| Chapter 29 “Fai, what are you doing?” Celine demanded as her co-conspirator and mentor led the way down a darkened hallway. He was walking so slowly, Celine wondered if putting a piece of dynamite under his feet would make him move it. “I’m carrying young Spencer what do you think?” Faison hissed back. “He’s not exactly light.” “He’s skin and bones,” Celine retorted. “Could you please hurry?” Faison leaned against the wall. He had thought carrying Lucky out of this mess would be easy enough, but maybe he wasn’t as young as he used to be. “What’s the plan?” He ground out to Celine, the easy banter between them was lost in the urgency to get out of his prison. “There’s two guards around the corner,” Celine answered. “Then there’s four more guarding the entrance. How do you want to take them out?” “With as much firepower as we can afford. I don’t want one of them left alive to do my son’s bidding or Stavros’ again, damn fools.” Celine smiled a wicked unconscionable smile that made Faison grin in reply. “You definitely like to do things the bloody way,” She answered sweetly. Their voices were appropriately lowered. They were expert at walking softly without being heard. Faison adjusted the body of his captive on his shoulder, and held his gun ready. Lucky’s head reached almost down to his waist, his blue eyes open and staring at Faison’s back, blinking only rarely in apparent shock. “The only way to do the job right,” Faison snapped. Together, Cesar Faison and Celine rounded the corner of the hallway together. The two men who were pacing back and forth down the hallway were in no position to act fast enough against the two guns that pointed at them, and fired. The silencers on the guns emitted a soft hiss as the bullets ripped through the brains of the two men, killing them instantly. It was amazing to see the look of surprise on each face as their lives were extinguished in a millesecond. Stepping over the two bodies without hesitation, Celine and Faison kept on their mission. Lucky saw only the blood flowing from the shattered brain of one man. He closed his eyes in disgust. “Well done,” Faison congratulated Celine. “Neat and quick.” “Is there another way?” Celine smiled wolfishly. They walked through the front door of the house, stealthily, careful not to raise attention towards themselves. Faison suddenly cursed loudly as he fell to his knees. Lucky was getting very heavy. “Shh,” Celine warned angrily. “Do you want to bring them all down on us?” “I don’t really give a damn,” Faison retorted. “Get me a car or something else I end this brat’s life before we get out of here.” “So you want me to get us out of here by myself?” Celine demanded arrogantly. “I thought we were in this together, Fai?” “We are,” came the infuriating reply, “Never mind. I’ll leave young Spencer here. Let’s finish the job. We’ll bring a car back for him.” “Take a minute, Fai,” Celine advised. “You can’t leave him here. He’s much too valuable in case we can’t get back in.” “I can stand,” Lucky’s quiet voice said. Faison looked down at the boy who he laid down on the ground. Lucky was sitting up, rubbing his legs as he looked up at Stefan. “About time,” was all Faison said. Lucky stood up. Faison didn’t know what the kid was thinking, but he had no doubt he could keep Lucky under control. There was still a blank look about him. “Stay behind me,” was all he ordered. Lucky didn’t reply. Celine walked ahead of them down the front stairs of the wide porch that encircled the house. She looked around cautiously. When no one appeared she beckoned for Faison and Lucky to follow. Faison turned to Lucky, putting his finger in the young man’s face. “One false move, Young Spencer, and you’ll be more sorry…” He waited to see if Lucky got his message. When Lucky nodded, he turned around and followed Celine. They crept along the driveway towards the gate entrance. Suddenly a light was shining down on them. “Run!” Celine cried. The trio raced, not towards the front gate any longer, but alongside the brick wall that secluded the estate from the road. The light followed them, only to be replaced by automatic gunfire. As if their feet were on fire, they all ran, even Lucky. The bullets seemed to hit everywhere around them. Faison thought he heard a small screech from Celine but she never broke her step. They finally found cover behind some heavy shrubbery. The gunfire stopped for at least the moment. Celine collapsed, sitting on the ground as Faison stared at her in amazement. “Are you crazy?” He demanded. “We can’t stay here.” “I know that, Fai!” Celine returned hotly. “I’m not a fool.” She peeked around the