Chapter One… continued.
To read the first part of chapter one, click here.
Eleonora shifted on something hard and moaned. Her throat hurt. Her head hurt. Even
her eyes hurt. And her body, why was it so heavy and tingly?
“Mummy.” Her throat scratched and barely a whisper came out. The aching whine that
usually brought Mum running to her side did nothing.
Behind her, someone rattled about like they were working with a stove, and the distinct
smell of burned food tainted the air. Oh no. Mum must be cooking, which meant Father
was gone or sick too.
Eleonora moaned extra loud as she rolled toward the sound. Acting wasn’t only for the
stage, although she really did feel bad . . . just maybe not bad enough for the volume
she forced. She blinked against the yellow lantern light that peeked through the gaps in
the loose hair over her eyes. Scuffed black shoes turned from the iron feet of the stove
and into a glob of something thick and wet. Ewww. She was lying on a filthy floor, not a
hard bed. And those were a stranger’s shoes, not Mum’s or Father’s. Father kept his
polished and clean. The man pressed his glob-covered foot against her shoulder,
forcing her to roll back and look up at him. The fake beard was gone now, but there was
no mistaking that devil smile. He was real, not a bad dream she’d left behind.
“Good. You’re not dead. At least not yet.” He dug his fingers into her arm and dragged
her toward the other side of the room.
“Let me go!”
When he didn’t, she bit down on his dirty hand.
“Why you little—” He struck the side of her face, leaving behind a burning sting. “Stop
that, and no crying or I’ll kill you before your mother gets here.”
She quit fighting, but she couldn’t stop the tears as he dragged her along. Something
sharp stuck up from the uneven floor and scraped down her leg until it caught on her
hem. He yanked to break her free of the snag, and her shoulder screamed almost as
loud as she did. Finally, the fabric tore, and he swung her into a corner.
“Sit there and be quiet.” He squatted and coiled a strand of her loose hair around his
finger. “At least until I need you, then you can wail all you want. The more your mother
suffers, the happier I’ll be.”
Someone knocked on the door.
He dropped the strand and rose to his feet with a growl. As he crossed the room, he
grabbed a gun from the table. “Not a sound, or I’ll shoot you.”
Eleonora curled into a ball and wrapped her cloak around herself. What could she do
now? A gun meant he didn’t have to be near her to hurt her. Think. She bumped her
head against the wall. You have to think. A hairpin scraped against her scalp, and she
winced. Then blinked. If a hairpin could hurt her head, maybe she could use it as a
weapon if he came close again. Keeping her eye on the man’s back, she pulled the
painful pin free and hid it within the folds of her cloak. The door creaked, but when she
looked up, the man had only cracked it and blocked whoever it was from view. “I thought
we were meeting at the bridge.”
“Our plan’s ruined. They went to the police. She won’t be coming.” Anger burned in a
woman’s voice.
The man glanced at Eleonora. “What do you want me to do with her?”
“Make her suffer for Katherine’s insolence, but be quick about it. You haven’t much time.
Leave her body where it will be found. I want Katherine to know that her choices led to
her daughter’s tortured death. When it’s done, lie low until I contact you.”
But Katherine wasn’t her mum. Constanza Brisbane was. They’d taken the wrong
person.
The door shut, and he faced her, his cold glee freezing Eleonora to the spot.
“I never thought I’d be the sort of special wretch to torture and kill a child, but . . .” He
made a show of cracking his neck and then popping his knuckles, all the while moving
toward her.
Eleonora curled tighter into her corner, slipping the U-shape end of the two-prong
hairpin over the crook of her finger so it would be easier to jab. It wasn’t much, but it
was all she had.
He crouched before her. “You look so much like your mother, I’ll just pretend you’re her.”
Eleonora whimpered.
He smiled as he ran a hand through her hair again and twirled the end. “So many ways
to hurt you and so little time.”
If she didn’t do something, she’d never see Mum or Father again. But where could she
stab him with a hairpin that wouldn’t just make him mad? His shirt collar protected his
neck, but nothing protected his eyes. Eyes were soft . . .
She yanked the hairpin free of her cloak and aimed true. His howl rang in her ears, and
his hands flew to his eye.
Eleonora didn’t wait. She jumped to her feet, skirted around him, and ran for the door.
Ugly words filled the room.
“I’m going to kill you, you little—”
His voice followed her into the hall and downstairs to a narrow foyer. Bitter cold met her
as she stumbled into the dark night. The street was lined with tall buildings, but no one
traveled it or sat on the stoops smoking. What should she do? Mum always warned that
going out by herself was dangerous, but was it more dangerous than the man upstairs?
A thud sounded behind her, followed by more angry words. He must be coming for her
already. Better the dark street than the angry man who wanted to kill her.
She yanked up her skirts and ran. At the first street, she turned, then again when it
connected to a bigger one. Street after street, she turned until she smacked into a
police officer.
“Help! He’s trying to kill me.”
The thin man knelt down and took her by the arms. “Whoa now. What’s this? Who’s
after you?”
The words poured out between pants. “I’m Eleonora Brisbane. My parents are
Constanza and Marcellus Brisbane. Someone took me from them, and now he’s going
to kill me.”
“Brisbane? We’ve been looking for you. Come with me. We’ll get you back to your
parents.”
It was a long walk to the station, and the inside was full of people just as scary as the
man who’d taken her.
“Don’t worry about them. We’re heading to the chief’s office. You’ll be safe in there.”
He led her up a set of stairs, where it was quieter, and then into an office at the back.
When the officer introduced her to him, the chief pulled a peppermint stick from a jar on
his desk and offered it to her while he asked a bunch of questions. She wanted to
answer them, really she did, but she couldn’t think anymore. Now that she was safe, all
her body wanted to do was shake.
“It’s okay. You were a brave girl tonight. You can rest here until your parents arrive.”
Someone brought in a cot and a blanket so she could lie down, but how could they
expect her to sleep? The memory of that man chased her every time she closed her
eyes. But sleep must have come, for the next thing she knew, Mum and Father cradled
her between them, crying as hard as she. Once they settled, the chief asked Eleonora
again to share what happened, taking down her description of the kidnapper and asking
Mum if it matched the man she knew as Winston. Finally, they were allowed to go.
When they reached the hack, their trunks were packed and loaded. “Are we leaving for
the next city already?” Usually, they spent two weeks in a place, but it hadn’t even been
one yet.
Mum and Father exchanged looks.
Mum smoothed back Eleonora’s hair. “What do you say to living in a real house with a
room full of toys? You can go to school with other girls and make friends with children
your own…”
“You’re sending me away?” Eleonora couldn’t breathe. She’d always known the children
of other singers lived away from their parents, but she never thought she would.
Father gently took her face between his hands. “No, dear. We would never send you
away. We’re starting a new life together, in a new city with new names. You’ll finally
have a normal childhood.”
“But I like the opera and traveling.”
“I know, but this is better. You’ll see. You’ll never have to be afraid again.”
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