Conclusion
Her passion satisfied, Ash leaned over Hunter's shoulder. He was penning notes into his journal, tactical notes on how best to kill Stone and whether it was feasible to kill Roarke. He was hung up on one point: how to get off the island before the bodies were discovered. She reached over and pointed at Roarke's name on the page. "You can't kill him." Hunter shrugged her off. He didn't like collaborators any more. "The whole place is wired into him. Sorry honey." He conceded silently and set to work on the other plans. "Stone came here alone, didn't he?"
"Yes. His fantasy was to have some time off 'work'. Little Stacy told me as much. Fool." Rose was bitter.
"He didn't get it. The devil came on the same boat I did. He caught up with Stone in the restaurant just after you'd left. Roarke promised him an extra day on the island if he wouldn't complain."
Hunter made more marks in the journal. He looked up and pecked her on the cheek. "Thank you Ash. That solves it. I kill Stone tonight."
"Not in the eyes, love. His soul will cry out. We'll need more time than that to get off the island."
"We'll have it." That night after the moon went down, Hunter Rose stole across the island dressed in Grendel black. Ash had provided him with the location of Stone's bungalow, gleaned from the swing kids she was allegedly chaperoning. She offered to go with him but he declined, saying it doubled their chances of being caught.
He found Stone sleeping fitfully on the king sized bed. Standing at the foot of the bed, Hunter created the weapon. Shhhhk-thock. Stone woke with a start and fumbled for his gun. Hunter lunged forward with the grace of a big cat. His eyes flamed through the mask, eerie points of light in the darkened bungalow. He landed at the head of the bed but overbalanced and knocked the painting off the wall over the headboard. The mattress had the consistency of a sponge, and he adjusted his stance accordingly.
Stone shot at the assassin's head, made easier to see by the motion of the ribbons attached to the back of the mask. Grendel slashed at him with the blades of his fork, unfazed by the gunfire. He couldn't see Stone clamber around to the foot of the bed but he could hear him, and he walked calmly across to meet him for their next round. Grendel calculated where Stone had to be and threw his fork down like a javelin.
The fork stuck in the floor behind him. As Grendel reached to retrieve it, Stone leaned his weight into its handle. He pulled the blade up and away and swung at his opponent's knees. His attacks left Grendel only time to react, until finally Stone had the assassin pinned against the headboard. Unable to gain firm footing, Grendel gouged at his opponent's eyes, nose, neck, any vulnerable spot he could reach. Stone, seasoned street cop, managed to head off these attempts while keeping Grendel's precious bladed weapon out of his other hand. He held the fork back, poised to put each point through a glowing eye.
Shhhhk! Grendel materialized a blade into Stone's midriff. At the same time, he felt his mask's ribbons catch on the exposed nail behind him. Blinded by the pain, Stone thrust the fork at Grendel's eyes. --thock! As the new weapon pierced his lung, Stone could only hope his aim was true.
Hunter Rose escorted the grown up 'Stacy' to the seaplane dock. A bandage was wrapped jauntily around his forehead like a cockeyed headband. He was smiling brightly but walking just a little unsteadily. Roarke looked at Harry and said discreetly, "How much painkiller did you give him?"
"A week's worth. Looks like he took it all at once, insisting all the while that he would be fit to travel."
The greeting party waited quietly a moment while Hunter stopped and leaned on his companion, trying to orient himself. Ariel looked over at Roarke. "She's not real. Does he think she's leaving with him?"
"Oh, she's real." Roarke let out a soft chuckle. He knew that the phantom Stacy had been killed after their 'hit'. Hunter Rose had betrayed the sacred trust between parent and child. Roarke would gladly give him up for the devil's plaything for such a crime. "My dear, you look lovely in that dress." Roarke teased. "But there's something I need to tell you." He motioned for 'Stacy' to come near. "If you so much as lay a hand on him while he's in my plane, in front of my staff, I will personally send as many souls away from you as I can reach!" He stood back and smiled as though he had only noted a run in her stocking.
Ash returned the smile, realizing with glee who he thought she was. "Don't you already?" She helped Rose into the plane and blew Roarke a kiss before entering it herself. They both waved innocently at Roarke as the plane glided away.
Ezekiel Stone woke with a start. Where was Grendel? Had he left? Would he come back? He looked down at himself with horror. The handle of the fork and part of the blades protruded from under his ribs. He could feel his weight depending somewhat on the mattress and somewhat on the blades. He was weak, and breathing hurt. How long had he been out? The sun's rays were orange and coming in from the west. Too long.
He looked to his right and saw that the nightstand bell was out of his reach. As he rested his head, he looked up. The Grendel mask was pinned to the wall with the other fork planted squarely in its eye panels. Bullseye. A lock of black hair was stuck inside the mask, making it protrude as though someone were still in it. There was something in its expression that made Stone sure that somehow he had missed his mark. Or was it just the impossibility of his situation?
He tried to remove the fork from himself but passed out in the effort.
"I see you've come back to escort your other friend off the island."
"Came back? I never left. I was sitting in the bar minding my own business, doing as you demanded and leaving Stone alone."
"That wasn't you leaving with Mr. Rose?" The devil shook his head, wondering what Roarke was driving at. "She smelled of brimstone, I was sure that was you in disguise."
The devil got red in the face. Someone had gotten away from him and had taken the damned Hunter Rose with her. Someone--he had a fair idea who--had eluded his pet cop, Ezekiel Stone. Roarke came to the same point in the thought and caught his eye. Stone!
Harry was about to inquire whether he should give Mr. Stone a wake up call when he saw Mr. Roarke run out of his office. He would still have asked except that the sight of Roarke running side by side with the devil made him faint dead away.
They found him lying on the floor, semiconscious, the blade beside him. Roarke rang the nightstand bell frantically and sent for the island's medical team. The devil cradled Stone's head gently in his arms and tapped his cheek. He woke up to see the devil, all worried nursemaid, and croaked, "I didn't know you cared."
The devil snorted and let his head fall. The medical team arrived and lifted him onto a stretcher. "How long is he going to be off his feet?"
"Hard to tell yet. A wound like that...at least two weeks."
Stone laughed. It was not a restful vacation, but it would piss off his employer. "Shut up." Stone started to say 'two weeks' and then coughed violently. "Shut up! You need to let that lung heal!" Stone laughed harder. He alternated coughing and laughing all the way to the hospital.
With daily visits from Mr. Roarke and the lovely Ariel and absolutely none from his boss, Stone didn't know whether to thank Grendel or curse him for the injuries he'd inflicted. He knew this much, though. When he returned to the mainland he would have to kill him. Did that make him just as much an assassin as Rose was? He let the painkillers do their work, and tried not to think on it.
