“Search him and remove the uniform,” he ordered his two soldiers, snatching the cap out of Pierce’s hand.
While one soldier searched him and the other unbuttoned his uniform, Pierce maintained eye contact with the gleeful lieutenant.
“Nice duds,” Pierce remarked, noting their attire.
He wondered why they weren’t in their uniforms.
“This will be the last time you ever escape me, Pierce Landcross,” Darius declared, his voice full of bile. “I am going to make certain you are tried, sentenced, and hanged.”
Pierce just wanted him to go away. “Thought you were off to report to the Queen? I’m sure she’d liked to be informed.”
Darius searched a tick inside his own head. Pierce bit his lip, wondering if the lie would work, for Darius seemed hell-bent on staying.
“Ah,” Javen eventually said. “She would, in fact.”
The guard searching him found the jar of oil.
“What’s this, eh?” he demanded.
“It’s the fake poison I’d planned to use to stage my parents’ death.”
They bought it, of course. The illusion was working so well, he thought to try convincing them that he wasn’t Pierce at all. However, even under the power of the hallucinogenic, Darius would never believe that one.
They stripped him of the uniform top half, leaving him with only his own shirt and vest. At least they allowed him to keep the britches. The soldiers put him into his own cell, and the warden locked the door. When the little troll moved away, the lieutenant appeared and at the bars.
“I have to know,” he said softly. “What was it that attacked us last night?”
Pierce could think of nothing more fearful than the truth.
“A vampire.”
Darius did not seem too surprised by that, as if he already had his suspicions.
“I see.” He looked to the soldiers. “You both stand guard until I arrive with more guards to relieve you.”
“Aye, sir,” they complied.
The lads looked utterly spent, but they would obey their leader like the good little doggies they were.
Darius gave a curt nod. “Good. I shall not be long.”
As he left, Pierce leaned his forehead against the cold bars. He only hoped his parents were being taken from the prison.
* * *
Juan waited anxiously by the back gate behind the building. She feared something else had snagged the plan and Bobby wouldn’t keep to his end of the bargain. Or, worse, she and Bartlomiej were going to be discovered. Seeing Lieutenant Javan did nothing to soothe her troubled mind.
The with a click, the gate opened and out came Bobby and another guard. They carried a woman’s body, and soon afterward, two shackled inmates appeared, carrying the slack body of a man. Juan stood by the end of the cart as they approached.
Juan studied the woman who looked too young to be Pierce’s mother. She worried they had brought out the wrong couple, though her likeness to Pierce reassured her somewhat.
Can’t be helped now.
“Here they are,” Bobby announced, holding the female’s feet. “We lied and claimed we were told to bury them in the prison cemetery.”
“Put them in,” Juan ordered.
They tossed the woman into the cart, and a painful sound escaped her.
“What was that?” Bobby asked.
“Ouch,” Juan cried, clasping her lower back. “My old muscles.”
“Right.” The keeper sighed unsympathetically. “Now, if you please.”
He held out his hand and Juan reached into her pocket. She dumped money into her hand.
“Here,” she said, handing it over to Bobby. “As agreed.”
The other guard saw the amount and gawked.
“Glory be! You need any more dead folks?” He pointed to the inmates placing the slack body of the man in the wagon. The shackled men looked over, stunned. “Won’t take us long to make them into fresh corpses.”
The prisoners’ shock quickly switched to fearfulness when they fully realized that their own lives were being tossed into this deal.
“Maybe next time,” Juan said, bowing slightly to him. “Good night to you.”
She turned on her heel and climbed on the buggy while groaning about her muscle pains.
“Let’s go,” she whispered to Bartlomiej.
With a light snap of the reins, they were away.
Chapter Seven
Fireworks
Archie waited anxiously for the other guardsmen to return.
He wanted to get on with the plan, especially after seeing Fan’s buggy appear from behind the prison. Shortly after the cart vanished down the road, the soldiers exited the middle door. The Persian laughed while he told the other soldiers waiting out front what happened. They mounted and rode up Newgate Street, taking two mounts without riders with them.
Ten minutes passed, and no alarm had sounded. Landcross’s kin was safe.
The door guards eventually returned, laughing cheerfully.
“Oi, lad,” Bobby told Archie while walking by. “Stay here while we go to the pub, eh?”
Archie answered with a salute and watched as they headed down the road under the dim lamplights. When he no longer saw them, Archie went inside.
He thought he was ready for it, but the stench that could only have come from within human bodies disoriented him. Never had he smelt anything so foul. He was truly thankful for the scarf. Archie walked through the dark and lonely cellblock until he reached a gate.
“Weren’t you just here?” snarled a turnkey, sitting on a stool by the doorway.
The man had obviously seen Kuzentsov earlier, which told Archie he was heading in the right direction. Archie paid him little mind as he turned the key in the lock until it clicked.
“Aye,” he answered sternly. “And now I’m back.”
The irritation in his tone came from the reek that was affecting him in every bad way imaginable. The keeper only grunted and spoke no more.
