However it ended, she would be free. She, Camille, Brick. They would all be free to go on with their lives, to move forward.
But first, she had to finish.
She didn’t know how much time had passed when someone calling her name dragged her from the trance of color and memory. The song was still on repeat, but it felt distant now. As if its hold had been severed.
“Remington?”
She tore her eyes away from the painting and found Camille standing on the ramp. She was dressed casually in borrowed leggings that were several inches too short and a sweatshirt.
Remi snapped the rest of the way out of her reverie and fumbled for her phone to shut off the music.
“Hey,” she said. “Can’t sleep?”
Camille shook her head. “My brain feels too full. Am I interrupting?”
Remi glanced at the canvas again. “No. I think I’m done,” she said, dropping her paint-laden palette on the nearest work table and rolling out her shoulders.
“That song,” Camille said, walking down the ramp. “That’s what we were listening to in the car.”
Remi nodded.
“Are you painting it?” her friend asked.
“I think I painted the song and the accident,” she said, again glancing at the canvas.
She needed to step back, to take in the whole picture. After so many hours of detail work, she wouldn’t understand the piece until she took that step back and saw the bigger picture.
Camille joined her, and together they stared at the canvas.
“Wow,” Camille said.
Headlights and footprints. The colors of the music. Camille’s screams. The smell of blood. Everything echoed distantly. Remi felt a strange sense of peace pour over her.
“I can’t shake this feeling,” Camille admitted. “Like he’s coming. I got really good at anticipating when his moods were changing. I knew when he was going to snap, and that’s how I feel now. Like I’m just waiting for him to walk through the door.”
Remi looked at her friend. “I feel something, too. But remember, you’re not alone this time. We’re here together and we’ve got a house full of people who would love to kick him in his balls.”
Everything in the world that Brick cared about was in this house. Remi’s pulse kicked up a notch. While a landmark burned, everyone that was important to him was gathered under the same roof. It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.
“We need to go,” she said quietly.
Camille nodded. “I think so, too. We’re putting everyone else in danger just by being here.”
Brick was going to murder her. But Freddie Mercury willing, there’d be a Remington for him to murder in the morning.
“Let’s grab what we need. I’ll talk to that asshat White outside,” Remi decided.
Spurred on by adrenaline, they hurried for the ramp when something thumped against the door leading to the backyard.
“Oh my God,” Camille clapped a hand to her mouth as Remi jumped in front of her. A hand slapped against the glass. It was impossible to see into the night with the studio lights blazing.
“Let me in,” a weak voice rasped. “Hurry.”
“Shit. I think it’s White,” Remi hissed.
“What happened? We can’t leave him out there.”
“If we get murdered because of this guy, I am going to be so pissed off!”
“Go get William,” Remi ordered Camille. “And stay with him.”
She waited until her friend was in the main house before yanking open the side door. White was slumped on the ground. “What did you fucking do?” she hissed as she grabbed him under the arms. “And why are you so sweaty?”
Oh God. It wasn’t all sweat, she realized, looking down at his white button-down. A crimson stain was spread in a lopsided circle.
“Did you get your ass shot? I thought you were a big fucking deal, Agent White.”
He murmured something she couldn’t make out.
“I’m never going to hear the end of this from Brick,” she muttered as she managed to drag him halfway across the threshold.
“Remi!” William burst through the door to the house, Camille on his heels.
“He’s either been shot or he impaled himself on a fucking garden gnome,” Remi said. “Help me get him inside.”
William tucked his revolver into the back of his pants and bent to pull the man inside.
“He’s heavier than he looks,” Remi said, pushing the door closed. But she wasn’t quite fast enough. A shadow slithered into her periphery.
“Fuck!” She slammed the door but wasn’t fast enough. A black-clad arm slipped wraithlike inside.
Camille let out a sob that broke Remi’s heart.
William abandoned the agent on the ground and reached for his gun. But they’d underestimated the enemy. Warren Vorhees shoved the door open with exceptional strength, knocking Remi back so she stumbled over Agent White’s legs.
Gun outstretched, he fired one quick shot that sounded like the snap of a firecracker.
William crumpled to the floor next to White.
“No!” Remington shouted.
The gun swung around to point menacingly in her face.
“I wouldn’t scream if I were you,” he growled.
His handsome face was twisted in a grotesque mask of rage. His light hair had been dyed dark and cut short in a choppy buzz cut. The beginnings of a beard sprouted on his patrician jaw. He wore a cheap pair of sweatpants and a black jacket. His eyes, an unmistakable denim blue, had been disguised by colored contact lenses. He looked wrong, sick, evil. The shine of wealth and breeding had been stripped away to reveal the sickness beneath.
Fear coiled in her chest. Her phone was across the room, next to her painting.
“Warren,” Camille said calmly. “Just take me. Leave them alone.”
His smile was more a snarl. “You think you can ask for favors from me? You think you can appeal to my generosity after you tried to ruin me?” Gone was the debonaire charm that had seduced Camille and countless voters.
There was no shake in the hand that held the weapon. His rage gave him a chilling calm. “You think you can destroy me? You think you’re worthy of being my opponent? You’re nothing,” he spat.
Camille inched closer toward William, who wasn’t stirring on the floor.
“That’s what he gets for trying to stop me. For trying to take you away. I won in the end, didn’t I?” his laughter was an unhinged nightmare.
He fired another shot into William’s leg, the silencer suppressing the noise.
“No!” Remi cried.
“Don’t worry,” he said, turning to her with dead eyes. “I’m saving a special punishment for you. As soon as I do a little clean-up.”
He raised the gun to fire again. But as he did, Camille threw herself over William. Remi lowered her shoulder and charged the monster. The shot went wide. He laughed, catching Remi by the hair. A thousand nerves shrieked with pain as he twisted and yanked. Still laughing, he hurled her to the ground and landed a well-placed kick to her hip.
“Stop!” Camille begged. But her begging only seemed to excite him.
“You forget your place, wife. You’re a possession. A shiny, pretty thing that I take out when I want to and put away when I’m done. Tonight will be the last time I put you away.”