The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2)

by Amalie Vantana

  “I have something I need to say, and if you want to turn me over to the proper authority after I have had my say, I will not fight you.” She inhaled and exhaled before plunging into speech. “When I first worked for the Holy Order, they were not dangerous people. They rendered good deeds, sending food supplies to the army during the war, rebuilding churches and homes, giving money to the poor, they showed true charity. Then, the leader decided that he wanted more.

  “He formed a true secret society, separate branches; Levitas in Philadelphia being one of them, and with each branch, his greed for power grew. He started sending me out to collect payment from people who could not afford to pay, and then he would have unspeakable things done to them. I had no choice, for he held something of mine that I could not lose. But, I cannot continue, not with what they plan to do.”

  She looked down to her clasped hands, and my heart ached for her. She had only twice before shown any vulnerability that she felt; when I went to propose and when the Phantoms captured Levitas, and I let her go. “I tried to save Bess, but they captured her before she could get away.”

  Her eyes rose to meet mine. “I know that I have led you on a chase that seemed without an end, and you have no reason to trust me, and I would not fault you if you hated me, for I know that I have lost your love by my deceptions, but I mean to help you. I will take you to Bess, today.”

  Rising, I moved toward her, but did not touch her though it pained me to keep my hands at my sides. “I do not hate you, Guinevere.”

  She would not look at me as she spoke, her voice filled with despair. “How can you not? I have betrayed you, your family, I have lied, and I shot you, Jack. How can you not hate me?”

  “Are you trying to make me hate you?”

  She did not speak but shook her head.

  “Are you planning to betray me again?”

  “No!” she replied vehemently.

  A tear slipped from the corner of her right eye. I could take the space separating us no longer. I moved, slipping my arms around her, pulling her against me until my head was resting against hers.

  “Have you never heard, ‘Love covers a multitude of sins’?”

  “First Peter, the fourth chapter,” she murmured against my coat, “now the end of all things is at hand, therefore, be sober, and watch unto prayer, and above all things have fervent love for one another: for this love will cover a multitude of sins.”

  Smiling, I kissed her hair above her right ear. “So is my love for you, especially when we are facing the end of the Holy Order.”

  “I love you, Jack, and though I can never apologize enough, know that I regret every moment of every day that I betrayed you.”

  “You have my forgiveness,” I said before kissing her. It was neither as long or as passionately as I longed for, but there were too many prying eyes in Sam’s house.

  She and I walked hand in hand toward Sam’s house. We neither of us spoke as we entered the book room through the tall window.

  Sam was there, hunched over a map. He glanced up, and when he saw Guinevere, he straightened.

  “Guinevere has come to offer us her aid. She will lead us to Bess.”

  “Why should we believe you,” Sam asked her, his eyes filled with the intensity that he usually only directed at Bess. He was rather intimidating like that.

  “You should not,” Guinevere replied evenly, “for I have given you no reason to do so, but I am your only hope of rescuing Bess in time.”

  Sam’s sharp gaze turned menacing, “In time for?”

  Guinevere held her back straight as she said, “The Holy Order means to kill Bess.”

  Sam shot forward, capturing Guinevere’s arm. She winced but did not cower.

  “If you lead us astray, you will not escape my wrath, and I assure you it is a fate worse than any the Holy Order can hand down.”

  I gripped his arm. “Release her, Sam.”

  Guinevere’s chin rose as she looked up at Sam. “I would expect nothing less.”

  Sam looked at me, and I held his fierce gaze with my own. He released her arm and stepped back. She rubbed her arm, and I saw tears in her eyes. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I guided her to a chair before Sam’s desk. I pulled the other chair closer to her, sitting beside her.

  “I will give you the address and meet you there, but if I do not return within two hours, they will know something is not right.”

  “You are not going back there!” I said.

  “I must, Jack,” she said, holding my gaze.

  “Where is she, Guinevere? Where is Bess?” Sam asked softly.

