phantom knights 04 - deceit in delaware

by Amalie Vantana

  My body tensed into a tight coil as I listened with my hand on my pistol.

  “Any more and he won’t suffer and she will have our heads,” said the same voice. “Let’s be off.”

  Their boots sounded against the hard floor as they walked down the row of crates that separated us.

  Once they walked around the corner they would see us. Glancing around quickly, I found a space between two rows of crates and guided Guinevere toward it. She slipped in and I backed into it just as the two men rounded the end and walked toward the door.

  They began to slide the door closed.

  I pulled out my pistol, prepared to halt them. Aiming the barrel of my pistol toward the man that I could see, I pulled back the hammer on my pistol.

  The snapping of ropes directly behind me had me twisting around to look. The fire had spread and a burnt rope snapped. A row of stacked barrels began to roll straight for us.

  My heart and gut lurched in synchronization. Leaping up, Guinevere and I ran down the row of crates. The barrels hit the crates behind us, the force shoving the crates into the wall.

  The door had been shut and I suspected locked as well, but I did not stop my running to check it. I had to find Sam and then I would worry about getting us out.

  The smoke on the far side of the warehouse was thick and covering the ceiling. I could see the flickering flames dancing against the far wall and the crates that were stacked there. There were eight rows of stacked crates between us and the fire, and Sam could be anywhere between them. I only hoped that he was not where the fire was burning bright, but I knew that was where we had to search first.

  Guinevere pulled two handkerchiefs from her reticule and gave one to me while she pressed the other against her mouth and nose. I held my own against my face as we ran down the rows of crates, directly toward the fire.

  The fire spread quickly, catching to the two furthest rows. If Sam was there, then he was already gone.

  “Sam!” Guinevere screamed from the edge of the crates that were not yet burnt, but it was too hot to stay there. Pulling her back, her body was shivering even though the heat overwhelmed me and made me perspire.

  We would not give up our search.

  Motioning Guinevere toward a row away from the fire, I had her search the length while I searched the unburned row closest to the fire. We began to search each row, shouting out Sam’s name as loud as we could.

  I do not know how I heard it, but about four rows down I heard a low noise like someone mumbling. I halted for a moment before shouting Sam’s name again. The smoke was overwhelming me, making me gag, but I pressed on, running down the crates toward where I thought I had heard the sound. There was a narrow opening between the crates ahead of me and something that looked like hair was sticking out.

  I pressed the handkerchief harder against my face, but the smell assaulted me, making my head light and my feet stumble. Dropping to my knees, I peered into the narrow opening. Sam’s wide eyes met mine.

  Somehow they had managed to get Sam shoved between the crates, though the space was too small for him. He was wedged in there and there was a cloth tied over his mouth. His hands and feet were tied with rope making it impossible for him to get himself out.

  Grabbing his shoulders, I tried to push him through the opening.

  A crash behind me had me looking over my shoulder. The fire was at the row behind me and moving swiftly. So much wood was like a beacon.

  Desperation overcame every other emotion. I shoved Sam as hard as I could, but I could not get him loose from the tight spot.

  “Guinevere! Here!” I shouted, but the sound was not as loud as it should have been.

  Guinevere appeared on the other side of the crates and saw Sam. I quickly signed what we needed to do and she nodded. The only way to get him out was to push him while she pulled him. Motioning for her to pull, I shoved his shoulders as hard as I could while Guinevere pulled his legs. When they were free of the crates, Guinevere quickly cut the binds around his ankles. Once his feet were free he began pushing into the floor. Guinevere grabbed on to his arm and one of his legs, got herself up to the tips of her boots, and gave the greatest heave while I pushed his shoulders. Sam’s body budged, which felt like the greatest victory, but it was momentary. I was trying not to inhale, but, with each breath that I was forced to take, more smoke entered my body, increasing the feeling of lightness and moving me one step closer to unconsciousness.

