Part 44
Miranda swivels the moment the door closes behind them. She hears Andrea give a short scream and at the same time, she sees two men standing on either side of the heavy door. Recognizing them, she steps in front of Andrea in an effort to shield her.
"Told you," the man to the left says with a smirk. "After all the cloak and dagger, these bitches are too predictable." He snorts and pushes his fist against the other man's shoulder.
"Yeah, but who knew it'd be this easy." The other man shakes his head.
Looking to be in their late thirties, early forties, the men are both dressed as if they're on their way to an office on Wall Street in three-piece suites and overcoats, rather than ready to attack two women in a church.
"Miranda," Andrea whispers and moves to stand next to her. "I think they hurt, perhaps even killed, someone over by the altar." Her voice is trembling, but Miranda can't decide whether it's from fear of fury.
Miranda dares to send a quick glance behind them and her heart sinks when she sees the legs sticking out. Whoever it is, they're not moving.
"What have you done to him?" Miranda snarls as she whips her head back around.
"Oh, don't get all upset, he's just out cold. It's amazing what a little good old-fashioned chloroform can do. Who needs all these new and fancy drugs?" The man to the left who seems to be the dominant of the two takes a few steps forward.
Miranda and Andrea back up to keep the same distance. There's no sign of any weapons, but these are tall and quite burly men and Miranda figures their only chance is to keep their distance as they try to find a way to escape.
"Why?" Andrea asks and now Miranda can tell that is rage that's in her voice. Good. "Why are you stalking Miranda? What possible reason can you have, she's no threat to you."
"Does she know?" The left man points to Andrea but looks at Miranda. "You must have told her, right? Why would she help you out if you haven't given her a good reason?" He returns his focus to Andrea. "I bet she hasn't disclosed that she's not much better than a murderer."
"Bullshit." Andrea spits the word. "I think that's a word you should be careful with considering Anneliese Munch's fate." She clenches her fists, looking ready to launch."
"Anneliese Munch," the man to the right says, sneering. "You mean Iris Schmidt."
Miranda winces, she can't help it. These men knows. They have to know. "Whatever," she said, hoping she sounds as assertive as she needs to be. "She's dead and you two have everything to do with that. You were in the church in Montreux."
"Brilliant deduction, old woman. Very old woman. Or should we say, the last woman standing." Man to the left raises his chin as he pulls off his scarf, wrapping the ends around his large hands.
"What have you done to Rosalee?" Miranda deems there's no need to pretend they don't all know the truth.
"Nothing. But our associates found her after some extensive digging." Man to the left chuckles. "And, as we're being quite transparent, she's down for the count, but not out just yet. But when our associates get access to the hospital in Antwerp, it'll be quick and easy. Unfortunately painless, as she's comatose."
"God." Andrea covers her mouth.
"Hardly. The divine has abandoned our kind a long time ago. What do you say, Sarah…or do you prefer Miranda?" The man to the right performed a mock bow. "Call me Damon."
More like 'demon'. Miranda shifts her foot in her boots, feeling the knife against her ankle. What she wouldn't give to bury it in Damon's neck. "And you? Who are you?" she turns to the other man.
"Tyrone." The man stepped closer to his cohort in crime.
"Related? You look alike." Miranda wants to know, but she's also stalling. The men seem to have an innate desire to gloat, to explain. Huge egos, no doubt.
"Cousins," Tyrone says merrily. "Keeping it in the family, you could say."
"You didn't answer," Andrea says, her tone insistent, even challenging. "Why Miranda?"
"She's the last one of the girls from the ship, not counting Ms. Comatose. It's a sad state of affairs, but she has to go. And as you're her, well what are you really…assistant, companion, or lover?...anyway, you are collateral damage. A pity, but that's what comes from these women being utterly selfish from the moment they stepped off the ship. They had the chance to be more, but they didn't take it, and that's why we're here." Damon shrugs.
Miranda frowns. He doesn't make sense. "What are you talking about exactly? You have to explain in more detail. Remember I'm an old woman."
Tyrone tosses his head back and laughs. "Oh, that's really funny, Miranda. Had no idea you had a sense or humor. Very funny." His eyes suddenly go from gray to black. "But this is not funny. I suggest you keep your ill-advised humor to yourself."
"Why would I do that? You're intent on killing us both no matter what. Why shouldn't I have a little fun at your expense." Using her low, lethal voice that had been known to make grownup men and women tremble and cry, Miranda allowed a smirk to form on her lips.
Taken aback, if only for a second, Tyrone took another step toward them. Taking Andrea's hand, Miranda pulled her back further and now they were almost at the first pew. When Miranda looked back over her shoulder, she saw that the man on the floor was silver-haired and in his seventies. To her relief, he was breathing.
"He's alive," Andrea mouthed and Miranda nodded.
"If you think you can escape that route, you're mistaken. We borrowed these from the old geezer." Damon holds up a large, old-fashioned keyring. Large keys hung from it, looking as old as the church.
Miranda's mind raced. They had to get help, but how? And Andrea had to survive this even if Miranda doubted the same would happen for herself. She decided to draw the men's attention again.
"Then tell me what I did wrong? Who am I supposed to have killed?" She looked at Tyrone.
"Think back to your past. You're not that old. For being two-hundred and sixty years old, you're remarkably well preserved." Damon snickered. "So think back on all those years and confess your sins!" The last words came out as a roar as he launched forward and grabbed Andrea. Wrapping an arm around her neck, he pulled her back toward Tyrone.
"Let her go!" Miranda moved a step closer, her heart is suddenly cold as if filled with sharp ice cubes. "She has nothing to do with this. Let her go."
"I think not. You have to confess to your sin, your crimes, and then our sentence will be passed." Damon was starting to sound like a fired-up preacher and she could see the white of his eyes.
"All right. I just have no fucking idea what you're talking about. I've never met you before, nor your friend. I don't know what you want me to say!" Miranda can tell she's working herself up to a panic as she can tell that Andrea is struggling to breathe. "You're choking her."
"She's fine." Damon drags Andrea back another step. "Aren't you, sweetheart? Very fine, when now that I see you up close and persona. A bit young for the abomination of a woman over there, though."
Andrea manages to grab hold of the backrest of one of the pews. "You're insane if you think either of you will get away with this," she hisses, struggling against the suffocating arm.
"Oh, don't worry yourself, dear." Tyrone leans his hip against the opposite pew. "We're fully prepared for any possible outcome. So, Miranda, what's it going to be?"
"I still don't know what you want from me." Miranda meets his slightly deranged gaze head-on.
"I think she means it, Ty." Damon shakes his head. "It's obvious she cares for this girl."
"Don't let her fool you," Tyrone snaps. "She has no heart. If she had…"
"Calm down." Damon raises his hand to Tyrone. "All right, Miranda. Is it truly so that you can't think of one single person whose blood is on your hands, whether from your action, or inaction."
"Inaction?" Even more, confused than before and getting increasingly desperate as Andrea's lost her grip of the backrest and is beginning to slump, Miranda flings her hands up. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm your victim and so is he!" Damon shouts, making Miranda flinch.
"What? You're my victims? Who the hell are you then?" Miranda yells back and it hurts her throat.
Damon steps closer and she doesn't move. "I'm Damian Rhys and this is my cousin, Tyrone Rhys. You stood by and did nothing when our mothers, Caroline and Trudy, were murdered."
xxxxx
Continued in part 45