shrubbery just long enough to draw fire. She could see all four of her guards, standing about ten feet in front of the house, all of them armed with the Uzi weapons she had provided. She smiled. She would teach them to leave their posts and fire at their boss. Putting her gun down, she took the small waist pack she had with her and opened it. Faison was watching for more gunfire around the bush while Lucky witnessed Celine take a small object out of the pack. She used her fingers to pull at a metal ring, then moved in front of Faison. “We’ll be safe in a second,” She assured him. Aiming for the four guards, Celine lifted her thin arm, and threw as well as any baseball pitcher. The object she threw landed only feet from the four men. In the darkness they barely saw the object before comprehension dawned too late. A sudden explosion made Lucky cover his ears while all four men fell to the ground either injured or dead. Celine next took her gun and walked over to each guard. Ignoring the pleading faces, she shot each one in the head, waiting until she was sure they were all dead. Then she hurried back to Faison and Lucky. Faison held out his hand to shake. Celine looked down at it questioningly. “I taught you well, Celine. That was brilliant, and diabolical.” Faison told her with a touch of admiration in his generally sarcastic tone. Next to him, Lucky felt like vomiting. He could see Celine was as cold and ruthless as Faison, maybe more so. “Why thank you, Fai,” Celine purred. “From you, I’ll take that as a real compliment. Now shall we take the boy wonder and leave? I believe we have a party to attend.” Faison’s face broke into an elaborate horrifying grin that made Lucky shiver. “After you, my dear,” he answered. Faison took Lucky by the arm, pushing him in between him and Celine. Lucky didn’t protest. He merely followed Stefan’s wife through the bushes until she got to the gate that was now free of guards. Outside the gate was her car. The guards never expected her to free their prisoner when she came, so she had just left her car there. Now no one was left to report her misguided deeds…except for Lucky and Faison. Faison Celine could handle, she figured as they walked to her car. As for Lucky, it was a cinch his days were numbered. Stavros would never let the boy live, even if Faison did. Frankly she was curious as to who would off him first. He was such a weakling, he definitely deserved what he got. For the life of her, Celine couldn’t figure out what Nikolas saw in his brother. Faison shoved Lucky down in the back seat of the car. “Got him handled?” Celine wondered as she put the key in the ignition. “Master Spencer and I have an understanding, don’t we Mr. Spencer?” Faison answered. Lucky sat huddled in the car. When Lucky didn’t answer him, Faison got in the front seat smugly satisfied. He didn’t even bother to try and restrain Lucky. In Lucky Faison saw exactly what he wanted to see, a broken spirit. He kept forgetting, he wasn’t dealing with just anyone. He was dealing with Luke Spencer’s son. In the limousine that was parked in a quiet off the road rest stop, Emily Quartermaine sat quietly watching her husband sleep. She was loathe to call him Husband but she had little choice. She had married him of her own free will. She deserved nothing better. As far as Emily knew, she was no better than the man she had married. “Oh, Lucky, how could this have happened?” She whispered to herself. Her brown eyes were bright with unshed tears, with melancholy for the days when she had been loved by her family and friends. They would never love her again, not after she had given herself to such as Anders. She gazed at the face that could be so beguiling, knowing how cruel and sadistic he could be at the same time. “It’s your own fault you know,” came the quiet voice that could be so tender. Emily saw that Anders was awake. He sat up still only half dressed in a shirt and shorts. He pulled on his pants and straightened his shirt, then put on the tuxedo he had bought for his wedding. He gave Emily almost a kind look. “You’re not listening to me,” He told her. “You could have avoided some of your pain if you had only tried.” Emily gave him a look of her own sarcasm. “Really? What would have kept you from raping me,” She snapped. Anders’ hand squeezed hers…hard. Emily grimaced, but held her own as she stared at him. Anders let her go. “You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that. Even when you’re feeling ten inches high, you’ve got spunk.” “Gee, thanks.” “Emily, can’t we at least try to be civil?” Anders asked trying to keep his temper intact. It wasn’t easy since