Phantoms In Philadelphia (Phantom Knights Book 1)

by Amalie Vantana

  Chapter 2

  Jack

  Would you mind lowering the pistol, Raven?” I asked as I stood in the doorway to the building that I now knew was some kind of temple.

  Bess sagged forward and lowered the pistol. She was relieved, but then she scowled at me, and I knew what was coming.

  “You went through my belongings,” she accused.

  I shrugged as I stepped further into the temple. “When I awoke this morning, I remembered that Penelope does not know our address.”

  Bess pushed to her feet, a grim expression on her face. “Now that you are here you may help me.”

  She strode to the door, and after another glance around the room, I followed. I helped her carry the body of a small, but heavy man into the temple, placing him next to the other. Whoever those little men were; they were not the enemy.

  We went out of the temple shutting the doors, and she ran around the building, disappearing into a copse of trees only to emerge again with her horse Pegasus. I went to my horse Brutus and mounted him. She did not say a word as we rode through the trees. It was not until we reached the main road that she spoke.

  A dark cloud descended upon me as I listened to what had happened at that temple. Giant’s, incantations, and mysterious black boxes were stories usually belonging to fairy tales. Pierre being captured was a great loss for us, but Bess was determined to find those responsible. Then she told me that George had been taken. For a moment, I could only stare at her in disbelief.

  “What is the plan?” I demanded when I realized she was not jesting.

  “First, we find the giant and retrieve the black box and then I will send a note to the Washington Phantoms and set them onto locating Pierre. After that, we will go home and find George and the people who took him,” Bess said, removing her mask before riding onto the main road heading toward the city. “I do not see the giant, so we will trot and wait for him to overtake us.”

  It was only a few minutes before we heard another rider coming up behind us. When he passed us, I had to keep my jaw from sagging. The man was a beast. I glanced at Bess, who nodded, but said nothing. The giant was riding at a canter, so we picked up pace following him into the busy city streets.

  We rode past where the President’s house had been burned by the British during the war in 1814. The exterior sandstone walls still stood, but the fire had destroyed the interior, both floors and walls. Congress discussed rebuilding the President’s house in another city, but President James Madison wanted the house to be built exactly as it looked before the war, to symbolize America’s determination, that both the nation and government were here to stay. The same man who drew the designs for the original structure was hired to oversee the rebuilding of the President’s house. Workers were busy with the reconstruction. President Madison still lived on Pennsylvania Avenue, but in a townhouse down the road.

  The giant rode into a neighborhood where many of the city’s merchants lived. We followed at a safe distance. When he pulled up his horse outside a house, we rode past. At the end of the street, we turned left, but at the first hitching post, we dismounted.

  There was a narrow path too small to be a road that ran behind the houses. Bess counted the houses, pointing to the fourth.

  All the houses were small, brick structures, each with a patch of grass behind it. We moved to the door on the back of the house. With each step, my excitement mounted. The large man had looked like a worthy foe, and I had never fought a giant before. With our masks in place, I turned the knob and found it unlocked.

  Bess gripped my shoulder before I could open the door, saying, “I will create a diversion while you retrieve the box. Do not, under any circumstances, allow him within reach of you, and if you must, shoot first.”

  I nodded, opening the door. She took the lead, tiptoeing down a narrow passage toward the front of the house. There was a small staircase a few steps from the front door, but there were no doors on the right wall. The only room was to the left of the stairs. The door was open, but from where I was standing, I could not see into the room. The wood slats under our boots did not make a sound as we moved around the front of the staircase, slinking against the small portion of the wall between the door and the staircase. Bess moved her head to take a peek into the room. Suddenly her whole body jerked, and she was lifted into the air.

  Sparks of terror tore through me as Bess disappeared around the corner, her pistol falling to the floor with a loud clang that ricocheted off my nerves. Darting around the corner, Bess was extended in the air, her arms reaching for the giant’s neck. His long arms held her away from him. I had only moments before Bess would die; her air closed off by his massive hand around her throat.

