Chapter 9 - The Final Inheritance
"He thinks we're inside," Julian whispered, standing beside Clara in the shadow of the waterfall, his eyes locked on his brother's silhouette. "He thinks he just finished what he started twenty-two years ago."
"We have to go to the police," Clara said, her voice shaking as she wrapped her arms around her mother to keep her warm. "We have the coordinates from the medallion. We have the proof."
"The police won't stop him, Clara," Julian said, turning to look at her with an absolute, lethal clarity in his eyes. "Arthur owns half the judges in this district. He has spent two decades building a ghost empire. If he leaves this ridge tonight, he will disappear forever, and he will spend the rest of his life hunting you and your mother down one by one."
Julian reached down and unbuckled the heavy leather belt from his waist. He wrapped the buckle securely around his right fist, turning it into a makeshift brass knuckle.
"Julian, no!" Margaret cried out, reaching for his arm. "He's armed! He has a rifle!"
"He has a rifle," Julian agreed, his voice dropping into a chillingly calm tone. "But he thinks he's fighting ghosts. It's time he learned that ghosts can strike back."
Without another word, Julian stepped through the curtain of falling water, climbing the steep, slick rocks of the ravine with silent, predatory grace.
Clara looked at her mother. "Stay here, Mother. Lock the tunnel grate from the inside if I don't come back."
"Clara, wait!" Margaret pleaded, but Clara was already scrambling up the muddy bank behind Julian, her black maid dress tearing against the sharp rocks and brambles.
At the top of the ridge, Arthur Blackwood lowered his rifle, letting out a low, gravelly laugh as the roof of the timber cabin caved in with a shower of sparks.
"Rest in peace, brother," Arthur sneered into the night air. "Thanks for keeping my seat warm."
"You always were bad at math, Arthur," a voice echoed from the shadows behind him.
Arthur spun around, raising the rifle to his shoulder, but Julian emerged from the pine trees like a fury forged in fire. Julian swung his belt-wrapped fist with all the built-up rage of twenty-two stolen years, striking the barrel of the rifle and knocking it wildly off target.
The rifle discharged into the night sky with a deafening BOOM.
Julian tackled Arthur to the muddy ground, the two brothers rolling down the embankment toward the edge of the burning wreckage. They fought like animals, punching, clawing, and wrestling for control of the weapon in the blinding heat of the roaring fire.
May you like
Arthur managed to push Julian off, his scarred face twisted in a murderous rage as he drew a long hunting knife from his belt. "You were always the weak one, Julian! You spent twenty years crying over a girl while I built an empire!"
Arthur lunged forward, thrusting the blade toward Julian's chest.