Archie journeyed on until he met up with a flight of stairs. At the top, armed guards stood in front of a cell door. He remembered the other troops leaving with a pair of mounts without riders. Although they were not in uniform, these men were well trained and would shoot Archie dead if he tried anything rash. He’d have to wait until Fan performed whatever miracle he had planned.
* * *
Taisia waited on the corner of Ave Maria Lane. Her hands hurt from fidgeting with Archie’s coat. She paced back and forth and then stood about, biting her nails. To any passersby, she was just some crazy person.
How could she have been so stupid? When the men entered her cell, she had watched the soldier knock the keeper out cold. Although curious as to why he’d done so, she still hadn’t allowed herself to give it much thought. Her only concern was seizing the opportunity for an escape, and she took it without hesitation. In truth, Taisia had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions sometimes, a flaw she was working to eliminate. Now, her hasty act had taken something valuable away from the people she loved, and as she waited in the dark, she vowed to do whatever was possible to make it right.
Squeaky wheels sounded down the road. Taisia held her breath as it started to pass.
“Fan?” she called softly, stepping into the streetlamp light.
The Asian eyed her. “There you are, girl. Get in.”
Taisia dashed over and Bartlomiej hoisted her up next to him. As Taisia took a seat, she looked behind her, and to her utter joy, saw Nona and Jasper’s bodies lying side by side in the wagon bed.
They traveled on for many blocks. No one spoke until the cart entered a small stable next to an old brick building. Taisia snatched the hat off her head and leaped down.
“Nona!” she cried. “Jasper!”
The couple rose and scooted out.
Nona embraced her strongly, as did Jasper.
“It’s good to have you with us again, lass,” Jasper said tearfully.
Nona touched Taisia’s fac
e lovingly. She stared at her a moment and then turned her attention to Fan.
“Merci,” she thanked with deep sincerity.
“Do not thank me just yet,” Fan said as Bartlomiej helped him down like a lady being assisted from a carriage. “We still have work to do.”
“What do you mean?” Nona asked. Her next question must have come from her motherly instincts. “Where is Pierce?”
Taisia broke down sobbing. “Oh, Nona, Jasper. I did not know.”
“Know what?” Jasper demanded.
“Your son came into my cell, and I thought he was a guard. I hit him and locked him in. I . . . I am so sorry!”
Nona gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. Anger flickered in her eyes. A queasy unsettling nervousness formed in Taisia’s stomach. Nona sighed deeply and clasped Taisia’s shoulder.
“It was not your fault. You believed you were only defending yourself.”
“I have plan,” Fan said, coming up to them. “But we must act quickly.”
“What can we do?” Jasper chimed in eagerly.
“You and your wife stay here,” Fan ordered firmly. “We have gone through too much trouble to let anything happen to you. Bartlomiej, take them up to my room and then meet me and Taisia in the cellar.”
“Yes, Mistress Fan.”
“Mistress Fan?” Jasper whispered to himself.
“Go on. I will make this right,” Taisia promised.
Nona and Jasper seemed to want to stay, but instead of protesting, they trailed after the young man. Nona gave her a lingering, forlorn look that dug into Taisia’s heart.
“Follow me, girl,” Fan commanded with alacrity while taking the lantern from the seat. “We must hurry.”
They both went out to the rear of the building. Fan handed the light over to Taisia and knelt at a pair of cellar doors. Instead of a simple padlock, a brass cube sat in the middle of the doors with five small, square holes inside of it. Fan slid a moveable square over and into one empty slot. He moved another square up into the second slot and another down into the next. When he moved the last square to the left, the cube clacked.
“A puzzle lock,” Taisia observed.
“A lot more secure.” Fan lifted the batwing doors and descended. “Come. Come,” he urged.
Taisia followed, wondering what in the world was hidden down there. The moldy smell of the cellar was accompanied by a strong scent of gunpowder. At the bottom of the stairs, Fan put his hand out.
“Mind the fire in that lamp,” he warned.
That confused Taisia until she noticed what lay before her.
Fireworks. Mounds and mounds of fireworks of all shapes and sizes, stuffed into open crates.
“Where did you get these?”
“They are the remains from my days as a smuggler,” Fan explained. “I sell them here and there during celebrations.”
Taisia grinned. “I think I know what you are planning, and I like it.”
Fan bared his stained teeth when he smiled. “Shì.”
* * *
“You’re joking,” Albert said to Lieutenant Javan inside a State Room. “Landcross actually attempted to rescue his family from prison and ended up getting locked in?”
The lieutenant nodded. “He did, sir. I saw him with my own eyes.”
For Victoria, the news was devastating.
“What about his family?” she asked him. “Did Landcross succeed in rescuing them?”
“He did not, my Queen.”
“How on earth did he ever find out about them?” Albert asked.
At this, the lieutenant’s dark face reddened. “I told him while transporting him here.”
Her husband held up a finger. “Wait. That’s right. We received a telegraph that you had captured him. So why was he breaking into the prison in the first place?”
“We were attacked, Your Highness, by a vampire. The demon left us naked and tied up in the forest. Landcross had gone.”
“The vampire saved him?” Victoria said with a gasped.
“Yes, my Queen.”
What sort of man is this thief? she wondered.
