The Devil's Dance Chapter 26

Chapter 26

When she turned, he was there. His solid frame filled most of the doorway. The streaks of light came through the blinds, cutting a jagged pattern of light and shaded stripes across his handsome face. Her hands shook as she disentangled her fingers from the thick towel she carried. Swiftly, she tossed it aside. She stared down at her twitching digits, wondering where that came from. It had never been her style to let her inside emotions affect her cool outside demeanor. Never.

But, of course, when it came to him and his undeniable ability to make her feel, there was always a first time for everything. Always.

Helena stood, her trembling hands quickly stuffed deep into the pockets of her silk robe, her back rigid, her breath still as she waited. Time ticked on, the slow seconds chugging by as she allowed her eyes to roam over his face. It had been so long...such a long, long, long time since she had seen him last. Though she ached to touch him, she didn't. She didn't make a move in his direction or say a word. He had come to her. He would make the first move. He would set the tone.

His head turned, his eyes taking a sweeping glance of her bedroom. He smiled, rubbing his right hand over the left lapel of his suit jacket. "You're forever the same..." His voice held amusement. "Only Cleopatra would dare have nerve to be more elaborate." He moved out of the doorway, closing the door behind him. He stood before her, his body only inches from hers. "But, then Cleopatra was a queen. A real queen, not a greedy pretender to the throne like you. "

"What an interesting choice of words to come from you, my dear," she said in a crisp roll of carefully veiled venom. Their eyes met, hers strong in their intensity, his demanding in their cloak of mystery. She held her head high, softly continuing, "Pretender To The Throne...oh, yes, there's a pretender here...but it's not me."

The words hit him, attacking his brain like the screech of a displeased cat. A muscle in his forehead pulsed as he seized her by the shoulders. She stood firm, a play of hate flashing across her face to mirror his own. Harshly, he seethed, "There is not the night that has passed in the last twenty years that I have not reveled in the thought of killing you for your sins against me, Mother."

"All I have ever done is love you! There is no sin in that," she spat out, pulling out of his grasp.

"The very notion of you uttering the word love is a sin! It's an abomination! Love has no place on the lips of the devil!"

Her arm flew up, her hand poised to strike against the vile remark and the man who had made them. He saw her move and allowed it, waited to feel the sting of her open palm against his neatly shaven cheek, longed for the release of knowing that he was hated as he hated. But, none of this was forthcoming. Her hand still hung in the air, shaking now, as it had before. Her entire body trembled, her face contorting as the realization that she could not move raced through her.

Her anger dictated that she should have her vengeance. She was entitled, yet, she could not. Everything that had ever been the least bit human inside of her would not let her strike. Her hand dropped to her side. Her voice was charged as she said, "You're wrong. If love has a home anywhere, it's with the devil, for there was never anything more wicked in its invention than love. Something so powerful that it overrides your reason, your intelligence, your sense of compassion. It
consumes you. And, it destroys you. Everything I've done, the sins you say I have perpetrated against you, were all because I loved you...above all else. More than I loved myself. And, what have I gained from loving you so? Nothing but your betrayal."

"I betrayed you?!" Stavros screamed, "I betrayed you?! Now, isn't that revisionist history? Wasn't it you who trapped me? Wasn't it you who ruined me for any other life but the one you foisted on me? Wasn't it you who took away what wasn't yours to take? Wasn't it you that set me on a collision course with Luke Spencer and a flight of stairs?"

"I gave you the world!"

"No! You took the world away from me and closed me up in a little box with a shiny golden crown that was far too heavy."

Snidely, she remarked, "Was it that the crown was too heavy, or that your neck was too weak to hold it?"

His fists clenched at his side. He raised his head to the ceiling, silently wondering why he hadn't killed her when he had the chance. Although, he really didn't have to wonder. He knew. He couldn't kill her for the same reason that she couldn't slap him earlier. They had a bond that could not be broken. Not by death or distance...and he had tried them both. He found that no matter his rational determination, his hands were stilled against her. He grumbled. "You say cruel things, but you don't mean them. You say them only to provoke me."

She circled around him, her steps perfectly measured as she tried to absorb the feeling of being near him again. "Why would I want to provoke you?"

"Because you're upset with me."

"And why, my dear..." she stopped behind him, her hand gliding across his shoulder, "...would I be upset with you?"

He chuckled, "It has crossed my mind that burying you alive might give you reason to be the least bit miffed."

