The Forgotten Story

by Michelle E Lowe

  “What happens when your abilities completely fade?” he asked, returning to the armchair.

  “I will be no more, but that shall not be for some decades to come,” she said, pouring another drink and setting the nearly empty bottle on the table. “Drink.”

  “I don’t want it. Why won’t you help me escape?”

  “Drink and I shall tell you.”

  Pierce huffed and downed it. His throat was becoming raw and his eyelids were growing heavy.

  “There,” he rasped, slamming the glass down. It was starting to feel heavy.

  She poured the last of the scotch into the glass. “Even if you escape, it wouldn’t stop her. Freya will only find another way to get you. She is too close to her achievement. You need to stay so she can be destroyed.”

  “How can she be destroyed?”

  “She is at a disadvantage, for she knows nothing about me or my involvement in your family. It doesn’t change the fact that she has a powerful protective cloak over her, that she and the god created. Between your grandmother and I, we may be able to weaken it enough for me to engage Freya, but it is going to be most difficult with this god involved.”

  “How are you gonna achieve getting her to, erm, to . . . er?” He was feeling drunk by then and his words fell disheveled from his mouth. “To unguard her, er, protectiveness?”

  “By a distraction. You.”

  “All right.”

  “Your task is to allow her to steer you wherever she wants you to go.”

  “Hasn’t sh . . . she been bloody well doin’ that already?”

  “Yes, but you must continue letting her do so. Travel to London. Do everything you plan on doing, and if she sends you any more visions, you’ll need to address them. Her core focus will be to ensure your death. It will allow your grandmother and me a sliver of an opportunity to break her protection down.”

  “And me flowering . . . wait, no…er, following like a good little bitch wi . . . will accomplish this? Sounds like a mighty big risk on my end.”

  “It is, in fact. And with Élie and I working to take down Freya’s defenses, it will leave no one to uphold what remains of your protective shield. We’re all taking risks here, Pierce. Drink.”

  He gave her an annoyed look.

  “You need to rest for the day ahead,” she explained. “Drink.”

  “I’ll be lucky if I even wake up.”

  His arm felt so leaden, it was a strain to lift it over the table for the glass. If he hadn’t filled up on so much dinner, he would have gotten sick by now.

  “Can you at least . . . um, help me reach London?” he asked, rather surprised his words were coming out coherently.

  “I have already taken care of it. Drink.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lucky Bastard

  Robin boarded a room in Southampton and stayed the entire day with a strict request for the manager and staff to not disturb him. The following evening, when it was dark enough, he took the last steam-powered ferryboat over the English Channel and made it to Le Havre and to the Ekta.

  “All of that happened?” asked the young Frenchman named Nico Joubert.

  “It did,” Robin confirmed. “Landcross is all right, though, and should be heading across no later than tomorrow morning.”

  Robin handed the strongbox with the key still inside the lock over to the man called Captain Sea Wind. “Landcross wanted to make certain you received this no matter what.”

  “He found it?” said a woman by the name of Waves of Strength.

  The Sea Warriors spoke French, which Robin was fluent in. He had heard countless stories about them ever since the sea tribes formed during the Seven Years’ War, yet he had never met any until now.

  “Oui, madam. He did. His greatest concern was seeing that you repair your ship.”

  Waves of Strength’s expression transformed from shock to something that looked half guilty and half affectionate. He sensed there was a jaded history between her and Landcross.

  “Are you sure he’ll return tomorrow?” the captain asked.

  Robin nearly failed to hear the question. It had been hours since his last feeding and everyone around him was beginning to smell like the blood inside them.

  “Unless he falls into any more trouble, Captain,” he quipped.

  “What of this . . . this Volker Jäger you mentioned?” Nico asked. “What if he finds him?”

  Long ago, Robin had learned to manage his savage hunger before it led to murdering a good-hearted soul. If he hadn’t, half the crew would be dead by now. However, having questions thrown at him when he needed to find a meal was trying his patience.

  “Pierce will be fine, Nico,” a strikingly beautiful woman consoled him.

  She patted the young man on the shoulder as she walked by him and addressed Robin in English, “Sir, my name is Sees Beyond. I am sure you’re exhausted from your travel, but may I have a brief word with you?”

  Immediately, he sensed she was someone with supernatural abilities.

  “Of course,” he said with a small bow.

  “Excusez-nous, s’ il vous plait,” she told the other three.

  She walked Robin to the ramp that led down to the dock. “I know you are hungry, so I shall make this quick.”

  She knew what he was? When Robin had requested an audience with the captain of the Ekta, he had said nothing about being a vampire. It just wasn’t something he cared to advertise.

  “Fear not, my lady. I would never harm you or anyone else on this vessel. I swear it on my honor.”

  A pinch of worry seemed to leave her. “I thank you, Mr. . . ? ”

  “Robin. Robin of Locksley.”

  Her smile was so lovely. It would have made him blush, were he a warm-blooded mortal.

  “Lord Locksley. My spirits tell me you only feed on those who are evil.”

  “If I am hungry enough, the jaded often do just fine,” he half-quipped.