  “I would have thought you would have guessed, for I made sure to announce Moncks Corner loud enough for those sailors to overhear.”

  “She was not there, nor has she ever been,” Sam said.

  “That is true, she is not there, but where does that road lead you, Mr. Mason?”

  Sam stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing into two slits, before closing as his face contorted in a look of complete pain. “How did I not see this?”

  He whispered to himself, but Guinevere replied, “Because it was the last place you would ever consider.” Guinevere leaned forward in her chair, resting a hand on the edge of the desk. “The Holy Order is at your plantation.”

  Chapter 22

  Bess

  For two whole days, I was kept in darkness, only allowed a hint of light when Silence removed the cloth, so I could use the chamber pot and eat. I had tried repeatedly to get some answers from Silence, but he was as good as his name. He would not speak to me about what he had said about fear, about what was happening outside the house when I heard men shouting, or where Harvey was. I demanded several times to see Harvey or Guinevere, but neither came. I had a feeling that Guinevere did not want to try to help me again, and that was why she stayed away—preserving her own neck.

  Over the last few days in the darkness, I had thought about my mother and the grief she would feel when she discovered that her friend was not only behind capturing her daughter, but also Richard’s appointment. Richard had murdered my father, poisoning him when he discovered my father disguised as one of the members of Levitas.

  I also thought about Jack and how he must be going out of his mind knowing that I had been captured again. Jack had wanted me away from the Phantoms. He had thought he was offering me a way in Andrew, and when all of that was ruined, Jack blamed himself.

  Jack was always blaming himself for the hurts that happened to me, even though they were never his fault. Sure, his misguided attachment to Guinevere had blinded him to her cruel nature, but so had we all been blinded. I had been blinded to my incompatibility with Andrew, because I was so focused on what I wanted. I allowed the hurts from my past to keep me from opening my heart to Sam, and when I did accept what I was feeling, I never told him. That was my largest regret facing my sentence. That I never told Sam that I love him.

  He had expected me to leave him when I had heard about his past, which showed me that he and I were so much alike. We did not expect those we cared for to love us, and when they did, we could not fathom why. But, secretly, we basked in that love, allowing it to keep us fighting to protect not only the good of our country, for it was good, but also to protect those who loved us. We never wanted them to be ashamed of us or to regret that they had placed their faith in us. If—when—I saw Sam again, I was going to tell him, and if he did not return my love, then I would wait for as long as it took.

  On the day that my sentence was due to be carried out, I heard Silence enter my prison chamber with my morning meal.

  “How long now, Silence?” I asked. My head turned toward where I knew the door to be. I had tried to speak to him every time he came, but he never replied.

  The door closed, and something inside my chest clenched. Silence always left the door open.

  “Not long now,” said a voice that did not belong to Silence.

  Fear tightened my muscles until they would not move, and my
heart was trying to beat its way away out of my chest and away from the man standing beside my bed. I wanted to say something, but my voice would not work, it was locked up like the rest of me. A large hand touched my leg, and my body unlocked with a spasm. I tried to pull away from him, but I could not.

  “Do not touch me!”

  His large hand hit my mouth, covering it and shoving the cloth against my nose and mouth. I threw my head side to side. Another hand came down hard on my forehead, holding my head still against the pillow beneath me. Breathing was almost impossible, and I was beginning to panic. I tried to bite his hand, but I could not get a hold through the cloth. My back and chest were the first to begin shaking, and I could not stop the frantic movements as they spread.

  “Fear; I like that,” he said, near to my head. “I am going to remove this bag, for I want you to see me when I do this.”

  Please, please, someone...

  He pulled the cloth away. I screamed as loud as I could, but it was only a second before his hand clamped over my mouth again. He growled, and the smell of his breath, like death and garlic, nearly made me cast up my accounts. I choked down the rising bile. Tears were stinging my eyes, and he smiled when one fell down the side of my face.

