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LadySharkey1 rocks my world by being the most amazing, kick-ass beta I could ever imagine.
Belmont Island, Maine
Sunday, March, 1951
6:45 PM
That night was a night of horrors.
As the survivors settled in for the night, sleeping in shifts, Mrs. Cope was plotting her pièce de resistance. The first act in the danse macabre they found themselves in was the reappearance of Jessica, though it wasn't in any way the five people ensconced in the sitting room had been hoping to see her again.
There was an awful noise—a terrible shriek coming from outside—just as the clock had struck midnight.
They had known immediately who had been caught.
It was a woman; a woman in mortal peril, unable to utter an intelligible word for unknown reasons but still determined to call for aide.
Even when she knew how unlikely it was that help would come.
"Isn't anyone going to save the poor maid before I string her up from the cherry tree?" Mrs. Cope's shrill voice sounded from the darkness.
Jasper intervened before anyone could make a sound or disturb the shutters that had kept the undoubtedly grisly scene hidden from their eyes. "Don't let her get to you," he warned Bella, who had already been making a dash for the blinded windows. "It's exactly what she wants. She needs to see us weak and divided so the chance one of us messes up and creates an opening into the room. At this moment, there's nothing she would love more than for you to open the blinds so she can force her way in." He sighed, cringing as another heartbreaking cry for help pierced through the silence. "Don't give her what she wants, Bella, even though we all desperately want to help that poor girl."
Bella nodded, blindly reaching for Edward's hand as she sat back down again. "It just seems so…so horrible," she said, lacking better words to describe the utter devastation she felt, knowing someone was being murdered outside the window but being unable to do anything about it. "I wish there was something we could do."
"The only thing we can do is stand firm and make it out of here alive to bring her to justice," Edward said, as the silence outside the window settled heavily in their hearts as they knew Jessica's struggle to live had ended. "And about getting out of here..."
"We need a plan." Jasper nodded as he finished Edward's sentence.
"Like we never needed one before," Edward added as the two men stuck their heads together.
Where Bella was content to sit out the scheming and leaving their 'war strategy' to those who had actually seen some action in their day, the men were surprised to find a third head joining their group.
"What?" Rose snapped. "Saving the day is a strictly for men? I think if that bitch outside considers herself emancipated enough to elevate herself to the part of villain, then the heroes should have a woman in their midst as well, if only just to even things out a little."
The men didn't have anything to say against that and so, as the three of them strategized over possible plans, Bella took over the care of Esme. Unlike Rosalie, she had no desire to enter into the fray. Call it cowardice or not, but fighting had ever been Bella's forte. She was great at supporting those who did or she tried to settle things in a more peaceful manner but she knew her own strengths and—more importantly—her weaknesses.
And courage had never been one of her qualities.
Poor Esme was doing a little better, if outward signs were to be believed at least. The violent thrashing and moaning had stopped and she appeared to be calm and beyond pain. Whether that was a good or a bad sign, remained to be seen. Bella, though, was determined to remain optimistic; the slight color in Esme's cheeks and the even, relaxed breathing gave her hope as she made sure her patient had everything she could provide her with in this far from ideal setting.
"How is she?" Rose asked, leaning over Bella's shoulder.
Bella sighed. "I think she's a little better. She may yet pull through this."
"Let's hope so." Rose's smile was less than convincing. After having seen Esme at her worst, even Rose had to admit that the woman did look a little better. But to believe that someone could make it back from being so very, very sick from poisoning without the aid of a doctor or a hospital, was hard for Rose to grasp.
"And how are things going with you?" Bella asked, sitting back as she dipped the cloth she was using to wipe Esme's forehead into a bowl of cold water. "Any plans, yet?"
"I think we've got something," Rose announced proudly. "Well, it's not that much of a plan but it's the best we could do, really."
