Chapter 23 - The Bloodstain on the Grand Staircase
Eleanor froze on the top step, her knuckles turning white around the neck of the candlestick.
"Julian?" Thomas called down into the cavernous foyer, drawing a snub-nosed revolver from his waistband.
There was no answer, only the sound of the freezing wind howling through the shattered front entrance.
Arthur saw his opening and threw all his remaining weight against Eleanor’s side.
Eleanor shrieked in fury as she lost her footing on the polished oak step, tumbling hard down the first flight of stairs.
Thomas shouted a curse and reached for Arthur’s coat, but Arthur ducked beneath his arm and kicked the fuel can toward him.
The heavy container struck Thomas’s shins, spilling slick, pungent fuel across the hardwood landing.
Thomas slipped on the pooling liquid, his revolver discharging into the ceiling medallion above them.
Plaster exploded like shrapnel, raining white chunks across the landing.
Arthur threw himself down the servant’s staircase on the opposite side of the hall, ignoring the screaming agony in his ribs.
Behind him, Eleanor was already scrambling to her feet at the bottom of the grand staircase, her face contorted with rage.
"Find him!" she screamed, her voice cracking into hysteria. "Kill him! Burn it all down!"
Arthur stumbled into the kitchen, his boots sliding against the antique linoleum tiles.
The pantry door hung wide open, and on the floor lay Julian Sterling, unconscious in a spreading pool of dark blood.
Standing over Julian was a shadowy silhouette holding a heavy iron fireplace poker.
Arthur reached for a butcher knife from the wooden block on the counter, his hands shaking violently.
"Stay back!" Arthur warned, his back pressed hard against the industrial stainless-steel refrigerator.
The silhouette stepped forward into the dim moonlight filtering through the frost-covered kitchen window.
It was Detective Vance, his face bruised and his trench coat covered in road grime and dried blood.
"Drop the knife, Arthur," Vance breathed, clutching a bleeding wound on his shoulder. "I'm not the one trying to burn you alive."
"How did you find this place?" Arthur asked, lowering the blade an inch.
"I’ve been tracking Sterling since he took a leave of absence from the psychiatric facility," Vance said, leaning heavily against the counter.
Before Vance could finish his sentence, the heavy wooden door to the kitchen burst open.
Thomas stood in the doorway, the revolver pointed straight at Detective Vance’s chest.
May you like
"Well, well," Thomas sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger. "A family reunion."
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