At the end of half an hour, Charlotte’s brow was beaded with sweat, and even I was feeling hot and out of sorts. Rose moved over to help Charlotte, who had stamped her foot in frustration at least a dozen times and missed the target at least two dozen times.
I had Rose and Betsy move on to archery with Levi, but I kept Charlotte working on perfecting her skill with a knife until she was near to shouting at me in vexation. She bit down on her lip every time I knew she wanted to yell, and I was impressed with that, though her tantrums and foot stampings caused me grave doubts about her ability to do the job set before her.
After two hours of practicing and explaining, she was able to throw a knife directly at the center of the target and hit it every time. I allowed her to move on to archery, which she was good at, having done it for sport.
We moved on to defense against an attacker holding a knife. “I am going to explain this in a few steps for you to understand. Levi will act as the attacker.”
Levi’s brows lifted as he took a step back. “I value my life, let Sam play the attacker.”
Sam laughed, but stepped forward, picking up a knife with a six inch blade. He held it up; his legs slightly spread apart and his body ready to attack.
“You should know that the probability that you will get cut is very high, but the object is not to get stabbed. Step one: find something to put between you and that knife. Being a woman, you will most likely be carrying something that you can use such as a reticule, a shawl, or even a fan. When they try to stab you, you use what you have on hand to catch their arm with. Watch.” Sam stepped toward me, and I used my glove, throwing it in his face as I sidestepped him and grabbed his arm holding the knife with both of my hands; One hand around his forearm and the other around his wrist. “You should only need a second—enough time for a diversion, whether that be throwing something at your opponent’s face, or using your reticule or shawl to throw over your attacker’s hand.” I showed them what I meant by throwing Levi’s waistcoat over Sam’s hand holding the knife. “You want to get to the side of your attacker so you can grab his hand. Take the hand closest to your opponent and use that hand to grab their thumb and lift it up. You can dig your nails into their skin if need be, but pry their thumb up. Do not release your hold on their thumb. With your other hand take the top of the knife handle and force it down.” I showed them what I meant, taking the knife from Sam’s strong grip. “Then you take the knife and stab, preferably the stomach since you are closest to it.” I aimed the knife closer to Sam’s stomach, and he jerked back. I had met his eyes with a wide smile before I released his arm. “Mr. Mason, Abe, and Levi will play the attacker so you can practice removing the knife.”
I moved from group to group watching their progress and giving explanation when needed. They spent an hour practicing, until Char and Betsy had each received a few grazes from the knives, but they all could remove a knife from their attacker in a somewhat quick manner.
“Is it ever all right to run away?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes, when you know you can make it. If your attacker is trying to rob you, throw whatever it is they want as far from you as you can. No matter the situation, if they have a gun and you know you cannot defeat them, never run in a straight pattern. Your chances of escaping unscathed are a bit higher.”
We moved on to the gun table, but Sam came up beside me, saying, “Abe will explain gun safety. He is the best marksman I know.”
Levi and I glanced at each other, and Levi’s eyes were alight with amusement, but we said nothing. As the women picked up pistols, I stood back listening to Abe teach them first how to load a pistol.
When they were ready to shoot, Charlotte spoke. “I am unsure if I am doing this right. Levi, will you help me?”
Her tone was that of a flirt, but as Levi walked over to her I doubted that Levi had caught the meaning behind the words. He spent his days either following people or working in his apothecary shop in Philadelphia that my father had given him. Levi was an innocent when it came to dalliance. He laid his hand over hers and raised the pistol, explaining how to aim, how to fire.
Sam appeared next to me. “Do you need help with your pistol, Bess? I will happily oblige you.”
“I am sure you would, Mr. Mason, but no thank you. I prefer my prey before me, not beside me.”
His head fell back as he laughed. I stared at the expanse of his clean shaven neck, the tiny white lines where the sun had not burned him. Turning my attention back toward the targets, I willed my breathing to even out and stop lurching every time the man came near.
When he calmed, he asked for a few words in private. Forcing my mind to focus on training and not on Samuel’s windblown hair or the smile on his lips, we walked toward the barn. He pushed open the door for me to enter. There were some horse stalls, stacks of hay, and farm equipment in the barn, but my attention was directed toward the man standing before me.
“Mr. Mason, I am worried about Abe and Betsy,” I said, rushing through the words. “If they should ever be captured...” I could not finish what I wanted to say, but there was no need. Understanding was visible in Sam’s eyes.
“I have given that much consideration as well, but it was Abe who hit upon the solution. Betsy will act as lookout on any mission, never involving herself in the fighting.”
That relieved my mind of a great weight. Betsy could still be trained, but as a precaution only.
“Abe has shown himself to have a great understanding of disguise. Do not fear for him, Bess.”
That did not allay all of my fears, but the rest could not be recounted when Samuel’s intense eyes began searching my face, then settled on my mouth.
Breathe. He is only a man.
His eyes moved back to mine as he said, “I wanted to ask your opinion of their skill. I noticed that you kept Char on the knives for an inordinate amount of time.”