“Vampires,” Albert snarled. “Foul creatures, all of them. Left you naked, you say? It explains your attire.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Lieutenant Javan said, disgruntled.
Victoria cleared her throat. “Well, we are pleased you have returned to us safely, and that Landcross is finally where he belongs.”
“Thank you, my Queen. May I request a couple of men to relieve my exhausted soldiers who stand guard at Landcross’s cell?”
Victoria strained to keep up her act of being delighted. “Of course.”
“Thank you, my Queen.”
Lieutenant Javan took the customary four steps backward with his head bowed before turning on his heel and departing the room.
“Marvelous!” Albert praised, taking his wife by the hands. “With Landcross imprisoned, you can rest easy, my love.” He kissed her cheek. “You’re trembling.”
“Am I? I suppose I am merely astonished, is all.”
He smiled. That lovely smile she had adored since the first time she saw it.
“Understandable, my darling. This isn’t the outcome I had expected when we sent the hunting party out.”
She laughed. “No. No, it most certainly is not.”
The chances of Landcross succeeding in the prison break were very small. This she already knew when she had made the wager. And even though, despite herself, she wanted things to turn out differently, a bet was a bet.
And Landcross had lost.
* * *
Juan had been aiming to rid herself of the hundreds of pounds of fireworks for years. Now she had her chance. She drove a buggy, larger than the first one, to the corner of the prison. She kept out of the light as much as possible and hoped the Russian and Bartlomiej were doing the same. She had instructed Taisia to go behind the building while Bartlomiej positioned himself on the other front corner, where they would wait until the church bell tolled nine before lighting the fuses to their own carts full of fireworks. Juan unwound the cannon fuses attached to a handful of fireworks within the heap of others hidden under a burlap tarp. She strung the fuses clear across the road to the sidewalk on the other side before unhitching the horse. As she did, the tolling bell at St. Paul’s Cathedral began. Once the animal was freed, she guided it in the direction they had come from and smacked it hard on its hindquarters.
“Go on,” she commanded.
The mount trotted up the road. Juan hurried back over and knelt in front of the long fuses. The bell tolled seven, and then eight. Juan struck her match and set the flame to each end. The flames sparked to life and journeyed up the fuses in a twinkling, fast-paced glide. Juan watched the little bright shooting stars for a moment before she took off running. It wasn’t until she neared the corner of Newgate Street that an explosion burst into the night. The wagon shattered in a ball of fire. From out of the radiant spectacle, dozens of rockets shot up with thick traces of smoke following as they soared into the sky and exploded. Moments later, two more highly powerful and colorful blasts erupted at the other corners of the prison. Fireworks flew wildly in every direction, bursting into bright colors, crashing through windows, and lighting up buildings from within. Explosions lit up the dark sky. Some fireworks even arched over the prison walls. The entire street was ignited in a frenzy of sparks, bangs, and pops. People came outside. The noise knocked against Juan’s body as if the sound waves were walls constantly rushing up to meet her.
Her job was complete. She had done all that she could. It was now up to the young man, Archie.
* * *
Pierce stood with his forehead against the wall, his arms hanging lifelessly down beside him. He had no idea how long he’d been standing like that, and really, could not have given a toss. At least his parents had gotten away, or so he hoped. If the illusion worked as well for his folks as it did for him, and if their performance was up to par, then they were already safe
at Fan’s opium den. It gave him some peace.
An explosion broke his little serene trance. The window of the cell across from him lit up as if a brightly-colored thunderstorm had washed over the entire city. The deafening sound struck his chest like a fist. It certainly made the guards jump. They rushed into the empty cell across from him and stood on the bed to try to get a look through the high window. Pierce stepped over to the bars.
“Fan,” he whispered with a grin.
A figure appeared and slammed the door on the soldiers.
“Oi!” a soldier exclaimed, leaping off the bed.
The assailant had already locked them in by the time the guard reached it. After yanking on the bars in a fruitless attempt to open the door, the guard aimed his flintlock rifle at the assailant as he worked to unlatch Pierce’s cell.
“Watch it!” Pierce warned.
The person leaped to the side, leaving the barrel pointing at Pierce.
“Shite!” Pierce shouted, dropping to his knee just as the gun went off.
The ear-bleeding bangs outside masked the gunshot blast. While gun smoke fogged the small corridor, the figure returned and jabbed the key into the lock.
“Stop, you!” the other soldier ordered, aiming his rifle through the bars to gain a better shot.
The figure acted fast and twirled around, grabbing the rifle barrel and pushing it away from him. Another crack of gunfire went off, missing its target. Once the threat was taken care of, the figure finished unlatching the cell. “Let’s go,” he ordered.
Pierce knew that voice. He said nothing as he rushed to the stairs. The explosions drowned out the soldiers’ shouting.
“Arch?” Pierce guessed when they got downstairs.
His rescuer turned to face him, lowering the scarf.
“Can’t stay out of trouble, can you?” Archie quipped.
Seeing his friend nearly caused Pierce to believe he had been affected by the hallucinogenic and all this was simply wishful thinking.
The Reunion Page 9