"More than miffed. I vowed, in front of witnesses mind you, that I would make you pay. I don't intend to break my word. Trying to kill me was a naughty, naughty thing to do, Stavros." Her lips curled in an evil sneer.

"You want to do harm against me, Mother?"

"You deserve to be punished."

His hand clasped on top of hers. He pulled her around to face him. "This is our reunion and we've gotten off to a bad start." He brought her unsteady hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the cool skin.

Her heart raced as she stroked his cheek. "Are you trying to charm your way out of punishment?"

"In a way. I've come to call a truce."

She looked distrustful. "What kind of truce can be reached through insults. Ever since you arrived, all of the words out of your mouth have been meant to wound me."

He shrugged. "I'm my mother's son."

"There's no truce to be had here, Stavros. None at all."

"I don't believe you. If you meant that, you wouldn't have escaped my brother's island lair. You would have tried to form an alliance with him to destroy me. But...you didn't. You came back to your yacht and left word with your security that I be let through should I stop by for a visit."

She swallowed hard. " I did no such thing."

"Then why am I here? In your bedroom? The only people who get on your yacht are people you want there, people that you tell the security to let enter."

"I don't want you here."

"Yes, you do. And, you want a truce between us, too."

She turned her back. He set his head down on her shoulder. She closed her eyes. "What makes you think I can forgive you?"

"I'm your darling. You'll forgive me anything."

She held back the tears that tried to leak out of her closed eye lids. Her throat was salty as she said, "How can I forgive you the years I lost agonizing over your death? I grieved for you!"

"I grieved for me, too! Stavros did die, Mother. He was dead for a very long time. It was only recently that he came back to life, that he was resurrected from the broken pieces of a man shattered long ago. Now, he's alive again. I'm alive again! " His blood pounded through his veins as he declared this. He moved his face close to that of his mother's, their cheeks touching. "And, I want what's mine. I thought you were the main obstacle standing between me and that goal."

"You've realized that I'm not?"

"I've realized that, while you've done much to harm me...your original deceit, taking away Laura...you are not the real enemy. I may hate you for what you've done to me, but you're not the problem. No, the real enemy is far more insidious. He stands to take everything that belongs to me. The money. The power. Nikolas."

Helena's eyes diminished to small slits of understanding. "Stefan."

"He must be stopped, Mother."

"Stefan is weak, Stavros. You know this. It should be no small task taking what you want."

"He's dangerous!"

"No, I'm dangerous. He's just a fool."

"He has the papers."

She shivered thinking about her husband's dying revenge on her. Documents that stood to blow her entire world apart. Shaking her head, she replied, "He only has access to the copy that Alexis stole. Without the other two copies, he'll never know what he's in possession of."

"That would be true, if you had not, in your wasted attempt at melodrama, given him the second copy of Father's document."

Helena gasped, spinning around. "I didn't give him the second copy! You burned the second copy the day after the reading of Mikkos' will."

Stavros averted his eyes. "I didn't burn it. I saved it..."

"WHY?!"

"I DON'T KNOW! It seemed like a good idea at the time. I concealed it in the base of the musical clock. The same clock you delivered right into the hands of Stefan and Alexis. I tried to get it back, but to no avail."

"If it was in the base, the chances of them finding it if they're not looking for it are slim."

"I have a spy in Stefan's household. They've already found it and are trying to decode it as we speak."

Helena's face reddened. "This is a disaster. If I had known it was in the clock..."

"No use lamenting, Mother. Now, we need to marshal our forces and eliminate the problem. If he cracks the code, the first two copies are enough to tell him everything he needs to know."

"What are the chances of him deciphering the code? It was easy for us because we had the key."

"Slim to none. It's almost impossible, especially with the distractions I have planned."

"Distractions?"

Stavros offered his hand. "I'd be more than happy to let you in on all of my plans...if we have a truce."

Helena gave him her hand and they shook. "We have a truce, my dear." She smiled. "When could I ever deny you anything?"

"You denied me Laura."

"Laura was a peasant."

Stavros dropped her hand. Dryly, he replied, "It's best we not talk of Laura."

"Then, what should we talk of?"

"Death, Mother," he said, pulling her into his arms and twirling her around the bedroom in a fine waltz, "Stefan's."

She smiled, touching a hand to his neck. "My favorite topic of conversation."

* * * * *

"Stefan, damnit, you had better tell me that you're joking!"

