The Rose Ransom (Girls Wearing Black: Book Three)

by Baum, Spencer

  Frankie the slave scrubbed the floors in that house until they were clean of blood. He found the computers in the attic and removed them all. He took every piece of paper he could find. He did all this because it was what Renata told him to do. And while he did it, the real Frankie watched, helpless, screaming at him to stop and look around.

  The real Frankie wanted to look at the photographs on the wall. The photos showed a family. Two adults he didn’t recognize, and a teenage girl he did.

  The girl in the photos was Nicky. He was certain of it. Celeste Nicole Allen, but everybody called her Nicky.

  His best friend in the world. His only friend, really. During all those years of hard labor on the Farm, while Frankie the slave did everything he was asked, the real Frankie took comfort in his memories of Nicky. He remembered how they looked out for each other, how they had a great time doing it. They lived amazing, wondrous lives, free to do and be anything they pleased so long as they made it back to the camper before dark.

  Seeing Nicky in the photos of that house made him want to scream. Stop! Stop what you’re doing and look! It’s Nicky! Right there in the picture! And there she is again! It’s her, I know it! Would you please just stop and look for a minute!

  But Frankie the slave paid him no mind. He never did.

  Now, free of that hideous slave version of himself, he would go back to the house where he saw the photos. He would find Nicky. They would look out for each other again.

  As he thought this through it became a second bit of truth for him, and now he had two rules to live by.

  1. I must kill everyone before they kill me.

  2. I look out for Nicky and she looks out for me.

  A boy with a giant sword was running in his direction. Frankie looked at his ax, which was tiny in comparison to the sword. He dropped the ax and reached behind him, where the spiked club was still stuck in the tree. With one tug it came out.

  The boy swung the sword at Frankie. He blocked it with the club. Then, his muscles remembering a summer many years ago when he played baseball every afternoon, he struck the boy in the chest with the club, one of the spikes going deep and killing the boy instantly.

  I must kill everyone before they kill me. I look out for Nicky and she looks out for me. I need to run.

  What was that? A third bit of info. Run? Yes, run. It was an instinct, and Frankie trusted his instincts. He saw no one else to kill so he started to run.

  But with his first step he realized the spiked club would slow him down. He tossed it aside and grabbed the ax he had started with. Then he sprinted for a break in the trees. His instincts told him this was the way to go. A break in the trees where I can see the stars.

  When he got there he looked up, and remembered nights with Nicky, the two of them gazing through the moon roof of the camper.

  That’s the Big Dipper, Nicky told him. Her arm was pointing at a collection of stars in the sky. You use it to find Polaris, the North Star. Do you see it?

  Yes, he saw it now. Looking up through the clearing in the trees, he saw the Big Dipper, and let his eyes drift up, just like Nicky taught him, until he saw Polaris.

  That star will always tell you which way is north.

  But tonight he didn’t want to go north. That house with Nicky’s pictures on the wall wasn’t north. Frankie knew which way it was because he had driven the van to get there. That house was to the east.

  A memory of Nicky drawing a four-pointed star in the sand. Nicky and Frankie were lost that day. Nicky used the sun to move them in the right direction. North, south, west, and east.

  To the right of the North Star. That’s where he needed to go. Fast as he could, he ran east. There was movement in the trees up above him, but nothing on the ground below. No one around he needed to kill. Now it was time to run. Run to the house where he saw Nicky’s picture.

  *****

  Renata was sitting in her favorite perch. An old mulberry in the center of the forest. She had planted this tree from seed on the night she moved into the mansion.

  It quit growing a little over a decade ago. Renata remembered when it happened. It was one of the great disappointments of her life. She could count on so little in her life, but she had always counted on the mulberry tree. It kept growing every year. Larger around the trunk. Higher into the sky. Wider across the canopy.

  Then it stopped. Its branches rubbing up against the oaks and elms on either side, it quit its assault on the sky. Renata remembered feeling betrayed by the tree, and in a fit of anger, she tried to tear it down with her bare hands.

