Chapter 12 - Echoes in the Woodsmoke
Julian did not panic. That was the first thing that made him different from Eric, who collapsed into histrionics or deflection whenever reality breached his curated illusions. Julian took the phone from my hand, put it on speaker, and calmly began barking operational orders to our private security liaison in Burlington.
"Double the perimeter sweep on the north gate," Julian instructed, his voice low, steady, and lethal. "I want infrared sensors turned on along the tree line backing onto the state park. If any unauthorized vehicle slows down within five hundred yards of the driveway, you do not question them—you block the road and call the state troopers immediately."
My father stood up from the armchair by the fire, noticing the sudden silence that had smothered the room. "Eleanor? What's going on?"
My mother’s hand fluttered to her throat, her face draining of color. "Is it... is it the business?"
I looked at my parents. They were in their late sixties, finally recovering from the humiliation of Natalie’s betrayal and the near-bankruptcy Eric had dragged them into. I couldn't bear to see that terror return to their eyes, but lying to them had nearly destroyed us once before.
"Eric slipped away from medical custody in New York," I said evenly, keeping every tremor out of my voice. "And Natalie walked away from her facility. The authorities believe they may be traveling together, and their last known vehicle trace was heading north."
My mother let out a small, wounded sound and sank onto the sofa. "How? How could Natalie do this again? After the trial... after everything Eleanor did to keep her out of maximum security..."
"Because Natalie has never viewed consequences as real," I replied coldly. "She views them as temporary inconveniences that happen to other people while she plays the victim."
Julian finished his call and walked over to the gun safe concealed behind the bookshelf in my father’s study. He unlocked the electronic keypad with a firm beep, opening the reinforced steel door. He retrieved a sleek, compact semi-automatic pistol, checked the slide, and loaded the magazine with practiced efficiency.
"Julian," I said softly.
He turned, meeting my gaze. His gray eyes were like flint. "I spent the last year watching you pull yourself up from ground zero, Eleanor. I watched you carry the weight of a shattered empire and turn it into something cleaner, stronger, and entirely your own. I promised you no more traps. I meant it."
He walked over, placed the weapon on the counter, and slid it into an underarm holster beneath his tailored wool coat.
A heavy thump echoed from the wrap-around porch outside.
The noise wasn't loud, but in the dead quiet of the Vermont dusk, it sounded like a gunshot. The porch lights suddenly flickered once, twice, and then plunged into total darkness.
Inside the house, the chandelier above the dining table gave a faint pop and went out. The refrigerator hum died. The only illumination remaining was the flickering orange glow of the embers in the fireplace.
"The main power grid," Julian said immediately, moving in front of me and my parents. "They tripped the exterior breaker at the utility post near the main road."
My father stood up, his jaw set. "There’s a backup generator in the shed."
"No," Julian commanded quietly. "No one leaves the house. Eleanor, take your parents down into the wine cellar behind the storm door. It has reinforced deadbolts and a separate landline."
"I’m not hiding in a basement while you walk outside into an ambush," I said, my pulse roaring in my ears.
"Eleanor—"
A voice cut through the darkness outside, amplified through an old megaphone, crackling with distorted, metallic static. It was high, manic, and horrifyingly familiar.
"Eleanor! Happy anniversary, big sister! Did you really think you could write the ending without inviting the guest of honor?"
May you like
Natalie was standing outside in the yard.
***
