Moriarty's Musician

Chapter 12: Knowledge Is Power, Part 1

Go, Annabelle, go. He's coming.

The choir of voices chimed in Annabelle's ears, making her dizzy as she held her hand to her chest.

She ran to the refrigerator. Two boxes to choose from, medical box or gun. She reached up and pulled down the box. Putting it on the counter, she took out her gun and jammed it into her waistband. She gathered the four bullets and pushed them into her front pocket.

The car was getting closer. Annabelle's heart raced as she tripped over a small rug on the floor and collided with an end table. Scrambling to the door, she curled her fingers around the doorknob and heard the screech of the brakes just outside. Yanking open the door, she stumbled down the few porch stairs.

Annabelle's mind dispensed with every thought except getting away as her feet flew over the gravel. In some distant part of her mind, she could hear his footsteps behind her. Keep going.

She ran until the muscles in her legs ached, stumbling a few times as her feet slipped on the slick dirt in her frantic effort to get away. Leaving the path, she launched herself into the dense underbrush. Thorns and sharp branches scraped across her skin and whipped her arms as she pushed through them, desperation seizing her chest.

Keep going. He's coming. She couldn't breathe, her chest ached, and she could hardly take another step.

Water... the sound pulled her in the direction of the river. She needed to rest. She needed to hide. The muscles in her legs burned as she found a cover of bushes on the river's edge.

Collapsing to the muddied ground, Annabelle tried to quiet her loud gulps for air. And as her chest heaved for each new breath, she looked down at her hand. Hot tears pooled in her eyes.

She had lost the towel somewhere in the woods, and now her bloodied hand soaked the front of her shirt as she cradled it against her chest. She had almost forgotten the pain in her desperation to escape.

"Annabelle, I know you're bleeding. I want to help you," Nicholas called.

His voice made her press her body further into the bushes. Like hell he wanted to help.

"Annabelle? Annabelle!"

She closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing. And then the voice that plagued her mind, chimed in her ears. "So you're out. What now? You're nothing but a coward if you keep running." Her father's mocking made Annabelle squeeze her eyes shut even tighter. She had to be quiet.

"The Byrons can't hide his sins forever. There's always a thread dangling, Annabelle, waiting to be pulled. Pull it!"

Annabelle couldn't scream at her father, couldn't tell him to shut up. His presence, his darkness was consuming her.

"He's a spoiled brat and a murderer. Once he gets what he wants, he'll kill for the next shiny trinket. The Byrons' golden boy has blood on his hands."

Annabelle's eyes flew open as her father's words flooded back to her mind. The Byrons were covering up for Nicholas. They knew everything about him... and they were covering it up! Annabelle stared at the water and could see her father's reflection smiling at her, nodding.

"Knowledge is power, child."

Annabelle reached her shaking hand down and withdrew the gun from her waistband. Holding it against her chest with the wrist of her wounded hand, she pulled out the gun's magazine. Changing positions as she huddled behind the bush, she reached her fingers into her pocket and withdrew a bullet. She pushed it into the magazine, and then another, and then another. And as Annabelle reached into her pocket for the last bullet, her throat tightened.

She pulled out the little toy soldier with his gun in his hands, ready for battle. The rush of tears streamed down Annabelle's face as she gripped it in her palm. How many times had a frightened little boy held the same toy soldier for courage?

"Got you!" Nicholas's fingers bit into Annabelle's arm as he yanked her to her feet, the gun and magazine slipping from her hand and hitting the ground.

Nicholas's face contorted in anger as he looked down at her bloodied shirt and wounded hand.

"All this to get away from me?" he spit out.

Annabelle didn't move, except for the tightening of her jaw as she lifted her chin and met his eyes.

Nicholas inclined his head, studying her. "No words? Nothing?"

She lifted her chin higher.

He grabbed hold of Annabelle's chin and wrenched her face to his, his breath heavy on her skin. "Nothing?"

She gritted her teeth but kept her eyes steady. Nicholas was so close she could see her reflection in his eyes. Her hand tightened around the toy soldier.

He let go of her face, took a step back, and looked down at his feet. He picked up the gun and magazine, his eyes darkening as they came back to hers.

"You want to kill me? Is that it?"

Annabelle swallowed as the toy soldier pressed into her palm. Courage. Find your courage.

Nicholas held the magazine and pulled out each bullet. He jangled them in his hand and then pushed them into her face with his fist. "Gonna kill me, huh? Huh?"

Annabelle didn't move, keeping her face impassive.

Nicholas's eyes bore into hers, his mouth thinning into a tight line as he waited. And when Annabelle still refused to respond, his anger piqued. Pulling back his arm, he launched the bullets into the air. The color drained from Annabelle's face as she watched them disappear into the rocky depths of the river.

Nicholas smirked at her reaction. He clicked the empty magazine back into the gun and shoved it into his waistband.

"See? At least we understand each other. Now give me your hand."

He pulled the lost towel from his back pocket and motioned for her to lay her hand on it. Annabelle's entire body was shaking as she lifted her hand and rested it on the towel. Nicholas's eyes rolled over her wounds, his lips twisting.

"You're damaged goods," he said. "How can I put a ring on your finger now?"

Annabelle gripped the toy soldier.

Nicholas smiled as he wrapped the towel around her wounded hand. "Well, you have two hands."

Letting go, he reached into his back pocket and took out a small black box. His smile grew into a sheepish grin as he opened it and held it out to Annabelle.

"I went to town to pick this up for you. Only the best for my Annie."

Annabelle tried to hold back the emotion, but it was no use. Her breath came in a loud gasp as she stared down at the diamond ring. Her shaking resumed, and her teeth began chattering again.

Nicholas paused, his mouth frowning. "Give me your other hand, Annie," he demanded.

She shook her head furiously as she backed away from him.

Nicholas's nostrils flared as he grabbed her shoulder.

"Give me your other hand," he hissed into her face. His grip curled around her fist as he yanked up her hand.

"What are you holding? Another bullet?"

Annabelle closed her eyes. She needed her place, her sanctuary. She needed her music.

The slam across Annabelle's face made her head snap back, and as she fell, blessed darkness pulled her into its loving hold.

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Thank you so much for reading. All your comments and likes keep tickling my muse and gives me motivation to keep going.

Moriarty's up next. Stayed tuned. ❤️