| Chapter 6 “Threatening people again, Grandmother?” Nikolas exclaimed coming into the room. “My uncle’s new wife? You don’t waste any time do you?” Celine and Helena turned to see an infuriated Nikolas, still accompanied by Gia. He stood, his fists clenched at his side, Gia standing protectively next to him. In silence the two women exchanged glances. Nothing like being caught in the act. Celine turned her back to Helena, giving the new arrivals long disinterested stares. Gia glared right back at her, sensing from the vibe in the air that Helena and Celine had been in the middle of something major. "What are you doing here?" Gia asked, studying the woman's face the way one would the contents of an old container of Kung-Pow chicken in the back of the refrigerator. There's no way it couldn't be bad, but the mold hasn't quite turned green enough to be absolutely certain. And so you stare. And you squint. And you end up exactly where you started. With a hunch, but no real proof. Unless you have enough guts to test it out... Gia wasn't ready to test Celine yet. But, she had the feeling that the day would come when she was. Celine ignored Gia's question. She turned her eyes back to Nikolas, content to pick apart his features and compare them against what she knew of the boy. Which was probably far more than his little girlfriend knew. "My, Helena, aren't you the popular one today!" Celine gushed in fake enthusiasm. She kept her eyes on Nikolas' and grinned when he returned her intense glare. They continued to stare at each other as Celine addressed Helena once more. "I think my time is up, so, I'll just be going. First though..." She paused, smiled, drew Nikolas' attention from her eyes to her lips as she ran her tongue over the full bottom one. "I'd like to prove to you that I'm serious about what we talked about. That I'm serious as far as Stefan is concerned..." Helena watched the exchange between her daughter in-law and her grandson with detached amusement. Speaking to the volumes of hair that ran down the woman's bare back, she replied, "And how do you propose to do that, Celine?" "Like this..." Celine swiveled around with the grace of a ballet dancer. She moved so quickly that all Nikolas saw was a blur. Celine's arm came from up high and swung down with sudden force, her open palm slamming across the side of Helena's face. Before Celine could finish the swinging motion and drop her hand back to her side, Helena had latched a hold of the younger woman's wrist and yanked her forward. Helena's cheek stung and her eye watered, but she suppressed the pain, tightly griping the other woman. "One would think that you'd have enough brains to know better," Helena seethed through clenched teeth. There was no space between the two women as they stared each other down. Behind them, they could hear Nikolas and Gia speaking, but neither bothered to pay attention. Celine's eyes sparkled, her heart beating wildly as the episode unraveled. There was nothing she liked more than confrontation. In a gleeful whisper, she stated, "Taking care of Stefan is my concern, not yours. I don't need your interference. Don't call me again, Helena. I won't be as receptive next time." "There might not be a next time for you, Celine," Helena remarked, the anger fading as she realized that she still needed Celine in order to defeat her son. The plan was already in motion. It was far too late to stop it now. And, even though she despised the young tart, she was now more convinced than ever that if anyone could destroy Stefan, it was Celine. And...once Stefan was dead, it would take little effort to make Celine dead as well. The thought filled her with relief and new confidence. Helena released the woman. Celine reclaimed her arm and strolled toward the exit. Nikolas and Gia were still standing in the doorway, gaping at the scene they had just witnessed. "Nikolas, I would say that it was a pleasure seeing you again..." Celine cooed, flipping her long dark hair and hitting him in the face as she passed him by. "But then I'd be a liar." Like her perfume, her words lingered in the air long after she was gone. * * * * * Anders was mildly amused when neither Lucky nor Emily wanted to shake his hand. The curse of the Faison name... He wrapped his hand around the bedpost. Evenly, he said, "The two of you are gawking at me like you expect me to sprout horns. I'm not the devil. Just his son." Lucky pulled Emily closer, wrapping a protective arm around her shivering form. "If we don't want to have anything to do with you, well then, I think you understand. Your father is a crazy psycho!" "Now, now, Mr. Spencer--let's not be offensive. I don't go around calling your father an egomaniacal lush, now do I?" "You don't know anything about my father!" Lucky tried to leap up to defend his father, but the drugs had left him weak and groggy. His head started to spin and he had no choice but to fall back on the bed. Emily helped him ease back against her side