Cameo and the Highwayman (Trilogy of Shadows Book 2) (22 page)

When Cameo reemerged, she had on a long cloak more suited to the weather in Shandow, with a short sword strapped to a scabbard at one side.

Jules tilted his head to look at her new ensemble. “Nice pistol.”

She glanced down at the pistol butt sticking out of one boot. “Concerned?”

“Are you planning on shooting me?”

“Undecided.”

“Well,” he opened his hands, “here I am.”

“The pistol is frozen. Take this,” she tossed a cloak at him, which he snatched out of the air with unnatural speed.

He looked over at the mausoleum she was in front of. “Is this some sort of cache?”

She pulled out her flask, ignoring him, and drank down a morning breakfast of whiskey.

Jules slipped off the cape he was wearing and tried on the cloak she had just given to him. “Better. Thank you.”

Cameo brushed her hair to one side self-consciously, attempting to cover a small bald area she had acquired in a fight with the Master months ago. She was tired of him now. She’d gone for years seeing him only a handful of times, and now within the past three or four months he was there every time she turned around. She was starting to reminisce about her life as a blood-thirsty assassin, a life that she had loathed and wanted to get out of for a long time, but for all of its horrors, she had had more freedom then than she had experienced lately. Perhaps that was over now though. Haffef had what he wanted: the recovered remains of her sister’s long-dead body. There was nothing left of them now, just bones. Maybe this meant that he would just ignore her for a while.

“Well, goodbye.” She turned and walked away from Jules.

He was in the process of tucking his old cape into the mausoleum when she departed.

She needed to get back to Opal. Haffef had forced her to leave him in order to trap Edel, and that had been two days ago now. Poor wretch, Opal; she hadn’t even been able to tell him where she was going. Cameo thought of him lying there alone in an empty whorehouse room, with his hands broken by King Avamore’s jailers, leaving him unable to help himself, unable to eat or drink without someone to help him—and Haffef had forced her to leave him in that condition. Her pace hastened.

The sunlight on the snow was blinding. She was on the east end of the palace grounds, and she had left him at Hattie’s, a place far to the west. She was in the wilderness, slogging through two feet of snow. Last night she had had to crawl out of Edel’s apartment, weak from blood loss while Edel was being murdered inside, his limbs ripped from his body one by one. She had never witnessed a murder so gruesome, and it made even her, an undead with many kills under her belt, pause. Haffef seemed to know how to upset her.
Poor Edel,
she said to herself. Her mind was racing; she had to get to Opal to make certain that he was all right, make certain Haffef hadn’t slaughtered him while she had been with Edel—he was only mortal, after all. He couldn’t protect himself from a vampire like her Master.

Cameo stopped in mid-step and spun around.

Jules was a dark figure in the snow, just ten feet behind her.

She pulled her sword. “What are you doing?”

He held up his hands. “I have no weapon.”

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m going with you.”

She laughed a short, bitter laugh. “Go away, Jules.”

He met her eyes.

“We don’t even like each other. Why would you go with me? Go your own way.”

“We don’t? That really hurts me,” he hissed.

She took a step away from him, and he took a step toward her. “And I thought you had changed at Edel’s. Apparently not. I see this is going to be just another fight to the death then?” She reached for her pistol as well.

“I’m unarmed.”

“Arm yourself then. I’ll shoot you regardless.”

“Your pistol is frozen.”

“Fine, come over here, and I’ll beat you to death with it instead.”

He smirked, but then she came toward him—fast. Jules took several steps back.

Cameo charged him with a sword in her right hand and a useless black powder pistol in her left.

Jules raced back across the field, following his own footsteps. He was amazed at how fast he could run now. Only a few weeks ago he had still been human; now he was a monster like Cameo. He had the same awful vampire Master that she did. The love of his life had been murdered, and he was only starting to come to terms with the idea that she had been deceiving him for years. He started to see the tiny dots of the cemetery they had just left in the distance. The former assassin glanced over his shoulder, but Cameo was nowhere in sight.

He stopped and caught his breath, and then, sighing, he turned himself back around and followed her footsteps in the snow.

