Time to show your cards.
He was indeed dragged, dragged sideways, and Castle grasped the chair with both hands, convulsively, trying hard not to fall. His formerly moldy muscles suddenly became flabby and slack, and large drops of sweat rolled copiously from his forehead. He probably didn't look very well, Castle, either, but the tight smile must have meant that he was still all right, not even in need of a friend's help. He'd just have to sit it out, adjust to the new batch of alcohol surging through his veins. Except... who else would explain to him why his stomach was so uncomfortably hot from the inside, and why nausea was inexorably creeping up his throat. I couldn't understand what was wrong with his vision: the couple's faces, perfectly visible until then, were blurred, split horizontally into a multitude of whitish lines.
- What rogues... you...- - Castle blinked his eyes as hard as he could, he looked from Greg to Teresa and back, while they were tensely waiting for something. - I guess... your... mysterious drink... is not pomegranate liqueur, but... cayenne pepper tincture... I'm like a sauna. Not only are my clothes wet... but my shoes are squishy... too! And my head... rushing...
- Can you feel anything else, Rickie? - The Ardsleys looked at each other oddly, and Greg patted his wife's arm lightly.
- A slight discomfort inside... - Castle grimaced. His back was pressed tightly against the backrest, and Rick also grabbed his arms around it, closer to his waist. He hiccupped loudly and tilted his head to his side: the tart pomegranate aftertaste of the past was now replaced by an unpleasant, vomitous sweetness. - And I... somehow it feels like... I'm floating, on a boat. Everything here... swaying slightly... and the stone floor beneath my feet... and the hard seat under my ass... like a featherbed... beckoning... calling... into its caressing embrace...
Rick closed his eyes helplessly, and when he heard the high-pitched creak, he looked up and was suddenly confronted by Greg's hard, uncompromising gaze as he moved to stand beside his friend, watching his sweaty face with a kind of sadistic pleasure. Teresa was no longer behind him.
- Well? Had too much to drink, master detective? You used to be pretty strong in that department, but circumstances make it all go away! - Greg's smile was both predatory and disgusting. - Maybe you can tell me something else funny? One last thing...
- Not much fun... not much dancing... but a lot of alcohol... - Castle opened his lips exhausted: a strange, incomprehensible weakness spread over his body. - Ears - as if covered with absorbent cotton... and rainbow balls burst before his eyes. And what do I tell my... friends in the morning? How do I look them in the eye? Brrrr... I'll be ashamed. Right at the loft door.
- Ashamed, you say? - Ardsley grabbed his chin with his right hand and now gazed up at his friend, turning him suddenly with one cheek and one cheek to the light. Rick himself couldn't even lift his arms. - But... you shouldn't worry so much. It's time to take that emotional burden off your mind so you won't have to explain yourself to anyone else. Not your daughter, not your mother, not your cop girlfriend. Even the devil won't care about you. All but the Lord himself...
Greg squeamishly shoved his friend away from him and his head bumped loudly against the headrest. Ardsley shook his hands sharply, as if they were stained with something, then pulled back with his chair and reached for the wine. He grinned wickedly as he finished the rest, watching Castle's unsuccessful attempts to sit upright. He swallowed painfully, not quite sure why he was being treated so cavalierly and rudely.
- Uh... what's Beckett got to do with it? She's not my girlfriend... we just work together..." Rick forced his way out. His tongue swelled immensely and struggled to move in his mouth. His nose was the only thing that made it easier to breathe. - Nothing more.
-Hmm,- Ardsley waved his hand dismissively, -it doesn't matter whether you sleep together or not, because you can't do without a woman in our tangled affairs. Especially a woman like my Teresa. God only knows how she combines the coarse swagger of a whore, the sincere cordiality of a hospitable hostess, and the ornate ingenuity of the devil. And then there's the creepy, inimitable, inexplicable passion for all sorts of intrigue, practical jokes and other tricks, but most importantly - she's an amazing and genius pharmacist in her field! If you knew, Castle, how long she worked on the combination of seventh layer components! And it was all for the sake of believable taste and delayed effect of the drugs on your body. Of course, I still don't know what kind of crap was in it, but I don't really care. We need results. An outcome that was inherently murderous and inescapable, and worth living a hard life for.
- Nasty... Not liquor?... Poison?... Or was it just a cruel joke... - Castle was choking violently, gasping for air like a fish with his mouth wide open. And detective experience had no choice but to whisper to him that everything that was happening here was no joke, no prank, and he, Castle, had been maliciously, coldly and cruelly poisoned. Him! His old friend! But why? For what? FOR WHAT? What about Mother, then? Alexis? Beckett? Beckett! Kate, I need your...
