Page 151 of Terror Tuesday

Through silent steps, we reach the end and face another solid wooden door. His arm outstretches, as if to guard me. “Stay back.”

A low, tortured groan cuts the silence as he pushes open the door. The hall is pitch black, and a gust of stale air blows some ofthe stray hair off my forehead. Valen shrugs, then proceeds into the ebony void.

We walk for so long, I worry we went the wrong way, but a small alcove juts off one stone wall after maybe a mile of steps. It looks different. This passage is more modern, with concrete and bricks mixing with the old stones. When we gaze through the iron bars of the window carved into the door, a light dances up ahead.

“Let’s check it out,” I tell him, nerves rushing through my system at what we might find. Valen agrees by sliding the metal bar to open the way.

It appears to be the correct choice. As we proceed, the light fades into darkness, but our feet hit the bottom of a rickety staircase leading up. Valen lifts the candle high in the air, illuminating a solid wall at the top. Or what appears to be… If I squint, I can make out a hole big enough for someone to look out of.

He sets the candle on the ground and tugs me into his side. Slipping my fingers into his waistband, I follow behind him as we alight the stairs. They creak in reply.

On the thin landing, I swivel my head around while Valen checks out the hole. There’s barely enough room for one of us to stand, but the narrow path continues behind us. It runs between two walls. “Secret passage,” I whisper.

“Holy shit. Look!” Valen’s harsh whisper erupts with surprise, and I hurry over to the slit he’s peeking into.

On the other side of the thin plywood, the president’s office spreads out before us. If I could guess correctly, it looks as if we’reinone of his bookcases. When I look to the sides of the thin slit, the tops of dusty tomes are just visible. Ahead is a roaring fire, crackling, and in front are two wing-back chairs.

The president lounges on one of them, a crochet blanket covering his lap. I can’t see the rest of him, but he’s not moving.

“Asleep?” I whisper, Valen’s face close to mine.

He nods. “Looks like it.” His fingers trail down the wall carefully, until both of us pause at a clicking sound. The panel moves like it’s about to slide away from the wall. Slowly, he tugs out a silencer for his gun and screws it onto the barrel.

“Check our six and back me up,” he says.

“On it.”

Silent and swift, he slithers like a predator, closing in on the sleeping man. I ensure the doors are closed and no one else is near in the shadows and corners. With a shaky hand, I slip my knife into my pocket, then aim my gun toward the chair.

Valen positions himself in front of the president and presses the barrel against his forehead. He jolts awake, freezing instantly.

“We made it out,” Vanq says in the disguised voice I haven’t heard in weeks. “But you won’t.”

The president doesn’t make any movements. Flames dance in his deep brown eyes, and he looks far away, not at my Viscount. Valen waits until I worry he’s not going to go through with it.

“Any last words?”

As if this is a big joke, Harvey’s face broadens into a creepy smile, and he shakes his head slowly. “Oh, son. You have no idea what you’re doing or what you’ve just started…”

Valen’s hand shakes for a moment. His finger presses the trigger just as the president says, “Sanguinis Societas Sept?—”

As the bullet enters his brain, his head slumps.

He’s gone.

Part of me wants to collapse and weep. The puppet master of our lives is now nothing but a corpse, slain by my love’s hand.

Valen’s frozen, the gun still smoking in the air. Finally, he glances up and nods toward the desk.

“The orders. Burn them.”

With a shaky voice, I manage to squeak out, “Of course.” Scurrying over to the desk, I gasp at the papers strewn about and flick on the little purple lamp nearby. Valen’s focus on the task at hand keeps me from losing it.

Until he grabs a small amethyst figurine and hurls it against the mahogany wall, shattering it into pieces. “Fuck him. We’ll all be free.”

Part of me wonders if the president’s final warning has rattled him as much as it did me.

“Valen, look at this.” I hold up a blood-signed order from Harvey, waiting only for my father’s signature. “He was going to appoint me to himself, but then scratched it out… He… He replaced it with my order to kill you.”