| Chapter 15 Faison was still frothing at the mouth as his gaze went from Emily, crying softly in the grave, to Lucky’s still body on the ground. When Faison kicked his back, Lucky moaned, but didn’t move. His small cry was grim affirmation as to his power over the boy. The middle-aged Danishman turned his attention to Emily. “Get up here, Emily,” He ordered harshly. Emily, her head pounding in terror stood up slowly, her body shaking, trembling. Her legs weren’t strong enough to hold her at the moment. The girl fell to the side, using the dirt walls to steady herself. Anders jumped into the grave, then helped her climb out. She was starting to stand when Faison grabbed her by the neck, pulling her instantly to her feet. “You are much too slow my dear. You must learn to show respect for your master, just as Lucky has done.” Emily said nothing, her brown eyes bugged out, showing the absolute fear she had towards this man who had shoved a gun down her throat. “You are afraid. That is good. Perhaps you have learned,” Faison nodded. His own evil gaze locked with Emily’s as his hand traced the pale white of her neck. His hand went down towards her breast. Emily, revolted by his motion, shivered, pulling away. Faison grabbed the young woman’s thin shoulders in a viselike grip. “Did I tell you to move?” He demanded. “No of course not. Do we need another lesson?” Emily shook her head, muted. The roaring in her head was so loud, she wanted to faint, but she didn’t. “You saw that Lucky can be broken? He is only a mongrel who will lick my boots,” Faison hissed as his lips whispered into Emily’s ears. “But you. You are a beautiful woman. You are incredibly strong. You would have died for your friend. That is admirable.” Emily stood ramrod straight as Faison walked around her, his hand touching her backside, and hips. She didn’t move again. He came back to face her. Now he touched her cheek. “You could be very entertaining to me. Helena need never know. Because if you told her, your life would be forfeit. Do you understand?” His atrocious suggestion hung in the air. Emily refused to speak. Faison leaned forward. “I asked you a question, Miss Quartermaine,” Faison told her, the threat evident in his voice. “What is your answer?” “Leave her alone,” Anders cried coming to step between Faison and Emily. In an effort to protect Emily, Anders had to push his father away from her. Faison stumbled, but caught himself. Further rage was evident on his face as he turned to his son. “Move, Anders. Now!” He commanded as though he were an army drill sergeant. “No! They’ve been through enough, both Lucky and Emily. If you keep on this path of destruction, you’ll kill them or worse.” “Worse? There is something worse than death, Anders? I suppose you are right. And you will feel it if you do not get out of my way instantly,” came the dire words. Emily, hiding behind Anders started to put out her hand. It touched his shoulder gently. “Don’t, Anders,” She told him. “Don’t antagonize him because of Lucky or me. He’ll do what he wants with us anyway.” Anders turned to see Emily’s brown eyes filled with unshed tears. He smiled a little. “Go to Lucky,” He told her. Emily didn’t need to be told twice. She started to race to her friend. Like a snake, Faison’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “Ahhhhhhhh!” Emily screamed as the fingers dug into her arm. Anders hit his father’s arm so hard he let Emily go. She hurried to Lucky’s side while Faison turned to his son. The two guards watched in observant silence. “You are a fool, Anders. The girl means nothing. Nor does Lucky. They are pawns.” “Pawns, Father? What, in your endless quest for power? That quest cost my mother her life if I remember.” “Your mother died when you were only a boy. You never even met her. What has she to do with this?” Faison retorted hotly. “I’ve seen her picture. I know who she is. You killed her, just as you almost killed Emily tonight. You kill defenseless women, Father and I won’t let you do it anymore.” Faison turned to look at Emily who had gathered Lucky in her arms. She set his head on her lap, and whispered gently to him. Faison could hear the boy moaning. He smiled demonically. Anders watched Faison’s every move. Faison started to walked to Emily and Lucky. “Stop, Father,” Anders cried helplessly. Faison gave one nod of his head. The two guards stepped forward, and took Anders by the arm. Faison pulled a naked Lucky to his feet as Emily sat