Gathering himself into a fist, Castle could barely manage, shaking with impotence, to touch the side pocket where the phone was supposed to be, but Gregory only chuckled angrily and loudly:
- What the hell kind of joke, Castle! Everything is absolutely real! And stop looking for your fancy toy! - Ardsley's words were full of animosity, flavored with bile. - While you were admiring your haughty, hamster face and your fat, unbeaten belly, Teresa managed to stealthily gut your pocket. Now all that's left of your iPhone is embers, or maybe there aren't even any left. That's it, Ricky, that's it! A full and deafening finale!
- Incomprehensible ... insidious ... cruel ... but why? But why...? What did I ever do to you? - Castle, weakened badly, held on to his chair with the last of his strength. - Where's the line... that I... unknowingly crossed? And why you... my executioner? I don't feel anything wrong with me.
- You do not? - He was so hot Greg slammed his fist against the side of the counter that his glass jerked and tipped over with a high-pitched clang. - How dare you, you bastard, plead forgetfulness? Well, nothing! I'll tell you what you need, and you'll finally feel on your detective skin the difference between real hatred and book hatred! And there is a difference! Believe me, it's definitely there!
Seeing Castle's eyes close, Ardsley snapped his fingers:
- Stop, stop! Can you still hear me, Ricky? - And when Rick shook his head languidly, he smiled rather grimly: "Then use your chicken brain! Remember our once inseparable six! The one that broke up in our senior year! And that unfortunate mountain hike! And Rebecca! My Rebecca!
With a heavy sigh, Greg rose from his chair and slowly wandered behind his chair as it sagged and his breathing was ragged and hoarse. Rick couldn't open his eyes anymore, only moved his lips, the corners of which were bubbling profusely with foam. And Greg fairly clapped his hands together.
- Yes, Castle! It's all about Rebecca! - There was an unconcealed sneer in Ardsley's voice. - You know how much we loved each other, and how my life froze after her death. I could not eat, I could not sleep, and like a plague, seeing and hearing nothing, wandered through familiar and unfamiliar streets. I went to the cemetery with flowers for my beloved almost every day, until one day I ran into her half-sister, Teresa, by chance. At first we just said hello, then we smiled at each other, and when we got to talking, we were struck by how much we had in common: our way of thinking, the unity in our opinions, and even the conclusions we had drawn from that terrible story. In fact, Rebecca died because of your lack of initiative and your convulsive fear of getting your ass off the ground. You rosy-cheeked, chubby boars, you were the best swimmers in college. You got badges, you got trophies, you got honor and respect, but who was this poor plebeian to risk her precious skin for her? You didn't even risk coming to her rescue! You didn't throw a rope or a plank! Nothing at all! You bastards!
- Those rapids... were always notorious...- Rick, pale as chalk, could barely move his bloodless lips, and his voice was barely audible even in the dead silence, -I don't have to tell you... Even trees caught in whirlwinds... are... chopped... into splinters, and here... And Becca had been warned... about the treachery of rocky screes... but the selves... in a scenic spot... and an extra pint... played a cruel trick on the girl... Becca... so spontaneous and harmless... too bad... too bad...
- Yes, yes, yes! Me too! - Greg sputtered mercilessly. - And I'm as sorry as anyone! She was pure and sincere and kind! With an untainted creature! And, like no one else, she loved nature! She was a woman with her whole soul, and you! You robbed her of her chance at life! And you didn't let me do it!
- Fool... What a fool you are...- Castle was almost half delirious. - Rebecca couldn't be saved... and it's a good thing we stopped you from taking that reckless step. Otherwise, two deaths would have weighed on a child's fragile soul. That's too much. And we helped her family as best we could. Before the funeral and after. I wish you could understand that. Or maybe you just don't remember.
- I don't care about that and forget it! - He chuckled dismissively. He leaned his arms to his sides and admired the "creation of his hands" with pleasure. - And your regret, and you, because you've been nothing but hateful to me since my freshman year. You!You so-called friends! You overeager, sneering bastards! You didn't even think I was human! You were not ashamed to make disgusting jokes; with seeming friendliness and with sweet persuasion, you were always giving me humiliating jobs, and about the number of whores you, not shy of me, "fucked" in the bunk next door, I will not even say a word. But everything had to change someday, and a new, transparent, happy layer was bound to be put on the black layer of life, with ease and without splashing, and then my luck would finally turn to me. After all, I had, forever and ever, cursed you all, and surfacing to the very top, eventually got to you, Castle.
- For what... then the conversation? - Rook felt like he was suffocating. - Aren't you afraid... that I'm gonna get help?
- Well, I don't think so,- Ardsley went to the front again, but did not sit so-called friends! You overeager, sneering bastards! You didn't even think I was human! You were not ashamed to make disgusting jokes; with seeming friendliness and with sweet persuasion, you were always giving me humiliating jobs, and about the number of whores you, not shy of me, "fucked" in the bunk next door, I will not even say a word. But everything had to change someday, and a new, transparent, happy layer was bound to be put on the black layer of life, with ease and without splashing, and then my luck would finally turn to me. After all, I had, forever and ever, cursed you all, and surfacing to the very top, eventually got to you, Castle.
