“I knew about you. The ghosts told me.”
He hesitated, stunned by her words.
“That soldier, Victor Grebbe. He killed women here. The ghosts knew it, and they knew it was happening again. But they don’t intend to let you get away with it. So if I were you, I’d get out of here now. I’d run away. You can hide. You can disappear. You’re a genius, remember? You deserve to live. But you need to get out—now—if you want to escape the ghosts.”
“The ghosts?” he said coldly.
“They’re here now,” she told him.
“You’re insane, do you know that?” His hand was twitching.
The hand with the knife.
She couldn’t break his hold on her, but Henry…Henry was beside her, struggling to break that hold for her.
Jon Abel frowned, as if he sensed something touching him, and his grip eased, just the tiniest bit.
It was enough.
She struck him as hard as she could with the bone, this time aiming for his knife arm. She was rewarded by hearing the knife clatter against the stone wall of the crypt and then fall, with a splash, into the water rushing around her ankles.
It wasn’t just that they were below sea level here, she realized. It was the river. It was close.
Somewhere here, there had to be a connection to the river.
She held on tight to her weapon, knowing he would come after her again as she forged through a sea of dismembered corpses, trying to find a way out. Henry was at her side, urging her on. Giving her strength.
But she didn’t get far. She felt fingers twine into her hair, and she was jerked back. Struggling, they sank down to their knees together in the fetid water.
Somehow he’d found the knife.
And he brought it to her throat.
Aidan followed the ghost into the tomb, his light darting swiftly around. There was no one there. Except the woman in white, beckoning him on as she backed toward the altar.
And disappeared.
All of a sudden he felt his ancestors, Brendan and Sloan Flynn, at his side, urging him forward.
He raced around the altar and saw the false floor, the opening to whatever lay below.
Without hesitating, he jumped down into the darkness, his feet splashing hard, putrid water rising up to meet him. He staggered with the force of his landing, and fell, the Colt flying out of his hand.
“Aidan!” Kendall screamed.
“Stay back!” It was a man’s voice, hoarse, almost inhuman.
Jon Abel.
And he had a knife at Kendall’s throat.
“Kill him, Aidan,” Kendall said softly. “Or he’ll kill us both.”
He looked at her as reassuringly as he could, then turned his implacable gaze on her captor. “Abel, you haven’t got a prayer of getting out of here alive, you know.”
“Back off! I’ll kill her right now,” Abel said, his voice growing shrill.
“Don’t be a fool, Abel. Even with a knife, you’re no match for me. You—”
He broke off then. A thick mist was rising from the water. Rising, and taking shape.
The woman in white, Fiona, was to his left, Sloan standing to the other side of her. Brendan flanked him on the right.
But they weren’t alone.
The mist was alive.
“They’re here, Jon,” Aidan said very softly. “All the women you’ve murdered. They’re here now, with us. And they’re going to kill you.”
“You’re crazy!”
“No, I’m not. Just look, and you’ll see them.”
At last, Abel looked.
Kendall felt his hold on her loosen. She met Aidan’s eyes, and he nodded grimly. She kicked Abel as hard as she could, and it was enough to buy Aidan the split second he needed. As Abel screamed in pain, Aidan rushed him, pushing Kendall out of the way.
The two men plunged into the water together, struggling desperately for control of the knife.
Straining, Aidan gripped Abel’s wrist, wrestling for the blade, and as he fought, the faces in the mist came closer. Ghostly hands reached out, and Abel began to scream and scream.
Aidan would never know the truth.
Had he meant to disarm the man, or kill him?
It didn’t matter.
The knife was pulled from Abel’s hold by ghostly hands and plunged into his heart.
Blood stained the water as the faces faded back into the silver fog.
“Please,” Kendall whispered to Aidan as she threw her arms around him. “Please, we have to get out of here.”
“God, yes!”
He turned, and for one moment they were still there, Fiona and the men who, one way or another, had died to protect her.
Then they were gone.
Aidan felt Kendall shivering, trembling, as he led her back toward the glow from above that showed where the drop into the crypt from the mausoleum lay. He pushed her up and through, then vaulted out behind her. Together, they staggered out of the mausoleum and then paused.
An array of people stood before them. Soldiers and businessmen, women in beautiful frocks. In the front of the group stood one man in blue and another in gray, and Henry was with them.
Fiona stepped forward, carrying a rose, which she set before them with a smile.