The Reunion

by Michelle E Lowe

  “And if I came?” Pierce asked hopefully.

  “Then I would set them free. By right, I can do so, since the crimes they committed were against me.”

  Pierce wanted to do a black flip. He held his breath with fear for what answer his next question would bring. “And me?”

  Darius stepped forward. “I can choose exactly what I want to do with you.”

  His approach caused Pierce to back up until he bumped into the soldier behind him. Holding on to his aggressive posture, Darius stopped and stared at Pierce as if he was about to break his neck right there. Pierce stood firm and looked him in the eye. It was then he noticed Darius holding a pair of manacles.

  “I see,” Pierce grunted miserably.

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Landcross.”

  “Sure you have,” Pierce muttered, lifting his wrists together, palms up.

  He expected the cold clamp of shackles, but, instead, Darius slapped a leather-bound envelope into his hand.

  “What the bloody hell is this?” he quickly demanded.

  “My regret,” Darius answered with a dash of vitriol in his voice.

  Confused, Pierce untied the thread and flipped the envelope open. His eyes widened.

  “A pardon?” he exclaimed in disbelief. “A bloody Royal pardon, at that?”

  “The Queen saw something in you, and when you came to me, I, too, saw it. Despite your sins, you are an honorable man who has earned himself a second chance.”

  Pierce was so thrilled, he searched for a pen, even though he hadn’t one on him.

  “I . . . I, can’t believe it,” he stammered, searching through his empty pockets.

  “Here,” Darius grunted, handing over a fountain pen.

  Pierce accepted it and knelt to sign the pardon upon his knee. He didn’t care about the ache in his wounded leg. Gritting his teeth, he stood to his full height after filling in his signature. He admired the pardon with his own name on it. He became lost in it until Darius snatched it from him, flipped the envelope closed, and shoved it into his inner coat pocket.

  “How long would you have waited before you hunted for me? You couldn’t have known when I’d return to Indigo’s place.”

  “Or did I?” the lieutenant said slyly. “It turns out, the Toymaker has a lot of little inventions lying about, one of them being a mobile telegraph.” He pulled the telegraph message from his pocket. “I had Mr. Norwich’s coachman inform me when you arrived and disclose what you intended to do. Since he did not wish to go to prison for letting you take Mr. Norwich’s coach to Buckingham Palace, Mr. Lane was more than willing to cooperate.” He then added darkly, “So, the woman came with you?”

  Taisia had told Pierce about cutting Darius’s arm during the fight in the marketplace. Darius undoubtedly hadn’t forgotten, nor had he forgiven her for it.

  Pierce gave no answer, but, then, Darius needed none from him. He nodded to a couple of soldiers and they mounted their horses.

  “No, wait,” Pierce shouted. “Darius, wait a tick!”

  “That’s Lieutenant Javan!” he yelled with irritation.

  Pierce sucked in a breath. “Apologies, Lieutenant. Listen, if you aim to punish someone for what happened at the market, then . . . I’m your man, eh? Do what you want, take back the bloody pardon, just leave her be.”

  The thought of having Taisia arrested and hauled to Newgate filled Pierce with cold dread. He’d do whatever he could to prevent it from happening, even give up his own freedom. Darius only stared hard at him, clearly catching something in his desperate tone.

  “Have you—fallen in love with her, Landcross?”

  Pierce swallowed thickly. He was unable to hide the emotions he held for Taisia. “Please, Lieutenant,” he pleaded.

  The Persian considered him a moment longer. He glanced at the soldiers on their mounts, awaiting his orders, then looked to Pierce again. “Anything I want, you say?”

  The fist crashing against his cheek made the world spin. Being belted by Darius had certainly rung his bell loud enough to make his ears bleed. The suddenness of the punch caught Pierce completely off -guard, and he met with the ground in the blink of an eye. He stayed down for a few ticks, reeling from the attack before sitting up with bright bursts of light flashing behind his eyes. He rubbed where he was stuck, which only massaged the pain in deeper, making his eye throb.

