CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO "Good evening, little pumpkins," the Reaper intoned in what had to be the most nightmarishly evil voice Felicia had ever heard. He walked over and jerked the gag out of Felicia's mouth. "My favorite little pumpkin."
A sick feeling swept over Felicia as she recognized the voice. "No," she murmured softly, her stomach sick with dread.
The Reaper reached up and tore off his mask. "Trick or treat, Filly."
Ryan Chamberlain smiled widely.
"Bald!" Lucy was completely horrified, and she gingerly walked around her husband, looking at his gleaming naked pate. Still, she couldn't help but find her eyes wandering to the conversation that was taking place only a couple of feet away.
An equally wary Luke Spencer stared at the elderly man who had his face. True, it was older, more lined, but the eyes that met his were uncannily like his own. It was as if he was looking into the face of the man he'd someday be, and Luke was obviously uncomfortable. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked his father. Nik and Lucky remained at a discreet distance, both aware that something of more than average importance was going down.
"I live in Monte Carlo," Tim pointed out. "Been here for years. What's your excuse?"
"It's none of your damned business," Luke answered coldly. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have things to do."
"You're on my turf now, son, and that makes your business my business."
"I'm not your son."
"You looked in a mirror lately? Hell of a coincidence that we share the same face. Course, mine is prettier because my conscience is clearer."
"In your dreams, old man. Now, get out of the way."
"You want to leave this city? Go back to Port Charles? I can make it easier."
"I don't want your help. I don't need your help. You weren't around when it counted, so you can take a hike now."
"You think that I wasn't around? How about that situation in Algiers a few years ago. The one with the rugmaker and the hashish dealer that was going to cut your heart out. You thought you got lucky then, didn't you? That the guy had a fortuitous heart attack. He did, but with a little help from dear old daddy's hired hand. Or maybe the time you were in London with the wife and little boy. Remember how you eluded the hitman from Frank Smith? Who do you think offered to hide you and your family that day? I'm not as spry as I used to be, son, but I take care of my own."
Luke was speechless, then grew suspicious again. "Where were you when Bobbie and I were starving, when she took to turning tricks on the streets?"
Tim shook his head. "Taking care of my own troubles," he answered. "And your sister did what she chose to do. No Spencer has ever had to sell herself-there was always money for the asking, but I guess that Ruby hated me enough by then that she didn't tell you."
"Ruby had money from you for us?"
"She had access to over one hundred thousand dollars," Tim told him. "You just ask her."
"But Bobbie and I..."
"I know what you did. I'm proud of both of you that you managed to do as well as you have."
"Why did you leave us?" Luke asked, finally. "Why did you leave Mom? She drank herself to death after you left."
"I did what I thought best, what was safest for all of us."
"Safest?" Luke laughed bitterly. "For whom? For Mom? For your kids? It was safer to leave them with an alcoholic woman?"
"Your Aunt Ruby was supposed to take care of all that. She knew that I had to leave and why."
"So tell me why," Luke told him. "What was more important than your kids? Than your wife? I've been around a lot, and there's nothing more important to me than mine."
"Right," Tim shot back. "Which is why you've been hanging around in the mountains while your family went to Russia. Yeah, I can read the newspapers." He winked at Lucy who was stunned at what she was hearing. "Do you even know where your wife is? Or your daughter?"
Luke was mute. "Laura can take care of herself."
"Translated, 'no'. Okay, I'll tell you. She's on her way to Port Charles with your little girl, and she has no idea what she's about to walk into."
"What are you trying to tell me, old man?"
At that point, Tim's cellular phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket and flipped it open. "I told you not to bother me unless it was an emer......damnation! Marty? Yeah, that qualifies. When? You're sure about this? Any idea where she is? Holy sh**!! In Port Charles? No kidding? Damn! You think they're connected? Good point. That is strange. There's going to be hell to pay over all of this. Damn!! I should have killed that old ***** when I had the chance! I know, I know. Okay, I'll meet you in Port Charles. Lila? I see. Okay, I've got some explaining to do first. Out."
Luke watched as his father spoke, vaguely aware that there was far more going on than he'd thought. "Marty?"
Tim nodded. "An old friend of mine. Says she knows you. Says you're a good man in a fight."
"That's the Marty of WEB?"
"Yeah. Look, son, we've had some differences in the past."
"We don't have a past."
"We do-you just don't know about it."
"I don't give a damn about whatever past you think you have with me. It's over, daddy dearest. It was before it ever started. Now, get out of my face and let me get on with my life. I'm taking my sons and going home to my wife and daughter."
Tim glanced at the boys who were trying to hear everything without appearing to be eavesdropping. He smiled, as he walked over to them. "You must be my grandsons."
"Sort of," Lucky mumbled. "Name's Lucky."
"I'm Nikolas, and this is my friend, Jer."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Tim Spencer. We'll be spending some time together, so maybe we can get to know each other."
"The hell we will," Luke injected. "We're going and you're not invited."
Tim took a deep breath and told him, "Son, you aren't up to taking on Helena by yourself."
"Helena is in the looney bin," Luke told him.
"She escaped," Tim told him. "And there's the chance that she may be behind the murder in Port Charles last night."
Luke was stunned. "She's out? Who was murdered?"
"Some lady name of Kathryn Bell. Let's just say that she's a head shorter than she used to be. Apparently Ms. Bell got on Helena's bad side-along with several other people, and Helena takes her revenge seriously. Believe me, I know."
"You know?" Luke smirked. "Don't tell me that the Cassadine/Spencer feud goes back farther than I thought."
"You could say that." Tim was uncomfortable. "Let's just say that she and I go way back."
"How far back?"
"I'd rather not discuss that."
"Discuss it, old man," Luke ordered. "I've got the time."
"But not the stomach, I'll bet."
"Try me."
"There are things that you don't want to know."
Luke grinned, pleased at the way he'd made his father squirm. He puffed his cigar, and then instructed. "Daddy dearest, this is no time to be coy. Just tell me what you don't want to have to tell me and let's get it over with. I'm a big boy now. I can take some bad news."
"You'd better sit down."
"Just spit it out. I'm tired of standing around here listening to you yap."
"You really are a bastard, aren't you?"
"My parents were married, last I heard."
"You were misinformed."
That got Luke's attention. "You didn't marry my mother?"
"I did not. She was already married at the time."
"But she had your name. Lena Spencer."
"That was Paul-ena. Lena for short, and yes, I married her."
"Then what the hell are you trying to tell me? Isn't my mother Lena, too?"
"Yes and no. Not Paul-ena-Hel-ena. Helena Cassadine."
Felicia squirmed in the chair in which she was tied, trying futilely to get loose.
She wasn't certain how she'd gotten wherever the heck she was, but she knew instinctively that she was in serious trouble. Her mouth was dry from the gag, and she looked around, trying to find some means of escape. Hearing a whimper from across the room, she finally made out a figure in the gloom. Carly? Where were they and why were they there? But, before she could think more about the situation, the door to the small room creaked open, and the Grim Reaper walked in, his bloody scythe shining as the Reaper turned on the light.
