Chapter 3 - The Chalice on the Altar
Bullets chipped the marble tombstones.
Stone dust sprayed across my face.
"Down!" Lorenzo roared, shielding his mother with his broad back.
He drew twin Glock pistols from beneath his tailored jacket.
He fired with machine-like precision.
Two Delacroix gunmen dropped into the flooded lawn.
Matteo returned fire with a short-barrel shotgun, blowing apart the courtyard
gate.
"Get my mother into the manor wine cellar!" Lorenzo barked at Matteo.
"Take Evelyn and Baron! Seal the vault doors!"
"What about you, boss?" Matteo shouted over the gunfire.
"I have guests in my parlor," Lorenzo replied, his silver eyes flashing with
murderous intent.
"They are about to drink poisoned wine."
We ran through the crossfire toward the rear veranda.
Baron stayed glued to my hip, limping heavily but growling at the shadows.
We burst through the kitchen doors just as chaos exploded in the front parlor.
Inside the grand dining room, forty capos stood with crystal glasses raised.
At the head of the long table stood Bianca’s younger brother, Julian Vane.
A bottle of Donna Maria’s vintage reserve was uncorked in his hand.
"A toast!" Julian proclaimed smoothly. "To the memory of the great Donna Maria!"
The capos lifted their goblets.
Glasses touched lips.
The double doors flew off their brass hinges with a thunderous kick.
Lorenzo stepped into the dining hall, soaked in bayou rain and grave mud.
His guns were leveled.
"DROP THE GLASSES!" Lorenzo roared.
Nobody moved.
A capo frowned. "Lorenzo? What is this?"
Lorenzo fired two rounds into the crystal chandelier overhead.
Priceless glass crashed down onto the banquet table.
Plates shattered.
Wine flutes tumbled, spilling crimson liquid across the white linen.
Julian stumbled back, reaching for his waistband.
Lorenzo crossed the room in three strides.
He slammed Julian’s face into the mahogany table, shattering his nose on the
wood.
"Drink it, Julian," Lorenzo whispered, pressing a spilled goblet against the
young man’s bloody lips.
"Drink the vintage your sister brought."
Julian sobbed, thrashing in terror.
"No! Please! Lorenzo, don't! It has cyanide in it!"
The forty capos drew their weapons in unison.
The click of forty hammers cocking sounded like iron hail.
They stared at Julian with pure, murderous fury.
They had almost swallowed the poison.
Then a sudden shrill ring broke the silence.
Lorenzo snatched Julian’s ringing phone from the table.
He put it on speaker.
Bianca’s voice came through the line, high and manic:
"Julian! Did they drink it? Are they dead?"
A pause.
"Tell me they're dead! Because I have the maid's sister tied up in the carriage
house, and we need to burn the plantation before the cops arrive!"
My world stopped spinning.
Lily.
My fourteen-year-old sister.
I dropped the medical bag.
"LILY!" I screamed.
Bianca’s laugh chilled my marrow over the small speaker.
"Ah, little Evelyn is listening. Come to the carriage house alone, servant girl.
Or your sister burns first."
The call clicked off.
May you like
Lorenzo looked straight at me.
His silver eyes were burning with an inferno of cold rage.
