The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2)

by Amalie Vantana

  “Not quite unharmed, but prepared to fight,” I replied.

  They laid before me the situation and their plans for our escape. They had gotten into the house that Lucas was holding me in by sheer force, but there were more guards waiting outside, between us and our means of transportation. Pierre said that he would lead the charge, but he cast a look of concern at the eldest man in the small group. Turning to that man, I curtseyed.

  “You have my deepest gratitude for coming to my rescue, Arnaud, but you should not have done so.”

  The man who had been Jack’s family butler for years took my hand and patted it. “And leave the fight to my brother? Never!”

  Jack had never known that his butler worked with me, never known that the man was the older brother to Pierre, a French informant for the Phantoms, who also worked with me.

  Thinking of Jack made me ask, “Where is Lucas?”

  “The rat retreated upon our entrance. Escaped out the window he did,” Clive, the third man said.

  Drat! But there was nothing to be done about that at the moment. When we agreed that Arnaud would follow me from the house, Pierre pulled back the hammer on his pistols, opened the front door, and began to shoot. Return shots struck the door, the front of the house, and shattered the window. When a moment of quiet came, Pierre, Silence, and Clive charged out of the house, firing their weapons. Arnaud and I stayed hidden within until we heard Pierre shout for us, then we left the house behind, staying low as we ran toward a carriage that was waiting beyond a line of trees. Lucas had been holding me in a house out in the woods, but it appeared that he did not have very many guards left as there were only six fighting to keep us from reaching the carriage.

  One man ran toward us, but Arnaud raised a small pocket pistol and shot him before he could get within five feet of me. We started forward, but something snagged on my cloak and I was jerked backward. Twisting around to pull it free, it was not a something but a someone. One of the guards had sat up after receiving a ball in the leg and he had a hold on my black cloak. He pulled me toward him, but I released the clasp and the cloak fell away.

  Running forward with Arnaud, we reached the carriage first. He opened the door and I leapt in. He turned and stood guarding the door with another small pistol in his hand. Silence was the first one to knock out his assailant and reach the carriage. He pulled himself onto the box seat while Arnaud ran to untie the horses from a hitching post. I leaned forward to watch out the door with my pistol still in hand. When Clive got free from the man he was fighting, he limped toward the carriage, a rather large gash on his thigh. Pierre was the last one still fighting against a guard. The man was large, thick, with fists that swung like hammers. Raising my pistol, I aimed it at the large man. He and Pierre kept moving so it took a moment, but when he lunged for Pierre, but Pierre ducked out of the way, I squeezed the trigger. The shot struck his shoulder, but did not stop him. It did give Pierre a chance to run though. Arnaud climbed into the carriage a moment before Pierre leapt through the door, landing on the carriage floor on his stomach and Silence cracked a whip, the horses lurching forward. Arnaud and I helped Pierre off the floor and pulled the door closed. A final shot fired from behind us and the carriage lurched again, but kept moving away from the house, picking up speed and throwing gravel behind us. When Silence took a sharp turn onto the road and I was thrown into Arnaud, I knew that that last shot had hit Silence.

  It was not enough to stop him, though, until we were well away from the house. As the carriage rolled down the road, I tended to Clive’s leg and Pierre’s cut arm, wrapping them each as best as I could. When the carriage finally pulled up, we were at the port of Charleston. Seeing it brought so many painful memories of Jack, of the night that we spent together in a warehouse. I did not know that I was crying until I felt the hot tears hit my bare arms as I leaned forward to look out the carriage window. We passed Samuel Mason’s warehouse, but the man was nowhere in sight, nor would he be with his affianced bride’s brother having been killed only hours earlier.

  When Pierre climbed down from the carriage and held up his hand to help me alight, I wiped away my tears and stepped down. General Harvey’s ship was anchored and awaiting us. For a moment, I thought he might be waiting for me, but he was not. He could not still be in Charleston with the Phantoms searching for him. Pierre started to guide me toward the ship, but I pulled away from his hand. My gaze was searching the port, hope filled me that Jack would come, would not truly be dead but coming to rescue me as he had so many times before. It did not happen.

  “I cannot leave him, Pierre. I must go see, I must know for certain that Jack is...gone,” I said, ending in a whisper.

  “Ma belle, to stay is to risk your life. Master Jack would not want that.”

  It took both Pierre and Arnaud to persuade me to board the ship, and when it set sail, my mind raved at me that I was making a mistake, and when I saw her standing on the water’s edge I knew it. Bess Martin was standing with Samuel Mason and Leo Perry on the dock, watching me as we sailed away. Bess was gesturing wildly at Sam, but he restrained her, pulling her against his chest, his gaze never leaving my ship—me. They blamed me for Jack’s death, as I blamed myself. But in truth there was someone else to blame, someone else who had been at fault for the last seven years.

  Turning to where Pierre stood behind me, watching me cautiously, I said, “Take me to General Harvey, for he and I have a score to settle.”

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you, God, for blessing me above and beyond my comprehension.

  Thank you Karen and Mary for encouraging me and helping me finish this story. You are my favorites. To Stephanie for understanding my ideas about the cover and taking them so much further. To my Agents of Prayer, Astute, Foresight, Harmony, Honor, and Star, you each mean more to me than I can possibly express.

  To my father for cheering me on, and my mother for introducing me to the wonderful world of novels. Boss, Doc, and Spy, thank you for helping me to create adventures worthy of being shared. Seth and Bryant, you each inspired a character in this story, and though I will never tell you which characters, you are the best brothers-in-law a girl could ask for. To all of my wonderful friends, thank you for being awesome, for believing in me, and remaining excited about my stories over the years.

  John, thank you for always making me laugh (to the pearl that trembles in her ear), for being the first to read every story that I write, and laughing at those rare moments of insanity. You are my happy thought.

  A special thank you to the Piano Guys whose music has inspired my creativity when writers block threatened.

  To you, reader, thank you for taking a step back in time with me, and for all the love and support of the Phantom Knights series.

  About the Author

  Amalie Vantana wrote her first story at age seven. When many little girls were dreaming about being a princess, Amalie was dreaming about being a musketeer. When she’s not writing adventures, she spends her time with her family, exploring historical locations, and searching for adventures to be had. Amalie makes her home in West Virginia with her husband.

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