Widow - Anne Stuart [101]
“What others, Madame Antonella?” Maguire spoke up suddenly. “Who are they?”
“Shut up, Maguire,” Charlie whispered. “I’m trying to reason with her.”
“She won’t be reasoned with, love,” he said in a loud voice. “So tell me who those women are. The dead bodies in the back of the tomb? Lauretta says they’re some of your earlier victims.”
“My daughter knows my secrets,” Antonella said smugly. Charlie wanted to kick Maguire, until she noticed Tomaso’s reaction. He’d had no idea exactly how bad things were—news about the dead women in the crypt had clearly come as a shock to him, and he was staring at his wife in renewed horror.
“Tell us who they were,” Maguire said, his voice soft and admiring. “You must have been very clever to get away with this. I like a woman who’s both beautiful and smart.” He was flirting with her, Charlie realized in shock. And the old hag was responding with ghoulish girlishness. “How did you do it?”
The old lady preened, responding to Maguire’s practiced charm. “I told you, it’s easy. You just snap their neck. Fast, and relatively painless. They didn’t even know it was coming. I brought them up here to see some of Pompasse’s hidden paintings. I always used to take them when he wasn’t looking. He never could find them.” She smiled with remembered fondness.
“And you killed them all?” Maguire prompted. “The women who wanted to leave?”
“Don’t be foolish. It was the ones who wanted to stay who were a danger. Those were the ones I killed.”
“Even the young one?” Maguire prompted her. “What was her name?”
“Luisa,” Antonella replied calmly. “The little slut. My grandchild, and his own child. He took her into his bed when she was fifteen. I killed her when she was sixteen. Lauretta was not happy with me, but she helped me, anyway. She had promised Aristide.”
“Damn,” Maguire muttered. “I really didn’t want incest.”
“No!” It was no more than a whispered moan of pain, but it was the first sound Tomaso had made. “No. Not my baby.”
Lauretta threw him a pleading look. “It was too late for me to stop her, Tomaso. She had already done it. I had no choice but to protect my mother….”
“She killed our daughter, and you protect her?” Tomaso’s voice suddenly thundered in the underground chamber. “What kind of creature are you? You are worse than she is, a monster.” Before she realized what he was doing he raised the gun and fired, straight at her, the weapon sparking in the darkness.
“Oh, shit,” Maguire muttered. “Move it.” He shoved Charlie toward the back of the tomb, then grabbed Olivia and hauled her after him as the entire place began to rumble.
Lauretta was clutching her stomach, staring at her husband in shock. “Tomaso?” she said in a piteous voice. The old woman was screaming in the background, filthy imprecations in a dozen languages, and Tomaso turned patiently, pointed the gun at her, and fired again.
She went down like a felled ox. Before she even hit the ground the roof collapsed in on them with a rumble that must have rivaled the bombs that first shattered the place in World War Two, burying them where they stood.
Maguire shoved Charlie against a wall and covered her with his body. She heard a muffled wail, and she tried to break free, to make sure her mother was all right, but Maguire was immovable, and the roar of the collapsing stone was deafening. She really was going to die this time, she thought, and she didn’t want to die without telling Maguire she loved him, but even if she screamed it he wouldn’t hear her, and besides, he was better off not knowing. At least he wouldn’t die smug.
It took her a while to realize that the roaring had stopped, though her ears still echoed with the noise. The thick dust was like smoke, swirling around them, and Charlie pushed Maguire away.
“Mama!” she screamed.
There was a dusty cough from