| Chapter 25 Nikolas held the invitations in his hand, wishing he were anywhere but in this limo with Tracy Quartermaine. In truth, he wanted to be with Gia, holding Gia in his arms as she recovered from her surgery. Instead, he was actually delivering white envelopes to people…to the citizens of Port Charles, all at his father’s command. For a minute, his mind was back at the hospital with Gia. She had awakened briefly from her recuperating sleep, gratified to find Nikolas at her side. “Gia!” Nikolas had exclaimed in relief. “Thank God!” Gia smiled. Even in her weakened condition, she could see the depth of Nikolas’ love for her. But what had happened? Where was she? Why did her stomach feel as though it had been cut in two. “Nikolas,” She whispered, surprised to find her voice more soft than it had ever been. It was an effort to speak an effort to move. “I’m here, Gia. You’re going to be fine. The doctors said you’re going to be just fine.” Nikolas sat on the side of the bed, his face earnest, and filled with a puppy dog look that made Gia want to kiss him. Instead she looked around the ICU room with its heart monitor machine, the IV’s, all the lifesaving equipment that she had never expected to need, not Gia. Not the infallible Gia. “What? What happened?” She finally managed to ask. Nikolas almost cursed out loud, knowing his father had ordered the hit on Gia, ordered the hit and run just to prove a point, just to keep him in line. He couldn’t tell Gia now. Her life was still at risk. His father may not have been in the room, but Stavros’ intent was clear. Either Nikolas do as he say or everyone the young man loved would be dead within a very short period of time, starting with the woman Nikolas loved above all else, even his mother. “It was a hit and run, Gia. We don’t know who did it. The doctors had to take out your spleen. Otherwise, you’ll be good as new.” “They took out my spleen?” Gia snapped, her voice strained, but still indignant. “Why?” “Because you were bleeding. If they hadn’t taken it out, you would have died,” Nikolas explained patiently. He held Gia’s hand in his. He kissed the soft skin, brushing her hand against his cheek. “I guess that’s a good reason,” Gia admitted, her frustration and anger evaporating. “Nikolas, was it Helena?” Nikolas smiled, a reassuring caring smile. “No, Gia. I don’t think so. It was an accident, pure and simple.” Gia didn’t buy it, but she was so exhausted, she couldn’t argue. She screwed up her forehead. “I remember…” she started to say. “I remember…I thought I was dead. I was in a body bag. I couldn’t, couldn’t breathe.” Nikolas clenched his teeth in extreme rage that he kept under control only by sheer willpower. Gia was shivering. Nikolas wanted to pull her to him, to comfort her, to keep her safe. “No, Gia. You’ve been here, at the hospital,” He told her. “Just here.” Gia shook her head. She’d seen a face pulling the zipper, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t keep her eyes open. She was so helpless. “It wasn’t Helena,” she said. “Nikolas…” Her voice trailed off as she fell asleep again. She clutched Nikolas’ hand. Gia hadn’t said, but Nikolas knew she was afraid, afraid of Stavros, even though she didn’t know it. He vowed not to leave her again, unless he had to for Lucky. Unless there was a lead that would bring his brother home. That vow was broken almost immediately. Stavros pulled him away from Gia’s bedside, threatened him, told him if he didn’t go with Tracy Quartermaine to deliver his invitations to his party, Gia would die…for real this time. “I won’t leave her,” Nikolas insisted, standing between his father and Gia. In one swoop, Stavros knocked Nikolas to the floor. His hand was on Gia’s neck as Nikolas stood up. In her sleep, Gia moaned as the foreign touch entered her subconscious. “How many times must we have these scenes, Nikolas?” Stavros ground out, his face twisted, his eyes filled with contempt. “This is the last time I will threaten Miss Campbell. Next time, she will die in an instant, and nothing will bring her back.” Nikolas started to rush Stavros. Nikolas froze as Stavros’ hand tightened about Gia’s neck. If she hadn’t been so depleted, her body so stressed, Gia would have awakened, would have fought for her own life, but she couldn’t. “No!” Nikolas yelled. “Stop!” Stavros stepped back. Gia struggled to wake up. Her eyelids fluttered open. “Nikolas?” He wasn’t there. He was gone. Oh, God, where had Nikolas gone? Gia tried to get up, tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. She lay back on the bed, catching her breath, then feeling the tears fall down