  Her beauty was unimaginable. Not since Marian had he stared into the face of such perfection.

  Her mood suddenly turned grim. “Pierce is in danger. More severe than when you left him.”

  Robin was taken aback. “How much trouble can that man possibly get himself into in such a short period of time?”

  “My spirits have informed me that he has been blamed for a crime he did not commit.”

  Robin thought a moment. He sighed heavily and planted his face in his palm. “The train,” he guessed.

  Sees Beyond nodded once. “He is trapped in England.”

  “Can you sail me back tonight?”

  “The rudder is damaged, and we can’t steer the ship. With the money you brought to us, we’ll have it repaired in a few days.”

  “Bloody hell,” he moaned. “I cannot return until the following evening, then.”

  “My spirits ought to inform me where he is heading by then. Robin of Locksley, I invite you to stay the day on our ship. You may have my quarters. I will see to it that you’re not disturbed and that every blade of sunlight is blocked. I—I just need you close by so I can tell you when I know something about Pierce, and . . .”

  She was on the brink of breaking down in tears.

  He took her by the hand, hoping his cold flesh wouldn’t startle her. “Yes. I accept your invitation.”

  “Thank you. Please, you must bring him to us.”

  He released her. “Forgive my asking, but is there a romantic relationship between you and Landcross?”

  She wiped away a tear that managed to escape and answered with a sniff. “There used to be, long ago. Yet it is not the reason for my wanting him returned. He has left his family to come save us, and he has risked a lot to fetch the money for our ship when he could have easily boarded another vessel home. We owe it to him.”

  Her feelings were genuine. Sees Beyond loved Landcross greatly for the sacrifices he had made for her and her tribe. His safe return had fallen to Robin because of the promise he had made to an old Gypsy witch, and now to th
is Apache woman.

  “I shall return to England as soon as possible, my lady.”

  She granted him another of her endearing smiles. When she kissed his cheek, his skin actually warmed up.

  Landcross, you lucky bastard!

  Robin cleared his throat. “I must go.”

  Robin stepped down off the ramp, feeling more anxious than ever to return to England. First, however, he needed to feed.

  * * *

  The cold, dark hallway lay before him. The endless maze of black once again mocked him even as it challenged him to find a way out. Volker knew better this time. He decided not to search for an escape route. He stood in the form of a child, his surroundings just as enormous as before. The fear made him shake, but he refused to allow it to hold him back.

  Volker began walking. The hateful eyes in the portraits of his murdered father followed him as he went by. He did not look, nor did he listen to the words “You did nothing to save me” that they whispered to him. In doing so, the corridor became a little smaller as he grew bigger.

  In this dream, the wicked deeds of his past life appeared.

  The blood on the floor from the impaled did not slow him down. The spikes stood taller than he did, with bodies skewered upon them. He never so much as flinched when some of their fingers grazed his shoulder or combed through his hair as he passed by.

  The hall once more grew smaller as he grew older.

  It became clear the only way he could end this nightmare was to outgrow his fears.

  He rounded a corner and found Anci waiting for him. She stood in the center of the hall with blood sliding down her neck where the vampire had bitten her. Her whimpers echoed as loudly as if they were inside a large, hollow room.

  Volker halted at the sight of her. A sickening feeling formed in his gut and then produced a cold sweat over his entire body. His lungs tightened and it became difficult to breathe. He stared at her a heartbeat longer and then moved toward her.

  She raised her arms. Her expression was full of sadness and longing for him. It disarmed him unexpectedly. Although he’d never loved anyone or anything, what he’d shared with Anci was the closest to a relationship he’d ever had. They were bound together out of a need for each other. Seeing her like this, begging for his embrace, affected him more deeply than he’d believed possible. Anci wept desperately for him as he drew closer. Volker wanted to reclaim her.

  The desire to touch her burned in him, but he barely glanced at her as he walked by. He did not look back despite her agonizing screams, which were cutting through the air so loudly that it greatly hurt his ears.

  Volker turned another corner.

  At the end of the corridor was a full-sized mirror. He approached it and, in the reflection, saw that he had become a man again. He was shirtless, showing off his white skin, which had been deemed so abnormal, his own mother had tried to kill him. Sometimes, he wished she had. His real arm lay deformed at his side. It mattered not, for he had broken away from the terror of his nightmare. It was over.

  Jäger, came a voice from somewhere.

  In the reflection, a light shined behind him. The dark hallway vanished into the light that engulfed everything, and he was suddenly in the goddess’ garden again. As things came into focus, he found himself standing at the fountain with the blurry figure of the woman before him.

  Why do you put yourself through the nightmare, my sweet?

  “I need to confront my demons once and for all—both from my former life, as well as this one.”

  And have you come out triumphant?

  “I—I believe I have.”

  Then you are ready for your next task. And it will earn you great benefits.

  “What task? I need to find Landcross.”

  If you ever wish to find him again for another chance at blood and pain, then you must assassinate Queen Victoria.

  “The British queen? Why?”