on the ground. “Get up,” Faison told the girl. Now, more alert, Emily scrambled to her feet. Faison noted Lucky’s blank stare. “Who is in control, Lucky?” Faison asked. “You,” came the automatic response. “Only you.” “Very good. Get dressed.” Faison threw the boy towards the guards who caught him. “Go with him,” Faison told Emily. Emily went to stand by Lucky and the guards as Lucky dressed himself. The guards then held the two young people as Faison turned to his son. “You disappoint me, Anders. I thought tonight would be a night of lessons for Lucky. I see we haven’t finished. You know the punishment for disobeying me. Now you will suffer the consequences. Emily and Lucky will see that you are as much an animal and a coward as they are.” “Go to hell, Father,” Anders baited, knowing the game had to be played out. He knew what was coming. His courage under fire would definitely impress Emily. He smiled to himself, but kept the look of rebellion on his handsome face. “Insolence gets you no where. You know that Anders,” Faison warned. “Chain him!” Anders looked back at Emily with a reassuring look as he was dragged away. Emily, her hand in Lucky’s was amazed at his ability to remain calm. Lucky, shell-shocked, stood woodenly, as if the world around him didn’t exist. Faison walked over to his prisoners. He looked from one to the other. Neither would look at him. “You have been an amusing pair,” He nodded. “In the morning, we will finish our lessons with Anders. Apparently I have grown lax with my son.” Faison looked at the guards. “Take them back to the house. Be certain my orders are carried out.” With that he turned and walked away towards the woods. “What orders?” Emily cried as Faison walked away. “The orders from hell,” Lucky muttered. Faison apparently was close enough to hear him. He turned and walked back. Lucky looked down loathing the Italian shoes that stepped on his feet. He bit his lip in an effort not to cry out. Faison drew Lucky’s chin up so the blue eyes had to see his ugly face grinning superiorly at him. “Hell doesn’t describe it, Lucky,” Faison told him. Faison then watched as the guards took Emily and Lucky back to the house. He smiled. Poor Lucky. He might be under Faison’s control, but that was only because of Emily. The rest of the control was coming and Lucky didn’t even know how. * * * * * Alexis’ soft brown hair tickled Luke’s chest as her head rested on his chest. Her naked body covered by a white satin sheet fit his lean physique perfectly. Alexis wished she was able to enjoy the moment more. Usually any lovemaking between her and Luke was a battle of wills. Tonight, they lay together quietly gathering strength for the coming day. Somehow, someway, they had to carry on, despite the heaviness and the fear in their hearts. “You’re trembling, Natasha,” Luke told her. She jumped a little startled. “I thought you were sleeping,’ She accused. “How can I sleep with you shaking the bed and me?” Luke asked softly. Alexis started to get up indignantly. Luke’s arms shot out and pulled her back down. His kiss on the top of her head calmed her down. “I didn’t mean for you to be offended,” Luke went on, drinking in Alexis’s scent as he held her close. Her soft skin was tantalizing. Yet he could feel her stiffness. “What’s bothering you? The countercommando units or the kids?” “Or the clock or Nikolas getting shot? Take your pick,” Alexis retorted. “Hey, don’t take it out on me,” Luke reminded her. “My kid is the one who is missing.” “Luke,” Alexis cried. Luke felt Alexis’ tears on his chest. “Talk to me,” He told her. “Tell me, Alexis, before it kills you on the inside.” Luke’s hands slid under the sheet, warm and strong, soothing and comforting. Alexis stared at the opposite wall, seeing not the bedroom she was lying in, but a hospital room from long ago, seventeen long years ago where she was holding her baby. She was so young and so was he. He was trying to reassure her. “The couple who want the baby will be good parents, Lexie. I’ve had them checked out. They want a child so badly.” The walls of the sterile hospital room were closing in on Alexis as she held the tiny bundle. Peering into the brown eyes, she looked up at the father of her child. “She looks so much like you,” Alexis whispered. “Damn you.” “Alexis, there is another option,” he told her taking the baby in his own arms. He was tall with dark brown hair, a chiseled face that spoke of royalty. His demeanor was confident, and