her cheek. Nikolas would never have left her if he didn’t have to, if he wasn’t being threatened. Who was threatening them? Who was trying to kill them? Who? In the limousine, carrying Tracy Quartermaine and Nikolas Cassidine, the man Gia feared and didn’t know, smiled in a savage gratification that sent shivers through them both. Tracy carried out her husband’s wishes because she wanted to and because she was afraid of Stavros. Nikolas carried them out, out of sheer fear. Both of them walked a tightrope that could slip from beneath them at any moment. They were at Stavros’ mercy, now and probably forever. They delivered their first invitations to the Quartermaines. When they came back, Stavros almost slobbered in glee as he ordered the driver to go to their next destination. “There,” He gloated masochistically. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Nikolas sighed. Yes it was. “Fai, you know I can’t go against Stavros,” Celine cajoled her old lover. “He’ll kill me.” Faison’s gaze met Celine’s. She hadn’t changed. She was just as beautiful, and just as deadly as she had always been. Celine was the Queen of Scorpions, her touch fatal if it lingered too long. But then Faison had taught her well. “You are more than capable of protecting yourself, my beauty,” Faison encouraged. “I expect you to help me procure revenge on my son, and release me from this hell hole he has created.” Celine’s laughter stunned Faison. It was filled with cynicism, and smug satisfaction. “You amaze me, Faison. For such a stupendously brilliant man, you certainly can be naïve.” Celine put her hands on her slender waist. Faison didn’t miss the movement. Celine had been his once, and though they were finished, memories of her in his bed could still make him salivate. He buried his emotions beneath his anger at her taunting. “You had better be able to explain yourself,” He threatened. Celine merely smiled more. “You thinkAnders is capable of overthrowing you, Fai? That young mongrol hasn’t a clue as to how the real world runs. It was Stavros who paid off the guards to let Anders believe he had won. Anders is merely a pawn Stavros used to get to you and to young Mr. Spencer. Stavros pays the bills and he calls the shots.” Faison backed away from Celine, walking about the room, trying to digest this news. His enemy. His worst enemy was live and trying once more to exterminate him. He turned back to Celine. “Is it just me or does he want the Spencer boy dead too?” “He knew you would break the boy, but he doesn’t want him dead. He had plans.” “Oh, he does?” Faison spat out. His anger threatened to boil over. Celine was by his side quickly. Her silky skin touched his face as her hand caressed him. “Don’t, Fai. Don’t give into Stavros. I need your help.” Faison’s face was incredulous at Celine’s words. He grabbed her hands in a viselike grip. She enjoyed the pain Faison inflicted as he pulled her to him, his face in hers, his gaze threatening. “You…want my help?” Faison thundered. “That is laughable my dear. I could snap your lovely neck right now.” “And Stavros’ men have orders to kill if I am injured in any way,” Celine returned smoothly. Faison’s grip on Celine only strengthened. “It will be well worth the price, my dear. Tit for tat, shall we say?” “Fai, we’re friends,” Celine cried, almost desperate now. Her devilish eyes were pleading with the devil himself. “Please!” Celine always melted Faison’s heart, proving that he did have a heart, not that many people knew it. Gently, he loosened his hold on the woman he had once loved. Then he pulled her onto a soft love seat that he had been sitting on. She fell into his lap with a slight screech. “Fai! What are you doing?” Celine cried indignantly. “I don’t have time for your tricks.” “If you really want my help, my dear, you will make the time,” Faison grinned. Celine struggled to get away from the man. She was married. She loved Stefan. She couldn’t be unfaithful to him. Yet, Fai was always a good lover…Reluctantly, she continued to pull away, knowing her confession might cost her, her life, but she had to be honest with Faison. He deserved that much. “Fai, I can’t love you,” She told him, her voice apologetic. “I’m already in love, with my husband. That’s why I need your help. I’m stuck between Stavros, my husband and Helena Cassidine.” Faison let out a low whistle. “And who is your husband, my dear,” He asked dangerously. Celine swallowed hard, her pretty face flushed. She wasn’t afraid of too many people. She could count them on one hand. But if she counted Faison would be on the top of that list. That was why she enjoyed being