as pale as she’d ever seen him, expression-
less and holding the gun, came in. He leveled it at Alden’s chest
and pulled the trigger.
Marrakesh, Morocco, 1983
Venice, Italy, 1994
Okinawa, Japan, 1988
Jodhpur, India, 1999
Berkeley, California, 2009
twenty-two
T
he report of the gun echoed around the small
chamber. Alden looked down at his chest, frowning.
“Move the cage,” he growled. The other Ladon Vitae,
except Constance, melted back into the shadows of the cavernous
passageway.
Constance laughed, drawing Arthur’s attention. He leveled
the gun at her, but he didn’t think he could shoot a woman. “How
very like your father you are, Arthur!” she said.
“What do you mean?” He moved toward Cora and Minnie,
keeping the gun pointed at the members of the Ladon Vitae. This