by Rebecca King
Joe wanted to tell Marguerite to go with Ben, but if they were accosted on their journey Ben would have more to worry about than he was capable of handling right now. She had to stay with him.
“Do you think he will be alright?” Marguerite asked as she watched the smog swallow Ben.
“Come on,” Joe ordered rather than answer her. Now wasn’t the time for small talk. “We need to get moving.”
He glanced at the sign in front of the church as they passed it.
“We are in Kensal Green. The cemetery will be around here,” Joe murmured.
When the sound of horses drew achingly near, he hustled Marguerite into the darkest shadows he could find and stood protectively before her until the men on horseback passed them.
“God help him,” she whispered, aware now that they were after Ben.
Joe placed a finger over her lips and dropped his lips to her ear.
She shivered when his warm breath swept over her. It was very reassuring at the same time that it left her achingly wanting more.
“There will be more on foot.” He looked at her meaningfully for a moment and remained motionless while they waited.
One minute ticked past. Two. Three more.
Marguerite suspected she was going to go quietly out of her mind if she had to wait for much longer. Eventually, the sound of running footsteps broke the tense silence. Her eyes widened. Instinctively, her hands rested on Joe’s waist, holding him closer. His arm slid around her waist, holding her steady. Together they watched and waited.
Marguerite knew that Joe was vulnerable because his back was turned to the street but that didn’t appear to faze him at all. He merely stood in front of her, patiently silent while he waited-and waited.
She forced herself not to betray any sign of emotion, even though she trembled violently when several dark shadows appeared out of the gloom for a few brief seconds. With her eyes locked on them she watched six, seven, eight men race past, heading somewhere; she didn’t really want to know where.
Eventually, the footsteps faded completely. Rather than move as she expected him to do, Joe remained perfectly still. Her eyes met his in the gloom, silently asking the question she dare not ask.
Joe shook his head slowly. Many minutes later, two disreputable looking men crept down the street. Their eyes scoured the area around them as they followed their co-conspirators. Marguerite instinctively stepped back and ducked her head. Joe stopped her from moving too much while he kept his head protectively ducked closer to hers, effectively blocking her view of the road.
“It will be alright,” he whispered.
The fog encompassed them and wrapped them in a world that was completely their own. Nothing else existed, in spite of the dangers that lurked around them. Nothing else was as important as the two of them. His head dipped. Everything screamed at him not to, that now was neither the time nor the place, but he was drawn inevitably to her, anyway. The soft sweep of her lips gliding gently over his almost made him moan. He had to remind himself where they were, and force himself to remain on guard. It was damned difficult, though, with such temptation before him. Her lips glistened in the gloom and seemed to draw him in. They were a temptation that was impossible to resist.
Opening his mouth slightly he tipped his head and captured her soft gasp with his lips. Her gentle sigh was swallowed by his low moan as he edged closer to her. He paused for only a fraction of a second to wait for any objection she might make. When she merely leaned slowly closer, he took it as a sign of her acquiescence and deepened the kiss. His mouth ground against hers, branding her as his in a way that encompassed her and commanded her to deny him nothing. Of course, she couldn’t. She allowed him to plunder, slightly worried about her own brazenness, and where it might lead them, especially at such a pressing time. All of that didn’t really matter right now. She needed this gentle reassurance, this silent plea for her trust, and she couldn’t deny either of them.
How long they stood there for was impossible to tell but it was an age before Joe decided to release her. With one last lingering kiss, he slowly lifted his head.
“We need to go,” he whispered.
Before she could draw a breath much less protest, he caught her hand in his and dragged her after him. She was still reeling from the force of his kiss and the emotions they had awoken within her when they crossed the road and passed between two large, stone pillars.
In a daze, she glanced up at the ironwork on the display sign above them.
“I am not going in there,” she gasped suddenly, her eyes wide with fear.
“We are,” Joe argued flatly. “It is the only place we can go. Now move, because we don’t have the time to be squeamish about this.”
Marguerite shivered and was suddenly grateful for the warmth of the cloak she gathered carefully about her.
“What is it?” she whispered when she sensed the tension in Joe. His hand had tightened considerably upon hers. He was tense and watchful in a way she had never seen before. When he turned to look at her she gasped at the coldness in his eyes. It made her world all that much more fearful, and she looked at him with renewed wariness.
“There is something wrong. Really wrong,” he whispered. All of his instincts were screaming at him that this was a trap. He had no idea how Sayers had managed it, but he knew, deep in his gut, that he had been herded in some way toward this point.
“Good God,” he murmured, impressed in spite of himself, and horrified in equal measure.
Marguerite sighed impatiently. It was really starting to grate on her the way he stared off into the distance, as though in a secret world of his own, and then muttered things like that. She always felt as though she was playing catch up, which living in a world she didn’t understand.
“Would you tell me what is wrong?” she demanded through clenched teeth.
“We have been set up,” he whispered.
Her eyes rounded. “What?”
“Keep your voice down,” Joe urged her. “We have been shepherded here.”
