I'm really sorry guys but this is a short chapter! Only because the drama starts to unfold after this and I don't want all of it piled into one chapter. It was either really short, or really long and really long would mean less updates :( So I do hope you enjoy and review for me please and I'll review ASAP!
Stepping off the train Irene couldn't help but admire the city she had long loved. It had been a city of fond memories for her, whether it be the enormous amount of dresses she had purchased, the jewels she would say she purchased or even just the walks through the parks. There was nothing about Paris she would deem not beautiful.
After freshening up in her usual hotel room Irene quickly set off. This trip was not about admiring the city it was about destroying this guilt upon her conscience and allowing her to continue through life with no burdens to bear. A burden was not something Irene took kindly too.
The sky was cloudy and grey but not yet raining as Irene found the alleyway she had been looking for. After jotting down the address from the telegram back in Florence she was relying on her own penmanship, something she had practised for many years when she was younger and now it flourished in almost an art form. However it seemed to have been wasted as upon her arrival the alleyway in question was empty.
"I don't understand?" She doubted herself, checking the paper again and turning back, examining the street from all angles. All reason told her that she was in the right location and that made her wonder whether she had been duped.
"Good afternoon Miss Adler." Her suspicions had been confirmed when the familiar voice approached from the shadows.
"You've been expecting me I see." Irene remarked.
"I invited you. Would have been rude for you to turn me down. Though it's come to my attentions that Mr Holmes is not with you?"
"Sherlock isn't in France no. But believe me he knows all about you Holloway." Irene's eyes had grown dark as she glared at the man in front of her.
He was clearly a former army man, from the athletic build to the neatness of his chosen outfit. His hair was dark and cut short like an officer and he stood strong and straight like someone of importance. But Irene noticed the shake in his hand, the signs of someone who had experienced trauma. While she was no Sherlock Holmes, Irene was quick to notice traits that would lead to someone's personality, such as habits and involuntary movements.
"Shame. But I am sure we can attract his attention some other way." Robert's voice drifted, like he was thinking of some suitable ideas. Irene wasn't interested in playing games however.
"There is no third dead body is there?" She already knew the answer but felt it was a good starting point. His smile made her squirm inside.
"No of course not my dear that would be all too easy. First of all I have to ask myself an important question; who has given me reason to take their life? Now you're first response would probably be nobody but there is always something and that leads me to point two; What sort of death do they deserve?"
"All your killings have been based on fairy tales. Elena was snow white, William Donte was Hansel and Gretel. What's next?"
"I thought long and hard about a suitable story for this case. You see, the woman, yes it is a woman Miss Adler, the woman I intend to kill was someone that until a short while ago, I had never heard of. A stranger, just like Elena. But she didn't frustrate me with useless advice no, she tried to harm me. In fact, she tried to kill me." Robert shot Irene a vengeful look and Irene understood instantly.
"So you're going to kill me." She stated matter-of-factly.
With no verbal warning, Holloway pointed a gun in Irene's direction. She couldn't help but smirk, she knew he wouldn't kill her. He was a predictable man and no fairy tales involved the innocent victim being shot by a pistol. Nonetheless Irene too brought out her own pistol and held it firmly in his direction.
"Could you shoot me first Irene?"
"When were we on first name terms?" Irene steadied her gaze, gripping the butt of the gun firmly and comfortable, an action she was very sure of.
"I believe in getting to know my victims in an informal way before they die. Makes me feel more alive."
"How do you deal with the guilt?"
"Irene I fought in a war, I killed people on a daily basis. I don't feel guilt at the prospect of murder."
"Your hand is shaking."
For a second, Robert Holloway didn't react. This second allowed Irene to prepare for the following and react accordingly. He swung the butt of the gun outwards, gripping the pipe and directing the weapon to hit Irene squarely in the face. She ducked with ease and used her own pistol to beat him round the back of the head. A good clean knock would have him unconscious in seconds but in the darkened alley she misjudged her strike and almost missed. Instead she caught him neatly above the eyebrow, leaving a deep cut but nothing more. With this one error he grabbed her arm, almost swinging her into the brick wall. Irene's free hand flew forward, catching herself but in another swift movement his own free hand struck her face, letting her go and land to the ground, out cold.
Holloway was a strong man from his training within the army and Irene was a light woman. He scribbled onto a piece of paper and left it jutting out of the gaps in the brickwork. Then, lifting her into his arms he abandoned his post in the alleyway.