Page 134 of When We Touch

And then, Arianna went as well.

“Oh! The poor dears!” Maggie cried, leaping up. She went straight for Arianna. Frowning, John started to come around for Arianna. He came to the table, staggered back, and then fell. Slowly. But he could not prevent himself from doing so.

“What have you done?” the one called Matthew grated out. He drew a pistol from inside his jacket and took aim, straight at Maggie. She caught hold of Arianna’s shoulders and dragged the girl from her chair, and to the floor.

The gun exploded. The shot went wild. Matthew lay flat out on the floor beside them.

“Maggie!” Mireau called.

“I’m fine!”

He and Cecilia came around beside her. She stared at them. “They’re all down, they went in order, smack, smack, smack!” Cecilia said.

“We must be quick! Whoever is outside will have heard the shot!” Mireau warned.

“Get Arianna,” Maggie said, struggling to her feet. Cecilia helped Mireau struggle up with the girl’s dead weight.

George Hennesy had collapsed over his wife. One of the thugs was lying in the archway. Cecilia leapt over him. Mireau followed.

Maggie was about to do so when the fellow stirred. He, too, had a pistol out.

He didn’t aim it at Maggie, but at Arianna’s lifeless form.

“No!” Maggie screamed, and she stepped forward, giving the man’s arm a lethal kick. The gun went flying.

His fingers wound around her ankle.

“Maggie!” Mireau called, blinded by Arianna’s body draped over his shoudlers.

“Go, I’m fine!” she called.

But she wasn’t. She tried to wrench free, and sprawled down on the ground herself. The man halfway rose, eyes on fire with fury as he fought to keep his mind alert. His hands reached out for her throat.

She couldn’t reach the little pistol in her reticule. She struggled for balance and knotted her hand into a fist, slugging him as hard in the jaw as she could manage. She heard the sound of the crack of her blow against his face. But still, he kept reaching for her . . .

Then fell back.

She shoved his weight off her and made it to her feet. She raced then for the door, bursting from it.

Eustace was there, as he had said he would be, his carriage in the street. She could see that Mireau was stumbling forward, bearing Arianna’s weight. Cecilia was following him, her back toward the carriage as she fired shots randomly at anyone who might follow them.

She heard police whistles; bless Darby! He had gotten her letter safely to one of the station houses.

And there was the sound of a runaway carriage racing toward their location. Jamie, her brother . . . they’d both yell at her, of course. But it wouldn’t matter. Arianna was safe, and Jeremiah’s thugs were out, and if they didn’t have the murdering fake himself, they would surely find him this time.

She started to open her mouth, to cry out to Cecilia to quit firing so that she could reach the carriage herself.

But even as she opened her mouth, she felt the sharp pain against her nape. A blow struck hard, one that caused her to stagger instantly, one that seemed to add to the mist of the gaslight and the fog that filled the streets.

“Bitch! I thought it was you. But you are a clever thing. And a pretty one. We’ll have some fun . . . before you die.”

The carriage that had been racing down the street was coming to a halt. The Langdon carriage, Darby driving. She thought she saw Jamie leaping from it. It all seemed to be spinning before her eyes, and yet it all seemed to be playing out in slow motion.

“Maggie!” She could swear that she did hear her name shouted. Cried out in anguish.

Jamie. Jamie’s voice . . .

Then the mist and the gas-lit fog turned to black, and she crashed down into a state of ebony oblivion.