his friend. It was a deadly relationship at best. “Come on, Celine, out with it,” Faison teased, tickling her beneath her breasts. Celine giggled, then managed to pull herself up, so that she was sitting on Faison. He lay back comfortably. “Stefan,” She admitted ruefully. “I love him, Faison. I love him with all my heart. Helena and Stavros both want me to kill him. I can’t. If you’ll help me, I’ll help you.” Faison almost chortled in delight. What a quandry for the delicious Celine. She was almost as deluctable as Anna Scorpio. Almost as tantalizing as her sister. Almost, but she had never quite measured up to Trina or Anna. Now he had her right where he wanted her. In a fluid movement, he had pushed Celine to the floor, and he was sitting on her. Celine gasped in sudden fright. “Fai?” She cried, her life flashing before her eyes. “Fai? What are you doing?” Faison sat on Celine, and contemplated his next move while his hand brandished the knife he pulled from the table by his side. “What the hell is going on?” Luke Spencer roared as he opened the door to Alexis’ penthouse. He stopped at the unlikely sight of Nikolas and Tracy Quartermaine standing in front of him. Nikolas groaned as Alexis came down the stairs, holding a white silk bathrobe around her, hiding her negligee. Luke and Alexis in bed together was not a picture he needed to think of right now. “I could probably ask the same thing, Luke,” Nikolas returned, his anger at the situation lashing out at the older man. Luke was askance at the Prince’s jagged voice. “Whoa, Prince,” Luke cried. “What’s your problem, and how come the Q’s greedy Tracy is your companion today? Where’s your little Sassy Sue?” “Sassy Sue is in the hospital recovering from a hit and run,” Tracy Quartermaine snapped, “So I thought I would divert Nikolas by having him help me deliver these invitations.” Tracy’s voice dripped with sarcasm. She wore an immaculate blue suit, her red hair piled atop her head in a bun that could have been fake, but probably wasn’t. Luke’s face became very serious. Alexis put her hand to her mouth. “Is she all right?” Luke asked with evident concern. “Gee, Luke,’ Nikolas taunted. “I didn’t think you cared.” “Get a grip, Prince. I’m not completely heartless. Who did it?” Luke demanded. “If we knew that,” Tracy said with her sugary lips, “it wouldn’t be a hit and run now would it?” “I’ll just bet!” Luke retorted. “The old bat up to her old tricks again. Nikolas you shouldn’t have left her. Someone could be killing that little girl while we speak.” “She’s safe for now, trust me,” Nikolas said dryly. “Here. This is from The Cassidine. It’s an invitation, gee to your own club, tonight at eight. You’ll be there, won’t you?” Nikolas gave Luke a look that belied the derisive words. Luke knew there was something very wrong. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. Alexis stood beside Luke. She too could see the fear in Nikolas’ eyes. Her hand went out and touched his shoulder. “Nikolas?” She queried, her tone worried. Nikolas patted her hand. “Got to go, Lexie,” He teased. “Got more of these invites to send out.” “Ta, ta,” Tracy called as Nikolas led her away. “See you soon!” Tracy’s laughter was like an droon in Luke’s ears. He hated the sound. But then he’d never been fond of Tracy Q. He wanted nothing more than to go after Nikolas. Instead he shut the door. Turning to Alexis, he pulled her to him in a hug. She snuggled against him for a second, feeling safe. Then she pulled away. “What was that for?” “You looked like you needed it. Does the prince always call you Lexie?” “Never,” Alexis denied. The two stared at the white envelope. It was addressed to Luke Spencer and Alexis Davis. “Do you want to open it or do you want me to?” Alexis wondered out loud. Slowly Luke opened the envelope, hoping and praying the thing wouldn’t explode in their faces even as he opened it. Stefan Cassidine stared at the phone. Hanging it up, he was more confused than ever. His secretary had just informed him of the hit and run that had left Gia hospitalized. The fact that Nikolas was with her, as far as he knew, was at least a relief. But who had done it? Who had run Gia down with a car? Stefan wasn’t stupid. Gia was merely an extension of Nikolas. A threat against Gia was a threat against the boy he considered to be his son. Sitting down on the bed that had given him so much pleasure such a short time ago, Stefan was filled with an impotent fear for Nikolas. “Brephos, beware,” Stefan said softly. He took the picture of the young Nikolas off the bedside table. Nikolas, with his handsome features, his innocent gaze, his