Stefan slammed his palm against the wall beside the bookcase, taking a deep breath as he responded, "You do remember who you're speaking with, do you not? I do not joke....especially where Helena is concerned. I'm very serious." He listened to his sister's groan coming from the telephone and winced. This was not the kind of news he wanted to deliver. They had all been more than relieved when they had managed to confine Helena at Wyndemere. There had actually been hope that they would be able to recover both Emily and Lucky with the mastermind of their kidnapping in their clutches. But, now that she had escaped, Stefan knew that the danger that they all faced beforehand would only increase triple fold. Helena would not stop until they were all destroyed.

And Stavros most certainly desired the same...

There would be no rest until both enemies were eliminated. Stefan shook his head as he sank down onto the sofa, shoving aside the loose papers in his way. Ever since he had discovered the empty room, he had felt as if he were truly defeated. He feared that the loss of Helena was only a prelude to a string of greater, more deafening losses to come. Losses that he, as well as his sister and Nikolas, could not afford to take.

"Okay...okay..." Alexis grumbled, "I'm not going to waste my time badgering you about when or how. It really doesn't make any difference. The only important thing is figuring out her next move. I won't...I won't lose my daughter again, Stefan."

He heard the pain in his sister's voice and his back stiffened. He still remembered the agony she went through when Helena had forced her to give up the baby she wanted so. He had fought his mother valiantly, but to no benefit. Though he had been unable to help her then, he knew he would do what he had to do to help her now. He would not let Helena take Emily away from Alexis again. His voice was strong as he replied, "Your daughter will be saved and Helena will pay. That you need not doubt."

"How can I not doubt it? All I want is for the children to be returned safely. I haven't mentioned this to Luke yet because I know he'd be against it, but I'm starting to think we should just give Helena what she wants."

"You want to hand over the documents?"

"If it will bring Emily and Lucky home, then, yes, I think we should just call her and make a deal."

Stefan reached out, lifting the encoded papers off of the sofa cushions beside him and gazing down at the unintelligible string of Greek letters. "I know you're frustrated, Alexis. It's been almost a week since the abduction and we've had no word, but now is not the time to give in. These documents are the only leverage we have-"

Alexis interrupted him, saying, "Exactly! They're our leverage. They're the only thing that could possibly secure my daughter's freedom and I would be a fool not to use them."

"You would be a fool to give them to her. Helena is not trustworthy. You know that. Any deal you strike with her will be useless. She will betray her word as quickly as she bats an eyelash. Please, reconsider...I have a feeling that these papers are the only weapon we have against her-"

"Stefan-"

"No, Alexis, listen to me. Our father left these documents in his will. Evidently, he had something to tell the world that Helena would rather be left secret. It must be devastating to her...this secret that she's hiding. She tried to kill Jax and Chloe when they stole them from her lawyer. She's plotted this grand kidnapping to force you to comply with her wishes, taking Lucky, I would assume, to manipulate Luke into helping her cause."

"Luke would never help her!"

"Perhaps not intentionally, but his judgment becomes clouded where his children are concerned. She knows this, has exploited this in the past. The longer she keeps Lucky, the more likely it is that she can coax those papers out of you. While you may be able to withstand your own suffering, she's guessing that watching your lover suffer because of you would drive you to make a deal," Stefan explained gently. "And, it appears as if her guess was correct. You're already willing to give her the documents. You're already willing to let her win."

"You're right..." Alexis breathed into the phone. "She's doing what she always does. She's manipulating the situation to her advantage."

"We have to stop allowing her to do so. I think we should continue to try and decode these papers. It's the only way. Once we know her secret, then we can make a deal for the return of the children. I know we don't have that much time, still, the papers are the only way."

"Our father had a demented sense of humor. Those documents are incredibly tough to decode. I was staring at them all night. None of the encryption makes any sense. Are you making any progress? "

"None, I'm afraid..."

"What about-" Alexis swallowed her distaste, "-Celine, your covert operator? Has she cracked the code yet, or is she busy painting her fingernails?"

He frowned, his voice crisp as he replied, "Please refrain from making any more catty remarks about my wife, Alexis."

Alexis chuckled, "If I must..."

"You must, unless you want me to start analyzing your choice in love interests. I could spend hours on Ned Ashton alone."
"Low blow, Brother. I know when to change the subject..." She was silent for a moment before speaking again, a bit of hesitation coloring her voice as she asked, "Nikolas came over this morning..."

