Final Debt Page 23

  She lost to my invasion.

  Her cane tapped for traction as she scuttled backward.

  The door soared open and a Black Diamond brother came in.

  Shit!

  I breathed hard, fistful of petals and a standoff with Bonnie Hawk.

  Instantly, Bonnie’s face transformed into feral confidence. “Ah, Clarity. Good timing.” She pointed her stick at me. “Kindly remove the vase from Ms. Weaver’s control.”

  “Right away, ma’am.” I had no hope of holding onto it one-handedly as he snatched it from my sling. He was smaller than Marquise but had the same evil glint and malicious satisfaction. His bald head shone with the sconces around the room.

  He didn’t look at me again as he placed the flowers back on the trestle. “You summoned me?”

  Bonnie nodded, smoothing fly-away hairs from her chignon. “Go and fetch the Dremel and a bucket of water and vinegar.”

  He cocked his head in my direction. “You okay alone?”

  “I’ll be fine. Go.”

  Clarity nodded. “On it.” He left, closing the door behind him.

  I hated she trusted she could be in the same room with me—even after my outburst. I hated I came across so weak that she didn’t feel she needed protection.

  Make her regret that.

  “Trust me alone with you now?” I tilted my head. “Rather a stupid thing to do, don’t you think?”

  My hands curled as thoughts of killing her ran wild. I had nothing to lose anymore. Jethro was in Africa. I didn’t know where Jasmine was. V was hopefully back with Tex. And Kes was in the custody of doctors and nurses. We were scattered to four corners, no longer touching but still linked.

  I could kill Bonnie before Cut killed me.

  Bonnie smirked. “Child, you have a broken arm, most likely a fever, and death looming on your horizon. I have no need to fear a guttersnipe like you. You just used whatever energy you had. You can’t deny it. You’re positively dripping with exertion and fatigue.” Turning her back on me—showing just how little she viewed me as a threat—she snapped, “Now, after that highly inappropriate incident, return to the subject. What about Jethro?”

  “What about him?”

  She cleared her throat angrily. “Am I correct in assuming he’s still alive?”

  Rage spread like wildfire through my system. I might not have knitting needles or scalpels, but I couldn’t stomach this old bitch any longer. “Yes, as a matter of fact. He is alive, and I was telling the truth. He’s on his way to kill you all.”

  She flinched, unable to hide her sudden suspicions. “I don’t believe you.”

  I shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me for it to be true.”

  For a second, silence was a third entity in the room before Bonnie laughed. “Cut would’ve mentioned such a thing. You’re lying. Didn’t your mother ever tell you liars go to hell?”

  “Was she supposed to tell me that before or after you killed her?”

  Bonnie tensed. “You’re getting mighty bold for a Weaver about to die.”

  I drifted forward. “Bold enough to kill you before I go?”

  Say no so I can prove you wrong.

  One Hawk soul tallied my own. I wanted two. No, I wanted three before I was through.

  The door sailed open, shattering the tension between us. The Black Diamond brother strolled in and placed a bucket of water, sour smelling vinegar, and a power tool on the flower-arranging bench.

  Glancing at Bonnie, he wiped his hands on his jeans. His bald head caught the rays of late-morning sunshine.

  My body clock was so screwed up; I didn’t know if it was meant to be night or day, sleep or awake.

  “Need anything else, ma’am?”

  Bonnie pursed her lips, glancing at me with a mixture of wariness and disdain. “Yes, stand by the door. Don’t leave.”

  I laughed softly. “Afraid of a Weaver, after all.”

  Bonnie snapped her fingers. “Shut that trap and come here. I have work to do.”

  Damn.

  Now I had an audience; my plans shifted slightly.

  Be patient.

  She’d grow cocky again and send the brother away. And when she did…

  Playing along, for now, I moved toward the table. “What are you going to do?”

