| Chapter 13 The noise of the helicopter was deafening. Alexis wanted to get to Luke, but the two goons from the Helicopter kept her immobile with Stefan between her and the four men in fatigues advancing. Nikolas looked from one to the other and wondered how Gia could still be sleeping upstairs with all the racket. She wasn’t. Nikolas saw her standing stunned at the top of the stairs. He shook his head just the least bit. She hid just out of sight. He didn’t see her run back to their room for her purse. “So, which is going to be? Who’s going to die tonight?” the first helicoptor creep said. “Doesn’t matter much to me, but Luke Spencer and the kid go with me.” “The hell they do,” offered the other man intently. “We’ve got orders.” “Orders to die,” came the counter offer. A shot rang out. The man from the helicopter dropped his gun in shock, then put his hand to his head. A scream from Alexis startled everyone as blood splurted from the man’s head and the force of gravity pulled him down, dead before he hit the floor. The four men by the door turned as one in confusion to see a woman all dressed in purple, a little Colt 45 in her hand, the gun smoking slightly. The woman wasn’t that big, but her face was drawn into a smug smile. Her hand was steady as she held the gun on the group while Stefan suddenly turned his entire body in one fluid motion and kicked the gun out of the second helicopter goon’s hands. In seconds, the man had climbed back out the window and into the helicopter. He signaled to the pilot and the helicopter lifted off into the night. The receding sound of the whirly bird was barely noticed as the four other goons pointed their guns at Celine and she stood her ground. “Planning on killing a woman tonight, Gentlemen?” Celine hissed. “What kind of monster gave those orders?” Her gray eyes spat out furious anger. Stefan was taken aback by her stance. He took a step forward. Alexis rushed to Luke who remained unconscious on the floor, blood oozing from a wound on his head. She cradled his head in her arms, “None of your damn business.” Celine was told by her target. “Oh, but it is my business,’ Celine smirked. “My husband is here.” “What do you want?” Stefan ground out, walking menacingly towards the group. At that moment, Gia ran down stairs. Two of the men pointed their guns at her. Racing towards, them, she sprayed mace in their eyes. They dropped their guns with a cry of anguish. Stefan now grabbed one man by the neck and pulled him backwards. The one remaining interloper turned around and round, aiming his gun at one person, then another, totally confused. Clearly, the plan had not gone off as planned. As his comrades screamed in pain, and Stefan choked his friend, he wondered what the heck his maddened employer would have him do now. “If I were you, I would gracefully retreat,” Stefan suggested, “Put the gun down and leave now, or I will kill this man with one twist of his neck.” Stefan tightened his grip on his hapless victim. The man’s face turned red as his breath came in crowing gasps, his body fighting against Stefan’s grip. Stefan exchanged a look with Celine. Their faces were both shining with maliciousness. The man sighed. Dropping his gun, he pushed his comrades through the door of the penthouse. “Move it!” he yelled at them. They stumbled their way out of the penthouse. Celine kept her gun on the man. “Hold it!” Stefan ordered as the man turned back to him. Celine moved towards Stefan, keeping her gun on both men. “We’re leaving already,” came the defeated remark. The man was thinking of how he was going to talk to his employer, knowing with a sinking heart that failure in his mission meant death, but if he pursued this mission, they would all die anyway. “Before you leave, what did you come here for? The other mongrels wanted Luke and Nikolas. What do you want?” “If I tell you that, I might as well sign my death warrant.” “I can do that,” Celine smiled demonically, her face calmly serene. Her gaze sent shivers down the young man’s spine. She didn’t know it, but he knew her, and he knew exactly what she was capable of. Helplessly, he hesitated. “Speak up! I didn’t hear you,’ Stefan ordered. He had loosened his grip on his captive. Now he tightened it again. The poor man was now up to turning blue. He was starting to sag in Stefan’s arms. “Stop already,” His friend begged. “You’re going to kill him!” “Definitely my intent,” Stefan returned, his voice daring the man to further refuse his command. Now the man sagged completely, the oxygen cut off way too long. “A package,” his friend cried. “It was a