Authors: Brenda Joyce

House of Dreams (47 page)

BOOK: House of Dreams

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Can you hear me? Isabel?”

Isabel heard Helen, but her voice was so odd and so distant. And then there was the pain, so much of it. Her face throbbed, but that was nothing in comparison to the burning agony in her rib cageâand that within her breast.

“Isabel, sweet, please, can you hear me?”

Helen
.
Oatlands. Montgomery â¦
Rob had a new mistress and her husband had discovered the truth. Isabel was suddenly awake.
Philip!

“Thank God,” Helen cried.

Swimming in pain, Isabel looked up at her frantic companion. “Philip! Where is he?”

“Shh,” Helen soothed, stroking her brow. “He is asleep in the next room.”

“No!” Isabel tried to sit up, but the moment she moved, she was so dizzy she began to wretch. And that was so painful she wept.

“Be still! The doctor says you have broken ribs. Please, be still,” Helen begged.

The pain would not ease. Isabel rode wave after wave, eyes screwed shut, all the while desperately aware of the fact that she must seize her son and escape Alvarado and his wrath. But how? When she was so wounded she could not even rise from her bed.

Montgomery.

She met Helen's gaze. “Go to Douglas, now. Tell him what has passed. He must help me and my sonâwe must run, now, tonight.” Even speaking cost her dearly, and she was panting for breath through the fierce, unrelenting pain.

Helen, bless her soul, did not argue, for once. Instead, she was on her feet. “I do not want to leave you,” she said. “But there is no messenger we can trust.”

“Go. Go now,” Isabel cried. And tears streamed down her face.

Helen nodded, hesitated, then left. Isabel finally heard the outer door slam. Thank God. Within hours, Montgomery would be at court, and Isabel knew he would move heaven and earth to rescue her.

Rob's image came to mind and a new pain was added to all of the old ones, and with it, for the first time, a deep and profound regret.

How foolish she had been.

Banging sounded on the outer door.

Isabel tensed, wide-eyed, as the banging increased and a servant rushed to answer it. She could not quite see all the way across the other room, but she heard many men entering, their booted footfalls loud, swift, approaching. Isabel stiffened even more, suddenly no longer aware of the terrible pain she was afflicted with. Every instinct she had told her to be afraid. Dread filled her.

And a soldier wearing the chancellor's badge appeared on the threshold of her chamber, surrounded by his guard.

Isabel sat up.

“In the name of God and the pope, you are hereby under arrest,” he said.

“Arrest?” And even as Isabel managed to utter the word, his men swarmed around her bed, and she was being removed from it.

“Arrest! In God's name, for what?” And even as she cried out, she was being pushed to her feet, and suddenly her arms were forced behind her back, manacles locked on.

“You have been charged with the most heinous crime of all, the crime of false and treacherous beliefs, the crime that is against God,” the soldier told her grimly.

Isabel gasped. Unable to comprehend what was happening â¦ She was being charged with heresy? “This is a terrible misunderstanding,” she cried as the soldiers propelled her across the room. The pain stabbed through her, repeatedly, like a knife. “Where are you taking me?” No one bothered to answer herâor even look at her, for that matter, as they dragged her out.

“Please, where are you taking me!” she screamed as she was wrestled through the last doorway.

And the sergeant in charge finally answered her. “The Tower,” he said.

TWENTY-FIVE

CASA DE SUEÃOSâTHE FOURTH NIGHT, 11:00 P.M.

Her mother did not want her. Her mother did not love her. Her mother wanted her dead.

Alyssa almost wanted to die.

Tears slid soundlessly down her face, even though she was trying so hard not to cry. She was so cold and so afraid. If her mother didn't want her to die, then why had she locked her and Eduardo in this horrible black place? Then why hadn't she come back? It was so hard to keep the tears at bay. Her heart had never before hurt like this. But now she understood why Tracey never came home.

Mommy, Mommy
, she kept thinking.

“Alyssa?” Eduardo's whisper was a sudden hiss in the dark night.

“Yes?” Trying not to allow tears to creep into her voice. She wanted to be braver, like Eduardo, but she wasn't brave at all. She was only seven years old, and she wanted her aunt desperately.

Aunt Cass would come. Alyssa was sure of it.

Alyssa knew she would hug her forever when she came for them.

Eduardo took her hand. “Are you strong enough to try calling for help again?” he asked. Alyssa heard the note of anxiety in his voice.

“I'll try.” But Alyssa didn't think she could shout anymore. They had shouted and shouted for help, for what seemed like hours and hours, at the top of the small, narrow staircase where they sat huddled together now. No one had answered their cries. Her throat hurt badly; it was raw and dry, as if she were really sick.

