Moriarty's Musician

Knowledge Is Power, Part 2

The sound of the violin called to Annabelle, bidding her to return. But something was wrong. The violin didn't sing to her as it usually did. It choked and sputtered, crying for help.

Then came the pain, her cheek, her hand, her mind. A whimper escaped Annabelle's lips as she forced her eyes open. Firelight danced over the ceiling and illuminated the room as Nicholas dangled his leg over the chair's arm and plucked the violin's strings to the rhythm of nothing.

"She awakens."

She tried to focus her eyes. Where was she? She attempted to sit up, but the pain in her head made her collapse against the cushion.

"I thought you'd never wake up." The sound of the violin went from a pluck to an irreverent strum. "The hours are ticking away, Annie. You can't sleep forever."

Annabelle raised her arm, and as she saw her bandaged hand, all the events of the past few hours came streaming into her mind. She turned her head and saw Nicholas watching her as he idly fingered the strings of the violin... the Stradivarius violin!

Struggling again to sit up, Annabelle closed her eyes as the dizziness only increased her nausea. She was caught in a dream, a painful nightmare. Her hand throbbed, and her head felt like a dead weight.

"You look awful. You had me worried."

She managed to focus her eyes on him, and Nicholas smiled in return, his leg swinging as he set the violin down beside his chair.

"Was it worth it? Destroying your hand like that to get away from me?" He pushed off the chair and sat down beside her.

"You'll never play the violin again." He inclined his head, his lips pursing in thought. "Was it worth it?" he repeated as he moved a lock of hair off her shoulder and let the backs of his fingers caress her neck.

Annabelle didn't move except to stare down at her lap. The stark white bandage was wrapped tightly around her hand, allowing only the tips of her fingers to peek out from the confines.

"You have nothing to say to me? Still won't talk?"

Annabelle blinked, bringing her gaze to the violin. Her eyes filled with tears, but she couldn't cry — she wouldn't! She took a deep breath and held it as Nicholas continued stroking her neck.

His eyes roamed over her profile as his finger slid across her bruised, swollen cheek. "Tell me you want me, Annabelle."

The rain pattered against the window while the crackle of the fire grated his words into her ears.

Was she in hell? Her lip trembled as she tried to swallow the bile collecting in her throat. She got away from him — she escaped the handcuff! How was she back, feeling his breath on her skin, his disgusting hand touching her face? It wasn't real...

Nicholas pressed his fingers just under her ear. "Your heart's racing. So you do want me."

A scream rose in Annabelle's mind as a single tear slid down her face. It wasn't real.

Nicholas smiled. "Say the words, Annabelle," he whispered into her ear.

She kept her eyes focused on the violin. The firelight reflected off the smooth wood grain, giving it an almost ethereal glow. And yet, it looked so alone propped up against the chair. How wrong it was for such a precious instrument to be touching the floor.

"Say you want me," Nicolas repeated, his voice rising.

The violin had looked so at home resting on the piano. And when she lifted it to her cheek and played, the music resonated in her soul and set her free.

Freedom...

Nicholas followed Annabelle's eyes to the violin, his mouth curling into a scowl.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

James Moriarty, mastermind villain, crafter of world sabotage, beholden to none, gripped the phone in his hand and stared down at the blip mocking him on the screen.

She was there. Annabelle was there with Nicholas Byron, the killer he allowed to live.

Annabelle...

She had thrown all his plans into a tailspin — him, the King of the Spiders. And even when Byron set his sights on Annabelle, never did Moriarty believe his plans would go so wrong.

He despised the fact that Sherlock was right. He had let Byron live because of Annabelle. Even killing the killer would have made Byron a saint and Moriarty despicable in her eyes.

His jaw tightened. And yet, he had made Annabelle run right into Byron's arms anyway.

Gripping the phone in his hand, he gazed out the car window. The skies were dark and bleak, and the rain relentless as it bathed the lush Irish countryside. The phone's locater was the only way they could find Annabelle now. The torrent of water had likely washed away any visual tracking they could have done, even if they did know what direction to go.

A sniff and a long sigh pulled his attention to the occupant beside him.

Soo-Ling shifted in her seat and moved her wrists to adjust the handcuffs. She braved a glance at Moriarty and was sorry she had. His eyes fastened on her, and his mouth turned in disgust.

He pulled his gun from his sidearm, opened the clip to examine the bullets, popped the clip back in, and with one swift motion, pressed the end of the gun to Soo-Ling's forehead.

"Do you know what puzzles me the most, snake?"

Soo-Ling shook her head, her mind drowning in the depths of his deadly glare. She closed her eyes. "Please kill me."

"What makes you think you can take what's mine and not offer your kneecaps in return?" He lowered his gun to her knees.

Soo-Ling gave a loud mewing sound and hunched over as much as the handcuffs would allow.

"But I love you," she sobbed, trying to appeal to any trace of humanity he had left.

"Love?" Moriarty laughed. "You keep saying that."

He glanced up at the rearview mirror and met Sebastian's eyes. "Seb, what's the one thing I love?"

"Loyalty," Sebastian said, not missing a beat as he handled the wheel.

"Loyalty," Moriarty nodded. "See? Seb gets it. William, Jack, Dan, they all understand loyalty's everything to me. Even Sam got it before you killed him. And Megan..."

Soo-Ling raised her head, her eyes widening as the butt of Moriarty's gun slammed into her face. With a wail, she collapsed against the seat, blood streaming from her broken nose.

"Megan knows what I love more than anyone." He dropped his eyes to the phone, unmoved by the groans and gags beside him. "Make a left at the river, Seb, then keep going another couple of miles."

Moriarty's lips tightened as the windshield wiper blades hurried to catch up with the downpour.

"You better pray Annabelle's at the end of that blip, snake."

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Ahhh, as always, I appreciate your 'stars' and comments if you're liking the story. I get notices every time you do and it gives me a much needed push to keep going. Thank you for reading. ❤️