package that the young man brought up. The owner of it wanted it back.” “Who?” Stefan demanded. He let his prey fall to the floor in a worthless heap. Putting his foot on the unconscious man’s chest, he waited non chalantly. Nikolas, Gia, and Alexis all watched in complete amazement. On the floor, Luke was just starting to come around. “Oh no, Sir!” came the denial. “That I can’t say. It would mean instant death.” Celine cocked her gun. “Instant death seems to be your only choice,” She giggled. Stefan raised his eyebrows at his wife’s audacity. “Stop it,” Nikolas cried. “No one else is going to die here. Not tonight. Get out, and take your scum friend with you,” Nikolas told the man. Not needing to be told twice, the man pulled his unconscious friend through the doorway. Nikolas came and slammed it shut. Gia followed him while Alexis helped Luke silently up off the floor and to a nearby chair. The wind blew through the broken window, sending warm gusts of air blowing the group’s hair around. Nikolas set his sights on his uncle. “You really would have killed the man, wouldn’t you?” He asked, not sure whether to be angry or just disappointed. “Nikolas, we have to know who sent those men,” Stefan informed his nephew. “They might have Lucky and Emily.” “We don’t know who has Lucky and Emily, Uncle,” Nikolas shot out. “We don’t even know if they’re still alive.” “Nikolas, the creeps from the helicopter wanted you and Luke,” Gia observed, using her gentlest voice as Nikolas’ distress tugged at her heart. “Maybe they have Lucky and Emily.” “Well, well, looks like Sassy Sue makes sense,” Luke interrupted in a groaning voice from the sofa chair where he sat. “Luke, stay out of it,” Stefan snapped, sitting on another sofa chair with Celine rubbing his forhead. He closed his eyes in frustration. Luke snorted as Alexis wiped his own forehead of the blood that was trickling from his wound. “Right. My kid is missing. I get conked on the head and practically kidnapped. Naturally I’ll stay out of it.” “Mr. Spencer,” Celine purred. “If you have something to say, please feel free. I’m certain Stefan will appreciate your input.” Stefan stiffened at the tone of Celine’s voice. She really did take Spencer too seriously. He would definitely have to have a talk with her about her cordial attitude towards the man. “The goons who just left wanted a package. But the Rambo guys who came in the helicopter wanted me. That tells me they probably have Lucky and Emily, just as Sassy Sue suggested.” “It’s Gia!” Gia cried from the stair way where she was sitting with a very shocked Nikolas. “You know, Papa Smurf, I saved your butt with that mace. Give me some respect will ya.” Luke laid back, closing his eyes as Alexis next put an ice pack on his head. Holding the ice pak to his head, his blue eyes met Gia’s. “I thought I just did,” He smirked. * * * * * Emily Quartermaine observed Lucky sleeping beside her. Her fingers twirled through his soft hair, then traced his cheek as he lay flopped on his stomach. His face appeared almost torn with pain, grimacing even while he slept. His mouth moved as though he were speaking, but nothing came out. The young woman could only guess at what else Faison might have done to her friend. She got up, restless and frustrated. Anders hadn’t returned with any clothes. She was still stuck with the flimsy silk nightgown, slippers and robe. It was galling. Next to her, Lucky stirred. “Stop,” He muttered. “God, please stop. Please.” Emily wanted to shake her friend awake. But he needed his sleep, didn’t he? As she argued with herself, the door to the room opened. Jumping up, she raced to the end of the bed. Once again two guards came into the room. Faison stood with them. He put his finger to his lips. The two guards took Emily by the arms. They brought her to Faison by the open doorway. “One word, Miss Quartermaine,” Faison threatened, “and Mr. Spencer’s torture will begin again.” Emily threw the man a defiant look, but allowed the two guards to take her from the room. Her mind wondered in a moment of silent terror, if she was going to be subjected to the torture that Lucky had been subjected to. The door shut behind her. Faison stayed behind. Lucky was awakened by a sudden jab in his neck. The sharp sting of the needle and the force of the fluid being injected made him scream in pain. He could barely move for the pain in his back. He started to move on to his back, but strong hands on his neck forced him once again to remain still. No words were said. He had no clue who was there. The strength of the hold on his neck made Lucky clench