Part 47 (2/2)

”We can't, Esther. There's one more doppelgangster.”

”I thought so.” I looked over my shoulder to demand the priest tell us who it was, even though I thought I knew.

But Gabriel had escaped while Max was destroying the altar where the priest had cursed his victims with certain death.

”He's gone,” I said in dismay. ”I didn't beat him up enough.”

”But you certainly gave it your best effort.” Max stumbled toward the door. ”We must go to Lucky's aid.” I followed him as he added, ”He will be outnumbered and taken by surprise.”

Nelli was limping heavily behind me. Max turned in the dark doorway and said to me, ”Oh, bring the candle.”

Nelli suddenly growled. I turned away from Max to look at her. I heard a dull thud behind me and whirled around. Buonarotti was standing in the doorway holding the gun with which he had just pistol-whipped Max. Max fell to the floor, unconscious. Buonarotti seized my throat, pulled me against him, and pressed the gun to my cheek. Holding me between himself and Nelli, who was snarling and barking, he backed out of the room, ordering me, ”Shut the door.”

I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't shake my head. I hung by my throat from Buonarotti's squeezing fingers. His fingernails dug into my skin. The pain was mind-fogging. I thought I would pa.s.s out in another second.

”Shut the door,” he repeated, ”or I'll shoot the dog. Now Now.”

My hand fumbled for the door handle. I found it and pulled. Max's body was in the way. Buonarotti kicked Max with his foot, rolling him over. My eyes watering with pain and my vision blackening, I pulled the door shut.

”Good.” Buonarotti pressed up against me in the pitch dark hallway. ”Now tell me where he is.”

I made a strangling sound.

”Huh? Oh.” He loosened his grip enough to let me talk. ”Where is he? Tell me, b.i.t.c.h, or I'll blow your head off.”

”Where's who?” I choked out.

”Gabriel.”

”I don't know.”

He slapped me so hard I reeled away, then he yanked my hair to pull me close again. No wonder Elena had called him an animal.

”He ran off,” I gasped out.

”Why?”

”He's a coward.”

”What the h.e.l.l is going on here?”

”Huh?” And then the truth dawned on me. This This Buonarotti's face wasn't bloodied. ”Oh, my G.o.d. It Buonarotti's face wasn't bloodied. ”Oh, my G.o.d. It was was you.” you.”

Another gunshot rang out. Then two more. My captor stiffened. ”Who is that?”

”You don't know?” I rasped.

I was right about the final figure I had seen in the dying flames of the altar.

Buonarotti's doppelgangster grabbed my throat again. ”You and I are getting out of here.”

Well, Gabriel had said said his partner was proving to be more trouble than he was worth. Apparently the priest had decided it was time to help him shuffle off this mortal coil. Once Buonarotti came face to face with his own perfect double, he'd be easy pickings. Perhaps the priest intended to bring about the three-way war by giving up Don Michael to the other two families now that he was vulnerable. his partner was proving to be more trouble than he was worth. Apparently the priest had decided it was time to help him shuffle off this mortal coil. Once Buonarotti came face to face with his own perfect double, he'd be easy pickings. Perhaps the priest intended to bring about the three-way war by giving up Don Michael to the other two families now that he was vulnerable.

Holding me by the throat, his gun pressed to my head, the doppelgangster hauled me down the pitch dark hallway. We paused at the doorway leading to the choir gallery, and my captor leaned against it, listening. We heard voices shouting on the other side of it.

”No, not that way,” he muttered.

”There's another way?”

”Stairway to the courtyard.” He dragged me to the end of the hall. ”It's how I came up.”

”No, those stairs aren't safe,” I protested as he dragged me toward them.

”That's just what he tells people to keep them out of here,” Buonarotti said dismissively.

He took his hand off my neck long enough to open a door. Despite his comment, I was still anxious about descending a staircase in complete darkness with a gun pressed to my head. I was equally anxious about going anywhere with a murderous doppelgangster.

So it was a relief when I heard a man's voice coming from somewhere beyond the bottom of the stairs.

Buonarotti went still and covered my mouth with his hand, pressing the gun harder against my head. Along with the voice, we heard a gurgling electrical noise, like someone switching channels on a radio. This was followed by a metallic sounding voice. I couldn't make out the words, but I gave a reflexive start when I realized what the sound was: a walkie-talkie.

And then I realized what the voices were talking about. I could make out a man saying, ”Shots fired,” and giving this address.

Someone was talking on a police radio. There was a cop at the other end of these stairs!

I tried to cry out. Buonarotti squeezed my throat so hard I nearly blacked out. He shut the door and then dragged me back to the other door, the one that led to the choir gallery.

”One sound,” he whispered, ”and I'll kill you.”

I was coughing helplessly from the abuse to my throat, so this seemed like a pretty stupid threat. He opened the door a crack and listened.

We both heard Gabriel whispering, ”No, there's a cop in the courtyard! We need to leave this this way.” way.”

Buonarotti-the real one-whispered back, ”How do you think we're gonna get past Lucky? He's between us and the door.”

The doppelgangster's body, which was pressed up against mine, stiffened. ”Who the f.u.c.k is that?” When I didn't respond, he prodded, ”Who's with Gabriel?”

”You are,” I said.

”Huh?” He made an irritated sound. ”Dumb broad.” He opened the door and dragged me through it.

The gallery was pitch dark, too. Buonarotti and Gabriel weren't giving Lucky a target by illuminating themselves.

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