he was so impatient. All he wanted was a chance. Was that too much to ask? “I don’t know, Anders,” Emily answered, as if she were drawing on every ounce of strength she had. She drew herself up proudly, trying to let Anders see that she did have some dignity. He sat back, biting his tongue, while he yearned only to hold his wife in his arms and make love to her again, if you could call it love. “Anders, you say you love me, then you hurt me. That’s not love. It’s cruel, and sadistic. You hurt me and you don’t care.” “But I do care, Emily. I do love you. I just can’t help myself.” “I can’t trust you, Anders,” Emily finally said, wondering if he would lash out at her, wondering if he would just slap her or punch her or rape her again. Instead he sat back, contemplating it seemed. Emily waited almost holding her breath. “No one should trust me,” Anders finally confessed. “I’m hateful.” “Why? For God’s sake, Anders. What makes you so hateful that you would brutalize your own wife?” “I killed my mother,” Anders spoke, so softly, so emotionally that Emily was speechless. The look of vulnerability in Anders eyes was truly pathetic. For a moment, silence filled the compartment. “Anders, you didn’t kill her, did you?” “I might as well have,” Anders insisted. “I didn’t protect her.” Emily sensed there was something more to this story. She touched Anders’ hand lightly. Wordlessly, she implored him to tell her all. Anders couldn’t look at his wife as he spoke. He stared out of the window of the limousine that had been parked for heaven only knew how long on the outskirts of Port Charles. His words were wooden, yet heart wrenching to the young woman. “She died in front of me,” he said. “There was so much blood. That’s all I could see was the blood after he…after she was killed. She was alive for a little while. I didn’t get her help. I didn’t call for an ambulance or a doctor. I just held her hand and begged her to get up. She didn’t get up. She just looked at me, trying to talk, her mouth moving and all. Nothing came out. I can still feel her eyes staring at me. They just stare at me. I killed her. I killed my mother.” Emily, horrified and mystified at the same time tried to get Anders to look at her. She pulled his chin so he had to turn and see her. “Anders, why didn’t you call for help?” She questioned softly, already knowing the answer, but having to hear it for herself as comprehension dawned. She hadn’t married a monster, only a little boy who was reliving a nightmare, over and over again. Anders stared at her. He didn’t speak. Then he looked down at his hands. He held them out to Emily, palm side up. “Can you see the blood?” He moaned. “I try to get rid of it. I just can’t. No matter how many times I wash my hands.” “Anders, listen to me,” Emily started. “Please.” “You weren’t there, Em. You don’t know.” “I know you didn’t kill her,” Emily told him softly. As if he had been slapped, Anders’ head bolted up right. He took Emily’s hands, squeezing them hard. “You’re lying,” He hissed. “You’re just lying to placate me.” “I’m not!” Emily exclaimed indignantly. “Oh, forget it.” She pulled her hands away, shutting herself down. Anders pulled her back towards him roughly. “I won’t,” He told her. “I won’t forget you didn’t believe me, Emily. You’ll pay for having so little faith in me.” Emily genuinely recoiled at the look that came across Anders’ face. He was so cruel, so bitter, so angry. What had she done? How could she have prevented this reaction. She was trying to be kind, empathetic… Before she could protest, Anders had pulled her to him in a disgusting kiss. Emily felt like vomiting except that she hadn’t eaten in a very long time. Instead she slapped him hard across the face. The look of insane rage that leaped across his face made Emily fear for her life. He clenched his fists, then turned away from her. The young woman breathed a sigh of relief as Anders picked up the phone and gave their driver directions. Her guard was instantly raised when she comprehended where they were going. “Take us to Port Charles. When we get there I’ll give you directions to Luke Spencer’s club.,” He ordered angrily. His eyes met Emily. “By the time we get to Port Charles, my wife is going to need her angelic Lucky’s father more than she knows.” The driver turned on the limo. That was his answer to Anders direction. Anders hung up the phone, then turned to Emily. His hand shot out, and she pulled back avoiding his fist in her face. He leaned forward pulling her to him as she struggled to get away. A wild fear raced through Emily’s veins giving her a strength she thought died with Lucky. Her