his fists in rage. “What’s going on?” He muttered. “For God’s sake!” “Who is in control, Mr. Spencer?” Faison’s voice demanded angrily. “Go to hell,” Lucky cried again. Emily. Where was Emily, he wondered. “Oh no, Mr. Spencer. Not me. But you may get there before me,” Faison threatened. His breath whispered in Lucky’s ear while his hold made Lucky take short shallow gasps of air. Faison enjoyed the feeling of having Lucky’s life in his hands. He always did. The only thing better would be to have Luke Spencer himself, but Luke wasn’t as pliable as Lucky. He could feel the boy’s body trembling. Life. It was such a fragile thing. Yet Lucky seemed to survive all his most demonical plots. This time, Faison believed he had left no room for escape. “If you do not acquiesce, Mr. Spencer, both you and Miss Quartermaine will pay. We don’t have as much time as we did last time, unfortunately. That’s why this has been rather intense already. You will do as I say, or this time you will die.” “So, I’ll die,” Lucky choked out. “What the hell do I care?” “You care about Miss Quartermaine, don’t you?” When Lucky didn’t reply, Faison merely chuckled. “Of course you do,” Faison chortled. “She’s learning lessons as we speak.” Lucky struggled beneath Faison’s grip, his mumbling giving way to the effects of the medication Faison had given him. “You can see that you are in my control, Mr. Spencer. There is no way out. Who is in control, Mr. Spencer?” Faison asked again. Lucky was silent. His world had slowly changed as the mind altering medication took effect. Faison removed his hand thinking there was no more reason to hold Lucky down. Lucky turned slowly on to his back, ignoring the harsh burning pain that the pressure put on his back. He saw Faison. With a roar of rage, the young man pushed Faison to the floor. Insanity leaped out of Lucky’s eyes. Before Faison could move, Lucky gave into the murderous intent that was on his mind. He was in control. Lucky. Lucky was the one who would win this round. Pure adrenaline flowing through his veins gave Lucky super human strength. He grabbed a nearby chair and brought it up in the air over his captor’s head. Faison, astounded by this sudden turn of events didn’t move fast enough to avoid the crash of the chair exploding his brain into a collage of stars and misery. He collapsed to the ground in a sea of darkness. The door flew open and a guard came into the room. He was no match for Lucky. Lucky charged the man in an animalistic instinct for survival, landing on top of him. He sat on the man as he struggled, then grabbed guard’s gun. He aimed it slowly, deliberately, his mind thinking of only one thing, to get Emily and escape, to save himself before someone had the chance to hurt or kill him again. The drug Faison gave him might have been given with other results expected. Instead, Lucky was out of his mind at least for the moment. The guard pushed his body, trying to get away from Lucky, but Lucky was heavy enough to hold him down. In a futile attempt to prevent his death, the man held up his hands in the air. Lucky’s face was frightening as he held the gun with grim intention. “Please, No!” The guard cried begging for his life. Knowing now how Faison felt when he tortured him, Lucky taking perverse pleasure in pulling the trigger. The report of the gun, the bullet hitting the guard right between the eyes brought Lucky back to reality. The guard’s head made a sickening smashing thud as it crashed backward in slow motion onto the hard floor. Beneath Lucky, his victim was suddenly horrifically still. Surprisingly there was little blood, but still the man was dead. The shocked look on the man’s face was enough to tear at the soul of any man. Through the fog, Lucky realized what he had done. He had just murdered a man, a defenseless man. He walked over to Faison who was moaning in pain as he started to come around. For aminute, Lucky contemplated the gun, his eyes going from the weapon to Faison. “You,” Lucky hissed at Faison. “You made me do this. You monster. You stinking monster.” Faison, his head screaming in pain, opened his eyes, masochistically surprised to find Lucky now straddling him. The mouth of the gun, still smoldering was shoved into Faison’s own throat. He choked and gagged. “How does it feel, Faison? How does it feel to know you could be blown to hell any second? You made me a murderer. I have no compunction in killing you, do I? Do I?” Lucky demanded, his hand pushing the gun further towards the back of Faison’s throat. The tears fell from Lucky’s eyes. He knew what he had become, Faison’s