  She couldn’t do it. A vampire was capable of extraordinary feats of strength, but knocking over a mature mulberry tree by hand wasn’t one of them.

  The episode provided a wonderful lesson for her. Even immortals have limits.

  If you looked hard enough, you could still see the scar on the trunk from Renata’s attempted murder of the tree. Sometimes she came out at night and stared at it. A divot in the wood, a discoloration in the bark, a reminder that the tree won.

  They liked to believe they were kings of the universe. Daciana encouraged them to think that way. But it simply wasn’t true. None of them would live forever. They liked to call themselves immortal, but they were just vampires. Vampires who got tired of living so long, who grew sick of each other, who grew restless and acted out, seeking some kind of change, any kind of change.

  “Where’s he going?” Mark Spinoza called out with a laugh.

  He was referring to Frankie, who had been the star of the show tonight. Two spectacular kills, both made with ease, followed by a crazed sprint toward the eastern fence.

  Renata leapt out of her tree and landed in the elm where Mark was sitting.

  “I’m not sure why he’s running,” she said. “He’s a little unpredictable.”

  “You didn’t teach him to run for cover?” Mark said.

  “No. I taught him to kill or be killed, but I’ve given him lots of leeway in how to do it.”

  “Fascinating,” Mark said. “He’s been just marvelous tonight. Two quick kills. Steffy’s little girl has two also. I think it will come down to them.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right,” Renata said.

  Steffy’s blonde assassin, Deirdre, was engaged in a hunt for Oscar at present. He was leading her south.

  Everyone else was dead, most having been killed in a cute little bloodbath that happened as soon as Bernadette said go.

  “Deirdre will kill Oscar,” Renata said. “Then she’ll go look for Frankie. She’ll run all the way across the forest while he stands in place, waiting for her. By the time she finds him, he’ll be rested and she’ll be exhausted.”

  “Yes, yes, I could see that happening. He’s a smart little booger, that Frankie.”

  “He’s hardly little,” Renata said.

  They laughed together.

  “Come on, Deirdre’s closing in on Oscar,” Mark said. He jumped to the next tree, and the next. Renata followed close behind. They were playful as they went, the two of them soaring as high as they could above the canopy, laughing when they landed hard, enjoying the night.

  Funny. She was going to miss this. As desperate as she was for a change to alleviate the boredom, now that she knew one was coming, she felt nostalgic for all the years gone by.

  That’s why this will be one for the ages, she thought. That’s why this has to be the best Rose Ransom ever.

  They came to a stop in a maple that hung directly above where Oscar was standing. All the other vampires were in the tree with them. Steffy, Peter, Zachias, Laura…even Sergio.

  “Here she comes, Oscar,” Laura yelled. “Stay strong!”

  “He doesn’t have a chance,” Mark said. “Look at Deirdre run. What a mean little devil you created.”

  “Yes, we really wanted her to turn into a crazy bitch when the scrum started,” said Zachias.

  Everybody laughed.

  Renata did a quick head count of the vampires in the tree. Someone was mis
sing. Was it Bernadette?

  “Hey Mark, where’s your lovely lady?” Renata asked.

  Mark looked up for only a second.

  “I dunno,” he said. “She must be over watching Frankie, waiting for the action to come to him.”

  Renata looked across the forest. She couldn’t see that far. Too many trees in the way.

  “Yeah, must be,” she said.

  “Oh, look out!” Mark said. “Deirdre’s grabbing the knife by the blade.”

  “We’ve been working on this for months,” Zachias said. “I’m so excited she’s going to try it.”

  While Oscar stood at the ready, holding out a giant spear, Deirdre cocked her arm and launched one of her knives. Flying end over end, it made a straight line through the air, coming to a stop in Oscar’s chest.

  “Yes!” Zachias shouted.

  Oscar fell to his knees. He dropped his spear. With both hands, he heaved the knife out of his chest, yelping in pain as he did so.