  “That felt more satisfying than I thought it would,” ol’ Darius beamed happily with a nod.

  Pierce only hoped another hit wasn’t coming.

  The lieutenant’s delight in knocking his arse to the ground must’ve raised his compassion level, for he said, “Although the scar on my arm is something I would wish to live without, I can grant Miss Kuzentsov her freedom, as well as yours.”

  Despite the agony, Pierce was greatly relieved. He spat out blood and stood with some difficulty. “Cheers.”

  “There is a condition, however,” Darius added, going back to business. “You are to leave England—forever. If I so much as hear your name or read about you in the papers for any reason, I will send out the entire Queen’s Army to track you down.”

  “I’m being booted out of Britain? A bit drastic, eh?”

  “Is it?” Darius challenged. “Given your history, you ought to be banned from the whole European continent.”

  Pierce saw his point.

  “Llandudno,” Darius called.

  “Sir?” Llandudno replied, stepping forward.

  “Go fetch the Landcross couple.”

  “Yes, sir.” As the soldier darted off, Darius ordered, “The rest of you, prepare to depart.”

  The soldiers broke the circle around Pierce and scrambled into action. Pierce noticed the silver knife handle strapped to Darius’s waist.

  “That’s a very shiny knife,” he remarked out of curiosity.

  “Oh, this?” The Persian pulled the sterling silver blade from its holster. “I carry this now in case I ever run into your friend again.”

  “My friend?”

  “The vampire who saved you, remember? He and I had a brief chat inside Newgate Prison. I only wish I had had this on me when the creature attacked us that night. He stole our weapons and horses.”

  “Wait,” Pierce said, remembering Darius out of uniform at Newgate. “Did he leave you without clothing as well?”

  The lieutenant’s hard glare answered that question.

  “It’s not too late, Landcross. I can take this pardon and burn it.”

  “Sorry!” Pierce quickly recanted, throwing up his hands. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Darius narrowed his eyes.

  “Pierce,” his mother shouted.

  “Mum!” he called out gleefully as she ran to him.

  Before he knew it, she engulfed him in her embrace.

  “Mon garçon! Vous êtes revenus!” she sobbed. “You have returned to me.”

  His father joined in, wrapping his long limbs around both his son and wife. Darius seemed to have settled contentedly into his decision to let him go. Seeing Pierce in the loving arms of his family had softened him up. Then he snarled and walked off.

  Maybe not.

  As the soldiers mounted up and departed, Darius rode up to Pierce.

  “Enjoy your freedom, Landcross.” He grasped the silver knife handle. “It might very well be short-lived.”

  Darius joined his men on the overgrown path and steadily rode away.

  * * *

  Taisia’s eyes were so dry from crying that they felt as if they were cracking. She sat alone in the middle of the meadow and wept for what seemed like an eternity. Losing the love of her life was the worst pain she’d ever experienced. The ache in her heart caused her to believe it was about to stop beating altogether. In truth, she hoped it would.

  “Taisia,” came a voice she believed couldn’t be real.

  She twisted around, expecting to see nothing. Was it his ghost? Had she gone mad with grief?

  “Pierce?”

  H
e approached. “It’s me, love.”

  She stood on unsteady legs. If the shock hadn’t paralyzed her, she’d have raced to him.

  “You . . . you,” she babbled in disbelief. “You left.”

  When he reached her, she raised a shaky hand to his face. Her entire body shook with the fear that she wouldn’t feel him at all, and that her mind was playing a cruel trick on her.

  His cheek felt warm on her palm.

  “Oh, God!” Taisia exclaimed with relief before falling against his chest.

  His strong heartbeat thumped by her ear, acknowledging that he was real. She collapsed to her knees, pulling him down with her. They kissed and hugged each other. From over his shoulder, she spotted Nona and Jasper standing nearby with the horse.

  “Nona!” she shouted. “Jasper!”

  Regaining her strength, she stood and rushed to them. They embraced, and she clung tightly to the family she belonged to from now until forever.

  * * *

  “Oi, Arch!” Pierce hollered to Archie as he was helping Rhys load up a luggage trunk on top of the stagecoach. “Why so glum, chum?”