lackey, no better than the Danish madman himself. Faison, finally realizing that Lucky wasn’t as pliable as he thought shook his head in momentary defeat. “Where is Emily?” Lucky went on, his anger mixed with disgust. “Is she all right?” Faison made a shrugging movement. The door to the room opened with a loud crash. Lucky startled was pushed off Faison in a desperate motion. Rolling over on his sore back, Lucky cried out. He clung to the gun as Faison got up wearily and another guard came into the room. He had slammed the door backwards to get Lucky’s attention. Lucky held the gun on the men. “Come on, Lucky. Give me the gun,” Faison hissed. “I’ve still got Emily. If anything happens to me, my partner will kill her.” Lucky shook his head in denial. “No!” He screamed. “No you can’t hurt her!” “She’s expendable, Lucky. You know that. You know who is in control. Listen to me, Mr. Spencer. I am in control.” Faison’s haughty accented voice irritated Lucky, frightened him. Lucky’s haunting blue eyes met Faison’s cruel ones. “If I’m dead, Faison, you have nothing. Nothing.” Lucky’s words hung in the air. As if seeing the scene unfold from another perspective, as if he wasn’t really moving, Lucky’s mind moved his hand. The gun moved automatically. Lucky felt the cold steel, the same mouthpiece that could have killed Faison, on his temple. In one swift second, Faison would lose. It was the only way to save Emily. “No!” Faison cried, half crazed with gleeful anticipation and still worried that Lucky would succeed at suicide. That was not the plan, yet. He and the guard raced forward, just as Lucky cocked the hammer one more time. “Good bye, Faison,” were the words Lucky spoke as he pulled the trigger in one irrevocable second. * * * * * “Good Lord!” Edward Quartermaine shrieked as his daughter Tracy stepped into the foyer of the Q’s mansion. He put his hand to his heart as it palpated madly. Rushing from the family living room at Edward’s cry, Alan and Monica were stopped short by a sight they hadn’t expected to ever see again. Tracy Quartermaine. Where in the world had she come from? “Tracy?” Alan queried in stupefied wonder while Monica simply stared. “Well hello, Brother. Father? It’s so good to see you,” Tracy gushed. The doorbell ringing made them all jump except for Tracy who was in her element, enjoying the shock on everyone’s faces, especially Edward who was as frozen as a statue on the stairway. “I don’t suppose anyone is going to answer that?” Tracy wondered. “No I suppose not. I’ll get…” She was stopped as Reginald came hurrying from the kitchen. Ignoring the scene, Reginald calmly opened the front door. Reginald’s calm exterior gave way to bemusement as he was handed a dozen black roses in a vase. “Excuse me?” his voice could be heard saying. “Delivery for Alan and Monica Quartermaine,” the delivery boy said. “Really. You’re sure?” “Ordered this morning.” The delivery man went on. He waited impatiently for a tip. “Thank you,” Reginald returned, shutting the door in the man’s face. “Now that,’ Tracy observed, “was rude. The kid needs a tip.” “Dr. Quartermaine,” Reginald said giving the vase to Monica. She stared at it, not happy to be the recipient of a dozen black roses. She looked at Alan. “This isn’t your idea of a joke, is it?” Alan rolled his eyes. “Hardly, Monica. Maybe it’s Tracy’s?” “Don’t look at me,” Tracy quipped. “I just got here. Why would I send my brother roses, especially in such a drivel color.” Tracy replied, sweeping into the living room. “Just a minute, young Lady, where are you going. You can’t come into my house,” Edward spluttered finally moving from the stairs to the foyer, then giving chase to his daughter. Her dyed reddish brown hair was all he saw as she ignored him completely. Alan and Monica followed, with the vase. Monica put the vase on the table nearest the double glass doors that led to the garden. She picked up the note reading while Edward and Tracy immediately started their usual sparring round. “Father, such a welcome,” Tracy taunted happily, sitting on the sofa, straightening her skirt, and beaming sarcastically at her irate parent. “Welcome? Tracy, every time you come into this house, disaster strikes,” Edward accused. “Now I want you to get that butt of yours off my…” His high pitched words were cut short by a distressed cry from Monica. He finished as her cry died down and Alan rushed to put his arms around her before she could faint. “See, I told you so,” He accused smugly. “Oh, shut up, Father. Alan? What is it?” Tracy inquired jumping up, and racing to her brother and sister-in-law