  She didn’t reply as she shuffled toward a chair, dragged it closer to the bench, and perched on the padded seat. “What do you think, you stupid girl? You’re carrying our money. I want those diamonds. Your arm is currently worth more than your entire family history.”

  “I don’t believe that. My family earned its wealth through skill and hard work. Weaving and sewing for dukes and duchesses. We didn’t lower ourselves to smuggling stones and calling it hard work.”

  She spluttered. “Soon that tongue of yours will no longer be attached.”

  “Why? You plan on cutting that off along with my head?”

  She smiled coldly. “Such a temper.”

  I smirked back. “I’ve learned from the best.”

  I would never bow to her again. Never.

  Bonnie huffed, busying herself with an attachment for the small power tool. “Stand here.”

  Looking over my shoulder, I calculated how much time I would have before the brother managed to stop me. If I slashed her throat with a pair of scissors, would I have enough seconds or not?

  Mulling the problem of murder, I moved to where she pointed.

  “Don’t move.”

  I didn’t move; too consumed with my own ideas to care about hers.

  Bonnie grabbed the Dremel in shaking, arthritic hands and switched on the battery-operated machine. A loud buzzing filled the room as she ordered me to remove my sling and place the cast on the table.

  The ache in the broken bone had faded a little, or maybe my body had become fed up with letting me know it was hurt. Either way, I did as she asked. Obeying for now—purely biding my time.

  How should I do it?

  Cutting shears to her jugular?

  A fire poker to her heart?

  My fingers around her throat, strangling, strangling?

  I flinched as the sharp teeth of the Dremel chewed through the cast, removing the heat and itch. It didn’t take long for Bonnie to slice from wrist to elbow. Her hands shook, trying to pincer it open—her age not granting enough power to break the mould.

  “Open it,” she commanded, growing weary. A sheen of sweat covered her brow, a grey tinge painting her skin.

  My heart skipped to see her struggling. Her heartbeats were numbered. My mind started a countdown.

  One beat.

  Two beats.

  Three beats.

  Four.

  My hand was steady as I cracked open the cast, almost as if contemplating murder worked wonders for my peace of mind. I winced as the cast fell away, destroying whatever support I’d had.

  Once the pieces hit the table, Bonnie immediately scooped them into the bucket. They sank into the water and vinegar mixture.

  Air bubbles popped on the surface, faster and faster.

  She caught me looking. “Allow me to teach you a few things before your final hour. The vinegar dissolves the plaster. Once it’s reduced to nothing but sludge, the water will be sifted, any wayward diamonds scooped from the bottom, and washed in preparation to go to Diamond Alley for processing.”

  She snapped her fingers. “Give me the rest of the cast. I know the pouches are hidden in the padding.”

  Fifteen beats.

  Sixteen beats.

  Seventeen beats.

  Eighteen.

  Pain amplified as I slipped out of the cushion and handed over the plastic tray. My arm held marks and indents from the padding, red from the cast’s itch. However, the swelling hadn’t gone down. An angry bruise already marred my skin, black and purple and blue.

  Immediately, she scooped the diamonds out and placed them beside the bucket. “Once they go to Diamond Alley, then where do you think they go?”

  Nursing my arm,
I tested my fingers. They worked but with no power or grip. If I had any chance at killing her, I’d have to work through the agony and force my limb to obey. Otherwise, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “Well, Ms. Weaver?” Bonnie slapped the table. “I asked you a question. Answer it.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You mistook my disinterest for attention.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t care.”

  “You should.” Prodding my vulnerable break, she hissed. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  Flinching away, I fought the pain as I grabbed the edge of the table. A horribly frustrating and terribly timed vertigo wave attacked me. I hung my head, anchoring my feet to the floor, riding out the vicious swell.

  She chuckled as the greyness subsided, leaving behind the serendipitous knowledge that Bonnie’s flower shears rested only a finger breadth away.

  Scissors.

  Blood.

  Death.

  She didn’t notice my sudden hope and fascination with the weapon within reach.