  I need her dead for my own reason. She has already escaped too many times in the past. I chose you to succeed where others have failed.

  Volker was aware of the four attempts on the queen’s life. Some of the would-be assassins had suffered from some sort of mental condition. Had this woman sent them to the English queen?

  “Are you suggesting I do this alone?”

  I have already put it into the heads of your men that this is what they need to do, and I shall not stop until they complete their mission. They will follow you.

  If she was capable of such a thing, then what, if anything, had she done to his own mind?

  Landcross will attempt to save her, and you shall have him then, the hazy figure promised. And when you’re finished with him—

  “It’ll take days for me to be done with him,” he said. “And I am able to find him without your help.”

  The figure reached out and touched his wounded limb. Do you remember what it was like before your arm was damaged? Do you recall the painless nights and the rainy days without the throbbing muscle aches? With your nightmares defeated and your revenge on Landcross complete, imagine living with peace of mind and being able to carry on without dulling your agony with a needle.

  He could not feel her touch, but it took away his pain. She kept her hand upon him as he lifted his arm. He could make a complete fist with ease. The strain in his tendons no longer tugged at him. The bones in his forearm were healed and the muscle around it was strong.

  I can give you your real arm back, Jäger.

  She removed her hand without warning and pain exploded in his arm in its absence. Since his elbow was bent and his fist closed, the tension was ten times greater. His fingers went rigid and stiff. The bones snapped into their misshapen position, shattering through his skin. He screamed, and his rage brought him to the brink of blindness.

  Kill the Queen and you shall have all that I have promised. Do it not, and I will kill you myself and trap your soul in an endless loop of nightmares.

  Could she do that? he wondered.

  Imagine your entire body suffering the same pain as your arm.

  “Halt! Enough. Do not lie to me. You have already planned all this, ja?”

  The light of the garden brightened until all he could see was white. She instructed him on where to be and when.

  Jäger, if you want to hurt Landcross even more, there is someone he cares for dearly that you can take from him.

  Volker had the name in his head as he awakened to the light of an early morning. He sat up and scanned the men camped out with him.

  After his failed attempt to recapture Landcross, Volker had managed to leave the train car before any guards found him. He’d already had his belongings with him, which made it easier for him to escape. Outside, he had searched for Landcross through the throng of passengers, but he’d only found Callum Grant, Ethan Jones, and Cash Finley, all of whom had survived. By then, Volker had come to the conclusion that Landcross had fled, and he’d decided to do the same. After traveling for miles, the group made camp and spent the whole day recuperating from the wounds they had sustained in the explosion—and in Volker’s case, the vampire attack.

  A sharp pain forced him to fish through Anci’s medical bag for the morphine. Once he’d injected himself, he would change the oil in his mechanical arm and wake his men so they could head east.

  * * *

  Queen Victoria had decided to take a brisk stroll through the Royal Garden. The sun was out with practically no clouds to block it. She relished its light even from underneath her parasol.

  The crisp air was favorable, and it helped ease her spirits after learning about Pierce Landcross’s dramatic return to England. She and Albert had received messages on the Royal teleprinter late the night before about a robbery attempt on a train that had ended up derailing. Landcross had been identified as the culprit.

  Victoria did not want to believe it. After all these years, she had thought Landcross had honored his end of the bargain when she pardoned him. Albert had been anything but pleased by her decision. Her hu
sband was not a violent man. In fact, he was very compassionate, and a true humanitarian, as well as a progressive thinker. Pierce Landcross, however, had brought out the bloodlust in him. He had wanted him hanged. The publication of The Adventures of Pierce Landcross, which disclosed Landcross’s criminal past activities, had only stoked the flame of his hatred.

  Regarding the train, Victoria hoped it was just another imposter seeking fame, as so many others had been trying to do throughout the years. Strangely enough, she actually cared about the thief who had broken into her home twice—once to steal her necklace, and the second time to plead for his parents’ release from Newgate Prison. Some of her critics had insisted her show of compassion was weakness, but she had ignored them. However, if Landcross had been responsible for the train attack, it would truly be a slap in the face, and there would be no clemency for him this time.

  She had already settled on that decision and had granted extra troops to assist in the countrywide search. That morning, she even ordered her Royal Naval fleet to search every vessel leaving any British harbor.

  She casually strolled through the flower garden area. The fall chill had made them wilt, leaving only hibernating shrubs waiting for spring to awaken them. Her blissful walk was interrupted by a messenger who came running toward her.

  “My Queen.” The messenger bowed. “I have a second message from Lord Javan.”

  She held her breath. “What is it?”

  “He is expanding the search to Dover, where he will be personally overseeing the harbor.”

  When Lord Javan requested he be the lead commander in the manhunt, she had permitted it, considering his and Landcross’s history. He responded with thanks and promised to send word from Reading soon. There she messaged him the question she had not thought to ask until the shock of what had happened subsided.

  “Did he reply to my inquiry about whether he truly believes Landcross is in England?”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” her servant replied. “He stated he has no doubt in his mind, for Landcross visited his house in Southampton, searching for Mr. Archie Norwich.”