Stefan folded the papers into his inside jacket pocket, pushing up off the sofa to stretch his legs. He gripped the phone loosely, his mind dissecting the odd tone of her voice. "Why does that sound more like a question than a statement?"

"I guess, because it is. He wasn't himself, Stefan."

"What exactly does that mean?" He started to say something else, but stopped and turned when he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He was expecting Celine, but found, instead, a shapely woman in a navy suit taping an envelope against her hip.

"I seem to have a guest, Alexis," Stefan said briskly, eyeing the strange woman carefully. She seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. Quickly, he put his protesting sister on hold, placing the cordless phone on the coffee table. "Is there something I can do for you?"

She shrugged her shoulders, sticking a long nail into the intricate coils of auburn hair that made up the bun on the top of her head. She scratched it with caution, her finger moving in slow circular motions.

Stefan drew up to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest as he approached the intruder. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Rudeness must be a family trait," she scoffed.

"Are you going to answer me or am I going to have to call security?"

"You'd call security for a little thing like me?" she asked, moving forward seductively. "What's wrong? You don't think you could handle me yourself?"

Stefan smirked, his eyes cold and his jaw hard as he dismissed her words. "With a woman as brazen as you, it's hardly a chance I'm willing to take. I ask you again, who are you?"

"Can't you tell by her shifty, lying eyes, Uncle? She's family," Nikolas said, appearing in the doorway behind the woman. He smiled sourly as he declared, "Allow me to be the first to introduce you to your brother's wife, Tracy Quartermaine Cassadine."

Stefan's eyes floated back and forth between Nikolas and the woman, wondering exactly what was going on. The name definitely meant something to him. From the stories he had heard from Alexis about Ned's mother, he knew she was wicked at best. And at her worst...she rivaled Helena with her lack of conscience. If it were true, if Stavros had married such a viper, then he was most certainly up to something. Stefan grunted in displeasure.

Tracy offered him her hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

Stefan grunted again, taking her hand and shaking it swiftly. "From my brother, I assume."

She smiled secretly, thinking of the things Celine had told her in confidence. Reclaiming her hand, she replied, "Something like that. Anyway, I think it's about time we get down to business." She pressed the envelope into his hand. "I hope you don't have any plans for tonight..."

Nikolas watched them, but was completely oblivious to the words they exchanged. All of his thoughts were with Gia. He wondered how she was, flashes of her fragile body lying prone in the body bag still plaguing him. He knew he couldn't let that become a reality. He had to do whatever it took to save Gia and the rest of his family from Stavros' vindictive jealousy. He pushed away from the door, walking across the room to fix himself a drink. He really didn't drink much, but at the moment, he needed any kind of help he could get. If alcohol would help steady the pound of doom in his head, then he would let it.

Stefan kept his eyes on his nephew. From the first moment he had seen him in the doorway, he had sensed that Alexis had not been wrong in her assertion that something was off with the young man. His face was pale, his eyes dark and blood shot. While he assumed a great deal of it had to do with the tragedy that had befallen Gia, Stefan still had the feeling that there was even more weighing on Nikolas. The shaking of the young man's hand as he lifted the crystal decanter to pour brandy did little to ease his fears. "Nikolas," Stefan said, turning from Tracy, "how is Gia? My secretary
informed me of her accident. I'm very sorry."

"She's fine," Nikolas responded flatly. He took a long sip of brandy.

"What happened?"

"She lost control of the Jaguar and had an accident. She's fine, now." He emptied the remainder of the glass, chugging it down and then turning back to the bar to refill his snifter.

Stefan stared at the side of Nikolas' face, willing him to make eye contact. The young man refused to do so, concentrating on the task at hand. "I would think that you'd be with her, Nikolas...instead of playing messenger for my brother."

"She's fine," Nikolas said once more.

"You keep saying that...that Gia's fine. You express no emotion, no concern. That is so unlike you. Why do I get the feeling that something is amiss here?"

Nikolas smirked. "It probably has something to do with the fact that you're incredibly paranoid. You see problems and covert schemes where none exist."

Stefan shook his head, noticing out of the corner of his eye how keenly Tracy was listening to their exchange. He swiveled around to face her. "Will you excuse us for a few moments? I need to confer with my nephew in private."

Tracy shrugged indignantly. "You two go right ahead and have a little chat. I'll just go wait outside the door like some misbehaved cocker spaniel. Kick me out...I'm sure Stavros will love to hear about how his wife was treated like some interrupting servant."