  Wrapping her arms around Sam’s waist, Guinevere pulled with all of her might, shoving her boots against the crate for support. All of him up to his shoulders broke free. Guinevere cut the binds at his hands and he shoved himself out just as the crates on the other side began to fall toward me.

  Guinevere tried to scream my name, but I was already moving, stumbling down the row of crates.

  The crash behind me sent wood flying and flames blazing up to the ceiling.

  Guinevere grabbed me the moment she reached me at the end of the crates, and the three of us stumbled toward the side door of the warehouse.

  Flames flickered into the air like hundreds of burning fireflies.

  The ceiling was creaking and I knew that if we did not get out soon the ceiling would come down upon us.

  Sam had pulled off his gag and pressed it against Guinevere’s mouth, but there was nothing against his. He was ingesting too much smoke, but he never stopped.

  When we reached the barrels, I made it over, and helped Guinevere over. The one Sam stood on to get himself over rocked and Sam dropped back, striking his head on the hard floor. He looked up at me and blinked several times before his eyes began to roll back in his head.

  Throwing down Guinevere’s handkerchief, I grabbed Sam’s waist and pulled him up. My arms tensed painfully as I pulled Sam toward the door, for Sam was a good deal larger than myself.

  My head felt light, like the detached feeling that comes with a fever and influenza. Pushing through the aching and the darkness that was on the fringe of my vision, we got Sam to the door that was covered in smoke, but where the fire had not yet reached. I did not know how I was going to get us out, but I would try everything I could.

  The fire was crackling as it burned the crates, but I refused to look behind me. At the door, I set Sam down carefully then pulled, pushed, and beat against the door. I tried shouting for help, but all my voice would do was crack. Guinevere’s voice was not any better.

  Her knees were too weak to keep her up and she dropped to her knees as if her legs were made of jam. I pounded against the door with my fist, wanting to shout, but no sounds could be heard.

  Sam began to shift, and then with a renewed strength he sat up. Dropping down before him, I felt around his head for a wound. He knocked my hands away as he glanced toward the door. I shook my head.

  Sam motioned toward Guinevere, and at once I moved to kneel before her. She looked a moment away from a panic, and I was sure that she would be crying if she could form tears.

  “I do not want to die,” she whispered.

  “Focus upon me, Constance,” I said. “Stay with me.”

  This was not the end, surely, but thoughts of our short life together filled my mind. Even though it had not been perfect, it had been the closest thing to perfection that I had ever experienced. Her brown hair was shorter than most women wore, she liked to have her own way far too often, but her purple eyes were exquisite, and her kisses could cause a fire to burn inside me. She was not perfect, but her imperfections made me love her all the more.

  Holding my wife in my arms, I knew that if we had to go, this was the only way. Together.

  The door jerked, and began to slide open. Sam, who had been trying to get the door open, stumbled as the door opened just enough for the smoke to pour outside. Sam disappeared from my view, and then hands grabbed me and pulled me outside. I tried to say my wife’s name, but nothing came out of my mouth. I looked up into my rescuer’s face and recognized my father.

  Dudley helped Guinevere out of th
e warehouse and together the five of us moved down the alley. I could hear the bells from the fire brigade before I saw the wagon arrive, but sailors were trying to fight the fire that was too far gone.

  Sam’s warehouse was destroyed.

  CHAPTER 5

  GUINEVERE

  We arrived at Bess’s house to chaos. They had heard about the fire and Abe, one of the Charleston Phantoms, was trying to keep Bess from charging out into the night. A daunting task for anyone.

  Elizabeth Mason was a woman whose unexpected beauty could overshadow a room. Her brown hair was laying in waves to her shoulders and her brown eyes were full of tears as she hugged her brother. She was tall for a woman, but it was her presence, her elegance despite her height, and her quiet self-assurance that made her truly lovely.

  She was a woman who knew what she wanted and let nothing stand in the way of acquiring her goals.

