The Heir

Something makes me whirl around to face him. “Where did she go?”

“The hospital, Your Highness.”

“The hospital?” I shout before my father can speak.

The butler looks startled. “Yes, I believe Her Majesty went to visit Miss Winchester.”

I glance at my father to see if he knows what’s going on, but he looks as surprised as me.

I run out of my father’s study and I get to meet Linnea as she comes into the house.”

“Hello Dante,” she says in a friendly voice.

I stride up to her, my face so menacing she shrinks back in fear.

“What are you doing?”

I catch her wrist in my hand. “Why did you go to see Rosa?”

“Let go of me this instant. I am your queen.”

“You are not my queen. You never were and you never will be. If you don’t talk fast I will break your hand.”

“How dare you threaten me?”

I squeeze her pampered flesh viciously and she pales. “Let go of me and I’ll tell you. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve only tried to help.”

I throw her wrist away from me, and she rubs the area where I grasped it. I feel no remorse for having caused her pain.

“You should be thanking me. I helped her. I knew that she would not be safe here so I put her on a plane back to England.”

“You did what?” I bellow.

“Don’t worry. I sent Elsa with her.”

For a full second I stare at her in disbelief. At the audacity of this woman. Then something clicks in my head. It is not audacity. Oh my god. No. I turn away from her. I might still be able to make it. I run outside. The driver who brought Linnea is just about to get into his car and drive off. I push him out of the way and get into the car. I drive through the streets of Avanti like a mad man. I speed through red lights and have two near crashes. I drive right past the security guards. Fortunately, I’m driving the royal car so there is no big commotion. I can see the plane taking off as I approach the tarmac.

“Fuck,” I yell. I put my foot on the gas and try to chase the plane. If the pilot sees my car he will not take off, but I am too late. The plane becomes airborne. I get out of the car and scream with frustration.

Five seconds after the plane is airborne it explodes and becomes a fireball. I stand there slack-jawed. My brain stops working. I just stare at the trail of black smoke as the fireball falls into the woodlands by the airport.

My legs buckle and I fall on the tarmac. My hands scratch the rough surface until they begin to bleed, but I feel no pain.

Chapter 40

Dante

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RFnD3uwKHag

How do I live

I should have stayed in Avanti. I should have made them all pay, and God help me I will even if it is the last thing I do, but I can’t face any of it just yet. I fly back to Italy. How I pilot the plane is a surprise even to me. I arrive outside her apartment and finally something happens inside me. A sliver of ice thaws.

I fish the copy of her key that I made that morning when I brought her biscuits, out of my pocket and put it into the keyhole. My hand is steady as I push the door open.

I look up at those stairs and the memories, oh, God, the memories they crush me. Her running up ahead of me wearing her long skirt. Another time her bottom in tight white jeans. Laughing. Her laugh. I grit my teeth and take a step into the darkness. I close the door and start up the stairs. My movements are almost robotic.

In the near complete silence, I can hear my heart beating, but my chest feels hollow. I enter her apartment and I have to catch my breath for the astounding pain inside me. It flows in my veins, and strangles my neck. I drop to the ground. The sound of my knees hitting the floor is loud, but I feel no pain. No other pain, but the agony of her loss, can reach me.

It was my fault.

I should never have taken her to Avanti. How could I have been blind? So naïve. So fucking stupid? How can I carry on? My baby is gone. Both my babies. I had so many plans. The house I bought with the rose garden. It had a nursery. It was supposed to be a surprise. My big surprise. Ta da.

I stand up, walk to her bedroom, and sit on her bed.

If I close my eyes I can still see her sleeping, the moonlight on her cheek. How I wish I could turn back the clock. If only I had not taken her. If only I had insisted on following her upstairs when she wanted to change her shoes. I pick up her pillow and smell it. Her scent fills my nostrils and a tearing sound comes from my throat. I bury my face in her scent. Oh, Rosa, Rosa. Why did you go without telling me? All you had to do was call me.

“Fuck!”

I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe she is gone. It is not possible. I don’t want to believe it. I want to believe it is mistake, or a nightmare, or an elaborate joke. I want her to come bouncing in here and laugh at me for being so stupid.

The pain is so unbearable I want to howl with it.

