Chapter 10: The Phantom in the Woods
Julian didn't wait for Vincent to return. He slipped out through the French doors of his bedroom onto the stone terrace and disappeared into the coastal fog that engulfed the pine forest.
When Vincent returned with a fresh cup of poisoned tea and found an empty bed, he dropped the tray. The porcelain shattered on the hardwood.
"Julian!" Vincent roared, racing through the house. "Julian!"
Outside, the wind screamed through the trees, carrying the bitter salt of the incoming storm. Vincent grabbed a heavy tactical flashlight and a snub-nosed revolver from his desk drawer, sprinting out into the dark grounds.
Julian moved through the woods with absolute confidence. He knew every root, every rocky outcropping, every winding trail. He dropped his cane into a hollow stump near the clearing, stepping silently over the damp moss.
Through the fog, the sweeping beam of Vincent's flashlight cut through the darkness.
"Julian! Stop running!" Vincent shouted, his voice cracking with hysteria. "You can't see where you're going! You're going to kill yourself!"
"I can see everything, Vincent," Julian whispered into the wind, circling behind his brother’s flank.
Vincent spun around, sweeping the light across empty branches. "Who's there?!"
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A stone clattered against the rocks thirty yards to his left. Vincent fired two rounds into the brush, the muzzle flashes illuminating the mist in blinding bursts of orange. The bullets tore through bark and leaves, meeting only empty air.
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