voice screamed in protest when Anders placed one hand around her slim waist, and another in a choke-hold on her neck. He pulled her head to his chest, his breath a whisper on her hair. “You’re going to pay for fighting me, Emily. I promise you. You’re going to pay.” Stefan clutched the three sheets of paper in his hands. The truth did indeed come in threes. He couldn’t believe he had been such a fool for so long. When the code was broken, his vision cleared, perhaps for the first time in his life. He paced back and forth in the large music room. It was one of his favorite rooms. The walls were filled with music books and sheets of music, some that Stefan had written himself. Few people knew he was an accomplished pianist. Like most people, Celine didn’t appreciate his music. He sat down at the Baby Grande, his fingers lightly touching the keys in an effortless motion as he softly played Felix Mendelssohn’s, “The Calm Sea,” a picture of the sea coming to him, a picture of the calm waters near his home. He could remember being a boy, being innocent of intrigue, of lies, of his destiny. He was merely Mikkos’ second son, and there was never any reason to worry about the future as he was now. “You should see your face, Stefan,” a lighthearted voice smiled in his ear. Stefan sighed, closing his eyes, still playing. He knew the notes by heart. He could play the music blind as he dreamed of his best friend, the girl who understood him when so few did. “How do I look?” Stefan bantered back. “Silly?” “Just dreamy,” she laughed. Stefan opened his eyes. He was giddy to see her sitting on the piano bench with him, her hands in her lap as she watched him play. “Don’t tell Stavros,” Stefan teased. “He thinks music is for sissies.” “Stavros is a fool,” came the adamant reply. She was only fourteen, several years younger than Stefan, but he enjoyed her company. She listened to him, and never criticized, unlike anyone else in the household. “You have an uncanny wisdom, Trina,” He admitted. “When did you get to be so wise?” “When I saw how Stavros ignores you and Alexis.” “He’s older. He’s the heir,” Stefan answered making excuses for the brother he seldom saw. “Is he? Well I’m glad you aren’t the heir then. I like when you play Mozart and Chopin and Mendelsshon. I feel like I’m floating in the sky and dreaming of the future.” “You’re a silly little girl, you know that?” Stefan returned, feeling uncomfortable with her words. He gazed at her flowing dark brown hair shining in a delightful cascade down her slender back. Her olive complexion was tanned further by the Greek sun, and there were freckles on her pert nose. Stefan particularly enjoyed the vitality that was contagious in her brown eyes. Her oval face was perfectly symmetrical, angelic in every way. She was small for her age, standing only a little over five feet and weighing less than a hundred pounds. She wore a white and yellow sun dress, and nothing on her bare feet. She ignored Stefan’s remark. Instead she got up, dancing around the room as if she were the belle of a ball. Stefan smiled, watching in enchantment. The music room they were in was lightly decorated, and the sea breeze from the patio filled the air. The music lifted her lightly through the room as she danced until the last note was played, the sound lingering for an eternity as she finally knelt, putting her face in her hands, and letting out a choked sob. The young Stefan, his body lean and sinewy, dressed only in a white shirt and shorts, raced to his friend. He knelt in front of her, lifting her chin up gently. Softly, he wiped away her face while she tried to keep the tears from flowing. “Trina, what is it? What’s wrong?” Stefan waited till Trina had collected herself. She leaned forward, taking Stefan’s hands in hers smiling at him in a reassuring way that made him feel just a little less concerned for her. “I was feeling so happy one second. Then I felt as though there were ghosts walking over my grave, as if this minute was going to be one of the happiest of my life, and never again would I have such a good friend to share life’s simple pleasures with.” Stefan brushed aside the dark hair, letting Trina see his empathy, the caring that only a good friend can give when friendship is truly needed. “Trina, you are very young,” He told her with all the maturity of his nineteen years. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Someday a man is going to fall in love with you and you’re going to be much happier than you are right now.” “I don’t know if I want to get married,” Trina confessed. “My sister is married and she’s only sixteen. She hates her husband.” “Let’s make a promise,” Stefan suggested. He was sitting on the floor too now. The air was still fragrant with the sea air, and now the evening dew as the sun was setting. The two young people were so innocent, so hopeful, so very young. On the patio, a shadow crossed their paths, but they were so intent, they never suspected they weren’t alone. “Tell me, quickly,” Trina begged, pushing away her doubts and tribulation. “Let’s make a promise to each other. If ever one of us is in trouble, we’ll call on each other for help. If you call me, I will come and if I call you, you will come. No matter where we are, we’ll always be best friends, and we’ll always count on each other.” Trina’s eyes lit up, bringing a feeling of warmth and joy to Stefan’s heart. It was something he had seldom felt in the past. She hugged him impulsively, then sat back down on the floor. “How did you know that was exactly what I wanted, nay, I needed to hear. You are so dear Stefan. I bless the day Alexis brought me to visit for the summer. I will always come when you call, and no matter where I go you will be my best friend.” Her voice was so happy, that Stefan knew he had done the right thing. He drew her back to the piano. They played together, soft strands of music that wafted through the room, encircling them in a caring shroud of friendship until the only music that remained was the soft chords that Stefan played at Wyndemere, and he realized once again he was alone. “Trina, where did you come from,” Stefan whispered while his fingers came to an abrupt halt. Twenty years had passed since he had even thought of his young friend. They hadn’t been able to keep their promises, and to this day, Stefan didn’t even know where his friend was. “Enough of this,” Stefan told himself. “I have to deal with the truth. I have to find Nikolas and Stavros.” He got up from the piano, taking the three sheets of paper and folding them carefully. He hurried to the front door and disappeared through it…looking for a future that would either be his salvation or his destruction. Which it would be, even Stefan didn’t know. Luke’s face froze in contempt as he saw the man who was waiting for him…waiting for him in his own club. Stavros lifted his glass towards Luke. Alexis followed Luke’s gaze towards the man who had risen from the dead. She leaned towards Luke, whispering softly. “Don’t give him the advantage, Luke,” She warned. “I know Stavros. He’s just waiting to break you.” “I know that!” Luke returned sharply. Then he bent down and kissed Alexis on the lips. “Sorry.” “Don’t be. I just don’t want to see Helena or Stavros win this round. Remember our plan.” Luke nodded, but said nothing. Alexis’ arm was in his. He led her past the family and friends who milled about, sipping on their drinks waiting expectantly for whatever was supposed to happen. They had all been summoned by a man some of them didn’t even know. Luke could see the confusion on their faces. He wished with all his heart that Bobbie, and Felicia weren’t there. There was going to be fall out tonight, and they were innocent where Stavros was concerned. So were the Q’s, Edward, Lila, Alan, and A.J. who sat at one table, although it was strange to think of the Q’s as being innocent of anything. Where was Monica anyway? Bobbie, Scott, Felicia and Mac sat at another table while Jax and Skye took up a third. The only other person in the room Stavros could possibly have a beef was with Laura who sat with Leslie Weber, and Sonny and Carly at yet a fourth table. In Stavros’ twisted mind, his fury would be directed at Laura and Luke. Luke knew he had to remain ready to spring into action. He and Alexis came to stand in front of Stavros and Helena. Helena, dressed in her perfect dark green satin gown was perfectly composed and regal. Luke had the urge to slap her silly face. Alexis pinched his arm as if reading his thoughts. It took all Luke Spencer had to conjour up the face of a gentleman when it would have been so much more preferable to break Stavros’ neck…again. “Well, well, Spencer, you did come. I didn’t think you’d have the finesse,” Stavros taunted. “Can I offer you something to drink?” His hand waved towards a waiter who was making sure everyone’s glasses were filled with champagne. Luke could see and smell that Stavros had was drinking something far stronger than just champagne. “Since this is my club, why don’t you let me do the honors? Or have you locked up my bartender?” Luke returned sarcastically. “I gave Claude the night off. Imagine, he thought he was being fired.” “For being an idiot and letting you have the club, he should be fired. He