At the mention of Stavros' name, Nikolas downed yet another glass of brandy. "There's no need...Stefan and I have nothing further to discuss. You gave him the invitation. My business here is finished."

Stefan's jaw tightened. "What's going on, Nikolas?" he demanded sternly.

Nikolas slammed his glass down, his face reddening with anger. "Nothing's wrong!"

"What about Lucky?"

The younger man rolled his eyes. " *What* about Lucky?"

"He's your brother and he's missing. I know how stressful that is for you. Perhaps you'd like to talk about it-"

"I don't need to talk about it, Uncle. I'm fine."

"The same way Gia's fine?"

Tracy cleared her throat loudly. "Do the words tedious and boring mean anything to either of you? As in...this conversation is tedious and boring TO ME." Pushing past Stefan, she went to stand in front of Nikolas. Her eyes sought his, flashing bright in harsh warning. "Say your good-byes, Nikolas. We have other stops to make before the party."

Nikolas nodded, understanding her true meaning. Stavros was dangerous and he had to tread very carefully in order to protect those he loved. As much as he wanted to confide in Stefan, he knew he couldn't. He would not endanger the man he thought of as a father. Smiling wanly, he addressed Stefan. "Tracy's right. We have other things to do...things that have to get done before tonight."

"What things?" Stefan questioned.

"Don't worry about it. Just make sure that you attend the party that my fath-" Nikolas started to say father, but couldn't quite squeak out those words in reference to Stavros when Stefan was there. Stefan was staring at him with calculated concern, studying every move he made and finding it lacking. Nikolas could tell that his act wasn't passing whatever test his uncle was conducting. "...that Stavros is throwing. I'll see you there."

"Nikolas-"

"Goodbye, Stefan," the younger man said flatly, trying to move toward the door.

Stefan went after him, grabbing his arm. "I can't let you leave."

Furrows went to crease Tracy's forehead. "Take your hands off the boy and let us go!" she ordered, pulling at Stefan's iron grip.

Nikolas pulled his arm free, glaring hatefully at his uncle. "You and your brother have made an art form of manhandling me. I really don't appreciate it."

"What does that mean, Nikolas?" Stefan pleaded, the young man's words stilling his heart. Had Stavros done something to hurt him? From personal experience, he knew exactly how abusive his brother could be.

Nikolas sighed. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Let's go, kid." Tracy tugged Nikolas to the open doorway.

Stefan followed behind, his entire body burning with the sense of dread he felt. Something was wrong with Nikolas. He could feel the danger to him clinging to the air, hovering over the young man like a load about to be dropped. And, if it did drop, Stefan knew it would crush him completely.

Coldly, he remarked, "Tracy, I am afraid I must apologize."

"Apologize for what?" she asked, turning around to face her brother in-law.

"For this," Stefan snapped pointedly. He roughly pushed Tracy backwards through the doorway, slamming the heavy wooden door closed before she had even had a chance to land. He locked it, placing himself between the door and Nikolas. "Now that there is no audience to act for, why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

Nikolas tried to go for the door, afraid of what would happen if Tracy went to find Stavros. "How dare you!" he shrieked.

Stefan stopped him, putting restraining arms on the young man's shoulders. "No...how dare you! How dare you not let me help you. I can see that you're in trouble and I know that it has everything to do with Stavros. I can help you...I can protect you from him."

"You can't protect me from him," Nikolas replied, his voice rough with unshed tears. "No one can. If you love me, just let me go."

Stefan released a ragged breath, shaking his head no. "I do love you...that's why I won't let you go. I may only be your uncle, but you're my life and I will die before I let Stavros bend you to his own twisted will. Do you understand me? I'll die first."

Nikolas began to cry then, the tears he had been wanting to shed for days finally leaked out, flowing over his cheeks as he trembled. "That's what I'm afraid of, Stefan. That he'll kill you! I can't let that happen."

Stefan looked disapproving as he cupped the side of Nikolas' face. "How little faith you have in me. Stavros isn't clever enough to kill me. The only thing that has kept him alive is his penchant for brutality. In the end, the very thing that has saved him, will be his undoing. I intend to see to it!"

"He's crazy, Stefan! You can't stop him! He wants what's his. That's what he told me," Nikolas blurted out, knowing that he shouldn't, but unable to let Stefan be taken unaware. "He is willing to do whatever it takes to reclaim his place in the family, to take back what belongs to him..."