intense hopefulness, seemed to cry out to Stefan. “Nikolas, if you only knew the truth of your birth,” Stefan said softly. “Stavros may be alive, but he will never take you from me.” Stefan remembered the last time he had seen his brother, back in Greece, back on the island that had been their home and their prison. It was just before Stavros left to get Lasha, to bring her back. Stefan was sitting in Nikolas’ room, reading him a story. He had just put the baby to bed when Stavros suddenly appeared in the doorway of the room. The older man walked into the nursery. Stefan moved aside, knowing Stavros would become angry if Stefan kept him away, even though Stefan never trusted his brother around Nikolas. “He grows strong, and healthy,” Stavros observed. Tiny Nikolas, his black hair soft and light lay on his back, his brown eyes closed after a busy day. His sweet breath was intoxicating to Stefan. To Stavros, the infant only lived because Stavros gave him life. “He thrives on love, and attention, emotions that you deny him, Stavros,” Stefan tried once more. How many times had they had this conversation? Too many. “He will thrive whether I coddle him or not. I will leave that to you, Stefan. You are the soft one. You can barely care for yourself, much less my son.” Stavros said ‘my son,’ as if Nikolas were a package he owned. Stefan held his frustration intact. “Nikolas has already lost much,” Stefan said. “It’s a sad state of affairs that he is losing his father before he ever had one.” “Don’t worry, Brother, though I’m surprised you care. I will be back shortly and Nikolas will never lack for parents again.” “You will not succeed, Stavros. Luke Spencer will not let Lasha go. He will kill you first.” Stavros’s humor was piqued. His laughter threatened to wake up Nikolas who whimpered at the sound in his sleep. Stefan tried to pull him away from the crib. “Luke Spencer is an American. He will be half cocked and foolish. He has no discipline. No, I will win. Lasha and I will return to raise our son. We will have more children. You, brother will be relegated to a monastery or worse. Your life is almost over.” “There is no talking sense to you, Stavros. Lasha loves Luke. Though I detest the man, their love is honest and true. You will not win.” Stavros, using his disciplined temper, pushed Stefan back against the nursery wall so loud that Nikolas woke at the crash. His screams almost drowned out Stavros’ words, almost. “When I return, Brother, we will see who has won and who has lost. Pack your bags. You will be banished the day I step foot upon this island again. Count on it.” Stavros’ hatred cut Stefan to the quick. He had never understood that hatred only reeled from it, day after day, year after year. Stavros left the room without checking on his son. He never looked back. Stefan hurried to Nikolas. Carefully, he picked up the infant who screamed in fear. Consoling him, Stefan felt Nikolas calm down gradually. Slowly the even breathing returned as Stefan whispered soft words to the babe. He sat down and rocked back and forth, feeling Nikolas lay against him, falling asleep in secure love once again. “Shhh, Brephos,” Stefan crooned. “You’re safe now. No matter what anyone thinks, no matter what anyone says, your father will never hurt you. He will not live to touch you again. This I promise you.” Stefan shuddered. Luke Spencer had saved him the trouble of disposing of his brother. But now, Stavros was back, alive somehow, alive and ready to terrorize the very son he had sired. Only one person had the answers Stefan needed. Only one person knew how to stop Stavros for once and for all. Stefan knew if he didn’t neutralize his brother immediately, Nikolas would pay with his life. Quickly, he grabbed the key to Helena’s room which Celine had put on the wood dresser. In minutes he had raced through the mansion up to the third floor. Shoving the key into the door, he threw it open. Inside the room, he looked frantically for his mother. The door had been locked. Yet the room was silent. It was empty. And with a sinking heart, Stefan knew. His mother was gone. Dear God, she was on the loose again. Stefan slammed the door shut, then vented his anger by hitting his hand against the wall. When that didn’t help to release his inner emotions, he screamed. “Helena!!!!!!!” The cry went unanswered, except for the demonic sound of Helena’s victorious voice, somewhere that reminded Stefan, never to underestimate his own mother. To his dismay, he realized he had. Helena and Stavros were both out there. And God help them, but the citizens of Port Charles were at their mercy. |