Chapter 2 - The Shattered Waltz
The impact sounded like a wet sack of flour being struck with a baseball bat.
The air blew out of Julian’s lungs in a loud, wheezing gasp. His body was lifted clean off his feet, driven backward three yards across the slick marble floor. He crashed violently into an empty banquet table, taking the linen cloth, silver cutlery, and a heavy glass vase down with him in a deafening shower of broken crystal and cold water.
The ballroom erupted into chaos. High-society women stood up on their chairs, screaming in panic. Men in tuxedos backed away, dropping their wine glasses, reaching instinctively for their pocket watch chains or cell phones.
Maya dropped to her knees on the cold tile, her hands pressed over her ears, her chest heaving as she sobbed in pure terror.
James landed on his feet, his knees absorbing the shock of the impact. He didn't glance at the groaning man buried under wet linen and broken glass. He dropped to his knees in front of the little girl.
His heavy, calloused hands—scratched and stained with dark engine grease—reached out and gently gripped Maya’s tiny shoulders.
"Maya," James gasped, his voice cracking with an agonizing mixture of exhaustion and protective fury. "Maya, look at me, baby!"
Maya pulled her hands from her ears, her tear-filled eyes wide, staring into James’s face. "Daddy?" she sobbed, her voice breaking into a violent cough. "Daddy... Uncle Julian said... Uncle Julian said Mommy is gone! He said she’s in the quiet garden under the dirt!"
Tears cut clean tracks through the dust on James’s face, but his eyes were hard as cut flint. He pulled her tiny frame against his dark grey jacket, holding the back of her brown head with his broad palm, kissing her temple repeatedly.
"No, sweetie," James whispered, his voice steady, absolute, and resonant enough to cut through the screams echoing across the hall. "No sweetie, your mother is alive."
Maya gasped, pulling her face back two inches, her wet eyelashes fluttering in shock. "Alive?"
"She’s alive, Maya. I swear to you on my life," James rasped, wiping her wet cheeks with his thumb. "They lied to you. They locked her away, but I found her. She’s coming through those doors right now."
"James... you insane bastard!" a voice spat from behind them.
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Julian Vance was pushing himself up from the ruined table. His royal blue suit jacket was soaked with cold water and stained with red wine. A streak of bright blood trickled from his split lip down his pale chin, and his immaculate blonde hair was plastered wildly across his forehead.
In his right hand, Julian gripped a sharp, heavy silver steak knife he had snatched from the fallen dinner tray.