"And you fall under that category?"

Nikolas nodded numbly. Stefan pulled Nikolas into his arms, embracing him with love and protection. The younger man felt more tears come to his eyes. Clinging to his uncle, he sputtered, "He's crazy! He's a lunatic....and I...I can't handle him alone.�

Stefan stroked his hair, cursing himself for letting Stavros get his hands on Nikolas. With determination, he replied, "You won�t have to."

* * * * *

Emily wished she were dead. Around her, there was a swirl of activity, of bustling life and affirmation, but none of it made her feel any less like ceasing to exist. Her life had become an endless trek through Hell, her every minute spent in the torture of the knowledge she held.

She was dirty...trapped in filth and bound to one just as filthy as she. She had given herself to Anders, had told him that he could have her as his own. Not because she wanted him, but because it was easier to just go along. She certainly didn't have the energy to go against his fluctuating temper.

One minute he was nice and caring, the next he was a raging brute... and she really didn't want to have to navigate that minefield. So, after she had acknowledged their sameness, she had surrendered her will to him. Except for a few ground rules she had set in order to maintain her sanity, Anders called the shots.

"Do with me as you like..." she had said.

And he had.

The very thought made her throat constrict as if she were about to gag. She moaned softly, her head rolling forward as she remembered his claiming of her. She barely felt the tug at her arm as Anders pulled her out of her memories, sharply whispering in her ear, "Don't ruin this, Emily!"

She stared at the staid beige carpet, trying to forget where they were and that he was standing beside her. "You know the rules about touching me in public!" she snapped, her head lifting.

The man who stood in front of them looked around, embarrassed at the exchange. He marked the place in his book, asking, "Do the two of you need a moment before we proceed?"

"NO!" Anders barked, "We do not need a moment. Do what I'm paying you to do!"

"But it seems-"

"I said keep going!!"

"Very well," the man said, continuing his duty.

Emily drifted back away from what was going on, her mind conjuring up an image of Lucky. She smiled, wishing it were him with her. She knew that he was dead, had seen him slump over after Faison had fired the fatal shot. Still, she couldn't quite bring herself to accept it. A spirit as vital and alive as Lucky's couldn't have been extinguished so rapidly. It just made no sense to her that he could be gone.

The fact that he was, that Faison had conquered Lucky like that, forced her further down into the deep and murky depression that she refused to resist. She wanted to sink down until she couldn't be seen. Once she was under, she would stay there, hiding safely until it was time to be with her best friend again. At the moment, it seemed the best way to cope. It was much better than actually facing the pain of Lucky's loss. She didn't think she could handle that.

Emily looked around the room, the voices of Anders and the man only a mild buzzing in her head. She paid no attention to the activity, instead, she smoothed out a wrinkle in the long gray dress she wore. Even though she hadn't picked it out, she liked it a lot. She had been surprised when Anders came back from the department store with it. Not only because it was stylish, but because it was gray. He had protested so much when she had asked for all gray clothing, that she thought he would ignore the request, but he hadn't. The dress and the other clothes were the only good things about her life.

They were simple and uncomplicated. Plus, they quietly signified her love for Lucky. She was in mourning and everyone would know her pain. A life devoid of her best friend, was a life devoid of color. Gray were the days and gray were the nights that passed without him.

"Emily!" Anders stormed.

"What?" she asked dryly.

"We're waiting for your answer," the man said gently.

Emily shook her head in confusion. "I'm sorry, you're going to have to repeat the question."

Anders swore loudly, stomping his foot. "Damnit, Emily!"

"It's alright," the man said," I'll repeat the question." He looked Emily in the eye, smiling. "Emily, do you take Anders to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

A look of absolute fear swept over Emily's face and her stomach clenched into a hard knot. Anders took her hand, squeezing it. She thought, perhaps, he was trying to comfort her, although she couldn't see how him restricting the blood flow to her fingers was supposed to be comforting or soothing.

Both men looked at her expectantly.

Closing her eyes, Emily shrugged, answering, "Yeah...I guess so."

* * * * *

Monica walked stealthily out of the elevator and into the large concrete structure that was the mall parking garage. She walked confidently, a Wyndham's garment bag slung over her shoulder as she rounded the corner. She smiled to herself, thinking how absolutely gorgeous her new dress was. She knew Tracy would do nothing but drool all night long at the party. With Emily gone, that was the only thing that gave Monica any satisfaction.

