“They’re not going anywhere, Iolanthe,” Ulrika squawked, “you don’t have to break my legs to get to your son.”
“They may not be going anywhere,” Iolanthe panted, “but those two troublemakers are going to join them. They’re up to something, the bunch of them. I won’t let anyone take this chance from my boy. That doctor has got to cure him.”
“And what if he doesn’t?” Ulrika grunted.
Iolanthe stopped and spun around, gripping Ulrika wrist tightly as if she intended to snap it. “Don’t say that!”
“You’re hurting me.” Ulrika moaned.
With one final, sharp squeeze, Iolanthe released Ulrika’s arm. “Good! Now, you know a quarter of the pain I feel every day. You have no idea what it feels like knowing that your child is backward—broken. As much as I despise you, I hope it’s a pain you never know!”
Ulrika rubbed her wrist. “I didn’t know you had such a depth of feeling.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.” Iolanthe hissed.
“Iolanthe, don’t you love the boy? Isn’t it a mother’s responsibility to love her child regardless of his flaws?”
“I do love him!” Iolanthe spat. “Why do you think I have always fought to fix him?”
“Can’t you just accept that he is the way he is?” Ulrika asked.
“Because!” Iolanthe moaned. “It’s my fault! I did this to him. I broke him!”
“How?” Ulrika shook her head.
“Never you mind about that?” Iolanthe shouted.
The passersby on the street stared at the two women.
“People are lookin’,” Iolanthe whispered.
“I’m used to it,” Ulrika smiled, nodding her head at two gentlemen who walked by.
“You’re more of a tart than I am,” Iolanthe chuckled wryly.
“Everyone needs a hobby.” Ulrika smiled. “Iolanthe, I can’t believe I’m saying this, really, but I apologize if I upset you.”
“Don’t start caring about me,” Iolanthe sighed. “Nothin’ good can come of that. And, I don’t want you thinkin’ that it can.”
“Let’s get your boy,” Ulrika said quickly.
“What do you think I’ve been tryin’ to do?” Iolanthe’s eyes widened. She reached for Ulrika’s arm again.
“You don’t have to drag me.” Ulrika pulled her hand away. “I’m not going to leave you now.”
Meanwhile, at the shack deep in the bowels of the French Quarter, Barbara was awakened from her nap by the sound of the shabby wooden door creaking open.
“Charles?” Barbara squinted, sitting up. “Are you back so soon? Did Julian throw you out?”
“It’s not Charles, dear woman.” A man answered.
“Who…who are you?” Barbara rubbed her eyes. “Oh, you must be Louis. Charles said you wouldn’t mind if I stayed here. I hope you don’t…” She studied the man who towered above her. He was lean and handsome with dark features which reminded her of Charles.
“I don’t know who this Louis is,” the man smiled. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Iantosca. Giovanni Iantosca. I’ve come for my brother.”
At that very moment, Charles ran up the staircase of the hotel toward the room number that he’d been given. Meridian relayed the message that Adrienne and Cecil had left for him. They had left instructions that Charles, when he returned, was to meet them at a particular room at that hotel.
Charles arrived at the room and as he raised his arm to knock on the door, found that it was ajar.
“Your Grace?” Charles called through the door. “Dr. Halifax?”
Charles gently pushed the door open and gasped at the scene he saw before him. Broken glass, overturned chairs, torn linens, and blood—it appeared that buckets of blood had been spilled in the room. It covered the walls, the floor and the bed.
“Dear God!” Charles intoned. “It’s a massacre.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-225? If so, you can read them here.
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