Cameo and the Highwayman (Trilogy of Shadows Book 2)

by McCullough-White, Dawn

“And so you see him a monster? A man without any redeemable qualities? You blame the entire revolution on one man.”

  “I don’t want to fight about this anymore!” Edel snarled.

  She took a step back.

  “I know that you’re in love with him, and I won’t free him. And you’re stuck here. We are at an impasse.” He opened the door to the stairs and slipped out.

  * * * * *

  Opal awoke in the tower jail. There was one small window that was out of reach. One single beam of light lit part of the cell; the rest was dark.

  He needed a shave and a room with a separate toilet.

  A key rattled in his door suddenly, and several soldiers entered.

  Opal flipped the cloak he had been using as a blanket around so that it fell in a somewhat debonair fashion over one shoulder. It was a very expensive article of clothing and not one he was willing to part with. He was now wearing in essence four coats: a waistcoat, a frock coat, a duster, and Edel’s cloak. Not exactly the height of fashion, but he wasn’t willing to leave one behind in a jail cell either, so he wore them all as he was taken to meet with the king once more.

  He was forced to wait outside a large door for a few moments before he was shown inside.

  “I mean to say, I simply can’t abide by all these embittered people. All of these rude, overbearing, bitter people,” a middle aged woman of the court was complaining to a friend as Opal entered the room. “If it were all up to me, I’d wave a magic wand and make them all go away, so that everything would be right and good.”

  “Yes, where do all of these people come from,” a young, dark-haired woman agreed. “Some of the servants, well, I simply cannot deal with their attitudes. I mean, how complicated can one’s life be leading the simple life, after all? A husband, a child, a bed to sleep on. What else do they expect?”

  “Indeed,” the first woman said, then noticed the man who was walking into court and raised an eyebrow in contempt. “Oh my word.”

  The younger royal giggled behind her fan.

  Opal had no idea that he would be addressing the entire Belfour court, but there before him was the whole clan of royals and nobles. All awfully assembled around the king, in their powdered wigs and silk, tittering in amusement as he approached Avamore.

  The dandy jerked down the front of his waistcoat suddenly and smoothed his loose, long hair.

  “Sleep well?” Avamore sneered, then he caught sight of Opal’s cloak. “What’s that old thing?”

  “A gift from a person who was worried about my health.”

  “Oh, yes, I can see it doesn’t fit you properly at all.”

  Opal glanced down to see it trailing behind him. Edel was a bit taller than he.

  “What’s happened to the rest of your clothes?”

  The dandy was holding his lace shirt together with one hand modestly. “I have no buttons, sire.”

  “Yes, I can see that, but why?”

  “I don’t know, sire.”

  “This is how he emerged from his night at the pillory sire,” Lantillette said helpfully from the floor near Opal. “The locals cut them all off for some reason. Perhaps as souvenirs?”

  “Now why on Faetta would they do that?” Avamore asked, feigning ignorance. “Could the general population actually believe that this man before us is indeed Francois Mond?”

  The rest of court, which had been talking and entertaining itself, ignoring the entire proceedings, suddenly hushed and turned to look at the man standing before them. His white eye and completely disheveled appearance repelled them.

  “Yes, your majesty, they do seem to be of that opinion.”

  “Great heavens. Let’s see, if you were Francois Mond, you would be well versed in the use of musical instruments.” He motioned for someone just beside the door.

  Opal turned to see two men carrying in a spinet with a lovely embroidered stool.

  “Play it.”

  The dandy looked down at the black-lacquer and gilt bronze spinet setting before him. He had actually played this one before as a boy.

  “I don’t know how to play it.”

  “Guard!”

  The soldiers who had escorted Opal seized him now.

  “Cut off his hands.”

  “What?” Opal gasped.

  The ladies and gentlemen sitting around the king suddenly stood, horrified as two of the soldiers pinned Black Opal to the floor. They held one arm outstretched, and another soldier drew his sword while Opal was screaming for mercy.