As the men already set to work, Rose clued Bella in on what the three of them had come up with. Leaning very heavily on Jasper's surprisingly extensive military knowledge, the men were already at work making a flag out of a white tablecloth and a red pillowcase. Using some of the knives that Jasper, Rose and Angela had brought in from the kitchen, they cut a checkerboard pattern out of the pillowcase and fastened it to the white tablecloth with drippings of candlewax and the women's hairpins. In the end, it was nothing but a poor rendition of the US Navy signal 'Uniform' which, according to Jasper, would clue any seaman who'd served time in the war in on the fact that he was running into danger.
That was, if the boatman or whoever would be close enough to see it, knew their naval signals.
A little before they expected the boat to arrive at the island dock, Rose and Jasper would head up with one of the two guns to hoist the from the flag mast perched on top of the castle tower. In the meantime, Edward and Bella would use the other gun to hold the dock in case Mrs. Cope decided not to follow Rose and Jasper. If the boatman didn't heed their warning, Edward and Bella would have the task of shouting warnings while keeping the madwoman at bay.
Because, if Mrs. Cope managed to get her hands on either to boatman or the boat, they'd all be lost.
"I won't let anything happen to you," Edward assured Bella with a determination that they both knew depended on so much more than the strength of one man. There were no guarantees in this game of life and death.
"I know you won't," Bella confirmed with a certainty she knew was based on nothing. What she did know, though, was that she was as safe by Edward's side as she was ever going to be.
"So let's hope that boatman knows his signals or we're screwed," Jasper concluded as the light of the rising sun started to poor through the cracks in the blinds.
They'd made it to another morning.
Maybe the last one they were going to see.
Or maybe not.
"So when is this whole plan going to be set into motion?" Bella wanted to know after they'd all sat in a long, unbearable silence for God only knew how long. She wanted to know if she had time to prepare; perhaps write a final letter to her son should…should the worst happen.
"The boat was supposed to take us back after breakfast," Jasper offered, "and from what I gathered breakfast is usually served around ten in the morning." He paused tapping his lip as he paced the room like a general planning his next advance. "Taking into account that the boat will probably have provisions on board that he wants to unload and—from what I can tell after meeting him on our journey here—would very much like a cup of tea and whatever goodies are on offer in the kitchen, I'm thinking he'd probably be here somewhere around the start of breakfast."
"Which would give us about an hour or so before show time," Rosalie concluded, looking at the Louis XVI clock perched on the mantelpiece. "Just enough time to do a final run-through."
Before they knew it, it was close to ten in the morning and they were waiting by the door, armed and dangerous. "It would have been one hell of a convenience if we knew where that bitch was hiding," Edward grumbled under his breath as they slid the final side table of their barricade away from the door.
Jasper shrugged, cocking his gun as he waited by the door. "We're going to run into her one way or another." Turning to Rose, who stood by his side, armed with a candlestick, he asked. "Do you have it?"
Rose nodded, producing the makeshift signaling flag and tying it around her neck. "Let's get this show on the road. Edward and Bella, are you ready?"
Edward nodded, his arm wrapped firmly around his beloved as they got into position. They would exit through the terrace where they would hide out by the front door. It was the perfect spot to keep a firm eye on the dock while also staying out of sight from the main house.
"Do you think she'll come for us?" Bella asked, her back pressed firmly against the outer wall of Belmont Castle. Above them was the front door, the solid stone stairs and ornate balustrade leading up to the entrance hid the two of them from view. Her hands were trembling, her eyes flittering from the shoreline to the door right next to her.
Anywhere, but at the ghastly sight to her other side.
It shouldn't have been a shock to see Jessica's body blowing in the early morning breeze as she hung from the braches of a large tree. After all, there had been so many deaths on the island that Bella almost felt she'd have grown accustomed to it.
She didn't, though.
And she never would.
"I'm almost certain of it," Edward confirmed her fears with a grim voice, his gun held ready and his eyes alert as he checked their surroundings. "She can't run the risk of one of us leaving this island, not only because we'd alert the authorities but also because it would mean her plans of killing us all have failed."
"Do you think Esme's safe inside?" Bella wondered out loud, her heart breaking at the thought of leaving that poor, deathly ill woman behind.
