The Shadows of God - J. Gregory Keyes [75]
“She's already lost much blood. Adrienne, can you still hear me?”
“Yes, of course, Veronique. Where are we?”
But she was remembering, now. She had seen Nico, and then they had fallen. She closed her eyes.
“Put something in her mouth,” Hercule said. “Quickly. So she doesn't bite her own tongue.”
Fingers gently pried her mouth open, and something came between her teeth. She wanted to look and see what it was, but it seemed like far too much trouble to open her eyes again.
Then she felt a sort of grinding and scraping, and the most exquisite pain she had ever known. It filled her like the surge at the pinnacle of lovemaking, but was infinitely more powerful, drawing every muscle and organ in her body to convulse. She tried to scream, but instead ground her teeth into whatever they had put in her mouth.
“You!” Hercule shouted to someone. “You, by God, fetch me some brandy.”
For an answer, he got a bullet. She heard the gunshot, the strange, meaty sound it made. She forced her eyes open, but they were swimming with tears of pain, and she had to blink several times to see. Meanwhile, two more shots roared nearby.
When her eyes did clear, she first saw Crecy, a smoking pistol in one hand. Hercule was sprawled in the mud, quivering, his hands wrapped around his chest.
Crecy dropped the weapon and drew her sword. “Oliver,” she snarled.
Adrienne let her head loll around. There, leaning against a mass of smashed timbers and planks, stood the man who had attacked them in Saint Petersburg. He wore the uniform of Hercule's light horse and a large grin.
“Come, Crecy. Join me,” he said.
“How in God's name did you come here, Oliver? How?”
He chuckled. “It was quite simple, really. Poor dear Irena. She was as close as I could get to Adrienne without your seeing me. It seems that was close enough. How do you think I knew about your plan to flee the city? I arranged beforehand to get on board. It was sticky going, after our fight, but I managed to kill one of Hercule's horsemen and don his uniform. After that, Irena hid me. Father Dimitrov, another dear friend, helped.”
“You were Irena's lover. You killed her.”
He shrugged. “She was going to tell Hercule about us. He would have had to confront me then, and that was bringing me far too close to the two of you, who would recognize me.”
“Why, Oliver? Before I kill you, tell me why.”
He laughed. “Because they say so, Veronique. You remember how that is. It's annoying, really. The crash almost did my work for me.”
“Kill me, then,” Adrienne rasped. “Leave Hercule and Veronique be.”
“It is too late for Hercule, I fear, but I am perfectly willing to let Nikki live. I am fond of her.”
“Why did you shoot Hercule?” Adrienne managed.
“Actually, I was trying to shoot you. Damn pistols are as untrustworthy as women.”
Crecy stepped forward. Adrienne noticed she was limping. “You have no more guns,” she said. “Prepare to die, Oliver.”
“You make me sad, Nikki, but I will do what I must.”
A wave of pain second only to the first coursed through Adrienne as Crecy snarled and hurled herself across the muddy, uneven ground. Crecy's weapon was not the little dress sword she sometimes wore, but a basket-hilted broadsword. Oliver was armed with a horseman's saber. Their steel moved so fast in the darkness Adrienne could see little more than the sparks they struck, for the ship had crashed in a thicket of trees and wild grapevines that throttled what little light the sky still held.
She tried to summon her servants again, but silence greeted her commands. She could see into the aether with her hand, make out malakim in the far distance, but none was tied to her, none at all.
Gritting her teeth, she crawled toward Hercule.
He was still alive, his eyes puzzled. “A moment,” he managed. “A moment, and I will kill him for you. I'm just—” He looked at his hand, covered in blood. “Damn,” he said. “Damn. He's killed me.”
“No,” Adrienne said. “No, he hasn't. You'll live.”
“Because you tell me to?”
“Because I love you.”
He laughed bitterly, which brought blood to his lips. “That will