didn’t ask any questions?” “I told him I had an arrangement with you,” Stavros bantered back. “Surely you don’t object.” Luke took two steps forward as everyone in the club became deathly silent, watching the scene unfolding in front of them. “I object all right. I object to you being in my club, to the old bat bringing you here, and to this entire farce. Now would you do the kindest, most humane thing, and get your sorry asses off my property? Better yet, if you left the city limits, that might be the best plan.” Luke turned around towards Mac who seemed rather inept at the moment. “Hey, Bubba, could you remove these unwanted guests from the premises?” Mac started to stand up in response to Luke. Stavros looked past Luke to Mac, ignoring Luke’s little tirade. “I wouldn’t be so quick to do that Mr. Scorpio. The evening is just getting started, and I have a few words to say to everyone here tonight. That’s why you were summoned.” “Luke?” Mac asked questioning him with a silent look. Luke waved Mac away. “Never mind, Bubba.” Luke turned back to Stavros and Helena. His eyes met Helena’s cold, bemused gaze. She stood perfectly straight, barely fidgeting, barely breathing. What was the old bat up to? “You know when Helena Cassidine is in a room, especially with her spoiled son, there’s danger. Why don’t you let all these people go, Helena. You don’t want your son to blow them all to kingdom come, do you?” “Stavros wouldn’t do anything so foolish,” Helena returned haughtily. “You don’t know your son very well,” Luke hissed. “Where’ve you been all these years, Stavros? I thought you were burning in hell.” “Hardly,” Stavros drolled. He nodded to Alexis. “Alexis you are looking beautiful tonight.” He gazed her her jacket, noting her bare chest with just the edge of her breasts pushing over the open top. “What an original costume.” “It wasn’t created for you, Stavros. What do you want?” Alexis replied, her voice on edge, giving away her anxiety. “A pity it wasn’t,” Stavros answered seductively. A look of disgust came over Alexis’ face. She pulled on Luke’s arm to keep him from just hitting Stavros. They didn’t know what he wanted. Getting angry was not going to flush out Stavros and Helena’s true intentions. Luke worked to cool the rising temper within. He didn’t realize that Stavros’ own fires were smoldering beneath the calm exterior. “Are we waiting for something?” Luke queried at last. “I’m getting tired of standing here. My bones aren’t as young as they used to be you know.” “Not something, but someone. Stefan isn’t here yet, nor my lovely wife, Tracy or my son, Nikolas. We won’t be ready until they arrive.” “Tracy? Quartermaine?” Luke gasped. “Now I’ve heard it all. That’s why the Q’s are here tonight isn’t it? You’ve got some sort of fixation with them since you’re married into their family.” “Well, I thought they’d like to meet me,” Stavros pouted. Lila was whispering to Edward. Edward in turn whispered to Alan, then stood up. He put his hands on Lila’s wheelchair. Lila was dressed in a lovely blue gown. She went out so seldom, it was amazing she had even made it to the club. Now her face was pale and it was clear the evening was getting to be too much for her. “Are we going somewhere, Edward?” Stavros demanded walking over to the couple. “My wife is ill. I’m taking her home,” Edward answered firmly, not used to being questioned. “Get in my way and you’ll be sorry.” “Really?” Stavros said, feigning surprise. “Well, I wouldn’t leave just yet. There are a few surprises I am expecting.” “Remove yourself, Sir,” Lila ordered in her soft, yet imperious way. “I really do want to go home now.” “Mrs. Quartermaine, if you would like to lay down in Luke’s office, I’m sure that can be arranged or upstairs, but for now, anyone who leaves the club will be very sorry.” Luke raised his eyebrows. What, did the man have snipers outside? As if on cue, the front door of the club did open. A young man no one knew entered the club. In front of him, he ushered a young woman wearing a long gray dress, and gray cape. Her hood hid her face as she came in. Stavros, Helena, Luke and Alexis as well as everyone else watched as the couple walked towards Stavros. Luke saw a sick smile come over the man’s face. At the same time, from Luke’s office, Tracy Quartermaine and Nikolas appeared. Horrified eyes missed the young woman as she laid her hood back, revealing herself. No one saw her. All they saw was Nikolas and Tracy…and the impending death they carried with them. “I told you all I had some surprises for you,” Stavros’ voice intoned triumphantly. “And just think, the night is just beginning." |