Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, I just use their creations to have my wicked way with them. No copyright infringement is intended.
LadySharkey1 rocks my world by being the most amazing, kick-ass beta I could ever imagine.
Belmont Island, Maine
Saturday, March 17, 1951
3:30 PM
It was with a heavy heart that Edward pulled the sitting room door shut behind him and only when he was absolutely certain that Bella was safely locked in behind it that he dared to move.
"I think we'd best start off in the kitchen," Jasper offered, "since that was where everyone was when I left them behind."
"How do you think Rosalie ended up in the sitting room?" Edward asked, walking away from the door with heavy boots.
"I don't know," Jasper was quick to answer. "She probably went on ahead, which was when the killer saw an opening to get rid of her."
"Do you think they believes she's dead?" Edward wondered, frowning as he recalled the scene they'd encountered in the sitting room. "Because somehow I don't think a quick blow to the head was ever going to do the trick."
"No," Jasper agreed. "Not unless you're a champion at knowing just the right spot to deliver it." He paused, turning around to assess the distance from the sitting room to the door leading down into the kitchen and the rest of the servant's realm. "I think the killer meant to knock her out long enough to set up for something else."
"So we're pretty much walking into a trap here." Edward sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Great!"
"Then we'd best keep our minds sharp and our pistols cocked," Jasper concluded as his hand wrapped around the door leading downstairs.
The darkness was as eerie as the dead slice that greeted them; their footsteps heavy and hollow as they carefully made their way down the stairs.
"I never realized just how damn creepy this place is," Jasper remarked as the bottom of the stairs revealed a long corridor, lit only by a faint light streaming in from a faraway window. "What the hell was Carlisle thinking, leaving New York and the civilized world behind to live in a place like this?"
"After everything that happened?" Edward challenged. "I think he would have lived in a cowshed as long as it was far enough away from the 'civilized' world."
Both men fell quiet as they recalled what little they remembered from those days when Carlisle had fallen hard and fast from the pedestal that the New York cultural elite had placed him on.
"It was pretty brutal," Jasper finally broke the silence as both of them stopped, their eyes scanning the seemingly empty space for signs of trouble. "But then again, Broadway is a pretty brutal place. When you're up, you can do no wrong. People treat you like a king and doors are opened that you never dreamed of even peeking behind. When you're down, though…" Jasper whistled, his face clouding over. "Let's just say I'm glad I never experienced it but I've seen just how cruel people can get. And I'm not just talking the hoity-toity crowd in the box seats. The people on the stage and behind the scenes are as bad as anyone else!" He let out a dark chuckled, filled with self-loathing. "But I guess we've seen and done more than enough to know that, huh?"
"Why are you still one of them, then?" Edward wanted to know. "You could have made the crossover to Hollywood a million times. I'm sure you had as many offers as the rest of us."
"Movies? That's not how I want to live, man!" Jasper made a dismissive gesture. "No offense but there's no artistry in getting to redo a scene if take one doesn't work out. On stage, you have to be on the mark every single moment you perform. I need that buzz to keep things interesting. Besides, I'm sure Hollywood had its fair share of jealous, vindictive people, as well."
"I hear what you're saying," Edward nodded as he kept a sharp eye on his surroundings. "I just kind of like the fact that when a movie is wrapped, you know it's going to be the best possible portrayal of the story the audience can get. And, yeah, I think there's artistry in that, in the way you play with the staging and cinematography and production…"
Just then, a loud bang came from beneath their feet, followed by an ear-piercing, hollow scream muffled as a door slammed shut.
Angela.
"I guess that's our cue to spring into action," Edward spoke, his heart pounding as adrenaline started to course through his body. Knowing a woman was in pain and peril and he was within reach of saving her, his feet were buzzing with impatience to get a move on.
"Hold on there, cowboy!" Jasper pulled him back. "I'm not about to run in there like a chicken with its head cut off and get blown to pieces in the process. We've got to strategize before we go down there."
"But there's a woman dying!" Edward snarled. "Excuse me if I don't want to stand out here and discuss tactics while she's at the hands of some psychopath!"
"I'm not talking about writing a sequel to The Art of War!" Jasper huffed. "All I want is to decide who takes point and maybe discuss whether or not to wear shoes."