in four quick steps. “Oh my God,” Monica breathed. “Emily.” She made herself stand up, her trembling body holding the note. She stared at it, her eyes wide with disbelief and horror. “Monica,” Alan coaxed gently. “Let me see.” Monica turned, handing him the note, too anxious to even care about Tracy or Edward. Her sister-in-law’s close presence however, was not comforting. Alan read the letter out loud. “Drs’ Quartermaine; Have you seen your daughter lately? The fact there is no hue and cry tells me you haven’t checked. What a pity. Obviously you really could care less about such an exquisite child. Emily’s real mother is aware of her disappearance and may be able to keep you informed-if you can find her. In the meantime, Emily will remain in my custody. I have plans for her and her real mother. The flowers are a gift in exchange for your lovely child. Already she has proved herself to be beautiful, courageous and strong. I admire her. You can be certain no harm will come to her while she is in my care. However, do not look for her. Do not call the police. If you do, these roses will not be the first you receive-as people give you their condolences for her true loss. There is no ransom. There is no way to get her back. She is dead to you. She will not be returned in the near future. This is a preliminary notice warning you not to act. Whatever you do will be noted, and Emily will pay the price. Again, thank you for your daughter’s lovely presence. It is much appreciated. Sincerely Anders For the first time in the history of the Quartermaine family, there was absolute silence. No one said a word. Monica took the note from Alan. They hugged each other, then sat down on the sofa that Tracy had occupied. Both were too stunned to think or speak. Edward spluttered, his dormant soul screaming for his granddaughter’s prompt return, but remaining eerily still. Tracy, her own mind racing a mile a minute had a theory, but was uncertain how to act. At that moment, Lila came into the living room with her electric wheelchair. She looked from one stricken face to the other, then talked to Reginald who stood behind her chair. Her elegant voice was resigned as she spoke in her soft, yet authorative way. “Reginald, I do believe we have a crisis. Bring out the Brandy and the sherry. It’s going to be a very long evening.” * * * * * Emily escorted by the two men in security guard uniforms tried once to pull away. For her trouble, the grip on her arms grew more tight. “Let me go,” she tried. “My father will make it more than worth your while. He’s a wealthy man. Let my friend and me go, and I can promise you all the money you want.” The two men exchanged glances over the girl’s head, and continue their walk down the hall. The house was obviously an old mansion. They walked through several corridors, all with gaudy gold glass mirrors and perfectly elegant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling giving off dim light. They stopped in front of a door that one of the guard’s knocked on. Then he opened it. Emily’s eyes widened as she was led into the room. “Hello, Emily,” came the all to familiar voice. Emily stepped into the plush room, all decorated in red. The red velvet chairs, the red velvet sofa, the curtains that covered the huge floor to ceiling windows, the mahogany tables with red tablecloths laying like an alter cloth over them, and the one large sofa chair where Helena Cassidine sat, dressed immaculately in a black and white suit, her hair perfectly coiffed, sipping on a clear glass of brandy. She put it down on the glass table next to her as Emily entered the room. “Welcome, Miss Quartermaine. I trust you have been comfortable since your arrival.” The guards stepped back. Emily stood only a few feet from Helena, her face filled with disbelief and anger. “You! When Nikolas finds out what you’ve done…” “My dear,” Helena interrupted. “You are not here to discuss my grandson.” Her voice was low, threatening. Emily didn’t understand. “Then what am I here for? What is Lucky here for? Why have you let Faison hurt him?” “So distressed. It’s a shame. Faison’s business is with Lucky. My business is with you. Fortunately, I’m not the glutton for devious torture that Faison is. Your mother would be so upset if any harm came to your lovely face.” “My mother? Monica? Of course she’s going to be upset.” “No, no, My dear,” Helena purred. “Monica is the least of my concerns. Your mother has information I want. I intend to get it. In the meantime, you will need to stay here, a hostage of sorts.” “A hostage. Lady, you’re crazy!” Emily