“I kept her there until she could throw a knife to my satisfaction,” I retorted. “Rose is excellent with the knife, Char is better with a bow. Betsy is good with both but prefers neither. I feel that, with more practice, they will excel. Now, if there is nothing else, I will go back to training.” I started toward the door.
“You need not worry over training them with guns. Abe and I will teach them. I know how women get around loud noises.”
My back tensed. As I turned, there was a smug tilt to his large lips. He was enjoying himself...too much.
I swung around, moving swiftly until we were toe to toe. His body went taut, and for a moment I saw confusion on his face, before it was replaced with a cocky grin. But his grin came too late. I saw how my nearness affected him.
“I assure you, Mr. Mason, that I can handle anything that you toss my way. I was, after all, trained by a true leader.” His eyes narrowed and I smiled.
“You are rather zealous about your talents, Miss Martin,” he replied in a calm, calculated tone.
“Would you care to put them to a test?” Please say yes. Please, say yes.
“Yes,” there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes, “but I think it only fair that I tell you I have been trained the same as you.”
“Excellent. I need feel no qualms when I best you. Shall we?” I motioned toward the door.
“One moment, Miss Martin. We should choose a weapon. I would not want to tire you out by challenging all of your skills.”
The atrocious man was mocking me. Keeping my face devoid of true emotion, I said, “Why not pistols? Though the loud noises are sure to be a hindrance.” I tossed him a smirk to rival his own and walked out of the barn. When I reached the others, Rose had finished firing a pistol.
“Reload, please. Mr. Mason would like to examine my skill with the pistols.” I walked over to Levi as Abe reloaded the pistols. “Have you your feathers?” Levi nodded and pulled three black feathers from his pocket, the sign of the Phantoms in Philadelphia. Since Levi was the only one left of our original team, he still carried the sign. “Fix those feathers to the center of three
targets.”
Levi looked at me in pure good humor. “Bess, what are you about?”
“Training a mule,” I replied, causing Levi to laugh as he ran over to the targets.
When Sam reached the table, I set the rules. The person who hit the center of all three feathers would be declared the winner. To make the contest more challenging, I had Abe and Levi move the targets back further. The feathers were little more than a speck blending into the targets. Sam tried to allow me to shoot first, but I refused.
“Pray, allow me the opportunity to muster my courage.”
Sam chuckled softly, but as he stepped up to the mark I had laid out, he was all business. He took his stance and raised the first pistol. The shot exploded, and Charlotte squealed as she covered her ears. Sam set down the pistol and picked up a second. He took stance, aimed, and fired at the second target, then did the same with the third. We moved to the targets to check his aim. He had hit the first feather a little to the left of center, but the second and third was center marked.
“You see what you must do to win, Bess,” Levi said to me with a knowing gleam.
Moving back to the table where Abe reloaded the pistols for me, I picked up the first. The weight felt right against my palm. I raised it, eyeing the target and the scrap of feather that I could barely discern from the rest of the target. I stared until my eyes focused on what I knew to be the center. I cocked the pistol, breathed in slowing my rapidly beating heart, breathed out, and squeezed the trigger. After firing two more shots we walked to examine the targets. At the first feather, Levi whooped.
“Dead center!” he cried before moving to the second. “And another.” At the third Levi threw his cap into the air. “Bess is the winner!”
Charlotte, Betsy, and Rose all clapped their hands enthusiastically at Levi’s excited pronouncement.
When I met Sam’s gaze, he was smiling, a perfect white teeth flashing smile that sent little tremors twisting through me. He held out his hand, and I shook it firmly.
“I concede to your ability, Miss Martin. You handle yourself with exactitude, on pistols, but what of horses?” Sam called for two mounts to be brought into the yard. We walked through the trees toward the barn.
When Shooting Star was led from the barn, I smiled. Abraham helped me to mount and handed me a whip as Sam laid out the course; from the barn, across the front lawn, down the long lane, around the old oak, and back. I tossed my hat to Levi.
Sam mounted a beautiful, black horse, but hard to control from the way he reared against the man who brought him to Sam. Sam was the master though, from the moment he took the reins in his gloved hands. Charlotte had a handkerchief out and was waving it in the air, announcing that when she dropped it the race would begin. She stood off to the side with Levi, Rose, Betsy, and Abe. She counted to three and tossed the flimsy piece of fabric into the air.
Shooting Star knew what we were doing and shot forward like a cannon ball. The large lawn was smooth and well kept, perfect for galloping over. As we reached the lane, Sam was a pace ahead. The wind whipped at my face and hair, but it added to my exhilaration.
The only sounds I could hear were the hooves thundering across the hard ground and Sam or my occasional shout of encouragement to the horses.
The lane that had taken ten minutes to drive down took no more than two to cover on galloping horses. I came up beside Sam as we reached the end of the lane. The old oak was a massive tree across the road from the lane.
My horse was on the outside for the upcoming turn and I angled Shooting Star closer to Sam. It was a great risk, but I had complete faith in Sam’s skill on a horse.
He saw what I was doing by edging him in and slowed his horse to make the turn. I rode in a swoop around the tree that was our marker, and moved ahead. I laughed, but the sound caught on the wind once it left my mouth.