- For what... then the conversation? - Rook felt like he was suffocating. - Aren't you afraid... that I'm gonna get help?
- Well, I don't think so,- Ardsley went to the front again, but did not sit down. - After all, you came here, which means that Theresa and I did a good job of putting your guard down. In fact, she hates you even more than I do, and if I hadn't held on to her, you'd have been eaten by worms a long time ago. And you'd never know to whom you owe such an ignominious end. But we prepared it for a long time. And devised a plan for revenge. We created a second life for ourselves, got some reliable papers, saved up some money. I can't say that everything was smooth in our plans, but we started, as usual, with the simplest. Of course, there was no point in telling the details of previous accidents, but our "good friends" did not go to the creator without my help. All four of them, Castle, and if you had inquired about their fate, you would have been surprised to learn that the cases of their deaths have become "cold cases" and are hopelessly gathering dust in the archives. Davenport was the fifth, and the witnesses didn't lie to you: a woman did see him off. Teresa. She looked like a real sex-bomb, and this inveterate womanizer couldn't help but fall for her. He was promised a sea of carnal pleasure, the embodiment of the most unbridled erotic fantasies, and so Axel was clearly could talk him into letting go of the car in no time, when you had the hottie and the whiskey in your hands, and the apartment seemed to be around the corner. And when Teresa and Davenport drove off on their own, the rest was a matter of technology. By the puddle, where Axel had been found, the pair met me. A deftly placed foot, a slight push in the back, and this "sack of rags" collapsed down. Four hands plunged his face into the puddle while Davenport mooed stupidly and bubbled over the water. When he was dead, I examined the corpse triumphantly, knowing in advance who would have the greatest honor of dying slowly but surely. That's why I wanted you to drink my drink in layers, pretending to be a cocktail know-it-all, but having no idea what you'd end up choking on. It's an incomparable thrill to watch a prosperous, rich, famous, crime-savvy writer die in agony from an insidiously prepared drink! Now there will be no one to colorfully describe what happened here, but, frankly, Teresa and I don't feel sorry for that at all. Having orchestrated this play, it will be our deepest pleasure to wait for its finale, and it will remain in our memories for the rest of our long lives. Farewell!
There was only a uterine, gurgling sound in response, and Castle unconsciously covered his hands over his stomach: the demon was raging inside. The devilishly unlivable and ruthless, it greedily gnawed at his stomach, tearing it with its sharp claws, and pumping pulsating clots of fire into his veins, pounding insistently into his temples, dragging his eyes with a gray haze.
His lungs were cramped and his collapsed body tilted inexorably toward the ground, and he collapsed to the floor, almost cracking his skull. Blood splattered, an overturned chair clattered across the mosaic floor, broken glass rattled pitifully, and in a violent struggle Castle was turned inside out, so that the contents of his stomach splattered in all directions, and Greg barely had time to recoil.
- Ew, you pig! His shoes are dirty!- and Greg kicked the body curled up at his feet with a vengeful, hard kick. - And... ciao, pretty boy! A mourning frame would look good on you, by the way! I swear on my mother! Imagine you in a rosewood coffin with a Fujiima wreath! Mmm! That'd be a sight to behold! There would be a great many beautiful but useless words in your honour, and a jazz orchestra would blast out a farewell tune for your soul. Theresa and I, pretending to grieve with everyone else, but with genuine relief in our hearts, will watch the ceremony from the sidelines. And by the time the papers print your demise, we'll be so far away that no federal bitch can reach us. All our assets are in fake names, our main assets are offshore, and we can't even get fingerprinted. Acid, as you know, is ruthless.
Greg squatted: Castle could barely make out his vague shadow. Rick could hardly speak any more, had great difficulty in breathing, and saw practically nothing. The quick, hurried footsteps of the departing criminals seemed to him like the light clicks of castanets, just like any other sound. And steadily falling out of the mortal world, Rick was not yet even aware of the reasons why not only did he owe someone himself, but it turned out he was owed one as well.
First there was a shrill, loud shout from somewhere in the distance:
- Hold it right there! It's the police!
Then came the sound of a struggle, followed by the shrill wail of a man, the scream of a woman, and the sound of high heels not far from his temple. There was a familiar whiff of cherry in his face, and a soft, hot hand rested on his neck.
- Jesus, Castle! Rick, can you hear me? Rick, answer me, please, answer me! - Thin fingers traced along his carotid artery, searching for a pulse. - Espo! Ryan! Hurry up with the chopper! He's still alive!
Beckett's voice rang with genuine emotion like a taut string, but it was unlikely Kate would wait for a thank-you. Once tenacious and mischievous, the writer's mind no longer obeyed Castle, and no one yet knew whether in his case it was even possible to cheat fate