Chapter 3 - THE APPLAUSE IN THE DARKClap... clap... clap...
The rhythmic sound drifted through the heavy oak doors, smooth and unhurried, cutting through the heavy silence of the blackout.
“Keller, weapon out,” I commanded, stepping in front of Hannah and little Lily, who was trembling fiercely against her mother’s skirt.
Keller clicked the safety off his sidearm with a sharp, metallic clack, positioning himself beside me with military precision.
“Grant... darling?”
The voice that filtered through the wood wasn’t an intruder’s. It belonged to Audrey Sinclair.
“You really should have left the toy alone,” Audrey’s voice echoed, dripping with a sickening, melodic sweetness. “Your father worked so hard to keep those old files buried. And yet, your morbid curiosity always was your worst flaw.”
“Open the door, Audrey!” I shouted back, my voice vibrating with pure rage. “I know what you and my father did! I heard the recordings!”
A soft, melodic laugh chimed from the hallway. “Recordings? Oh, Grant. That’s cute. Do you honestly think a few audio clips are going to save you? Look around you, darling. The doors are locked, the communication grid is dead, and your security team outside the estate was neutralized twenty minutes ago.”
Keller’s eyes widened. He tapped his comm-piece furiously. “Team Alpha, do you copy? Alpha, report!”
Static. Only white noise hissed back.
“They’re gone, Keller,” I said grimly, my grip tightening on the heavy brass poker I had snatched from the fireplace. “She brought a clean-up crew.”
“Mommy, I’m scared,” Lily sobbed quietly, clutching the remaining ear of her mutilated rabbit.
Hannah knelt down, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter, kissing her forehead while her eyes met mine through the gloom. In that moment of absolute terror, there was no master and servant. There were only survivors.
“Grant,” Hannah whispered fiercely, her voice steadying despite the tears on her cheeks. “The panic room has an emergency ventilation shaft. It exits near the old greenhouse past the rose gardens. If we can reach the service corridor behind the bookshelves—”
Before she could finish her sentence, a blinding flash of white light erupted from the ceiling vent.
Hiss.
A thick, sweet-smelling white gas began to pour into the library, hissing violently as it hit the floor.
“Gas!” Keller barked, pulling a neoprene mask from his belt and slapping it over his face. He grabbed another from his pack and tossed it to me. “Hold your breath! It’s a fast-acting synthetic paralytic!”
I caught the mask, shoved it onto Hannah’s face, and strapped it tight before she could protest, then grabbed a heavy wool blanket, soaked it in water from the decorative globe-bar, and wrapped it around Lily.
“Keller, blow the lock!” I ordered.
Keller raised his tactical pistol, aimed directly at the brass deadbolt, and fired two silenced rounds into the mechanism. The metal shattered in a shower of sparks.
I kicked the door open with all my might, charging headfirst into the smoke-filled corridor, raising the fireplace poker like a club.
The hallway was a ghost town of shifting shadows and curling white mist.
“This way!” Keller shouted, pointing toward the winding service stairs at the end of the wing.
We sprinted down the corridor, footsteps pounding against the antique Persian rugs. But as we reached the corner leading to the service wing, a figure stepped out from the gloom, blocking our path.
It was Evelyn Crane, the head housekeeper.
Her wrists were still bound by dark bruises, but her expression was no longer one of fear. It was an expression of grim, resolute acceptance.
“You can’t go that way, Grant,” Evelyn said quietly, holding out a heavy iron key ring.
“Evelyn, move!” Keller demanded, leveling his weapon. “We don’t have time for this!”
“If you go down the service stairs, you walk straight into the kill zone,” Evelyn said, her voice unwavering. She looked past us, her eyes softening as she looked at little Lily. “I spent thirty-seven years serving a family of monsters because they threatened my son. But I’m done being their monster.”
She tossed the iron keys directly into my hands.
“Take the dumbwaiter shaft behind the portrait of your grandfather,” Evelyn instructed rapidly. “It drops straight down into the wine cellars. From there, use the old drainage tunnel that leads past the eastern perimeter fence.”
“What about you, Evelyn?” I asked, grabbing her shoulder. “Come with us.”
Evelyn offered a sad, tired smile. “Someone has to stay behind and lock the iron gate from this side. Otherwise, they’ll catch you before you reach the trees.”
Before I could argue, a sharp crack echoed down the hallway.
A single silenced gunshot pierced the fog.
Evelyn stumbled forward, a dark, blossoming red stain spreading rapidly across the front of her black housekeeper’s dress. She gasped, her knees buckling, and collapsed against the floral wallpaper.
“Go!” she choked out, blood spilling over her lips. “Go... find Daniel!”
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Keller grabbed my collar, hauling me backward as heavy combat boots thundered down the hallway behind us.
“Grant, we move now or we die here!”
