The brute fell slightly off balance so Malcolm began to push toward faint slivers of light he saw on one wall. They picked up speed and Malcolm turned so the other man took the brunt of the impact when they hit what proved to be a fragile door. The two tumbled into a cold alley amid splinters of wood, slamming against the brick wall on the far side.
Malcolm tried to pull away, but there was still no give in the murderous, choking grip. He heard his blood drumming in his ears. He couldn’t draw breath. His vision was dimming. He desperately gouged the jagged neck of the bottle into the man’s wide face, grinding the glass shards deep. The brute gave a shout of pain.
With tingling fingers, Malcolm fumbled for the hilt of the dagger that hung next to his rib cage. The stinking dark alley was spinning around him, but he concentrated on the feel of the bone handle in his hand and the rough slide of steel past leather as he pulled the knife. Malcolm pressed the blade into the man’s thick white shirt. He hoped the prodding would’ve convinced the brute to release him. But no.
With eyesight going red and misty, Malcolm jammed the blade between the man’s ribs. His opponent made a gurgling gasp and Malcolm was thrown aside by the neck. He first assumed the man had twisted his head off and he was experiencing the weird effect that chickens feel after they are beheaded.
Malcolm crashed against the wall and slid to the ground. The brute collapsed with him, his massive arm still draped on Malcolm’s shoulder. He could see his torso and legs from the proper perspective so his head hadn’t been torn off after all, much to his relief. The alley wafted into focus. The dagger was hilt deep in the dead man’s rib cage.
He pulled it out and struggled to his feet with his ears humming. He staggered down the alley, pushing past confused onlookers. He paused to take several deep breaths and to rotate his head to ensure his neck wasn’t broken. Then he sheathed the knife and buttoned his coat. His eyesight was clearing and his hearing was returning over the faint ringing.
He thought of nothing but those dead women on canvas and Kate upstairs with that creature Barnes.
Chapter 16
Kate stood very still, doing her best to study her surroundings and coax Barnes into useful conversation. She had succeeded in swallowing her anger at his barbs toward her father, and to her relief, he had lapsed into silence while he painted. Finally, she dropped her arm and stepped toward him. “May I see?”
“No.” Barnes ceased work and rushed to her, positioning her once again.
“You perform in front of your … students.”
“They’re not students. And I don’t perform before anyone with a great work like this. This is a private … a solemn … matter.”
Kate leaned back purposefully against him, her neck poised near his mouth. She wasn’t sure what might trigger a reaction in the man, but it was time to experiment. Barnes was all too ready to respond. His hand lifted to pull her waves of thick hair away from her ivory flesh, his fingertips trailing along her skin. She arched back against him, letting out an exaggerated shuddering sigh as he lifted her arm out in front of her. He was well built and muscular. He brought his hand back and brushed it languidly across her chest, boldly caressing a breast. Kate’s eyes flashed open and she took a hard swallow.
“Tell me your secret,” she breathed in her best wanton voice.
“Secret?”
“You have mesmerized everyone with your art and your mere presence. Even me. I have never been so wanton. You must have a secret.”
Barnes laughed deep in his throat. “The secret is to know what one desires in her heart. You desire to be free of your burdens. I can help you.”
“Can you?”
“I will remake you.” He turned her face to his. “Will you allow me?”
“Yes,” she whispered. This was what she was waiting for. For pity’s sake just hurry it along so I don’t get ill.
“I knew you were perfect. You have the fire of the new world in you. You can sense my purpose, can’t you?”
Kate grasped the pedestal for support. “Tell me what you want.”
Barnes nearly purred as he lifted her chin just as Simon did and kissed her. Where Simon evoked a blinding want in her, Barnes was foul and brought on only induced nausea. “You asked what power I have. Are you ready to know?”
“God, yes.”
“I have the power to remake the world, and I want you to be part of it.”
“How can I do that?”
“I can give you freedom. Freedom from the burdens of your family. Freedom from the shadow of your father. Freedom to become something more than you ever imagined. And it will be you who accomplishes it. Not your father’s daughter. You. Your mind, your heart, the very blood in your veins will become pieces of a god. You will become a stone to build Jerusalem. You will become a limb of a giant. Your blood is the sword that will cut down hatred and defend the innocent. You will know things no other human has ever, or will ever, know. Do you believe me?”