  “I’ll play the spinet! I’ll play the spinet!”

  “Oh, wait, guards,” Avamore said serenely. “What was that you said, Francois?”

  “I’ll play… the spinet.”

  “No, no… I think I’d rather watch my soldiers hack off your hands.”

  “Please, don’t do this!” Opal’s face was pressed against the cold marble floor staring directly at his scarred left hand, which was held fast by a young soldier.

  “Hold, guard. I’m so sorry to interrupt, but what was it you just said, Francois?”

  “Please?”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought you said. Well, if you’re going to beg to play the spinet for the king, it had better be good.

  “Let him up.”

  Opal was shaking as he stood, tangled in his cloak. He glanced out at the crowd of sparkling lords and ladies who looked nearly as relieved as he was and sat down at the little spinet.

  The highwayman decided on a jaunty little tune. Something he and his father had played to while away rainy days. It always put a smile on his face. As his fingers pressed the keys, this time was no different. He played for his own enjoyment. He knew this would be the last time he would ever play, and that this was the last time anyone would ever call him Black Opal again. Now, he had truly revealed himself.

  The court was enraptured by the tune. He was quite good.

  “Guard, take him! He has proven himself to be Francois Mond without a doubt.”

  Opal felt himself nearly hefted off the stool by the soldiers as they dragged him away from the instrument.

  “Take him back to his cell while he awaits punishment for the crime of regicide and inciting a revolution,” Lantillette called after the guard.

  After Opal was out of sight, Avamore turned to the minister of the military. “Set aside a date for his execution, but give it some time.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  “Work on his hands; they’re important to him. Don’t do too much obvious damage. I want the people to think they’re getting Francois all in one piece when he goes out to be drawn and quartered.” He sat back on his throne.

  “Yes, sire.”

  * * * * *

  “How would you like it if I allowed you to roam this area by yourself?”

  Cameo met Edel’s eyes darkly.

  He regretted his words almost immediately. “Stupid question. Of course you would like to be free to move about Shandow.”

  She sat in the ruins of the university that he had taken her to not long ago, looking at the statue of the woman with the book again. This time it wasn’t quite as novel as before, but it was nicer than the jail of the apartment. “And you’ll allow me to move about Shandow freely?”

  “In time.”

  “How much time?”

  The vampire ignored the question entirely. “For now I will be limiting it to the ruins and the path here.”

  Cameo stood up, brushed the snow from her cape, and moved away from him.

  He watched her climb over a toppled building wall and wander listlessly further into the ruins. All the while he found himself thinking about Opal, probably rotting in a jail cell. There had been no mention of an execution as of yet, so he supposed the revolutionary must still be alive. A man that infamous caught by the very family he had wronged; they would never simply murder him. No, the Belfours would enjoy torturing him until he was useless, and the only thing left would be the gallows—or worse. Had he done the right thing? Leaving Cameo’s best fri
end to die. Living with her was going to be much worse than the depression she seemed to have fallen into since the fight they had had. Living with her once Opal had expired would be misery. Even if the man had signed death warrants for the old king and queen… even if his presence had ruptured the peace he had been seeking.

  Edel gazed out over the waters of the Azez in the distance.

  Cameo kicked up snow as she moved under the archway and saw the fountain across from her. The water was flowing freely tonight. A much stronger surge of water poured down into the large basin at the base of the ancient fountain.

  As she neared, it she saw there was a form of something black crouched close to the ground on the opposite side. Unafraid, she confronted the blackness.

  It was a man attempting to slit his wrist in the freezing water of the fountain’s basin.

  “What are you doing?”

  He lifted his face, and his long, dark hair spread around him in the water, parting and revealing the once-green eyes, now milky like a corpse’s.

  “Jules?”

  “You,” he said bitterly, accusing her with that one word.

  Cameo paid little attention to his tone; she was more astounded that he was still alive at all. “What in the world are you doing?”

