"We have a stalemate, don't you think?" Mace's voice was eerily pleasant. "If you want your fancy piece to survive, drop your pistol."
Sickly, Lucien realized that he had no choice. He could shoot either Mace or Harford, but not both. Leaving one alive might be Kit's death sentence, for both brothers were capable of killing her without a moment's compunction.
Though he had little faith in Mace's trustworthiness, perhaps the presence of so many witnesses might keep his worst excesses in check. From what Kira had said, not all of them were murderers. Stony faced, he dropped his gun to the floor.
As he did, he saw a flicker of motion on the opposite gallery. He glanced up without shifting his head and saw Michael and Jason entering from a side passage. Summing up the situation in one keen glance, Michael raised his carbine and aimed it at Harford. Then he looked down at Lucien, waiting for a signal.
When Michael fired, Harford would be a dead man. However, Lucien would have to retrieve his gun and take care of Mace himself because Jason was too far away to be accurate with a pistol. It would be risky-but less so than leaving Kit in the hands of two madmen.
Once the shooting started, anything could happen. Thank God Kit had the intelligence and courage to react swiftly. Focusing his mind with furious intensity, Lucien tried to send a mental warning for her to be alert. She stared at him, ashen, but he thought he saw comprehension in her stark eyes.
Praying that Michael's aim would be true, Lucien looked up and gave a faint nod.
The carbine roared, the blast reverberating through the cavern with numbing force. Simultaneously Lucien dived for his pistol. Roderick Harford screamed and spun around from the impact of Michael's bullet, then collapsed. As he fell, Kit twisted away before his knife could slice into her throat.
Without rising, Lucien snapped a shot at Mace, but the instant it had taken to reach the gun gave the other man time to take shelter. Mace leaped behind the stone altar, which would protect him from the shots of both of his attackers.
Before Lucien could reload, he heard Kira scream, "Kit!"
In his concern for Kit, he had forgotten about her sister. Now, drawn by the sounds of gunshots, Kira burst into the chamber. He glanced up and saw that she was only a few feet away, her face frantic as she gazed at her twin.
Kit whipped around and stared at her sister, her soul in her eyes. "Kira!"
From his own understanding of the twin bond, he realized that having been separated by force, they now had a need to be together that was so fierce it was almost palpable. The rest of the world had vanished for the two of them.
Even so, he was unprepared when they began running toward each other. Kira dropped her whip and sable cape, then hurled herself into the midst of the slashing mechanical warriors. She safely ducked under the swinging sword, but Lucien gasped when he saw that she was moving into the downward arc of the battle-ax. She dropped to the floor and slithered under it. For an instant he thought her spine would be severed, but she was just slim enough to pass below unscathed.
So far, so good, but she would never be able to avoid the scimitar. He scooped up the whip she had dropped, then lashed it at the mechanical Turk with all his strength. The thong curled around the figure's arm. The steam-driven mechanism almost yanked Lucien from his feet, but he hung on grimly. With a shriek of metal, the arm twisted in its iron socket, slowing long enough to permit Kira to dart by.
As Kira ran her horrendous gauntlet, Kit dodged around Nunfield, who had made a grab at her. At the same time she was struggling with her bonds. She freed her wrists in time to run into her sister's embrace. They locked their arms around each other, clinging together in the midst of chaos.
Nunfield raised his pistol and swung it toward the two women, his face distorted with furious malice. Frantically, Lucien started to reload, praying that Nunfield's first shot would miss.
His eyes were caught by a movement above. He glanced up and saw Jason Travers grab the rope that ran from the gallery to the chandelier by way of a pulley. The rope was intended to lower the chandelier for cleaning and new candles, but Jason found a lethal new use for it. He leaped onto the railing, then swept to the floor of the chamber like an avenging eagle.
His weight caused the chandelier to fly upward and smash into the ceiling. Flaming candles rained onto the screaming Disciples below. The chandelier itself plunged downward after Jason released the rope, almost hitting Mace, who retreated farther behind the altar. Most of the candles went out when it hit the floor, leaving the cavern lit only by the bonfires.
As Jason landed, he whipped up his pistol and shot Nunfield at point-blank range. Even before the other man hit the floor, Jason grabbed the lever that controlled the statues. He yanked it and the effigies clanked to a stop, harmless again.
In the eerie silence that followed, Jason called hoarsely, "Kira?"
She looked up and gasped with shock, her face chalk-white. Slowly, incredulously, she broke away from Kit and walked toward Jason, whispering his name. She raised a hesitant hand to touch him, as if unable to believe he was real. He caught it and pulled her into his arms, desperate longing engraved on his face. She buried her face against him, her shoulders shaking.
Lucien noted the reunion as he dashed toward the center of the circle, but his main concern was for Mace, who was still free, still armed, and deadlier than ever. Pistol ready in his hand, Lucien started to circle the altar. A quarter way around, he came face-to-face with his quarry.
"I liked you, Strathmore," Mace said with fatalistic calm as he aimed his gun at Lucien's heart. "You're almost as clever as I am. A pity you're such a bloody middle-class puritan."
More experienced than his opponent, Lucien didn't waste time on talk. He pulled his trigger, diving sideways at the same time. The pistol sputtered and misfired. Mace's gun didn't, but Lucien's evasive maneuver saved him. The other man's ball blasted past his right ear, deafening but harmless.
Swearing viciously, Mace reached for his knife. Lucien scrambled to regain his balance, only to find that he had twisted his damned ankle again when he had dodged Mace's shot. As he fell to one knee, the other man moved in, blade glittering wickedly in the lurid light of the bonfires.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Kira break away from Jason. She raised the pistol that Lucien had given her-where the devil had she carried it in that revealing costume?-and pointed it at Mace, her eyes wild. Yet her hands were steady when she cocked the hammer, and her aim was true.
Her bullet caught Mace square in the chest. He gasped in astonishment, then slowly folded to the floor, his gaze on Kira. In a last, harsh whisper, he said, "You were the best, mistress. A pity…" Then he closed his eyes and died. The whole bloody altercation that left three men dead had taken place in well under two minutes.
Kira stared down at Mace for an endless moment. There was fury in her face, and the triumph of a woman who had taken power into her hands after a long hell of helplessness.
Slowly, her expression changed to a kind of horror.
Guessing her feelings, Lucien limped to her and put one arm around her shoulders in a brotherly hug. "Thank you, Kira," he said softly. "You're everything Kit said." Though he'd met her less than half an hour before, she seemed like an old friend.
He was looking around for Kit when danger reappeared. Most of the surviving Disciples were staring at the carnage, shocked and disbelieving. All except Lord Chiswick. In the lull after Mace's death, he had darted behind the altar and pulled out his own pistol. Keeping a wary eye on the gallery where Michael still stood, he pointed his gun at Lucien. "You've gone mad, Strathmore," he snapped. "Do you think we'll all stand still to be slaughtered?"