strong. He was dressed in a tasteful casual attire, his eyes taking in his newborn daughter with pride. “What option?” Alexis asked hopefully. “You can keep her. I’ll protect you, Alexis, I swear. I’ll protect both of you.” “You can’t,” Alexis wailed. Her cry set the baby off. She was quickly handed back to her mother who soothed her with her breast. As her infant suckled, Alexis knew she would never forget this most basic emotion, the maternal ecstasy of giving life, of nurturing her child with her breast. She stroked the soft hair, her eyes looking into his with the utmost pain. “If Helena were ever to find out that I have a child, our lives would end the same day. You know this as well as I,” Alexis insisted. “Even your power, your name can’t save us. Do you want our child’s death on your conscience?” “Of course not!” came the passionate reply. “God, Alexis, if I could marry you and take you home with me, I would.” “I didn’t expect anything from you. I never did. I just wanted you. I loved you. I still love you.” “and I you, Lexie.” His kiss warmed her lips. They watched in fascination as the infant finished suckling. With regret, Alexis prepared her baby for their separation. “I wanted you so much,” she told the baby girl. “If I could keep you, I would. Someday, someway, we’ll be together again. I know it. I love you, my Angel. I love you.” Tearfully, Alexis gave her lover their child. Their eyes locked one more time. Then, Alexis looked away. She closed her eyes, put her hands to her ears, and waited. Her mind reeled with the thought of the love that had given her child life, of the labor that had brought forth a miracle, of the life that lived because of her and him. When she looked again, taking her hands away from her ears, Alexis saw her baby and the baby’s father were gone. She collapsed against her pillow in hapless tears. She knew she would never see either of them again. Or so she thought. “You did the best thing,” Luke agreed after Alexis recounted the story. “Emily survived.” “Yes, I know. I should have told her Luke, when I first suspected. I should have told her I was her mother.” “But you didn’t,” Luke said flatly. “So now what?” “You don’t mince words, do you?” Alexis giggled a little, relieved to not have Luke’s sympathy but his blunt strength. “Not much need,” Luke returned quickly. “Emily’s your daughter. She doesn’t know. She’s kidnapped with the Cowboy. What else?” “What else?” Alexis asked incredulously. “What else is who has taken them, besides Helena, where and what is going on with them right now? And what was that with the musical clock. That was Helena’s clock. What did it mean, Luke?” “I don’t know,” Luke admitted. “But I’m glad it’s destroyed. It almost destroyed you.” “We have to get the notes deciphered. We have to find the children, Luke.” “We will, Natasha. I won’t lose my son again. I won’t.” “Luke?” Alexis asked as she thought of the musical clock, the countercommando men, Nikolas, Lucky and Emily. “What?” “What if you already have?” came the chilling fear. * * * * * Anders waited in the hallway, not far from the dungeon room where he knew the show would go on in just a few hours. His father joined him. Slapping his arm about Anders’ shoulder, Faison smiled, a real smile filled with delight at Anders’ deception. He led his son into the study that was just a few feet away. “Sit, sit, Anders,” Faison invited. “You did a wonderful job. Splendid. Lucky and Emily suspect nothing I am certain.” “You taught me well, Father,” Anders replied as he sank gratefully in to a soft easy chair. Faison sat down next to his son. “I did indeed,” Faison replied. “You are ready for the next part?” “I am quite ready, Father. This will be the nail that shuts Lucky’s coffin permanently. Emily will have no doubt that I am her only salvation.” “And when she has given you her trust, then you will be able to complete our mission. Luke Spencer and Alexis Davis will never know what hit them.” “Why is revenge so important, Father?” Anders asked quietly. “I know why you dislike Luke Spencer and Lucky, but I still don’t understand Alexis and Emily.” “There are reasons you need not concern yourself with, Anders,” Faison said dangerously. “Suffice to say, Alexis and Emily are a means to an end.” “Yes, Sir,” Anders replied. The door opened, and the guard came in. Anders stood up. “You are ready?” Faison asked. “It will be several hours before we bring Lucky and Emily in.” “I will be waiting.” “I