“This time they'll hear us,” Eduardo said with a confidence Alyssa knew he did not really feel.

And the tears began again, and this time they would not stop.

Alyssa wept.

“Please don't cry,” Eduardo pleaded. “They'll find us soon.”

How could this be happening?

What if they were never found?

Was this what had happened to Eduardo's mother?

“I want my aunt Cass,” Alyssa sobbed. “But they're never going to find us and we are going to die!”

Cass could not move.

Stunned, she stared at her sister standing on the threshold of the library. And it somehow clicked in her shocked brain that she had just tried to communicate to Isabel, and now Tracey was there.

Tracey had responded. Not Isabel.

Because they were one and the same.

“Yes?” Tracey said again, and it was a question.

Cass shivered. “Isabel?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes. What is it that you want?” Tracey's eyes, which seemed oddly unfocused, went from Cass to Celia and back again. She did not look at Alfonso.

Cass shot a glance at Celia, saw her tear-filled eyes and the fear on her face. Alfonso had passed out. “Where are the children? What have you done with them?” Cass asked as cautiously as before.

“I told you. They are safe.”

Cass stared, trembling.
I told you
. “But where are they? Please! Please tell me.”

“I cannot.” And Tracey smiled.

The smile was cold, chilling. Goose bumps broke out all over Cass's body.

Tracey turned to walk away.

At any other time, Cass might have run after her and gripped her from behind. She did not do so. She did not even move. “What do you want?” she asked hoarsely as Tracey moved through the doorway. “What is it that you want?!”

Tracey faltered. Slowly she turned back to Cass. Her blue eyes were brilliant in their intensity. “I want that which is fair and just.”

Cass felt her gaze blurring, her knees knocking together at the very same time. Sickness, dread, swamped her. She could hardly stand. “We all want justice. We can have justice. We can. TraâIsabel. Do not involve the children! Please!”

But Traceyârather, Isabelâwasn't listening; she was leaving the room.

“We must find peace!” Cass cried. “There has to be peace, Isabel,
peace
between the two families! Please!” she sobbed.

Cass realized she was gripping Antonio's desk for support, watching her sister walk away, down the hall, through her tears. Should she follow her? Would she lead her to the children?

Cass began to shake uncontrollably. “Isabel!” she screamed. “Do not go!”

Tracey glanced back at Cass, once, without pausing.

Cass sank onto the desk, her mind spinning uselessly nowâlike a car spinning its wheels in the mud.

She wanted justice.

Cass was afraid of what that meant.

Celia cried out.

“What is it?” Cass inhaled, turning.

“The computer,” Celia whispered.

Cass turned, stared. A message blinked at her from the screen.

PEACE IS DEATH.

Cass found Antonio standing over his brother, eyes wide, face set, legs braced. Tracey faced him.

Cass was breathless and desperately thinking.
Peace is death.
She did not have to dwell upon the meaning of Isabel's message. She wantedâintendedâto kill someone, if not them all.

“What's going on?” Cass asked, breaking the silence filling the great hall. Gregory, she saw, was conscious and alert, his pupils dilated, his eyes too wide and focused on Tracey.

Antonio did not move or speak. His gaze was hard, and also directed at her sister.

Cass was sweating. “What happened?” She was terrified. Because she had to face the facts. Tracey was not herself. She was under Isabel's control. It seemed more than likely now that she had hidden the children and murdered the electrician. And Cass did not dare wonder what she had done with the children. Not now.

Cass was shaking. Antonio had murder in his eyes, and Cass knew she had to protect Tracey, yet somehow they had to destroy Isabel, too.

And they still did not have a clue as to how to do so.

Tracey's back was to Cass. Cass heard her say, “He's alive.” The statement was just possibly surprised, and it interrupted Cass's thoughts.

Cass's inside curdled.

“My brother is very much alive,” Antonio said harshly.

Cass moved past Tracey, giving her a wide berth and aware of her extreme caution, to stand next to Antonio.

Bits and pieces of all of her recent conversations with Antonio flooded her now, including the one in which they had agreed that Isabel was trying to divide them in order to conquer them. Cass glanced at Tracey, but she saw no expression at all on her masklike face. Cass stiffened. Did her sister's face seem different? Fuller, less gaunt? Her eyebrows thinner, more arched? But that was impossible!

Antonio bent to his brother now, who tried to wave him away.

“I'm fine now,” Gregory said. “Exhausted, but fine.”

“You are not fine,” Antonio said, cleaning the gash on his forehead. “A maniac ran you off the road. You were almost killed!”