as she sat up, careful to keep her sheet together. She dried the tears from her eyes, looking up imploringly to Anders. "You said you might help us..." she ventured. Anders neared the bed, instantly enthralled by the way she looked at him. Her eyes were still wet and glassy. She looked helpless, yet determined to find a way to save herself. There was the slightest hint of light lingering around the edges of her brown orbs as she waited for him to answer her. It was if so much depended on his answer. He felt himself warm instantly. “I would like to help you, Ms. Quartermaine, but it's dangerous. As much as I hate to admit it, your friend is correct. My father has a tendency to be...unbalanced when it comes to getting what he wants. And for now, he wants both of you here." "So, that's a no?" Lucky asked. He didn't trust Anders one bit. He especially disliked the way he was looking at Emily. It wasn't the same lustful and leering glances of the guards. It was much more subtle than that. It was gentle. It was soft. It was almost like a longing. Lucky pulled more covers off the bed to cover his friend's bare shoulders. "It's not a no. I will help wherever I can, but I can't be obvious, or else my father will find out and that's something that none of us want." He felt a buzzing in his pocket and pulled his pager out. He read the message quickly, chuckling as he stuffed it back out of view. "That's the old buzzard now. Gotta run," he announced, looking to his father's captives. "Keep your chins up, kiddies. I'll come back when I can." He went to the door, knocking loudly for the guards to open it. Emily scrambled up off the bed, pulling the covers close as she jogged across the large room after him. "Anders...wait!" "Emily!" Lucky yelled fearfully, trying to run after her, but not getting very far. He slumped against the bedpost, holding it tightly. Anders turned. "Is there something I can do for you?" She shook her head no, her long free hair framing her delicate face. She searched his pale blue eyes for a second, looking for some sign that his offer to help might have been sincere. What she saw in his eyes was confusing. She saw sincerity, but she also saw something dangerous. A wild streak that he was trying to cover. Her shoulders stiffened involuntarily. "Is something the matter?" he asked, leaning forward in concern. "Why would you help us? How do we know your father didn't send you in here to earn our trust?" "You don't. All you know is what I tell you. I could be your executioner or I could be your savior. There is no certainty for you. Not here. Not in my father's house." Emily looked away, fighting the tears of despair that were trying to force their way out. "It's hopeless!" He smiled, lifting her chin. She flinched at his touch, but he ignored the reaction. He just wanted to touch her. "Whether you believe me or not, I will help you, Ms. Quartermaine." "You already did...you...you stopped those guards..." "Forget them and get some rest. If I know my father, you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow." "What does that mean?" Emily questioned, immediately looking back to Lucky's weak form. The door was pushed open from the outside. "Master Anders?" "Just a minute!" Anders shouted in annoyance. Turning back to Emily, he said, "Just rest. Take care of your friend." "Will you be back?" Emily asked. She surprised herself when she realized that she did want him to come back. If there was any chance that he would help them escape... "Yes, Ms. Quartermaine, I will be back." He walked to the door, pulling it open. "Emily," she called out to his retreating back. "Excuse me?" he said without turning around. "Call me Emily." He walked out and the door was immediately swung shut and locked behind him. He stood just beyond the grand staircase in the hallway, smiling to himself. Emily... * * * * * When Stefan awoke, the only light in the room came from a lamp halfway across the room. He pulled the dark brown afghan from his knees, tossing it to the sofa across from him. He stretched his legs out, flexing his back against the soft cushions. He felt stiff all over, realizing glumly, that he was much too old to sleep in chairs. He sat up, working out the painful crick in his neck. "I can't do this, Stefan..." The voice startled him. He looked up, surprised to see Alexis watching him from the staircase. She pulled her robe tightly against her, running a restless hand through her thick brown hair. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. "I can't...I really can't do this. Not again..." He stood then, opening his arms to her. She rushed across the room, falling into them. She was relieved when they closed around her, securing her in reality. If just for a few moments. He could feel her tremors as he held her tightly. She was breaking and he, the man who knew her better than anyone ever could, had no idea why. "Alexis," he said, "please tell me why you're so upset. I realize that you have become very close to Spencer and that the disappearance of his son weighs heavily on you. But, what I don't understand is why you seem so vulnerable. It's as if it were your child who was taken, not his." Her entire body went rigid when he said this. She pulled back out of his arms, her fingers forming fists. She clenched them against her chest as she began to cry. With her head raised to the ceiling, she allowed the tears to fall down her cheeks. "Alexis!" he cried, feeling desperate to get through to her. "What is this all about?" "Emily," Alexis replied. She turned her head to look at him. Their eyes met and held for several long torturous seconds. Stefan felt a chill race down his spine. He saw his sister's complete anguish, took in her demeanor and, in a flash of enlightenment, he understood everything. "Not Emily Quartermaine?" She nodded. “Emily Quartermaine..." Stefan reached out for her, taking her hands and unclenching her fists. He held on to her. "How long have you known?" "Always...I've always known. Always went out of my way to keep tabs." Her tears dried a bit, as she regained some of her composure. It was easier now that Stefan knew. He would help her. He always knew what to do. Even way back then... ”I’m sorry, Alexis,” a much younger Stefan said, his eyes downcast as he stood beside her hospital bed. “There’s nothing I can do. Helena’s made her decision and she will not bend...” "Why didn't you tell me, Alexis? Didn't I deserve to know?" "The same way I deserved to know that you thought Nikolas was your son?" she shot back. He paled slightly, averting his gaze to the lamp behind her. "Of course, you're right. I have no room to judge your actions." "No, no, no," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'm just jumpy. I'm so worried about...about..." "It's all right to say it, Alexis," Stefan prodded, smiling. "It might make you feel better." She took a deep breath, her mind wandering to the white sweater upstairs in her room. She felt her anger raging through her. This was all so unfair. "It's NOT all right!" she stormed. "I have no claim. What am I supposed to do? Go over to the Quartermaines and look Monica in the eye and say 'Pardon me, but you know that girl who you think is your daughter? Well, she's not your daughter. She's MY daughter and my lunatic stepmother has kidnapped her...is doing God knows what to her! Gee, Monica. I'm really sorry and, by the way, nice robe!!' " Alexis burst out, her chest heaving, her hands shaking. "It doesn't work that way. I'm supposed to keep my mouth shut and suffer in silence. Isn't that what you taught me?" Stefan dropped her hands. He kissed her left cheek. "She's your daughter. That's a tie that cannot be denied despite legalities and bureaucracy. And, if the need should arise, and it becomes necessary to inform the Quartermaines, then you will. But I will be there with you. As will...Spencer, I'm sure. Because we both love you and will support you. You're not doing this alone. Let us help you. If you want to rage, do so. Don't mind me, I'm used to it. I seem to be a magnet for feminine hostility." She punched him in the shoulder. “You’re such a good brother." He smiled. "I know..." * * * * * "Okay," Gia said, throwing her purse into the back seat of the Jag, "we've spent the last thirteen minutes chatting it up with Granny Psycho, only to leave the conversation knowing even less than we did before we came. How is that possible?" Nikolas wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Helena has that kind of numbing effect on people..." "I noticed...So, what do we do next? Helena isn't going to fess up." "I was thinking we should check back in with Luke and see if he's found out anything. Besides that, I don't have the faintest clue what to do." "We could call my brother." "You heard Luke. No police," Nikolas reminded her, turning on the car. "Why should I trust Luke over my brother?" "This isn't about you, Gia! It's about my brother and Emily. It's about finding them before Helena kills them!" Gia laid her hand on his thigh, rubbing it soothingly. "I'm sorry if it came out like I was only thinking about myself. I realize how upset you are over Lucky and Emily, but I really do think that we should get some professionals in on this. Someone who knows what they're doing." "Not yet, Gia..." "Fine! You just continue to run around town like a teenage Colombo and I'll watch. It'd be entertaining if it wasn't-" she stopped mid-sentence, craning her neck towards the back seat. "Nikolas..." Nikolas looked at her in puzzlement, his forehead creased in frustration and worry. "What?" "Ummm...what's that ticking noise?" "Ticking noise?" He leaned back, hearing the faint noise to which Gia was referring. "Well," he said, facing her with widened eyes, "Umm...what ticks?...it's either a clock or..." "OR?!" He swallowed hard, glancing back over the seat to see the dark shape sitting on the carpeted floor of the Jaguar. "OR...it's a bomb." |