will send word when you should take your injection. It will dull the pain.” “Thank you, Father,” came the subservient reply. Anders followed the guard from the room back to the dungeon. Inside the dungeon, a portable bed had been set up for Anders. Unperturbed by what was coming, Anders laid down on the bed. He relaxed his head on the solitary pillow and pulled a blanket over himself. Then he went to sleep. In the morning, the show would begin again. Only this time, he would be the one Emily would want to protect. He could handle the pain, the degradation, even Faison’s contempt, for Emily. Even Faison didn’t know Anders’ true plans. In the end, Emily would be his. Faison would never know what hit him. * * * * * “They have failed, Madame,” Andreas reported to his mistress. Helena, her body clothed in a diaphanous gown in anticipation of Luke’s arrival sat up on her double bed in enraged disbelief. “They what?” She screamed. “Where are they?” “Outside, Madame,” Andreas reported, keeping his voice low. “Bring them in,” Helena ordered. Andreas, still dressed in his usual black suit walked to the door and let two men into the room, the same man who had fled in the helicopter, and the pilot. Helena looked for the third man. “Where is Henry?” She demanded, her teeth clattering in her frustration. The two men trembled together in front of Helena. “Well?” “Henry is dead, Madame. He was killed.” “Killed? This was a simple mission. Where is my grandson? Where is Luke Spencer? How could you fail?” Helena went on incredulously. “A woman killed Henry with her gun. She took us by surprise. There were four other men who came busting through the door at the same time. We were outnumbered, Madame. There was no way to get Luke and Nikolas away while Mr. Stefan, Miss Alexis, and those men were there.” The man sighed a little as Helena’s face softened. He had altered the facts a little, but Madame would never know. The explanation was plausible to him. “Stefan and Alexis should have been no match for you!” Helena’s voice warned. “How was Nikolas?” “He appeared to be fine. Neither he nor Mr. Spencer were inclined to come with us though.” “Hardly surprising,” Helena drooled. She paced about the room, apparently thinking. She turned back to the men. Her slap across her goon’s face made a stinging sound. “I don’t suppose you found out who the other men were?” “No Madame.” “I am disappointed, Meyers, very disappointed,” Helena said sadly. “You will have to be punished, you know that? I can’t afford to let you fail without providing a lesson to my other men.” “But, Madame…” Meyers protested. His friend slapped his hand lightly as if to tell him to shut up. Punishment was one thing. Death was another. “One more word, Meyers…” Helena replied. The man fell silent. Andreas beckoned the two men to the door. Two more men came and took the offenders away. Helena walked over to her ornate gold table. She picked up a Royal Russian Faberge Egg. With all her might, she threw it across the room. Rubies, Diamonds, and emeralds shattered against the wall. “How dare they fail?” She demanded of Andreas. “Come, I need to take a walk. I’m so angry, I couldn’t possibly sleep.” “But Madame, it’s the dark of night. Surely I can help you to relax,” Andreas suggested. He drew Helena into his arms. She pulled away, pushing him back. “No, Andreas! Leave me. I will go on my own. I have to get Luke and I have to be certain Nikolas is safe.” Helena pulled on a warm white robe, and a pair of slippers, not much cover for the dead of night, but her anger would keep her warm. She stormed out of the bedroom with Andreas silently shadowing her. He of all people knew his mistress was not safe anywhere without his protection. Helena walked quietly through the night air. It was a little chillier than she remembered. She drew her robe around her, certain no one would be out and about at such an hour. An owl hooted. A bat flew overhead, then several bats. Helena was in her element. Black inky darkness was a boon to her spirits. There were no stars. Yet she found her way back to the grave that Lucky had dug. Coming upon the spot, she pondered why she had come here. For a moment she heard Faison’s voice, then Lucky’s. She shook her head in disbelief. Faison’s complete handling of Lucky and Emily was admirable. She wished she could handle Stefan just as well. Stefan was a constant thorn in her side. Celine should have taken care of him long ago. But no, the little