Cass glanced at Tracey's impassive face. Now, looking at her, she thought she could see a resemblance to Isabelâwhich she had never seen before. She began to shake, told herself she was imagining it. And suddenly she recalled another piece of the puzzle. Hadn't someone told her that Catherine had begun to resemble Isabel in the days just before Eduardo's death?

She was trembling. She stole another glance at Tracey. Goddamn it. She did look somewhat like Isabel. Even her hair seemed reddish now. Was it a trick of the light? Or a trick of her own mind?

Cass reminded herself that Isabel preyed on people's minds.

Antonio was putting an ointment on the gash on Gregory's forehead. “Is that what happened?” she asked, watching.

Gregory looked at her. “It's worse than that. But you won't believe me, I don't think.” He glanced at Tracey again. “Is she all right?”

Cass hesitated, her gaze going to her sister. Her lips seemed narrower, her nose straighter, her eyes wider apart. Something inside Cass was crumbling. Maybe it was what was left of hope.

“She's fine,” Cass lied, her skin prickling with unease. Tracey wasn't fine, but just where did Tracey end and Isabel begin? What if Tracey was completely goneâwhat if there was nothing left of her at all? And
what would Antonio do if he knew about their conversation in the library? Cass couldn't trust him anymore. “What else happened?”

I love you. Trust me.

Cass forced the memory aside.

Gregory suddenly shoved at Antonio. “Ouch, damn it!”

Antonio's reply was terse and foreign.

“It was Isabel. She tried to kill me. She was somehow behind the wheel of the truck that drove me off the rode,” Gregory said.

Cass stared.

“I don't think a woman who died in 1555 would know how to drive,” Antonio said grimly. “Shall I bandage your knee?” he asked. “It might help.”

“I think it will be better after some rest,” Gregory said. “I only know what I saw,” he told them both defensively. His gaze was on Tracey again.

Cass was no longer watching the brothers, she was staring at Tracey.

Coolly, with extreme composure, Tracey met her gaze. There was a knowing light in her eyes.

Antonio said, “Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you. Or maybe Isabel was playing tricks on your mind.”

“And some madman drove me off the road?” Gregory asked sarcasticallyâangrily.

Cass had been squatting, and now she rose to her full, if diminutive, height. “What do you think?” she rasped.

Tracey stared. That odd, nearly smug light flickered in her eyes. She said, “I do not drive.”

“No. You do not drive. But others drive, don't they?”

Tracey smiled. “Others drive,” she said softly.

And Cass knew. She had taken over the truck driver's mind.

“Who are you?” Cass demanded. And she was acutely aware of the two men watching them, listening to their every word. But she could not seem to contain herself.

“You know who I am.”

Cass backed up. Her heart hurt her, it beat so hard. “You're not my sister, are you?”

“I am your sister,” Tracey said with another small smile. “Now.”

Antonio lunged to his feet.

Cass realized what he was about, saw him coming, and tried to grab him and detain him, but she might as well have tried to stop a locomotive. He shoved her aside, so roughly that she fell to her knees, hard. And he grabbed Tracey by the arms, shaking her.

“What have you done to the children, you bitch?” he roared.

Tracey's eyes changed. They paled impossibly, brilliantly, blindingly. And she flung him away.

Cass cried out as Antonio hit the floor. How did her sister have the strength to jettison a six-foot man who weighed close to two hundred pounds? she wondered, stunned. And the answer was obvious. Her sister's energy knew no boundsâit was supernatural.

Antonio was enraged as he climbed to his feet. Mouth tight, jaw flexed, he launched himself at Tracey. Too late, Cass screamed at him. “Stop! You will kill each other!”

And he lunged at Tracey.

But Tracey remained on her feet, and it was stunning. The momentum carried them both backward, toward the door leading to the courtyard. And then they were in a hand-to-hand struggle, Tracey holding her own, remaining upright, with a superhuman effort. Antonio could not seem to wrestle her into submission or down to the floor. He could not even force her hands down and behind her back.

Tracey raked her nails down his face, leaving a bleeding set of claw marks.

Cass looked wildly around for a weapon, aware of Gregory climbing unsteadily to his feet. There was only the first aid kit, and as she grabbed the box, its items spilling, she watched Gregory charge her sister and his brother.

Later, Cass could not say whether the act was contrived on Tracey's part. But as Gregory rushed the pair, Tracey moved aside, taking Antonio with her. And Gregory ran headfirst intoâand throughâthe glass doors opening onto the courtyard.

Cass screamed as the glass shattered upon impact and he cried out, lurching onto the ground on the other side, like a man on fireâexcept he was covered with blood and glass.

Antonio broke free of Tracey, his attention diverted. Cass saw blood everywhere.

And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Tracey picking up a long, lethal-looking piece of glass. Lifting it high.

BOOK: House of Dreams

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