  Deirdre arrived a second later, and stabbed him in the throat.

  *****

  Jill was trapped in an exhausting conversation with Isabel and Gabe about which teacher at Thorndike was the worst.

  “Ms. Tenorio is pretty awful, but I’ll give you points on Mr. Holcomb,” Gabe said.

  As much as she loathed her present company, she’d rather talk about the worst teachers at school than face a barrage of questions about Nicky and Ryan’s absence. Gabe and Isabella were so drunk they had forgotten to care that one of the girls wearing black was missing.

  “At least Ms. Tenorio is cute,” said Isabel. “Dumb, but cute.”

  “You’d do her, wouldn’t you?” Gabe said.

  “Yeah, I totally would!”

  The two of them broke into a fit of laughter, Isabel laughing so hard she grabbed her stomach and doubled over. With Isabel’s huge hairdo out of the way, Jill had a straight view across the foyer.

  She saw Tarin standing behind a tree trunk. With a gentle nod of his head, he told her it was time to go.

  “Excuse me friends,” Jill said. “Nature calls.”

  She ambled across the party, heading in Tarin’s direction. As she moved, so did he, and she found herself going faster just to keep up. Tarin led her out of the foyer, and through a door on the north wall.

  She was in the ballroom now. A sea of round tables spread before a giant stage. Slaves were bustling about, laying out trays of food on long tables that lined the walls.

  Tarin stood in place, waiting for Jill to catch up to him.

  “Stay close to me,” he said quietly. “No one will question you so long as we’re together.”

  Jill walked right next to him, and together they crossed the ballroom, heading into the adjoining hallway and into the kitchen.

  Tarin moved with speed and confidence, and it seemed like all the other slaves in the house cleared out of his way. They cut through the kitchen, coming out to a sitting room on the other side. From there, they went into an art gallery, and Jill got her first sense of just how forbidden her presence was in this side of the home. Works of Van Gogh, Renoir, and Gaugin hung on the walls, each of them covered with crisscrossing laser beams, the subjects of the paintings seeming to stare down at her as she rushed across the floor.

  Security cameras propped in the corner of each room looked back and forth from above, but Tarin was always one step ahead of them. He knew when to move, when to stop, and when to duck into a corner and hide. Tarin and Jill only moved when the cameras were looking the other way.

  They came to a meeting of three hallways in a small sitting area. Tarin took her down the hall to the right.

  “No cameras in this hall, but plenty of servants pass through. We’ll be running the rest of the way,” he whispered. “Kick off your shoes.”

  “How far do we need to go?” Jill asked.

  “Just do it,” Tarin hissed.

  Jill did as he asked. As soon as her shoes were in her hand they were running, Tarin moving so fast Jill could barely keep up. On and on they went, one hallway after another, then a huge flight of stairs going down.

  They came to an underground living area with the strangest décor Jill had ever seen. Part living room, part parkour course, the space had high ceilings, a concrete floor, and lots of platforms and bars stretching the length of the walls. As they ran through it, Jill imagined Renata spending time here alone, jumping from platform to platform, hanging upside down on bars near the ceiling, being a vampire.

  They were such strange creatures.

  Tarin led her to a steel door that was locked three times over. He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and opened each padlock, starting with the one on top. When he turned the key in the last lock, the door popped with the sound of a magnetic release.

  “Wow, something special must be back here,” Jill said.

  “It’s where she sleeps,” said Tarin. “They are paranoid about being killed in their sleep.”

  “We’re going down to her bedroom?”

  “It’s not a bedroom. It’s a crypt. And yes, you’re going down there. It’s the safest place for you to work. No servants will have any reason to go down there during the party.”

  Jill looked past the door. A stone staircase in between narrow walls led into total darkness.

  “Could it be any creepier?” she said.

  “Take this,” Tarin said, handing Jill a flashlight. “Everything you need is down there. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes? You’re leaving me down there alone?”

  “I have to be seen at my post.”

  He gave her a gentle nudge, and she was on the first step.