Tracy should suffer....that had always been Monica's firm belief. The woman was an evil menace. Nothing would change that, not even a phony marriage to a Cassadine. Especially not a phony marriage to a Cassadine. Those people were even more vile than the Quartermaines, but she reminded herself to keep those kind of remarks under wraps tonight. If she said something offensive, then Stavros might try to send Tracy back to the fold and that was the last thing that any of them needed. She wanted her sister in-law as far away from her mansion as possible.

Better them stuck with the b!tch than her. Monica chuckled quietly as she fished her keys out of her purse. She fumbled around, jostling the bag to see if she could bring them into view. She was completely oblivious to anything but the tight, dark space of the inside of her purse.

As she strolled down the middle of the aisle, totally absorbed in her task, she didn't notice the car turning the corner. The monstrous black sports utility vehicle turned smoothly, almost soundlessly. The engine purred softly under the hood as the driver accelerated. It edged toward Monica.

Finally, she found the keys in a side pocket. She pulled them out triumphantly, looking up to see if she saw her car. As she turned her head, she caught sight of the vehicle behind her. It was moving at slow speed, yet advancing on her. She smiled apologetically, realizing that she was in the middle of the aisle and that the car couldn't possibly get by. She scurried over to the side so that the automobile had room to pass.

It didn't though. It moved over so that it was still directly behind her. She turned around, her eyebrow twitching, the fragile hair on the back of her neck raising. She moved over further. So did the SUV.

The blood pulsed in Monica's veins. She could sense that something was wrong. She started to move faster, rushing forward. She didn't know what was going on. Was this some kind of prank? A drunk driver?

Something more insidious?

The huge black vehicle stayed behind her, accelerating when she did, effortlessly keeping within 10 feet of where she was. Monica was all nerves, contemplating what she should do. She was on the edge of the structure near the walls, if she tried to go between cars, she would only succeed in getting herself trapped. Her only hope was to get to her car.

The only problem was that she couldn't remember where she parked.

Finally, when rational thought abandoned her, when she realized that the SUV wasn't going to leave her alone, she began to run. Her blond hair flew out as she tossed her dress and purse aside and sprinted out into the middle of the aisle. She searched for someone, anyone to save her, but found that there was no one else. The garage was full of cars, but no one was around. Her high heels clicked madly against the cement, matching the pounding of her heart as she ran like crazy,
screaming.

"HELP!!!!!!"

The car stayed near her, nipping on her heels, but careful not to actually touch her. She raced blindly, following the aisle around the corner. Their was a fork in the structure, one wide ramp leading up to higher levels, the other leading down to lower ones. Without pause, she veered left, running down and hoping to find a way back into the mall. She looked over her shoulder to see the vehicle still racing after her.

Her lungs burned from the effort, but she continued, finding the energy somewhere to surge forward, to pump faster. There was nothing but endless rows of cars to be found. She felt as if she were running away from the mall, though she knew she couldn't be. She was running back the way she came, only on a different level. "HELP!!!!" she yelled again. "SOMEONE HELP ME!!!!!!!"

No one heard her. No one was around. She turned another corner, pulsing forward, only to find that she was in the very back of the garage headed towards a large concrete wall. A dead end...

She stopped herself before she crashed into it. She realized that the SUV had stopped as well. It stood 20 feet away, idling as smoke rose from the exhaust. She faced it, slowly edging backwards, wondering if she could dart off to the side and escape. She tried to peer inside the automobile, but could see nothing through the darkened windows.

The driver of the vehicle inched forward. Monica backed up. She gasped when she realized that her back was against the cold cement wall. Her eyes welled up with tears. She had been chased down, hunted like an animal. Now, she had nowhere safe left to run.

What would happen now? Would she be kidnapped like Emily? Held prisoner until Alan handed over enough ransom to satisfy? She didn't know. She shivered, her head bowing as she started to slip off her high heels. She kicked them to the side.

She wasn't through yet. She wasn't giving up yet.

Madly, she began to run alongside the wall, hoping she could reach the corner and some sort of safety.

But, her hope was fleeting when the SUV stormed forward, accelerating to a dangerously high speed as it zoomed towards her, the driver compensating his aim for a moving target. As a plea to God escaped her lips, the lumbering vehicle slammed into Monica, the bones of her shoulder and ribs immediately cracking as she was lifted from her feet and driven in a whirl of wind and screeching tires directly into the hard, unyielding concrete wall.

Dead end...