  He pulled down his sopping wet sleeve protectively as she strode over to him. Behind her was a line of shadows—silhouettes of men. They were following her like a tail. Jules had never seen so many before, and for a moment he faltered, focused on the shades, but she seemed oblivious, ignoring them… or perhaps she didn’t see them at all. Yes, that was it, it had to be… he was losing his mind.

  He jumped up, dagger in one hand. “I’m here to take you with me.”

  “What?” she laughed. “Is this about Wick? I’m afraid she’s out of business. Trust me; it’s better for you this way.”

  “Shut up. It has nothing to do with Wick.” He grabbed her wrist suddenly.

  Cameo shoved him back, but he hardly moved at all. That was when she really looked into his eyes. They were no longer clear, but the corpse-like eyes she saw in the mirror every day… like her eyes… or Chester’s.

  He watched the smile on her mouth droop, as she tried to shake off the hand he had on one wrist.

  “Your eyes ....”

  “My… Master… sent me to bring you back.”

  Her eyes widened. Haffef had taken Jules’ life to do what? Bring her back and torment her for not being able to retrieve Ivy?

  “But since you brought up Wick,” he thrust his stiletto at her.

  Cameo knocked the hand holding the blade to one side, and the spikes on the back of her glove cut into his hand, bloodying it.

  He cried out angrily.

  She punched his other hand with one swift, accurate motion, something nearly too fast for a human to see.

  Jules released her. Blood was now flowing freely from both of his hands. “Bitch!”

  She recognized the hatred in his eyes. It was dangerous, like the anger on the faces of the boys who had beat her, and nearly murdered her, so long ago. Cameo took an uneasy step back as he approached her.

  “Why didn’t Haffef come himself?”

  “You’ll have to ask him when we join him in Lockenwood.”

  Cameo cursed Edel under her breath.

  “Arm yourself,” he mocked as he realized her eyes lingered on the stiletto in his hand. “Aren’t you carrying weapons?”

  “C’mon,” she motioned for him to strike first.

  He grinned. “If you insist.”

  She caught the hand holding the dagger and held it over his head, much to his surprise. For a moment he struggled to free his hand from hers, then, realizing the stupidity of his actions, he punched her in the head with his right hand.

  Cameo fell back slightly, but never released her grip on the dagger.

  He punched her in the head again, this time knocking her to the ground. Jules landed on top of her, struggling to free the stiletto and hitting her repeatedly in the nose and mouth with his fist.

  There was a sudden spray of snow across her face, and when she looked up through bloodied eyes, she saw Edel facing Jules, holding him up off the ground by the collar his leather armor. The newly made zombie was looking at the vampire in horror.

  “You two know each other?”

  “He’s a bastard,” Cameo said, spitting blood into the snow.

  “Bitch,” he snarled, struggling to free himself from Edel’s hand, which was a completely pointless gesture.

  Edel looked into Jules’ eyes quizzically. “Another zombie… just like Cameo.”

  She wiped her bloodied nose and was attempting to stand when he made this comment. “We’re nothing alike.”

  Edel’s silver eyes reflected in the darkness, like two mirrors. “Oh yes, you are. There are two of you exactly the same! It’s fascinating. How many more does Haffef have, I wonder?”

  Jules fondled the dagger he had in his hand, waiting for the best moment to plunge it into the vampire.

  “Well, yes,” Cameo faked a smile, “how nice. Our problems are solved, and you can set me free to find Opal. Now that you have Jules, you won’t be needing me any further.”

  The happy expression on Edel’s face slipped. “No, no… I can’t do that.”

  Jules thrust his stiletto at Edel, now that he was distracted, but the vampire ripped the blade from his hand and backhanded him so fast that Cameo barely saw it happen.

  The assassin slumped to the ground.

  She took a step toward him. “Is he dead?”

  “I didn’t kill him, no. Why would I?”