  He knelt on the bed, and his free hand started fumbling with his trousers. I looked away, a trail of tears falling from my eyes. My body was shaking violently as I thrashed my legs, and pulled on my arms, but the bonds were too tight. Flashes of another time, of a different man, caused a pitiful moan to escape me. It was happening again, and I knew I could not escape this time.

  He laughed at the sound that came from me. My teeth were chattering, but I tried to bite him again, moving my mouth around until I at last caught some of his fleshy palm. I bit down as hard as I could, and tasted his blood in my mouth. He yelped as I dug my teeth in. He struck my temple with his fist. Releasing his palm, black flashes clouded my vision. His hand left my mouth, and I screamed again. He hit my cheek, and my head swung to the side before righting itself. His other hand clamped on my mouth as his injured hand became frantic, pulling at my dress. I thrashed, throwing my body and making the bed shake, but the posts did not budge. I caught his flesh and bit him again. He cursed, but did not release me as he pulled the skirt of my dress up. He knelt on the bed, his legs on either side of mine, and I screamed through his hand. I felt his rough hand on me, but I continued screaming and trying to get away. The fear tearing through me was the absolute worst kind. My chest was too tight; my mind shut down thinking about anything but escaping. Yet, I knew there was no escape. I was helpless. I was defeated. I knew what was about to happen and there was no way to save myself.

  As he knelt down, pressing his chest against mine and holding my head so that I had to look at him, he said, “Not so dangerous now, are ya? I’m gonna break ya, then I’m gonna watch as ye hang.”

  I felt the cool air of the room on my legs, knowing this was it. My chest was convulsing in sobs, and I could not see through the tears pouring from my eyes.

  The door flew open, slamming against the wall. Turning my head, I blinked several times until I could see. Guinevere was standing there, her purple eyes wide and her face a mask of wrath. It was like looking upon a stranger whom you knew by one glance that they were dangerous.

  “Get off her, you scum!” Guinevere demanded.

  The guard released my mouth, straightening up then climbing off me. A sob burst from me. My body was shaking so violently that I thought I might faint from the pain.

  “I knew ye were a traitor,” he sneered at Guinevere.

  “Indeed, and when did you discover that? Before or after you tried to rape me?”

  He spewed curses at her, but she was looking at me. She smiled sadly, then threw herself at the guard. Unable to see them through my tears, I leaned over and wiped my face on the pillow then looked back, in time to see the guard strike Guinevere a horrible blow to the face. She went down like a stone sinking in a pond.

  “Guinevere!” I screamed.

  The guard looked at me, but he did not move toward me, for General Harvey appeared in the doorway, his eyes quickly taking in the scene before him.

  Harvey moved faster than he should have been able with his weak leg. He reached the guard, grabbed his throat, and threw him across the room. The guard hit the wall as Harvey stared down at Guinevere for a moment before moving to my side. His finger brushed against the stream of my tears, and I threw myself to the side, crying out. I did not want him to touch me, ever.

  Harvey’s face contorted into a look of pure, full rage. He turned, but the guard had made it to his feet and was running out the door. Harvey ran after him, passing Silence who appeared in the doorway.

  One glance was all it had taken before Silence was beside me. I yelled horrible words at him as his hand came toward me. He pulled down my skirt, not touching my legs. He moved swiftly, untying me from the bed. When the last rope was pulled away from my skin, I rolled off the bed, dodged away from Silence’s outstretched hand, and moved to Guinevere. Kneeling beside her, I pushed the blonde hair of her wig away from her eyes.

  Her mouth opened, and she whispered low so only I could hear her. “Run.”

  Rising, I moved around Silence as he reached out for me, and ran out of the room. Harvey and that guard had turned left, so I turned right and ran down the back stairs two at a time. Throwing open the door at the bottom of the stairs; there were servants in the small hall, but they did not try to stop me. I knew how to get free from the house. Once outside, I leapt from the porch, stumbled a few steps, but stayed on my feet. My body was convulsing, but my feet kept moving, running, pushing myself hard, to continue on.