  The doctor arrived only minutes after we did. Jack tried to insist that the doctor examine me first, but I assured him, and everyone, that I was fine. Other than a sore throat, there was nothing much wrong with me.

  Sam, Bess, and the doctor went up to examine Sam before Bess had realized who had accompanied us into her house. The fact that William Martin had immediately hidden himself away in Sam’s book room had something to do with that.

  Mrs. Lacey, Bess’s housekeeper, was put to the task of finding places for all of us to sleep, but in the end only Rose, Leo, Jack and I were staying at the house. William, Freddy, Dudley, Hannah, and Mrs. Stanton were to stay at Rose’s house.

  Once they had departed, Jack and I went up to our provided bedchamber.

  Jack took me into his arms the moment we were alone.

  “If anything had happened to you…” He said nothing else for a few minutes.

  Holding him against me, I closed my eyes and soaked up his love, allowing it to chase away all of the pain, fear, and anguish from the last few weeks. He was the only person since my father had died who could chase away my fears just by holding me. Jack’s kindness and forgiving nature reminded me of my father. Tears burned my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.

  After a moment, I pulled back with a smile. “I love you, Jack, but you smell terrible.”

  A laugh tried to burst from him, but it cracked and rasped.

  “Why do I not ring for a bath, and while you wash away the grime I will read to you.”

  Jack agreed readily, for I had discovered that when I read to him he relaxed his own fears.

  The following morning, when we went down to breakfast was the first time that we were able to speak with Bess.

  After hugging her, the first thing Jack said was, “Our father is here.”

  Bess’s brown eyes turned hard, but the smile remained on her lips. “Sam has informed me. Where is he?”

  “At Rose’s house, but he means to visit after breakfast,” Jack told her.

  “Then we have at least an hour of peace.” Bess sat between me and Jack while we ate fruit, toast, jam, eggs, and Jack even consumed a sirloin of beef.

  Bess told us that Sam could only speak in rasps and had been ordered by the doctor to rest.

  “Where is Mother?” Jack asked midway through our meal.

  “She has taken Charlotte and Betsy to Washington. Charlotte was not adjusting well to being back in Charleston, though she did try.”

  Charlotte Mason, Sam’s sister, had caused a great deal of trouble for us in Savannah, and had nearly gotten Jack killed. She had placed her love and trust in the hands of a villain, and had reaped a broken heart as well as a great deal of regret.

  “That is for the best,” Jack said. “Mother will keep her so occupied that she will not have time to consider her grief.”

  “That is what Sam said when he agreed.”

  A bell rang through the house, and Bess put down her fork and pushed away from the table.

  “Time to confront the devil.” Bess snatched up a carving knife and left the dining parlor before we could halt her.

  William was standing just inside the book room when we followed Bess into the room. William looked as if he would try to embrace her.

  “You should know that if you touch me I will stab you,” Bess said to William.

  “Now we are in the basket,” Jack whispered to me before stepping between the two of them.

  When William had arrived to accompany us to Charleston, he appeared without the gray beard, and his hair was again brown instead of Harvey’s gray. He no longer walked with a limp, but he still had the scar on his cheek.

  “Elizabeth, Elizabeth,” William tsked as if he was chiding her.

  “No! You will not speak to me as if I am still your daughter. Our relationship died the day you tied me to that bed at the plantation so that your guard could attack me!” Bess’s body was shaking with a force that looked out of her control.

  “I never meant for that to happen,” William said, and I heard the sorrow in his voice, even if Bess did not.

  “You are trying to deceive me.”

  “The deception was in making you believe that I was dead. In introducing you to a man named Lucius Harvey. He was the deception.”

  Bess was taking in all of his looks, and I knew that she saw the truth.

  “How did I not know? How did I not see?” It was more of a whispered plea than a question.

  “You did not know because I did not want you to know,” William said.

  They had not known even though they had been trained to see through disguises. To read people by simple hand movements and where their eyes looked. It was true that he had changed everything about himself but his eyes.