  Wrapped up in her own importance like a fluffing peacock, she looked at the brother by the door.

  She pointed at the bucket and pouches. “Take those downstairs and make sure each diamond is accounted for.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll know if any go missing and you’ll be subjected to a cavity search once the diamonds are bagged and labelled.”

  The man came forward, cringing a little at the thankless task and the reward he had to look forward to once completed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I held my breath.

  The brother grabbed the items and departed through the door.

  She made him leave.

  We’re alone.

  Thirty.

  Thirty-one beats.

  Thirty-two.

  Thirty-three heartbeats.

  Stupid, stupid Hawk.

  Slowly, I fisted the shears with my unbroken arm, wrapping tight fingers around the handles.

  Bonnie didn’t notice, so consumed with her own self-importance as she stood and brushed plaster dust from her blood-red skirt.

  Blood-red.

  The same colour she wore at the dice game a few days ago.

  My fury fired and I held up the twin blades. “You asked me before if my arm hurt. I’ll now ask you a similar question. Do you think this will kill you if I lodge it in your heartless chest?”

  She scooted off her seat, shuffling backward. “Drop it, Ms. Weaver.”

  I advanced, brandishing my weapon. “No.”

  Her mouth opened to scream.

  Fifty-two.

  Fifty-three heartbeats.

  I’d lost my opportunity last time.

  I’d been too slow. Too weak.

  I had no intention of screwing this one up.

  I charged, stopping her before she could make a sound.

  I slammed my palm over her mouth, tackling her. My break bellowed and my good fingers weakened around the pilfered scissors, but I didn’t let her go. She tripped, but I managed to right us. Bolts of agony and shards of pain drenched my nervous system from my uncasted arm.

  “Ah, ah, ah. I think silence is better in this newly developed situation, don’t you?” My vocabulary mimicked hers, thriving off the power of manhandling the wicked Hawk witch.

  Bonnie’s papery breath fluttered over my hand as her nostrils flared.

  She struggled. But her brittle bones were no match for my rage. Her eyes tried to hurt me with unspoken curses, but I wouldn’t put up with it anymore.

  In a burst of power, she ripped out of my hold, swatting my broken arm.

  I groaned in agony as she sucked in a breath for help.

  I had two choices. Let her scream, give into the overwhelming pain, and let this end without victory, or fight through everything and win.

  I fought.

  Tackling her again, I didn’t care about my arm as I wrapped the broken one around her tiny waist and slapped my other hand over her lips.

  Seventy-four.

  Seventy-five.

  Seventy-six heartbeats.

  She folded as delicately as her beloved flower petals, crashing to the floor. I didn’t try to protect myself. I didn’t relish the impact or brutal pain.

  I fell with her.

  Agony I’d never felt before ripped through my bones.

  I bounced on her decrepit body, squashing her into the carpet. I gasped, willing myself to keep going. “Not this time, Bonnie. You don’t get to win this time. This time…it’s my turn. It ends here. Just us.”

  I was better than this. Better than her and all Hawks combined.

  I would take this grandmother’s life, and I would enjoy it.

  She was frail, ancient—the matriarch of a power-crazed house. Yet she was just human—same as me, same as Jethro, same as every person on this planet.

  She wasn’t immortal or scary.

  She’s already dead.

  She batted at my hold with wrinkled hands, her strength rapidly dwindling.

  “You deserve to die, Bonnie.” I pushed her further into the carpet. “You asked me when I came into this room what I saw when I looked at you. It’s my turn to ask you.” I held her wriggling form, breathing hard. “What do you see when you look at me?”

  Your killer?

  Your demise?

  Not letting her answer, I snarled, “I’ll tell you what you should see. You should see a girl who’s reached the end of her limit. A girl who won’t hesitate to kill. A girl who fully intends to survive this massacre and burn your legacy to the ground.”

  Her eyes shadowed with fear.