  My fear was threatening to break me, but I shoved it away as I had many times during the war. Bess knew that we only had one chance, for she pulled her knees up as high as she could. I growled as I charged beneath Bess and struck the giant a solid blow to the groin. As I jumped back, he cursed, releasing Bess and clutching himself. Bess landed on her knees.

  While the giant was bent over in pain, I threw my fist against his throat, not hard enough to kill him, but enough that he would not be able to speak for some time. He started making choking noises, but my attention was on Bess. She was trying to inhale as much air as she could, but it was coming in gasps.

  A gold bag was tied to the giant’s waist, so I pulled it, tearing the strings. I grabbed Bess by her collar and pulled her to her feet. With my hand against her back, we stumbled toward the front door. I wrenched the door open, and Bess was about to run, but I grabbed her shoulder.

  Riding toward the house was a group of rough looking men, but it was a woman in the center of the group that gave me pause. She was dressed all in white with a white hood pulled over her hair and white lace mask over her eyes.

  We stood there only seconds before I slammed the door shut, throwing the bolt. Any person riding in the middle of a group of rough men and wearing a mask in the middle of the day was either a Phantom or up to no good.

  As Bess ran toward the back door, I grabbed her pistol from the floor and followed her as if the devil was on my heels. It was not fear that drove me from the house, but self preservation.

  Bess flew through the back door, landing on the grass in a half-crouched position. I came through the door behind her, slamming it shut, but not before we heard shouts and the front door burst open. We split up, Bess entering the house directly behind the giant’s, while I ran down the lane to my horse. I could only hope that she could get away, but she would not thank me for dwelling on her safety instead of escaping with the box.

  I rode off down the road at a near gallop. I tried to avoid the busiest streets, but as I turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue it was rough going as I had to dodge carts, other riders, people walking, and carriages, but Brutus made it through without incident.

  Once the city streets were behind me, and I was safely off the road, I pulled up and opened the bag.

  There was a box inside, but it was round, not what Bess had described. A clever foe, the giant. Horse’s hooves coming toward me at a clipping speed, drew my gaze.

  “Thunder an’ turf,” I exploded as I snapped the reins of my horse, allowing Brutus to gallop.

  The woman in white was pursuing me. She looked to be alone, but it was a gun in her hand that set me searching for a place to hide and take her unaware.

  I rode into the woods determined to lead her on a merry chase. My heart was beating in quick, perfect rhythm with Brutus’ hoofs against the ground. There was a clearing ahead that would present the perfect opportunity for her to have a clear shot at me.

  Only one thing to be done…give her what she wanted. Part way across the clearing, I tossed the gold bag in the air behind me and rode on into the cover of the trees.

  When I did not hear her pursuing me, I pulled Brutus up and turned him. At the tree line, I watched as the woman in white had one foot in her stirrup and the other hanging free as she lowered herself, he
r horse seeming to know that she wanted it to move toward the bag. When she was close, she held on with one hand to her saddle while the other hand scooped up the bag. I was impressed, and a smile turned up my lips when she reseated herself. It faded when she started to move back the way we had come.

  Impressed, amazed, intrigued, and not ready to let her go yet caused me to make a rash decision. I pulled my pistol from its holster and fired one shot above her head. She ducked against her horse’s mane, and I opened my mouth, releasing a shrill laugh high above my own voice; the laugh of a Phantom and one which I had cultivated after my sister assured me that it would set anyone’s teeth to chattering and nerves to fraying.

  The woman in white looked in my direction. I waved. Even from the distance that separated us I could feel her anger. It made me chuckle. She turned her horse, and they shot across the field toward me.

  My surprise had held me still for a moment before I moved Brutus into action. I turned him to move through the trees. I knew the area well, so I knew exactly where I wanted to lead her. We rode through the trees until I saw another clearing ahead. The only sounds were made by our horses as they snapped twigs, rustled leaves, and pounded across the earth. I pushed Brutus faster, allowing him to gallop through the tree line and out to where a pond took up much of the open meadow.