  The barn was the closest building, so I ran toward it, knowing that my freedom was stabled within its walls. The door was right before me, when I was tackled from behind.

  Arms wrapped around me, rolling us as we landed on the grass. My only thought was getting free. Escaping. I went wild, throwing my elbows, hands, legs, kicking, punching, and doing anything to get free. Scrambling to my feet, I shot forward. A hand wrapped around my ankle, and I was pulled back, tripping and landing on top of Silence. He released a grunt, but his arms wrapped around me, holding me. I threw my elbow into his stomach, threw my fist against his jaw, and raked my nails down his face, but he did not fight back. He kept his hold on my waist. Reaching for his eyes got him to fight back. He released my waist, and I crawled away on my hands and knees. I rose to my feet, but he shot up faster. He reached for me, but I eluded his grasp, my fists up, I was ready for a fight.

  A sharp, guttural cry came from the house, and I glanced toward it. It cost me, for Silence was on me, wrapping his arm around my waist and holding me against his chest. I would have fought him, but I could not pull my gaze from the scene unfolding before my eyes.

  Harvey kicked the guard who had attacked me, and he fell forward, his face streaked with blood. Harvey landed on the guard’s back, and the man screamed out. There was something in Harvey’s hand that I could not see clearly, until he raised it. It was a brick.

  “Do not look,” Silence said, but it was too late.

  The brick came down against the back of the guard’s head and then again, and again. Harvey kept hitting him, shouting words that my mind refused to hear for the gruesome thing Harvey was doing.

  All across the lawn people were watching with the same looks of fear and horror on their faces. When Harvey finally stopped, it was not from any sense of guilt at what he had done. I could see the way he could no longer raise his arm. He stood in one fluid motion, and turned, staring straight at me. I gasped, backing against Silence’s chest.

  Harvey’s hair and beard were no longer gray, but red. His face was a mixture of pale white and red splotches; his clothing that had been brown was streaked red, and one hand was white while the other was red.

  He started toward me, and I moved back even further against Silence, forcing him to take a step back.

  “Please,” I whispered
frantically, “please release me.” For the first time in my life, I was terrified of General Harvey.

  Silence did not reply. Harvey reached us, stopping five feet from us as I stared at him in revulsion. His eyes, which were a deep brown like his niece’s, were filled with sorrow. He did not speak to me but to Silence.

  “Prepare her, for the hour is nigh.” Harvey walked around us into the barn.

  With his hands on my shoulders, Silence guided me toward the back of the house, and I did not fight him. My mind and body were spent beyond the brink of what I could handle. There was nothing to say or do, only to face what was upon me.

  Silence did not lead me into the prison chamber, but into a bedchamber on the ground floor of the house. It was darker than my prison chamber had been, decorated in shades of red and dark wood. The bed was large; filling an entire wall, with four posts as large around and as tall as a grown man. The red coverlet called to me, making me want to climb onto the bed and sleep for days, but then I thought about what had happened with that guard and seeing Harvey murder him with a brick, and I did not think I would ever sleep again.

  Silence guided me behind a Chinese screen and left me standing there. He disappeared for a moment, reappearing with a stack of clothing.

  “Put these on,” he ordered before moving around the screen again.

  I stared down at the clothes in my hands. They were men’s clothing, brown breeches, white shirt. My hands still shook slightly, and my heart felt empty, drained of all fight, everything that made me the fighter that I was. Broken was the most apt description of how I felt. I stood there staring at the clothing for so long that Silence came back around the screen.

  “Either put them on, or I will be forced to do it for you.”

  He did not await a reply but walked around the screen. Scared that he meant what he said, I moved to do his bidding, removing and kicking the dress away then my petticoat which was torn. I shuddered as I balled it up and threw it away from me. Once the breeches, which were the right size, and the shirt, which was two sizes too large, were in place, I moved around the screen.