  “You!” Bess charged toward him. I had never seen William move so quickly as he rounded Sam’s desk. “You are the reason that Andrew deserted me. You tried to kill me.” Her voice broke and she turned away from him.

  “I did not try to kill you, Elizabeth. So far from wanting it, I have gone to great lengths to stop any such occurrence.”

  Whirling around, she gaped at him. “That is a lie! You tried to hang me! How, pray tell, is that stopping my death? Or do you not know that people usually stop breathing when they are choked by a rope?”

  “I find your sarcasm unbecoming, Elizabeth.”

  “Well I find your presence absolutely abhorrent, but it seems that we cannot have everything that we want, William, or you would not be standing here now.” Bess retorted in a way that only Bess could. With the perfect amount of scathing and honesty.

  “Whom do you believe gave Silas the harness that kept you alive?”

  “Levi.” She looked as if she thought he were mad for suggesting anyone else had a hand in her rescue from the noose.

  William spoke the truth, but I would never speak up and have Bess’s wrath turned upon me.

  “Levi and I were working together. He has known about me since he came to Charleston with you.”

  “That is a lie. Levi would have told us.”

  Levi was devoted to their father, and William knew that.

  “Does my mother know?” Bess demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “How long has Jack known?” Bess turned her accusing gaze on him.

  “It was when Guinevere confessed who she was that I put the pieces together,” Jack told his sister.

  “I find that I am rather proud of you, Jack,” William said, as if that truth baffled him. “You did not need someone to come out and say the words to find the truth.”

  That drew another surge of wrath from Bess and she lunged for him again. William hurried away, placing the desk chair between them.

  “Horrible wretch!” Bess sneered at William. “At least I have always known how intelligent Jack is.”

  William had nothing to say to that. For several heartbeats the two stared at each other in a battle of wills that far surpassed any of my battles with William.

  “Tell me about it all. How you succeeded, how the Holy Order was formed, all of it,” Bess ordered.

  William compli
ed. “The Holy Order was formed after the girls and Leopold arrived. I knew that they would be searched for, and that Luther would not halt until he found them. I could not put them in the Phantoms, for, as skilled as you were, you were still children. You could not be expected to fight Luther and his guards.”

  But they had, I wanted to say, but I kept my lips compressed.

  “Pierre was a friend from England. He and his family had followed me here. Together we formed the Holy Order to protect the girls. As keeping them together was out of the question, Arabella—forgive me, Rose—was made a Phantom and Guinevere was kept in the Holy Order.”

  “All of the stories that Guinevere told us about your cruelty, are those true?” Bess asked.

  I felt my face redden and I could not meet anyone’s gaze. I had lied more than I cared to remember.

  “Most of the stories were untrue, but we are not yet there,” William explained. “I began with finding people who I could trust to help me protect the girls. It was George’s suggestion that we turn the Holy Order into a true secret society to throw any curious party off our scent.”

  George. He had always been William’s puppet, until William had no more need for him and George sought financial gain from Luther.

  William chuckled lightly. “All it took was finding the most sought after men, and they did the rest. Every man whose friends are in a club will stop at nothing to be included in said club. They did not even ask what the purpose was, so excited to be included were they.

  “Everything went smoothly, until Luther’s guards arrived. I did not believe them much of a threat when I discovered that they were not from Lutania. I thought my children, who were trained by me, could do away with them. Until they murdered Benjamin.”

  Bess’s eyes closed, and anyone could see her distress. My own chest ached at the memory of Ben. I had met him once when he came to speak with William and I had come upon them. William had lied about my identity. Shortly after that, they had left for Baltimore and Ben died. Luther’s guards had been the ones who shot Ben, Bess’s betrothed.

  “It was then that I knew that we could not go on as we were. I began to make plans on how to get my children away from the fight. Richard made my disappearance possible. But you, my daughter, failed me.”