Phantoms In Philadelphia (Phantom Knights Book 1)

by Amalie Vantana

Jack

  The ride to Chestnut Street was brief, as we were on that side of town. I hitched Brutus to a post and ran through an alley, coming out on Chestnut across the street from the house that I sought. The first floor windows were all boarded up, making the house appear both deserted and eerie. A flash of white passed the upstairs window, and I smiled, pulling out my pistol. I ran across the street and opened the unlocked front door. All was black, but there was light coming from one of the rooms above stairs. Then I heard their voices.

  “Have you done yet?” Nicholas demanded.

  “No, and I will not if you keep plaguing me to make haste. Five minutes is all I require,” Hannah replied, exasperation filling her voice.

  “Five minutes will be too late.”

  “What have you done?” Hannah demanded in a shrill tone.

  “Set fire to the house. No one steals from Levitas!” Nicholas’s voice was high pitched, hysterical.

  “Then you must let me be about my task!”

  “Well, I shall not await you to be burned to death,” Nicholas shouted. I edged against the wall in the shadows as Nicholas appeared at the top of the stairs and nearly ran down in his haste to flee the house.

  Considering my best course of action lasted only a minute before I saw smoke filtering into the room from the back of the house. An orange light was vibrant and flickered through the crack beneath the door. I ran up the stairs, not caring if Hannah heard me.

  She was on her knees before a strong box, her white cloak covering her entirely. A lit lantern was on the dirty floor beside her, and she did not appear to be aware of my presence. She gave a small cry as she pulled open the strong box door. She took a long black box from inside, pulled off the lid and reverently reached for a silver chalice. The woman hugged it to her breast before placing it in a burlap sack. Holding my pistol before me, I moved to stand behind her. I placed the barrel against the back of her head. She stiffened completely. I reached over her shoulder and took the sack from her grasp.

  “Stand!” I demanded. She slowly stood with her back to me. “Walk,” I said, pressing the barrel harder against her. She edged around me and walked to the small landing at the top of the stairs.

  Below was a mixture of smoke and flames as the fire was spreading at an alarming rate. I was considering the best means of escape, when Hannah turned quick, knocking the gun from my hand. She grabbed the bag and ran down the stairs.

  Halfway down the stairs gave out, and she tumbled forward, landing in a heap at the bottom. The chalice landed a few feet away from her.

  I shook the banister and found it sound, so with a deep breath I hopped on and slid quickly down. My feet landed above her head. The hem of her cloak was caught on the bottom step, burning. I could grab the chalice and run, let her get herself out of the house, but when I looked down at her back and the cloak covering her like a cocoon she was not moving. I quickly stamped out the flames on her cloak with my boots then lifted her still form and tossed her over my shoulder. The smoke was a fog, hiding the door from me. Moving forward slowly, my boot hit the sack with the chalice, so I scooped it up and inched forward until I found the door. Using the sack on the hot knob, I threw open the door.

  As I leapt from the house, I gasped for fresh air, but the smoke coming from the house behind me made me cough. I ran across the street carrying the white phantom who had started coughing against my shoulder. I needed to get her away from the fire and out of that burned cloak.

  She started to wiggle in my hold, but I held on until we were midway into a dark alley. The bells of the fire brigade sounded in the distance as I set her on her feet. I started to untangle the cloak, but as soon as her arms were free, she grabbed the sack from me and started to run. She made it five steps before I caught her and pinned her against a brick wall. There was a glow at the end of the alley from the brightness of the fire, but she and I were standing in the shadows. I could not see her face, but I was beginning to see a pattern with her. I held her arms against the wall and clicked my tongue. She growled in frustration and tried to hit my head with her own.

  A deep laugh passed my lips but turned into a cough. She jerked up her knee, but I was faster. I jumped back, releasing her and barely missing the attack that was meant to pain me. She took advantage of her free state by running again. I ran after her, grabbing her arm and tossing her against the wall again, only this time I did more than pin her in place. I leaned down and placed my lips against hers.

  She struggled so violently that I lifted my head. I felt a pang of remorse for having taken advantage of the situation––until she got a hand free and slapped my cheek so hard my ears rang. I did not know why I had kissed her, but the woman brought out a different side of me. I grabbed her wrist and forced it down, shaking my head to dispel the ringing.

  Leaning close, I whispered in my deepest voice that I used only as Loutaire, “Yer not very conciliatory fer one who saved yer life.”

  Her body stiffened, and I knew that she was staring at me, but I could not see her eyes in the darkness. After a moment, she pressed her lips against mine, a little crooked. Surprise burst in me, followed immediately by heat, everywhere.

  Desire awakened in my belly, and I deepened the kiss, my mouth moving over hers like she was the water I needed to put out my fire. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew she was trying to distract me with her kiss, but it did not bother me. What caught me off guard was the way she melted into my embrace, leaning against me and her mouth following my lead. Her hand rested on my shoulder, and I placed my hand on her waist, pulling her against me. My other hand still held her wrist, but I raised it until it was resting against my shoulder. As her tongue slid into my mouth, she tasted sweet, and as much as I wanted to follow where this was going, I remembered whom I was kissing and where we were. I forced myself to pull back.

  I could hear her heavy breathing before she turned away from me to run again. I reached out and jerked the sack from her grasp. She swung around. I raised my pistol and cocked it, the sound echoing like a sharp intake of breath. She did not move, but I could tell by her rigid stance that she wanted to fight me for whatever was in the bag. I swung it up into my hand and felt around the bag. It was the chalice, den kop torden. I began to back away, and she made no move to follow.

  “We’ll speak again soon,” I said in my deepest voice before backing out of the alley. The last sight I had of her was her sagging against the brick wall.

  After riding away at a clipping pace and following a roundabout direction, I left my horse at the livery that housed him.

  All was quiet when I let myself into my house. I walked up the stairs to my chamber. Leo must have arrived home before me, for there was a fire burning in the grate. Opening the bag, I pulled out an ornately carved chalice. There was an engraving on each side of the goblet, a throne on one side, and a crest that had an eagle and a lion poised over a shield. The shield had a phoenix in the center. Den kop torden.

  I put the chalice under my bed and changed out of my smoke covered clothes. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stared out the window into the dark night. Hannah’s face flashed in my mind dressed as the white phantom. I put her up against the Hannah who flounced around ballrooms. One woman intrigued me, the other disgusted me.

  Thinking about our kisses, heat crawled up the back of my neck. That woman knew how to entice a man, but I could not allow my emotions to get caught up in a few heated embraces. She was my enemy, and as such, I had a duty to fulfill. It did not matter that she could ignite a passion in me that I had never before known. Hannah would be present at a picnic Ephraim was holding, and I hoped that I could finally get some answers. Then I could put all of my misguided feelings for the woman to rest and focus my attention on a woman who needed me. Guinevere. But, first came Sunday, and I wondered for the hundredth time if Guinevere would ridicule me for my secret—or respect me.