  When Archie looked at him, he dropped the trunk. Rhys leaped away to keep it from landing on his toes.

  “Pierce?” he uttered in shock.

  Pierce walked with his fingers knitted in Taisia’s, his parents to either side of them.

  “Can’t seem to get rid of me, eh?” he quipped.

  Seeing Pierce stiffened Archie into a statue. He couldn’t speak. The front door opened and Grandmother Fey stepped out.

  “Nona,” she called, instantly catching her daughter’s attention.

  Pierce held his breath as his mother saw her own.

  Nona studied her a moment. “Mère?”

  Grandmother Fey approached her steadily, giving her daughter time to absorb the sight of her.

  “Oui, mon enfant.”

  “No.” Nona shook her head. “You died.”

  “It was a lie,” she said, stopping an arm’s length from her. “Your brother lied to you.”

  Nona cried and Grandmother Fey drew her close. The reunion of mother and daughter managed to brighten the whole bloody world.

  “Mr. Pierce!” Clover shouted, running out.

  He prepared himself, and yet her tight embrace hurt no less. When Indigo came outside, his old face became young with happiness. Eilidh wept.

  It was the single most joyful moment in Pierce’s life. He had his freedom, his family, even a lifelong partner. On any other day, would he believe this could ever happen to him?

  Never.

  Epilogue

  The chill of the frosted ground Pierce found himself lying on went unnoticed, for the horrifying sight before him stole away all his awareness. Even the pain in his face where his brother had struck him went unfelt.

  “Stay down!” Joaquin ordered loudly.

  What’s happening? What did you hit me for?

  “Take care of ’im,” Luca demanded forebodingly.

  “Steady now, Joaquin,” Pierce said, raising his hand to him. “It’s me, your brother, remember?”

  Joaquin didn’t seem to recognize him anymore, and Pierce saw it when he unsheathed his knife.

  The moment Pierce Landcross could never escape from, not even in dreams, had come. Joaquin snatched the gun from him before Pierce could pull it from the hostler, and then placed the dull, jagged blade against the soft tissue of Pierce’s throat before moving it across. The treachery tore at him more than the skin Joaquin was ripping away. Luca and Giles laughed wickedly like greeters at the entrance of Purgatory. The bond Pierce had once shared with Joaquin had been severed. The hot sting of his flesh being split apart and the warm flow of blood were less terrifying than the sight of the sinister stranger that had once been his brother.

  Who are you?

  The terrible dream tore Pierce from his slumber. He shot up, gasping, holding his throat in a trembling hand. He pressed his fingers against the roughness that was his scar. It had been ages since he had that blasted nightmare.

  Rising from the blanket he and Taisia lay upon up in Indigo Peachtree’s attic, he slipped out from underneath the second quilt covering them. As always, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so he crept barefoot downstairs. The ache in his wounded leg had kicked up, forcing him to limp. Despite the pain, his skills as a thief had trained him to be as silent as a cat. He stepped throughout the house without disturbing Indigo in his room, his grandmother in the guest bedroom, or anyone else sound asleep in the small living room.

  He left out through the rear door, wanting water from the brook for his dry throat. However, his need for fresh air and cool water was instantly forgotten upon seeing a tall man standing in the backyard, gazing out toward the meadow beyond the stream.

  “I had this dream a few days ago,” the man said, keeping his back to Pierce. “At least, it may have been a dream. A voice told me to come here.”

  He turned around and Pierce gasped at the dreadful sight of him.

  “Joaquin?”

  “I . . . I think I’m dying, little brother.”

  Watch out for the next installment:

  Legacy

  The Underground

  Coming Soon!

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Michelle E. Lowe is the author of The Warning, Atlantic Pyramid, Cherished Thief, and Legacy. Children’s books, Poe’s Haunted House Tour, and The Hex Hunt. Her works in progress are the continuations of Legacy. Currently, she lives in Lake Forest, California with husband Ben, and their two daughters.

  Website: www.michellelowe.net

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