  “Because he was beating me to a pulp.”

  “He’s stronger than you?”

  “Yes.” She looked down at his body, a slender silhouette in black leather contrasting with the snow. “I’m older; shouldn’t I be stronger?”

  “Perhaps his natural abilities were enhanced. If he had more upper body strength, then it follows that he still does.”

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Take him along, of course.”

  “What?!”

  “Well, he’s one of us. We can’t just leave him here.” There was a sense of wonder in Edel’s voice that she remembered on the first day he found her in Shandow. “Besides, we can’t let him go back to Haffef without you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well… Haffef would end him.”

  “Forgive me if I can’t seem to cry about that idea.”

  The vampire looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m sure you two will patch up your differences.”

  “That’s likely.” Cameo reached for a flask. “Where in the world are you going to put him?”

  “In the apartment.”

  “There’s no space.”

  “The sitting room.”

  “And I’ll be getting a padlock for my door, right?”

  “For your safety or his?”

  “Ha ha. Seriously, you aren’t going to leave us alone together? He could end me!”

  Edel lifted Jules over his shoulders as if the rogue weighed nothing. “Were you a trained assassin before you became a zombie? I forget.”

  “No,” she said darkly.

  “I see what you mean. He has all of those human years of training under his belt too, prior to becoming an undead.”

  “At least lock him up somewhere.”

  Edel smiled. “Neither of you will have weapons, and I believe you can take care of yourself. You took on the Master yourself.”

  “He nearly destroyed me.”

  The vampire walked past her, hoisting his new trophy.

  * * * * *

  “There we are,” Edel said as he placed Jules into the settee before the hearth, then took a step back to appraise him, his long legs sticking off one end, and one limp arm draped onto the floor.

  “Hmm,” Cameo grunted.

  “Looks right at home here,” the vampire grinned.

  “If you say so.”

  �
��You think I need a larger house?”

  Noting the utter hopefulness in Edel’s tone, she decided not to say what she really wanted to say about Jules, nor reveal her plan for slaughtering him in his sleep.

  The other zombie then stirred and, realizing he didn’t recognize his surroundings, leapt to his feet, grabbing and breaking a vase.

  “Did you rest well?”

  “Rest?!” Jules growled, looking at the vampire standing in front of Cameo.

  Edel smiled at him. “Why don’t you calm down?” Only that wasn’t a question, as much as it was a suggestion. “Put down that vase and sit.”

  Jules’ eyes seemed to droop slightly, and he slumped into the settee, putting the vase aside carefully.

  “Who are you?” he said, now entirely unruffled.

  The tone was nothing Cameo had ever heard come from his mouth before; all the sarcasm seemed to have left it. For a moment she was interested enough to listen in on their conversation. She poured herself another glass of wine.

  “My name is Edel. As you may have guessed, I am a vampire, like your Master, Haffef. Now that you’ve wandered into Shandow—”

  “I’m here for her,” Jules pointed past the vampire.

  Edel glanced back at Cameo. “Haffef sent you after her, did he?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Well, you don’t have to fulfill that obligation. You aren’t Haffef’s thrall here.”

  Jules looked at Cameo with a poisoned expression on his face, almost hopeful that he did indeed have to complete that task.

  She hefted her glass, mocking him in his weakened state.

  “Didn’t you ever wonder why Haffef didn’t come here himself?”

  “It never came up in conversation.”

  “It’s because he can’t come here. Haffef can’t come to Shandow. Here you are free. We’re all free of the Master here.”

  Cameo listened as Edel reiterated this feverish speech. She had nearly forgotten how really insane he seemed when he had said it to her. Now it appeared somehow more deranged on the second telling, and watching him tell that same tale to some other poor fool… she wondered once again about Edel’s grasp on reality. He had been alone far too long, she feared.

  “So ...” Jules looked at the vampire. “I’m free to go then?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Edel rose, mirroring Jules’ attempt at escape.