"Right!" Edward's tense posture relaxed a bit as he toed-off his brogues. "That's actually smart thinking. How about I take point and you bring up the rear?"
Jasper nodded, both of them quiet as they started to move towards the kitchen. From there, they knew they had access to the basement, one floor below their feet. The point was, from their little trip below earlier that day, they also knew the basement was a maze of rooms leading off ill-lit corridors. And with them knowing next to nothing about its layout and the cook probably knowing it like the back of her hand, they were at a disadvantage.
Because it was clear now, after Angela's ear piercing scream, that Mrs. Cope was topping their suspect list.
"What kind of idiot builds a place like this anyway?" Edward spoke as they crept through the corridor "I don't think even the old English nobility has the kind of staff to run places like this anymore! Let alone on this side of the pond!"
"I think it was some crazy English lord who built this place," Jasper whispered as they lingered in the kitchen doorway, taking in the chaos that people plundering the kitchen cabinets for anything that could be useful in saving their lives had left behind. "His American wife couldn't get used to life on the other side of the Atlantic, so her rich daddy built an exact replica of his son-in-law's castle as a compromise." Breathing out a deep breath, Jasper crept forward, urging Edward to do the same. "Watch out so you don't make a noise."
It was easier said than done. It was clear that Jasper's crew had raided the complete kitchen in some haste; grabbing what they needed and leaving all the rest to be put into place at a later time. When they came closer to the basement door, though, something more sinister joined the clutter of kitchen stuff on the floor.
Blood.
There was a puddle of it right next to one of the kitchen cabinets and then a trail leading from that puddle towards the door. Jasper and Edward shared a look of understanding as they came to the same conclusion: that must have been the spot where Mrs. Cope had surprised poor Angela and somehow overpowered her.
The poor girl was at her mercy in the dark and gloomy world below.
Jasper nodded as Edward took point, carefully studying the slightly open door leading down before he pushed it further open. They both winced as the hinges creaked; not really loud but maybe loud enough to be heard by someone who was paying attention.
"Let's go!" Edward mouthed, his eyes narrowing as they tried to get used to the darkness on the other side of the door.
The lights, never really abundant in the first place, had been cut off to take the place into almost darkness. It would have been pitch black had it not been for the few scattered little windows at the top of the walls, connecting the basement to the world up ahead.
Drawing their guns out in front of them, both men were on high alert as they slowly started to move forward, keeping their backs to the wall and their eyes on what little of their surroundings they could see.
Edward was almost sure that whoever was out there could hear the sound of his heartbeat as it pounded in his ears, his arms trembled slightly from the strain of holding his gun stretched out in front of him.
He was suddenly back in Boulogne, creeping through a moonlit forest that was infected with the Nazi soldiers that wanted him dead. His new enemy was just one woman but, instead of that being a comforting thought, the body count that single woman had amassed was enough to make him fear for his life.
God only knew what she had planned for them.
A tap on his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts as Jasper had discovered a doorway—the first of many, he knew—leading off the corridor.
Both of them took position; Edward to the right, Jasper to the left. As Edward sprung forward, his gun pointed to each of the four corners of the room, Jasper had Edward's back, though he also kept a look out for whatever might have been happening up ahead. And as Edward breathed out a sigh of relief to find the room empty, both men started to realize the magnitude of the danger they were in.
There were too many angles the enemy could be coming from.
Too many things to watch with only two pairs of eyes.
Edward drew in a sharp breath as the small bit of relief he'd felt at finding the room behind door number one empty, vanished with the thought of the enormity of the task that had befallen them.
One room down, many more to go.
They progressed, their anxiety increased with every room they eliminated. They knew they were going about it the right way, doing everything their military training had instilled into their minds. But as they cleared another room or went down another bend, the one question that plagued their mind became stronger.
Would it be enough?
It was only when they'd taken yet another turn, what they thought to be just another hallway, that the answer came slamming into their face.
No.
And as the door slammed shut behind their backs, there were two truths that rung out almost as loudly.
One: They'd walked right into the trap that had been set for them.
And two: They weren't alone.
Thoughts?