He wondered now if someone had been on the back of the carriage, or nearby somehow and had overheard him and Ben’s conversation. Either way, Sayers’ men knew exactly where he and Ben were going, and what they had planned to do as they were doing it. That angered Joe. More than anything, he hated to be set up for anything, and his temper began to stir.
Marguerite threw a furtive glance around them.
“What is it?”
“Have you ever fired a gun before?” Joe asked. He prayed she was going to say yes.
“Me? Never.” She shook her head vehemently and began to back away when he withdrew a small pistol from his cloak pocket.
“You need to carry it. It only has two shots in it so use them wisely. Whatever you do, if anything happens do not scream.”
“Why?”
“Because more of their kind will know where to find you,” he whispered. “It is best to remain silent, and out of sight if you can. If we get split up, just find a huge stone to sit behind in the farthest corner of the graveyard and wait for me to find you. Don’t look up, don’t move, and don’t panic. Stay exactly where you are. They aren’t likely to bother with you all that much, and will most probably think you have left the graveyard because you are squeamish. I will find you, Marguerite, I promise.”
Marguerite stared at him in dismay. She had no reason to doubt him but did doubt that she could stay in such a god awful place on her own. It was bad enough being in Kensal Green Cemetery by herself in the daytime but in the fog, it was a thousand times worse. It was dark, eerie and full of dead people.
“I want to leave,” she whispered.
“We will, but we can’t go that way.” He pointed to the stone pillars they had just passed through, to the tall, darkly garbed man standing directly in between them.
Marguerite gasped. Her stomach fell to her toes as she studied that macabre sight. The man didn’t move or even twitch but merely stood sentry-like, blocking anybody’s entrance or exit.
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Joe studied the graveyard they had to traverse to get out of there. While at the time it had seemed like a good idea to come here, he realised now just how stupid he had been. Of course, someone like Sayers would pre-empt him. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that the gravestones were perfect objects for anybody to hide behind, especially if they were trying to avoid detection, or were being chased.
Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Joe sighed. There was little he could do about it now. They had to go deeper into the cemetery because he suspected that the man blocking their exit had several gunmen waiting nearby.
“What are you doing?” she whispered when he pressed the handle of the cold metal gun into the palm of her hand.
“You have to have this. Don’t be afraid to use it. Put your finger on the trigger like this.” He explained how to cock it and shoot it should she need to. “But make sure you know the man you are shooting is a stranger. I don’t want a bullet in me before we get out of here. Don’t, under any circumstances, shoot wildly at anybody who appears before you.”
“I can’t use it,” she protested trying to hand it back to him, but he refused to take it. She didn’t want the thing in her hand. It was evil and as cold and horrid as the cemetery they were in.
“You have to keep it, and will use it if you need to. Look, I don’t have the time to argue with you about this. We need to get out of here. Our chances of doing so alive reduce the longer we stand here discussing it.” He made no attempt to keep the impatience out of his voice and waited, albeit briefly, for her to argue.
Although his face betrayed no sign of his growing concern, he furtively watched a solitary figure appear from behind one of the headstones and scuttle across the graveyard to stand behind a large obelisk. He turned in time to watch a second figure dart through the stone pillars they had just passed through, straight past the sentry keeping guard.
Mentally plotting the layout of the cemetery, Joe eyed their surroundings. There were several paths here and there, but most of them led back to the main road which ran from one end of the cemetery to the other. It would be better if they just stuck to the main road, but then that was undoubtedly what Sayers’ men were hoping.
“We need to keep off the main road, but move far enough back so that we pass by the men lining the road watching out for us.”
“Are they?” she squinted through the darkness but couldn’t see anything.
In spite of herself, she had to wonder if he was being honest with her. She couldn’t see anything unusual apart from the man in the entrance but what was to say that he wasn’t waiting for someone? When she looked at him more closely, though, the gun he held in his hand became evident. Her gaze dropped to the gun she held loosely in her own hand. She knew then that it was better if she kept it.
“We have to avoid an ambush,” he murmured.
If they were ambushed, he would be as good as dead, and Marguerite would be left to the not so tender mercies of the iniquitous Sayers.
“Brace yourself,” Joe murmured. “We need to go that way but, whatever you do, don’t speak.”
With his colleagues, he would now resort to using hand signals. It was impossible to do that with Marguerite, so he pressed a finger to his lips in silent warning before he ushered her quietly around the man crouched behind a crypt. He saw Marguerite’s eyes widen at the sight of him, but thankfully, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she sidled closer to him and stayed close behind as they ventured deeper into the graveyard.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Because the cemetery was in the middle of London, it was littered with gravestones and crypts which loomed out of nowhere and threatened to trip them up if they didn’t keep a wary eye out. They carefully picked their way in a seemingly random direction from one gravestone to another, using the fog and stones as cover. Marguerite’s heart was hammering so wildly that she wouldn’t have been surprised if it popped right out of her chest. She couldn’t hear anything beyond its wild tattoo, but she suspected Joe felt every tremor. He, meanwhile, appeared completely unperturbed by the entire fiasco.
“Rest for a minute,” Joe whispered when they had reached what appeared to be a crossroads.