  A gun fired from behind me, and pain seared across my arm as Brutus veered to the right. Thank the Heavens my horse was accustomed to hearing guns fire, and knew how to react. I glanced at my sleeve. Annoyance bounced through me like taking a ride across an uneven road. It was only a graze, but it infuriated me. I rode to the far tree line and turned Brutus when I did not hear her pursuing me. She had halted and was watching me from across the field.

  For a moment, we stared at each other, much as two enemy forces stared at each other across the battlefield. She kicked her horse into moving and started toward me. Her white hood flew off, black hair bouncing on the wind. Brutus charged toward her. She wanted to play; then we would play.

  Our horses headed straight for each other and exhilaration filled me. Bess would have called it recklessness to be playing with the woman, but she would not fault me for refusing to veer away. She would say: If you must insist upon challenging every foe you meet, always be the first upon the battlefield and the last to walk away.

  We were within a yard of each other when the hair on the back of my neck stood up, but the warning came too late. A flash of silver met my eyes a moment before she raised her hand and threw a knife at me. I leaned, misjudged my own jerky movements, my boot slipped from the stirrup and my gloves lost their hold on the reins.

  My back hit the water first then I was submerged in the murky darkness of the pond. I came up gasping for air before running a hand over my mask and face. My hat was floating on the water beside me. I looked around until I saw her at the tree line, smiling; then she let out a shrill laugh mocking me. I had never wanted to capture someone more that I did at that moment.

  She pressed a hand to her lips, released it in my direction, and disappeared through the trees. I grabbed my hat in one giant splash of annoyance and trudged through the water, my boots sticking to the muddy bottom. When I was finally free from the pond, I whistled for Brutus. He came toward me as I picked up the knife she had thrown at me. It was sturdy with an ivory handle. There was a star painted on the handle, but nothing else.

  After mounting Brutus, I decided to return to the city to find Bess; for there was no reason to pursue the woman in white. She did not have the black box, and I doubted she would be getting it from the giant. He struck me as someone who worked alone.

  I decided to leave my mask on, since many people surely saw me galloping out of the city, and I did not want them to see my face if they should recognize my horse. I rode to where Bess’s horse had been left. It was gone, giving me hope that she had made it safely to the tree. I left Brutus at the stable where we kept our horses; a stable ran by the Washington Phantoms, then I made my way across the three roads to where our house was located.

  As I entered through the back door, I removed my muddy boots with the bootjack then hurried to the parlor. As I rounded the corner, I stopped. All of my team was there with Bess, who was seated on the sofa. There was a cloth around her throat, and Leo was kneeling before her, but it was the man standing behind her with his hands resting on the back of the sofa that drew my attention.

  “Frederick. What are you doing here?”

  Frederick smiled at me, creating a desire in me to rearrange his teeth, but that was always my first impulse where he was concerned. I pushed my annoyance away as I advanced into the room holding out my hand. Frederick moved around the sofa to greet me.

  Frederick Nolan was the leader of the Washington Phantoms; a wealthy dandy who thought himself far above the rest of us. When my father formed the Phantoms, my father led the Philadelphia team, while one of the other founders, a soldier, led the Washington team. When they died, Frederick and Bess took their places, though no one outside the Phantoms and my mother knew that Bess was the leader. Anyone who heard of us, which were not many, thought I, Loutaire, was the leader, a ruse that Bess had insisted upon.

  “Greetings, Jack. I would ask how you fared, but I can see from your attire, not well.”

  Ignoring the bait, I replied, “You have yet to say what you are doing here.”

  “Freddy was kind enough to bring me home,” Bess rasped out causing me to take a good look at her.