  “Fifteen minutes. You can do this, Jill,” he said.

  Then he closed the door, leaving Jill alone in Renata’s crypt.

  *****

  Renata bounced among the trees until she was in a position to see Frankie running along the perimeter of the fence. He was magnificent. So fast for a human. Such a beautiful stride, with strength in every step.

  Frankie came to the gate on the eastern wall and shook it. He wanted to get out. Where did he want to go?

  There was enough force in his arms to make the whole fence move as he shook the gate. It was fascinating to watch. Renata had left a lot to chance with Frankie’s programming, effectively turning him into a free man the instant Bernadette yelled go. The only command in Frankie’s mind was to kill the other slaves in the scrum, something he had done with an almost elegant efficiency.

  It was just him and Deirdre now. Frankie at the gate, shaking it violently; Deirdre running at him from behind. The other vampires were gathering in the nearby trees to watch this final fight. Most of them were banking on Deirdre after that impressive knife toss she used to kill Oscar.

  But Renata wasn’t. She had faith in her Frankie.

  He let go of the gate and kneeled down to pick up his hatchet. He must have heard her coming. This was going to be a thing of beauty. Frankie took one look behind him, gauging the distance to Deirdre, and then turned back to the gate.

  “What is he doing?” Steffy said.

  Frankie lifted the hatchet high over his head with both hands, then with a single, mammoth stroke, he broke through the lock on the gate.

  Cheers and laughter broke out among the vampires in the trees.

  “Look at your boy, Renata!” Peter shouted. “It appears he’s had enough.”

  “I can’t believe he did that,” said Steffy. “One strike and he broke through a solid piece of metal. I don’t even know that I could do that in one swing.”

  “The problem is he’s ruined his ax,” said Mark. “He put a big divet in the blade.”

  “Here comes Deirdre!” Zachias yelled.

  The little blonde killer was only fifty yards away now, and once again had her knife raised as if to throw it.

  “Come on, Frankie,” Renata whispered. “Go back and kill her.”

  Frankie did just the opposite. The lock broken, Frankie
kicked the gate wide open and started to run.

  “He’s off the grounds!” Laura shouted with glee. “Has this ever happened before?”

  “Not that I can recall!” Mark said. “But I don’t think he’s getting very far. Deirdre’s winding up….and there it goes!”

  Deirdre launched her knife through the air, just as she had done to Oscar. It was a great shot, making a low arc as it flew end over end, headed right for Frankie.

  With reflexes that made Renata proud, Frankie swung his hatchet through the air and batted the knife out of the way.

  “Oh! Did you see that?” Mark shouted. “This is so awesome!”

  “She still has another knife left,” said Zachias. “And Renata’s boy is turning tail!”

  It was true. Frankie was bolting out of the grounds now, running faster than any human Renata had ever seen. The trees were more widely spaced outside of the fence and she had to plan her leaps between them more carefully. She couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun.

  “There’s a hill up ahead,” Steffy announced. “Frankie loses the advantage of his long legs on the hill. Come on, Deirdre! You can do it!”

  Steffy’s prediction proved correct. Not only did Deirdre’s shorter legs serve her well on the hill, but her shorter stature made it easier for her to move among the low-lying bramble. Within minutes, she was right behind Frankie, moving the second knife to her throwing hand.

  As if sensing her intent, Frankie darted to the left, putting a tree behind him right as Deirdre threw the knife. The blade landed in the bark with a thunk. Deirdre rushed to retrieve it.

  “No, no, Deirdre, he’s setting you up!” Zachias yelled, but it was too late. As Deirdre reached for her knife, Frankie swung around from the other side of the tree, hitting her head with the broad end of his hatchet.

  The girl’s skull made a crunching sound as it fractured. She fell to the ground, dead.

  “Yes!” Renata shouted. “I win!”

  The other vampires broke out in applause.

  “What an incredible scrum!” Mark said. “Best in years. Congratulations Renata. A well-earned victory from a most impressive specimen.”