twit was taking her time. Helena sighed. Restlessly, she peered into the empty grave. To her surprise, a coffin had been placed in the grave. It was a wooden coffin with a purple velvet inlay and a pillow. Where had the coffin come from? It didn’t make sense. She was about to turn when she heard steps behind her. Certain it was Andreas, she smiled, waiting for his touch. She wasn’t disappointed. Strong hands touched her shoulders. “I thought I told you I wanted to be alone, Andreas,” She murmured, closing her eyes as the caring touch went down her side. She shuddered in fear as she was suddenly grabbed harshly about the waist. Helena’s eyes flew open in a sickening realization as a needle was injected in her neck. The sharp stick made her grab her neck feeling a little blood from the injection fall from the site. “You are alone, Mother,” the voice said. “Now it’s your turn to suffocate slowly, to death.” Helena’s thoughts were jumbled. Mother? But the voice…Before she could react, Helena felt the medication take effect. Her eyes remained open. She blinked as her arms, then her legs went limp. Her body collapsed into the man’s arms. Now another man came to jump into the grave. Helena was handed to him. She had never seen him before. What was going on? How could this be happening? It was as if she were once again an invalid at Wyndemere when Stefan kept her paralyzed all those months. Only this time, her slender body was placed into the coffin with gentle care. She stared at the unknown assailant who made sure her head was on the pillow. Imbecile. He would die for his audacity. He straightened her legs, and put her hands over her chest. She wanted to slap him, stop him. Looking up at the blackness, Helena saw a lantern. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Her own heart almost jumped out of her chest as she realized who was behind this perfectly ridiculous charade. “I thought I would have to go to the house for you, Mother. You made this all so incredibly easy. When I saw the grave earlier, witnessed Faison’s cruelty to his prisoners, I knew the perfect way to dispose of you. You are going to be buried alive, Mother. It’s a fitting death for the great Helena Cassidine, isn’t it? I know this is cruel revenge, but you know too much about the Cassidines, and you would stop me if you could. I’m sorry, Mother. I love you. Truly I do.” The man gave a nod. The lantern flashed the last light Helena would ever see. Like a smothering pillow, the lid of the coffin was carefully put in place. It’s final thud as it fit into the cracks was nothing compared to sound of the nails that were hammered, closing the coffin now and forever. “NO! NO! NO!” Helena screamed. “GET ME OUT OF HERE.” Her screams were silent. Her body leaping to safety was only a figment of her imagination. Her hands around her murderer’s throat was only an illusion. Her soul was about to be delivered to the devil in a slow serpentine manner. Helena heard another sound. Dirt. Dirt flying through the air, landing with a thud on the coffin. She listened to each thud as it got more and more distant. The medication held. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t save herself. It was over. Her life was ending. She couldn’t give up. She couldn’t give in. She was Helena Cassidine. Slowly her eyes closed in resignation. In her panic, his face came before her, his hands creeping around her neck, choking, choking, slowly taking away the air around her. Her eyes popped open. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to feel. In complete helplessness, Helena finally found her voice. Her voice came in a whisper, then a normal sound, the a rising panic, then a crescendo. No one heard her. No one cared to hear her, and for once no one appeared to be rescuing her. “Let me out.” Came the whisper. Silence. “I demand that you let me out of here!” came the normal voice. Helena fought to move, but her body remained numb. “Let me out of here or you will die!” came the panicked voice. An intercom at her head let the person speak to her through six feet of dirt. “Dear Mother. You are mistaken. You will die, and I will be with you every step of the way.” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” was the scream rising to a crescendo that had never been heard from Helena Cassidine ever. The only answer was the demonical laughter that echoed over and over in Helena’s brain while she screamed in fruitless pleas. “LET ME OUT!'' |