Locked

Chapter Twenty-One

V stood at the double French doors leading onto the expansive garden behind Buckingham Palace. She waved Mr. Mulberry off, leaving him behind was essential: she couldn't be seen as needing a babysitter.

She descended the clipped lawn, and made her way to the miniature hedge maze. It was still green, despite the late months, and the white marble benches adorning the paths had recently been polished by the small army of gardeners who kept the place at its shining glory.

V had seen Nick and a gaggle of girls enter the maze only a little while ago. She walked as fast as she dared, following Will's instructions on "fitting-in with the aristocracy".

Eventually, she had the group in her sights. She walked purposefully towards him, making sure he saw her. He did, and he charismatically told the gaggle of girls around him to give them some space. Although seeming a little hurt, the girls obeyed, and V heard them murmuring about "poor Lord Westray, his friend killed that girl..."

V rolled her eyes at them, this whole ordeal was getting out of hand; she had to wrap this up soon.

Will walked stiffly towards her. For all he knew, she was about to strangle him. She was ready to: the thought had crossed her mind. He didn't seem too shocked at her being, well, alive. Before she could speak, Nick began: "I'm sorry Violet!" He winced at her name, "I didn't know what my father was planning until the last minute! I swear! If it were up to me that never would..."

V cut him off. She had had enough of the apologies. She wanted answers. "Nicolas, I'm not here to chastise you."

"You're not?" He was surprised.

"Although that would be preferable." She mumbled under her breath. "Pardon me?"

"Never mind." She waved the thought away. "I'm here for your help." "My help? But I practically destroyed your life!"

"I know," V sighed, "as much as I would love to hate you right now, I really do need your help."

"What for?"

V noticed a pack of gentlemen entering the maze, she veered herself and Nick around a corner, and they continued walking to the centre. With any luck, the young men would find the gaggle of girls and both parties would be distracted for some time.

V continued with the conversation: "Will's trial is in a few days, and we need to prove his innocence."

"How? The jury would never believe you testifying, you're..." "I know." V cut him off sharply.

An unsteady silence followed, the only noises that of their shoes scuffling in the grass and the distant, hazy sound of the streets of London.

"What I don't understand," Nick finally broke the uncomfortable mood, "is why you want me to help you. I'm the one responsible. I shot you!"

V halted their progress through the maze.

"Nick, you may pulled the trigger, but your father held the pistol. I know this wasn't your doing. I understand how desperate you were for your father's attention. You let him get into your head and mess around in there. It's not your fault."

"But it is!" Nick nearly shouted, "I am responsible!" He lowered his voice as to not alert the giggling group of ladies and gentlemen. "And it's tearing me apart!"

V sat down on a nearby marble bench: "So you're willing to help me?" Nick calmed down. He seated himself besides the enthusiastic woman.

"What do you want me to do?"

V smiled, this was going exactly as planned.

• • • • • • • • • •

Will was getting tired of the damp air. He could almost feel the mildew growing in his lungs. He wanted to cough, but couldn't. He wanted to itch his lungs, his throat, his eyes, and his nose. The more he itched, the more it burned.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Will listened for the soft steps V's arrival. He knew she was working on something, and was here to tell him how it was progressing.

His spirits fell when two men stopped outside his cell.

"You've got a visitor." The guard told him. He placed his lantern on a nearby shelf, and went around the corner to give them some privacy. The visitor was greatly respected – or feared – by the guard.

"How are you, Your Grace?" A slimy voice crawled out from the shadows. It wove its way around Will's ears and took root in his soul. The sound was his skin crawl and his hair stand on end.

"Mighty cold down here, isn't it?" The voice continued.

"And here I thought it you loved the cold. It matches your frozen soul."

The man stepped out from the shadows. The voice matched its maker: The Duke of Westray's ominous form stood in front of the cell, his shadow flickering in the candlelight. The Duke appeared even more villainous than Will remembered; the smug smile plastered across his face was only a reminder of his pain. He couldn't stop himself from picturing the heinous man on the wharf, pointing a gun at V. No matter if Nick had been the one to pull the trigger, in Will's mind, it had been his father. Will couldn't bring himself to even think the man's title: he didn't deserve it.

"I must admit, this is all exceeding my expectations. My project has worked far beyond what

I'd dreamed. Soon, the entire city will be buying my cure!" Will wanted to throw up. The man was utterly insane.

"I only came here to tell you, seeing as no one will ever believe what you say, that I was entirely responsible. Your sweet girlfriend is dead and soon, you will be too. You can join her for eternity. See the gift I have given you! You would have never been able to associate with her in this world. I did you a favour really."

The Duke of Westray actually believed the lies coming out of his mouth. He didn't know Will already knew more than he let on.

Will was so angry that he dared to stand up to Gellentry. Literally stand up. It took all his might, but he did it. Strengthened by his hatred, Will glared at his opponent: "If you even touch a hair on Violet's head..."

"Violet?" The Duke interrupted, "Is your little girlfriend still alive? Interesting..."

An evil smile crossed the madman's face. His eyes flickered about, thinking of the possibilities. Will realized his mistake. He felt his stomach clench and every muscle in his body contract.

"Ta ta," The Duke said with a swish of his cloak, "don't get too stressed about your trial. There's nothing you can do about it now!" And with that he was gone, and Will could hear the footsteps getting slowly quieter.

He collapsed to the ground, closing his eyes. Things were about to get much, much worse.