  Bess was a naturally beautiful woman, even though she spent more time in breeches than she did in petticoats. Her oval face, if a little too brown from the sun, was smooth as fine silk. Her shoulder length, brown hair was hanging limply, and her brown eyes were tired. She had our father’s coloring, but where she saw that as a disadvantage, I saw it as a blessing. She had both height and beauty. She was not considered inconsequential due to her height the way I was for my lack of inches.

  Other than the cloth that covered her injured neck, she did not look like much was wrong with her. Until she spoke. She should not have been talking. I was about to say as much, as was Leo, when Frederick spoke.

  “You should not be speaking, dear Bess.” He picked up her hand, holding it between his two. I could barely see him through the haze that was my annoyance.

  I stepped between them, forcing him to drop her hand. I sat beside her on the sofa staring up at him with my arms crossed over my still damp chest. “What do you want, Frederick?” My tone said that I would accept none of his usual babble. I wanted him to state his business and depart.

  It was not that I did not like Frederick, for I liked most people, but I detested the way he acted around the deputies of the Phantoms. Frederick may be the team leader of the Washington Phantoms, but he had lost many good men through his carelessness—not a good trait for a spy leader—that, and he was fond of my sister. Frederick had a reputation with women, and I would not allow him to add Bess to the list of his conquests.

  “I see your manners have not improved, Loutaire,” Frederick said as he seated himself in a chair across from the sofa.

  Leo propped himself against the wall, watching the banter between me and Frederick.

  “I save my manners for the women,” my lips twitched, “a trait we have in common.”

  Frederick’s top lip curled. I could tell that he was not amused. It added to my own amusement.

  “How did you happen upon my sister?” I looked from him to Bess. She stared down at her folded hands.

  She must have sensed my eyes on her for she whispered, “Freddy caught me as I was making my escape from the giant. He was in the house of,” she paused, looking at Frederick, “a beautiful woman. He escorted me here.”

  “One of my men retrieved her horse. What were you thinking, Loutaire, to allow your sister in the presence of that brute?” Frederick’s words were dripping with disdain.

  Bess stiffened beside me, as did the rest of our team. I could feel their anger growing thick in the room. Frederick was
one of the few people who hated that a female was the leader of our group.

  “As Raven is the leader of this team, she makes the decisions,” I replied coolly.

  Frederick smiled, but his eyes were burning with annoyance.

  Bess touched my arm, her way of begging me to stop goading Frederick. I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. Calling him Frederick, when everyone else called him Freddy, was another way that I baited him. In truth, even though we relentlessly taunted each other, we were Phantoms, and there was a bond there that refused to break.

  “Whose house was it?” I asked. Bess stiffened immediately. When I glanced at her, there was a hint of a blush in her cheeks.

  “A friend,” Frederick replied, but I had understood. It was the house of one of his fancy pieces. Women flocked around him wherever he went. It was said that he had lady friends scattered about the city. “We move away from the point. My sources say that George was taken hostage last week, but he is still in the vicinity of Philadelphia, which means,” Frederick paused to look at Bess, “that you and your team should go home.”

  Bess sighed beside me, her relief great. Frederick’s face hardened for a brief moment as he looked away from her.

  During the war, Bess worked with Frederick’s team in Baltimore, and they had formed a friendship, one that Frederick thought was more. Thankfully, Bess did not. I could never stomach Frederick as a brother.

  “What of the giant?” Levi asked from his post behind the sofa.

  “My men went to his house, but it appears that he has run.”

  “Then there is nothing left for us. We will depart immediately,” Bess whispered.

  As Frederick stood; I helped Bess to her feet.

  “I will leave you.” He held out his hand to me, and I shook it. “Let us hope that our paths do not cross again for some time to come.”

  I agreed and watched as he said goodbye to Bess. His hand held hers longer than necessary, but there was nothing in her eyes that said she felt more for him than friendship. Frederick pulled away, gave a final wave, and left the house.

  Bess leaned her head against my shoulder. “Finally, we go home.”