"She's as safe as any of us," Edward answered with a deep sigh. "We locked the terrace doors behind us and Rose and Jasper made sure to lock the door behind them as well when they left for the tower room. "Besides, I don't think Esme will be Mrs. Cope's top priority right now. After all, she already has her incapacitated and completely at her mercy, whereas we are still very much alive and kicking."
"And quite determined to stay that way," Bella muttered, clutching the candlestick she'd grabbed from Carlisle's living room close to her body. It wasn't much in the way of a weapon, especially not against a determined serial killer, but at least it was something.
Trying to keep calm, she thought about Jasper and Rose. If everything had gone according to plan, they would have reached the top of the tower and hoisted their flag by now. But then again, the fact that Mrs. Cope was still inside the castle—as far as they knew—might speak volumes of the troubles the other two had encountered on their mission.
Were they still alive?
Had they succeeded?
Bella knew she only had to take a few steps forward in order to see the flag posted on top of the tower. But doing so would put her and Edward at risk.
But then again, how much more danger could she be in?
"There!" Edward whisper-yelled, his finger pointing at a tiny blip moving towards them.
The boat!
Bella's heart leapt both in happiness and in fear as she saw the tiny dot come closer. She knew it was their only means of salvation but she also knew that it would mean that as the boat got closer to the dock, so would Mrs. Cope.
"My, my, what do we have here?" The shrill voice of her nightmares sounded beside them as Mrs. Cope's black, killer eyes peeked over the balustrade above. As quick as she'd appeared, her face was gone again, too quick for Edward to get a decent shot. "It's boy wonder and his little bitch!"
Edward didn't respond, knowing her evil words were only meant to goad him into an enraged reaction. Even though inside he was boiling with pure rage, he knew everything depended on him keeping a calm mind. "Bella, get back inside," he ordered in a whisper, his voice calm and controlled as he kept his eyes on the slowly descending figure of the cook. "The boat is almost here and I'm going to make a run for it."
Bella nodded, tears clouding her eyes. She knew that between her skirt and her dainty, feminine footwear, she didn't stand a chance of keeping up with him. "What can I do?" she whispered.
Handing her the key to the terrace door, Edward spoke quick and clear. "Go in through the terrace door, lock it behind you and try to find Jasper and Rose." Not stopping to think about it for a moment, Edward pulled Bella into a desperate searing kiss that left the both of them reeling and breathless. "Now hurry!"
Bella nodded, Edward's heart beating a little easier as he saw her run towards the terrace doors as above him, the footsteps of Mrs. Cope descending the great stone staircase grew nearer. At least if he didn't make it off the island alive, he would have to make sure Bella did.
He would fight until his dying breath to keep her safe.
Anything to make sure her son wouldn't grow up without his mother's love.
Okay. Drawing in one long, strengthening breath, Edward set off into a sprint; running like he'd never run before in his life as he raced towards the end of the jetty. He used to be quite a runner but time and his luxury Hollywood life had taken their toll and soon he could hear the sound of footsteps behind him.
Gaining fast.
Turning around, he fired off a shot in the general direction, his pace quickening as he kept his eyes firmly on his destination.
Shouting, he ran on, trying to attract the attention of the boatman if his shot hadn't done the trick.
And the footsteps were still gaining on him.
"Do you think you can outrun me?" A panted hiss sounded from behind him as a blow to his back made him fall forward.
Hard unto the wood.
A sharp pain penetrated his stomach as he looked up into the crazy eyes of a madwoman.
No.
She can't win.
It can't end like this.
If I die, then so will she!
He could feel the blood gushing from his wound as another stab tore red hot through his body. But with all the strength he still had left in him, he managed to lift his arm, making great use of the fact that Mrs. Cope was too distracted killing him to notice.
"I might not…be able to…outrun you," he managed to pant, as the forces of life started to leave him. "But I will always outgun you…bitch!"
With the final piece of strength he had left, he pulled the trigger and fired a shot right through her head.
Mrs. Cope's body fell limply to the side.
If he had expected silence—the calm after the storm—the almighty ruckus breaking out all around him did nothing to pull him back as his gun hand fell back down with a low thud onto the wood as his eyes took in the deep blue sky.
Before it all turned black.
Thoughts?