accused. Helena stood up, regally, her smile deceiving. She came over to Emily. Her slap was sharp and intense. Emily could have cared less. She was used to it by now. “You have a vulger, Miss Quartermaine. Do that again and we will have to wash it out with soap.” “I won’t stay here,” Emily threatened. “You can’t hold Lucky and me forever.” “Who do you think will rescue you? Your mother? I assure you, she is being distracted as we speak. She has other things on her mind.” “Monica and Alan will find me,” Emily insisted heartfully. “Monica and Alan will do nothing. If they do, they know you will die.” Helena’s elegant hand touched Emily’s chin. She lifted her face so that their eyes locked. Emily shivered in cold fury. “You don’t want to die, just yet, do you, my dear?” Helena was obviously enjoying every minute of Emily’s confusion. She smiled in her self satisfied way. “If I die,” Emily returned as calmly as she could, “Nikolas will find out and he will kill you. If nothing else, he’ll make sure you rot in prison for the rest of your life.” “Ah, the risks we take in trying to achieve our goals. Oh, well,” Helena laughed. “Don’t you want to know about your mother?” She turned and sat back down in the ornate chair. Emily stood, her hands clasped to her side, her body still and straight. She wasn’t going to give into this woman, for anything. “My mother is Monica Quartermaine,” Emily said. “My real mother, Paige Bowen is dead. You’re out of your mind.” “Hardly my dear,” Helena went on. “Your mother is not Monica Quartermaine. Your mother is alive and well. In fact you know her. You just have to open that mind of yours. It’s not so very difficult is it?” “I don’t understand,” Emily started. Helena waved her hand, satisfied she had raised the girl’s curiousity. “You will,” She said softly. “You will. Take her back. Perhaps Faison will have a show for her,” Helena smiled knowing that Faison was with Lucky. Emily’s heart constricted at the words. “You have to help Lucky,” she begged as she was pulled away from Helena. “As I said, Emily. Lucky is Faison’s concern. Don’t worry. You will be fine. We won’t mistreat you. For now.” Helena’s laughter followed Emily out of the room as the two guards dragged her away. The sinister sound made Emily feel totally lost. What was going on? What was Helena talking about? Lucky? Was Faison with him? He said he wouldn’t hurt Lucky. She walked with the guards, back towards the room she shared with Lucky. She couldn’t get back fast enough as she realized he might need help. Suddenly the two men pulled her into a room. “What?” She cried in amazement. “What are you doing?” “Orders,” came the reply. “I have to get to Lucky!” Emily cried. “Not this time, Miss,” One guard held Emily about the waist. To her undulating alarm, her hands were pulled in front of her and tied with rope the guard pulled out of a closet. Clearly this had been planned. Next Emily’s feet were tied. “She said I wouldn’t be hurt,” Emily started. A blindfold was placed over her eyes. “Oh God,” She screamed. “Faison’s orders,” was the explanation over the darkness. Lifted in the air, Emily felt herself being carried across the room. Helpless against her captors, she was placed on a hard bed. Footsteps told her she was going to be left here. The door opened and shut. “Help!” She screamed. “Help me!” The door opened, letting in someone else. Emily counted the footsteps. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. An unknown pressure pulled the bed down. Emily felt hands touching her hips through the flimsy gown. She tried to move, but really couldn’t. “Who’s there?” She begged. “Please, who’s there?” A smell of cigars made her cringe. It was Faison. It had to be. “I came to comfort you, Miss Quartermaine,” Faison’s voice told her. “I came to comfort you for your loss.” “My loss?” Emily cried. “What loss? What are you talking about?” “I’m sorry to tell you,” Faison intoned solemnly. His hand touched Emily’s face. He lifted her gown up so that her slender legs were bare to the cold air, and his clamminess. “Get off me,” Emily cried. “Where’s Lucky? Where is he?” Her voice was an octave below total panic. Faison bent down to speak in her ear, his hands stroking her nearly naked body. Emily trembled violently. “Lucky can’t save you today or ever again. He’s dead,” Faison told her. “He killed himself just minutes ago.” Emily froze, her mind drowning in hysterical denial, even while Faison started to have his way with her. This couldn’t be happening. Lucky! Lucky! He wouldn’t kill himself! He wouldn’t leave her! He wouldn’t. Oh God! Lucky! |