At that moment, one of the women, the red-haired one who had been sitting closest to Laurent, finally snapped.
"Aaaaah!" Her scream tore through the entire building.
"He killed him! He killed him!"
The rest of the girls jumped up at once. Their cries blended into a single panicked, piercing wail. They rushed for the door, shoving and stumbling over one another, half-naked, hair disheveled, mascara streaking down their faces.
One fell to her knees and tried to crawl. Another slammed into the doorframe but still burst into the corridor, still screaming:
"Help! Murderers! He's dead! Laurent is dead!"
The screams quickly faded down the hallway, echoing throughout the mansion.
Flash didn't even turn his head. He was already rifling through the desk drawers with cold, professional speed, yanking one open after another, sorting through papers, completely ignoring the chaos.
"Faster," he called over his shoulder to Ethan.
"They're about to raise the whole guard."
Ethan stood by the armchair, still staring at Laurent's dead body. The stake in his hand was slowly returning to normal, but the black lines on his shoulder continued to pulse, as if they had just received a fresh surge of power.
Flash pulled a thick leather folder from the top drawer, quickly flipped through it, and tossed it aside. Then he opened the bottom drawer and froze.
"Got it," he said quietly.
In his hands was an old, worn photograph in a simple frame. He brought it closer to the light of the desk lamp.
The photo showed a young Maria.
She stood between two men. On the left was Gérard, still quite young, wearing a white lab coat, his face tense and almost fanatical.
On the right was a tall, imposing man in an expensive dark suit. His face was instantly recognizable from descriptions and old pictures.
Michael.
He looked straight into the lens with a cold, confident smile. One hand rested almost tenderly on Maria's shoulder.
Maria herself looked happy, long dark hair, a light dress, her eyes shining. She was smiling the same way she had smiled at Ethan during their meetings.
Flash silently handed the photograph to Ethan.
"Look."
Ethan took the photo with a trembling hand. His gaze slowly moved across the faces. Maria… Gérard… and Michael, all three together like one family.
"She… was smiling," Ethan said softly, almost soundlessly.
"She was really smiling…"
Meanwhile, Flash continued rapidly searching the desk. He pulled out several more documents, old notes, diagrams, sealed letters. Some were covered in Laurent's small, neat handwriting.
"There are mentions of plague energy here," Flash muttered without looking up.
"And about our magic box that Maria left behind. We're taking everything and we'll sort it out later."
He swept the papers into a small leather bag that had been lying on the desk and fastened it shut.
The women's screams were already coming from somewhere far down the corridor on the lower floor. Somewhere deep in the house, doors began slamming and the heavy footsteps of guards could be heard.
Flash slammed the last drawer shut and turned to Ethan.
"That's it!"
Ethan was still staring at the photograph. His fingers clenched so tightly that the old cardboard gave a slight crack.
"She wasn't a victim…" he whispered.
"She was part of all this… so why do I still want to save her…"
Flash put a hand on his shoulder.
"Later. Right now we have to run."
Ethan nodded slowly, slipped the photograph into his pocket, and gripped the black stake tighter.
They moved toward the door. Behind them remained Laurent's dead body in the blood-soaked armchair and the now-empty living room where the forgotten saxophone was still playing.
They burst out of the living room and raced down the second-floor corridor.
"Faster!" Flash barked without looking back. "To the back door!"
They ran down the main staircase, leaping over the steps. Ethan held the black stake with both hands.
They had almost reached the back corridor when the attack hit Ethan.
It was like a punch to the gut.
The voices inside the stake exploded all at once, and there were even more of them now. Among them, a new, mocking, and cold voice stood out clearly, Laurent's.
"You're ours!"
"You belong to us now!"
"You're not going anywhere, boy!"
"We're inside you… we will always be inside you!"
The voices screamed, talking over one another, laughing, howling, begging, and threatening. They tore at his mind.
Ethan stumbled, took two more steps, and dropped to his knees right in the middle of the corridor. The stake hit the wooden floor with a dull thud.
"Aaaah.." a hoarse groan tore from him.
Faces flashed before his eyes, hundreds of nameless souls. They reached for him, grabbed at his clothes, crawled into his mouth, eyes, and ears.
"You are our home now…"
"Release us or we'll devour you from the inside!"
Ethan clamped his hands over his ears, but it didn't help. The voices sounded directly inside his skull. He doubled over, pressing his forehead to the floor, and growled through his teeth.
"Ethan!" Flash was instantly beside him. He grabbed him under the arms and hauled him back to his feet.
"Not now! We're almost out!"
Ethan could barely stand. His legs shook, black spots swam before his eyes. The black lines on his arm had already climbed all the way to his shoulder and were continuing toward his neck.
"They're… screaming…" he rasped.
"Laurent… he's in there too… saying I'm theirs now… that I'm not going anywhere…"
"I know," Flash replied harshly, supporting him with one arm.
"Move your legs. We have to get over the fence!"
"Come on!"
Flash dragged Ethan along whenever he started to stumble. The corridor ended, and they burst through the back door back into the garden.