The silence within the graveyard was strangely sinister now, and it had nothing to do with the fog. There was an air of expectancy about that warned her everything could change in a second if someone made one wrong move. Rather than being the final resting place full of peace and tranquillity, it had rather dangerous undertones which were faintly alarming.
“How many of them do you think there are?” she whispered when the flurry of movement captured her attention to her left.
It was a long way off and heading in the opposite direction, which was reassuring, but she suspected it wouldn’t be long before they began to draw closer.
“I don’t know. It is hard to tell in this smog. We need to keep moving.”
“Where to?” she demanded.
“I know of somewhere we can go where it is quiet safe,” he said noncommittally. “Let’s go.”
They had no sooner left the sheltered protection of the crypt when the loud boom of a gun exploding shattered the silence. Marguerite instinctively ducked, and bit back a scream when a headstone nearby exploded in a shower of dust.
“Get down,” Joe barked. He ducked low and dragged her after him as he raced to put some distance between them and the gunman.
“Why is he not chasing us?” Marguerite gasped when she glanced over her shoulder and saw the motionless gunman standing in the middle of the road.
Joe mentally swore. “There are more of them around here who will finish the job off for him. He doesn’t have to waste his own shot.”
“What?” Marguerite yanked hard against his restraining hand in an attempt to get him to stop.
Joe hesitated.
It was that brief moment of hesitation that saved his life.
The gravestone at his hip suddenly exploded but, unlike last time, rather than the gunfire stopping, several shots followed which seemed to come from all directions. All of them hit the gravestone he should have been standing behind, one after the other, until it began to disintegrate beneath the force of the pummelling.
“Run,” Joe barked, yanking Marguerite off her feet.
They raced, hand-in-hand, around the cemetery, using the gravestones as cover, until they were at the farthest edge of the graveyard and far away from the main road.
“Now get down,” Joe ordered quietly.
“How do we get out of here?” Marguerite cried.
“We are going to take some of them out and then creep around the perimeter. The exit isn’t too far away now so it won’t take us long to get free of this lot.”
Marguerite shivered and fought the urge to cry as she contemplated the possibility they might be hemmed in.
Joe caught sight of a darting shadow several feet away and pulled the trigger of his gun. He didn’t need to brace himself to get a steady shot. He was a good enough marksman to hit his target, whose cry of pain was loud before he fell to the ground. It brought a temporary ceasefire-for a few minutes at least.
“Get up and run!”
Joe winced when each gravestone they passed exploded in a shower of dust but didn’t stop. From gravestone to gravestone they made their way to the exit. Joe prayed that nobody would be blocking that one, but if they were, had no qualms about shooting them out of the way. Not now. Not when their situation was so desperate.
When one of the gunmen broke cover, Joe pointed his weapon and shot him. The dull thud was the unknown gunman hitting the gravestone as he fell assured him that he had brought them a few precious moments. He didn’t bother to stop while he reloaded but nudged Marguerite closer while he dug around in his cloak for more shot.
“Over here, look,” Joe murmured as he nudged her toward a large crypt. “Wait here a minute. The gate is down there, look.”
Marguerite studied the gate now several feet away. With the tall trees lining the peri
meter of the graveyard it was impossible to tell if someone was waiting for them out on the street, but it was a risk they had to take. They were in more danger staying in the churchyard.
“Jesus, how many more are there?” Joe grunted when two more men briefly revealed their positions.
“Just shoot them,” Marguerite gasped, but then closed her mouth with a snap when Joe threw her a rueful look.
“I didn’t realise you were bloodthirsty,” he murmured.
“I am not. I just don’t want to end up like these poor people,” she replied with a nod to the gravestones they stood amongst.
“Fair point,” Joe replied.
Taking another shot, he picked off one of the gunmen and focused his aim on the other. Suddenly, the entire graveyard came alive to the sound of gunfire which made her ears ring, and her fragile bravado shatter. To her horror, she sensed movement just a few feet away. Her eyes widened. A scream locked in her throat. Her horrified gaze fell upon a gunman, his face contorted with venom as he surged toward her.
Marguerite wanted to call for Joe but her mouth wouldn’t work. Instinctively, she lifted the gun that now burned in her hand. It was her only defence because the man was twice her size and ten times meaner. Scrunching her face up in horror, she squeezed her finger on the trigger just like Joe had shown her. The violent jerk of her arm together with the loud boom it made left her quivering in fear. She watched in horror as a round patch of blood blossomed directly in the centre of the man’s chest. He looked at her with wide eyes before his gaze dropped dully to his chest in disbelief.
Without a murmur, he fell to the ground. He didn’t get up again.
“Behind you,” Joe warned.
Marguerite whirled around. Joe was too busy reloading his gun to help her. Closing her eyes, she lifted the gun with a shaking hand and pulled the trigger again.
The loud bang of it exploding didn’t bring her any reassurance, but it had the effect she needed. When she opened her eyes, the space where the man had been was now empty. She didn’t bother to look for him. She didn’t care where he had fallen as long as he wasn’t chasing after her.