I put the pillow back carefully in its place and look around the room. Her alarm clock. A glass of water. Her dry biscuits. I remember buying them that morning. I remember sitting down to watch her eat them. I never wanted to watch a woman eat before. She misread and mistrusted me, but that was another time, another place, another me. I would have done anything for her.

Anything.

I know I have to go back to Avanti. I have to look for her body. I have to avenge her. I have to protect my people from Linnea and Linnus.

But not tonight.

I stand up and go down the stairs. I walk into the pizzeria. It is full of people. The noise and clamor is a shock to my system. It is so noisy it hurts my head. There are people singing and clapping. It could be that I’m in shock, but I cannot make out the words they are singing.

It must be a birthday party because there is a cake with candles on it on the table. So, everything in the world is carrying on as if nothing momentous has happened. As if she is not gone. Antonio calls out to me with his hand.

I walk up to him, my movements are jerky, as if my limbs are being remotely controlled by someone inexperienced at it. He says something, but I don’t catch it. He repeats himself and I watch his lips carefully.

“How goes it?” he asks.

“She’s gone,” I say, my voice trailing, slow. The words are like ashes in my mouth.

“Gone?” he repeats, frowning.

I nod, still unable to believe it. Saying it has not made it real.

“Sit down,” he invites, his eyes searching my face.

A waiter brings two glasses of grappa. I down mine and feel nothing. Not even the scrape of it at the back of my throat.

“Give me two bottles,” I tell the waiter.

“Immediately,” he says.

“Please sit down,” Antonio says again, looking concerned.

My mind begins to shut him out, unwilling to deal with anything else other than my terrible pain. I put some money on the table and look around me, baffled at why I am in such a place. The waiter comes back with the two bottles. I grab them from him and stumble out of the restaurant.

It’s too late. Too late to do anything.

I half-walk, half-crawl back up the stairs. I don’t switch on any lights so it is as dark as a cave. The silence is strangely soothing after all the happy noises down at the pizzeria. I sit on the floor, unscrew the cap of the bottle, and drink straight from it. I remove the bottle from my mouth and it is half-finished, but the unbearable pain is still there. The grappa has had no effect on me. I take a few more gulps. Grappa is shit when it is not cold, but who fucking cares?

I close my eyes and see the plane bursting into a ball of fire. It can’t be real. I drink the rest of the grappa and toss the bottle on the floor. She should be here. I see her pretty blue eyes as she laughs. She should be here. It’s not fair.

I didn’t even get a chance to tell her I loved her.

I feel so damn empty it feels as if I’m hollow. I open the next bottle and swig a thir

d of it down. I haven’t eaten since last night and the grappa starts to take effect. Like a fog inside my skull. Everything is becoming fuzzy except my pain.

I take a few more mouthfuls.

I stand up. My legs feel unsteady. I can’t remember the last time I was this wasted. I stagger to her fridge, my mind whirling with crazy thoughts. What did she keep in her fridge? I know so little about her. I don’t even know the contents of her fridge. Grabbing the handle, I pull it open.

The light blinds me. I squint until my eyes adjust to the light, then I go closer. Milk, orange juice, butter, a bottle of club soda, two oranges, and a bar of chocolate. They are like a jigsaw puzzle. I try to imagine her buying the chocolate.

Tears start burning the backs of my eyes. I blink them away and wander aimlessly to her bedroom. It’s dark, but I can still see my way to the dressing table. There is a hairbrush there. I’ve seen it before. I switch on the light.

There is a man in the mirror. His eyes are glossy, too glossy, and his mouth is slack. He looks guilty. I look away from him. I pick up the hairbrush and bring it close to my face. In amongst the bristles I see strands of her flaming hair.

A chasm of grief opens up then.

I remember her saying, “I’ll haunt you until eternity.”

I begin to cry. I howl like an animal in an abattoir that has smelt the blood and suffering of all the animals who have gone on before it. I will never again be what I was. Sorrow will be my cloak for eternity. The fog of alcohol becomes thick clouds in my brain.

“Dear God, take care of my babies,” I whisper as I fall into blackness.

I dream that she visits me. She comes wearing a white dress with red buttons. In my dream I’m so happy to see her. I’ve been given a second chance. I tell her how much I love her, and she cries. It is so real I feel her tears fall on my cheek. I know it is a dream, but it doesn’t matter because I just won’t wake up. I never want to wake up.

I tell her I will hold her so tightly I will bring her back into the real world.

In my dream she laughs.