Sam yelled from behind me, and that made me encourage Shooting Star on. Hearing his horse coming upon me had me pushing Shooting Star harder. The wonderful girl had more in her as I knew she did. We stayed ahead of Sam until the end of the lane, when his horse’s head appeared out of the corner of my eye. As we hit the lawn, his horse still had not pulled ahead. I saw the barn. I saw the finish. I was going to win. I was going to win...
Chapter 6
Bess
Samuel Mason was the most infuriating man of my acquaintance, but the man could ride. Our race had been very close as we soared across the lawn, but right as we reached the barn, his horse bounded ahead, and he beat me by the length of his horse’s nose.
After seeing the way he handled himself and his horse after winning, never once smirking or throwing his win before me, I congratulated him. Before we parted ways, he assured me that he would not keep me out of his investigation of the Holy Order, but he still expected an artifact.
I had in my possession five of the seven sacred artifacts of the Holy Order stolen from Levitas by my brother Jack. Pierre my French contact had given me a book that described each artifact and hinted that, together, the seven artifacts held power that only the sun could wield. The book said the artifacts were never kept in the same place for safety.
It was no wonder that Levitas had wanted the artifacts. Richard Hamilton the leader of Levitas had been a power-craving lunatic. Guinevere had been sent by the Holy Order to Philadelphia to destroy Levitas and keep the artifacts out of their clutches. She had practically told me as much when I was held prisoner by the secret society.
Den kop torden was a silver chalice with an engraving of a throne on one side and a crest of an eagle and a lion over a shield on the other. Sværd af lyn was a small sword with a silver knob handle engraved with a phoenix, and an L. Dolk af hemmeligheder was a dagger with a pure gold hilt. The blade was engraved with an eagle perched atop a throne, with the words Min herre, min Konge engraved in small script over the eagle. The book of incantations was still a mystery, since the whole thing was written in ancient Greek, and my knowledge of the language was minimal at best. The last artifact I had acquired was a black, odd-shaped object with many points and symbols engraved in gold known to me only as the black box.
The two I was missing was a ring with a raised stone and a ring shaped like a serpent that wrapped around the finger. I had a serpent ring with pure gold eyes, worn by the man who had murdered Ben, the man I was about to marry when I was sixteen, but the ring I needed had rubies for eyes.
The day after the race, Sam had not come to the house to retrieve the artifact, so by one in the afternoon, I set out in Rose’s carriage with Charlotte. Having decided to take time with each member of Sam’s team individually to determine their strengths and weaknesses, I was beginning with Charlotte, who in my judgment needed the most work. When we arrived at Sam’s plantation, we walked back to the tables that had been left up from the previous training. Abe, who drove the carriage for us, laid out a line of knives and a few pistols.
“Pick up a knife, Char, feel the weight in your hand. Allow your hand to grow comfortable. We will throw together until your throws match mine.” Counting out to three, we threw. My blade stuck in the target, but Char’s bounced off. She was not daunted and picked up another knife.
Teaching Char brought memories of my father teaching Jack and me when we were barely tall enough to see over the table. William Martin had been swift and sure when he brandished a knife, but he did not usually fight. He preferred battles of the mind instead of brawn. He understood the inner workings of a man’s mind as a scientist did. He had been murdered nearly three years ago, but his teachings would live on as long as I had breath in my body. Though I did not want to be a Phantom myself, I would pass on his wisdom to any person willing to take the time to learn.
Char could have been one of those people if she did not grow so angry so quickly. She had little control of her emotions, flitting from anger to utter joy between one blink of the eye and the next.
When I moved her on to pistols, she was huffing loudly. “But why must I shoot a gun? It is not
as if I will ever shoot someone.”
“There may come a time when you must shoot someone.” I picked up a pistol and started to load it. “In this work, one never knows the amount of danger that lurks around us. If you are not capable of defending yourself with your hands, you must be able to shoot a gun.”
“Have you ever fired at someone?” She asked, looking at me and not the weapons on the table.
“Yes, and killed him too.” I set the loaded pistol on the table and turned to face Char. “If you were facing an enemy, what would you do?”
She had a ready answer. “First I would try to reason—”
“There is no reasoning with the enemy,” I interrupted her, “if they are pointing a weapon at you. They will not give you the opportunity.”
“What if they do not mean to kill me, but to hold me captive for a price,” Char asked curiously. I could see in her blue eyes that she did not believe any such thing could ever happen to her. I was living proof that it could happen.
“I pray that will never happen to you, but if it does, you must know that the chance of escape is almost nonexistent. They will want the information that you hold. They will torture you, and once you surrender what they want, you will no longer be an asset, and they will dispose of you.” I did not want to be cruel, but reality could be cruel, and it was better that she knew what we faced in this job.
“Have—” she cleared her throat, “have you ever been ca-captured?” I knew I was frightening her, for she was stuttering, but she needed to know.
“Yes,” I replied thickly, “a few times.”
“Were you tortured?” she asked, sounding breathless.
“Once. They branded me.” Even though it had been over six months it still affected me to my core to speak about what had happened with Levitas; watching Levi be tortured, then branded.
The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) Page 5