  She fought me—surprisingly strong, but she couldn’t defeat the cold animosity siphoning through my veins. My rage turned into something not entirely sane as I stared into Bonnie’s terrified gaze. “Want to know a secret?”

  Her nose whistled as she sucked in ragged breaths around my silencing palm.

  “I know something you don’t know.” I had meant to kill her quickly, but taunting was too much fun. I wanted to do to her what she’d done to my family and me.

  A dose of her own medicine.

  And my secret about Daniel had to be shared. Who better than his grandmother who would soon be joining him in the afterlife?

  Her hazel eyes glared into mine. I understood her silent message. You’ll die because of this.

  I giggled, hovering over her. “I’m dead already, so what does it matter if I take you with me?”

  The fight left her. An eerie calm replaced it instead. Her face filled with conversation, dragging curiosity through my blood.

  Dammit.

  Despite my need to end her, I had an intolerable desire to hear her final words.

  “Don’t scream and I’ll let you speak.”

  She nodded.

  Was it stupidity or possibly insanity making me trust her? Whatever one it was, I removed my hand.

  Her face turned to the side, sucking in oxygen, her white chignon falling apart thanks to the carpet.

  I squeezed her tiny body with my knees. I was her death shroud. A crow hovering for murder.

  One-hundred and four.

  One-hundred and five.

  One-hundred and six heartbeats.

  “You’re not stupid, child. You know you’ll pay for this the moment Clarity returns. There are worse things than death. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

  “I know.”

  “Then get off me and I’ll make sure they don’t maim you too much.” Her smile was evil personified. “However, wait another moment longer, and I’ll personally tear you limb from fucking limb.”

  The curse fell from her red painted lips.

  I smiled, cocking my head. “Not yet. I want answers first.”

  “I’ve given you plenty of answers.”

  “No, that was convoluted history seen through your twisted eyes.”

  She snorted.

  “I want to know why you are the way you are. Why you’re ludicrously set on an ancient vendetta. Are you just mad and passed that defective gene onto your son or did
you grow into this despicable creature?”

  “You stupid, stupid girl. I’ve helped keep this family together. There is nothing wrong with loving blood over others.”

  “Even murder?”

  She grinned, showing yellowing death and bad breath. “Especially murder.” She raised her head off the ground, bringing our eyes closer together. “Especially your bloodline’s murder. You owe us.”

  “What did we ever do to you to deserve such barbaric treatment?”

  “You know what!”

  “No, I don’t. I will never understand because there is nothing rational to understand. It’s just a sickness inside you that needs to end.”

  She coughed, her ancient lungs rattling. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

  “Tell me. I’m giving you the opportunity, right now.” I glared. “I want to know. This is your last chance.” A contorted smile spread my lips. “Call it your last confession. Purge your sins, Bonnie, because I’m sending you to your grave—secrets told or not.”

  No fear shone on her face, only black rebellion. “I have nothing to confess.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I don’t have time for this.

  I wanted to know Bonnie’s tale. I wanted to try and understand why someone would go to such lengths. But I wouldn’t sacrifice my only opportunity to kill her.

  “You don’t want to talk? Fine. I changed my mind.” Gritting my teeth against another influx of pain, I grabbed her scarf—the pretty silk decoration to match her despicable outfit—and tugged it tighter around her neck. “Want to know what I promised myself when I first came to your home and was told what would become of me?”

  She pushed at my hands, sending a shard of agony down my break as I slowly tightened the scarf. Her eyes bugged wider and wider.

  “I made an oath to be the last Weaver stolen. At times, I didn’t know how I would honour that vow. But now…I do.”

  She begged for air, her lips gasping. I wasn’t throttling her…yet, but the fear of strangulation sent droplets of panic across her overly powdered face.

  The stench of rose water and summery perfume gave me a headache, but nothing would stop me doing this.

  I lessened my hold a little. “Now, before I go too far. Do you want to know what I know or would you rather die clueless?”

  Are you sure this is wise?

  My arm throbbed as I doubted my actions.