* * * * *

Cameo entered the brothel quickly, with a determined expression on her face and a sword at her side. She swept in, bringing the snow with her and upsetting the clientele who were lounging in the downstairs of the tavern, playing cards and drinking.

She heard the word
assassin
clearly as she passed through a kitchen area and up the backstairs. The women working there moved out of her way as she marched up the steps and toward Opal’s room. And then she hesitated as she stood at his door—there was high-pitched laughter and cheery chit-chat issuing from the room she presumed was Black Opal’s. For a moment she wondered if they had thrown him out or given him over to the authorities, and she was about to burst into the room of some gentleman enjoying an evening at Hattie’s.

Cameo quietly cracked open the door. She peered in and discovered Opal lying flat on his back, playing cards with two of the women employed there. One was in bed with him, holding his hand of cards up for him, and the other was sitting on a stool beside the bed.

His eyes widened when he saw her slip into his room. “Darling,” he sounded breathless.

“Hello, love.” Her voice was deep, flat, and pitiless.

“Oh.” One of the women jumped up when she got a good look at the haunting apparition sauntering in.

“That’s Cameo,” the other whispered as she climbed off of the bed, cowed by the reputation.

Cameo glanced down at the empty bottles of wine littering the floor, then back up at Opal. “Comfortable now?”

The dandy considered the other two thoughtfully as they departed.

“Goodbye, Mister Black,” one said.

“Goodbye,” the other whispered, hurrying out the door.

“You need a new pseudonym,” Cameo said as she picked up the bottles and piled them into a heap beside the door.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Probably.”

“Have you eaten?”

“A bit. They put it on your tab, I’m afraid.”

She smiled at him tenderly. “That’s fine. I can afford to buy you dinner.”

“Where… did you go?”

“Haffef was here. He forced me to go back to Edel; he threatened your life. He made me distract Edel so that he could get into his apartment and catch him unaware.” She leaned in to readjust his sheets.

Now she was close enough that he could see her clearly. “He bit you?”

“It’s all right—”

“He bit you!”

Cameo covered her mouth with one hand. She turned away, and as she did he saw a second fresh set of marks on her neck.

“Your throat....”

She watched him attempt to sit up and get out of bed on a pair of broken hands.

“Opal!” She caught him as he fell, his jaw clenched in pain, and helped him back into bed.

His brow furrowed in helpless frustration. “They could have killed you while I was lying here… useless.”

She offered him her flask which he drank from eagerly.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into when you realized what I was, didn’t you?” She slipped off her heavy cloak and sat down on the stool.

Opal looked up at her, weakened by the sudden jolt of pain and amused by the question. Things appeared to be so bleak at the moment that they were actually quite funny. “Are you trying to make me feel better by telling me that I was useless before I had this recent, tragic turn of events?” He asked referring to his hands.

“As far as the vampires are concerned, well… and zombies.”

He took note of the faraway look in her eyes. “You’re referring to yourself?”

She shook her head.

“What zombie?”

“Do you remember that assassin we left tied to a tree somewhere in the Lockenwood forest?”

“The one I stabbed?”

“Yes, him.”

“Go on.”

“Haffef turned him into a zombie too. Sent him to find me, and then Edel captured him, and he was living in the apartment as well.”

Opal seemed stunned. “Is he free?”

“Yes.”

“Another person who will want to extract his revenge on me, and me with no recourse at all,” he muttered.

“He’s not going to hurt you.” She reassured.

He regarded her dubiously.

“He and Haffef found Ivy’s remains. Haffef finally has them.” She took a swig from her flask, sighing, as if the idea pained her. “He has what’s left of my sister. Now perhaps he’ll leave me alone.”

He smiled a somewhat defeated smile that he’d been trying on for the last few days. “Perhaps.”

“I was worried about you, though. Left alone, without my help....” She glanced over at the empty wine bottles. “But it seems you’ve made some friends while I was away.”

Opal turned toward her. “Nothing you wouldn’t approve of my dear. Honestly, a round of cards and some alcohol, nothing… untoward. I assure you.”

“Certainly not in a whorehouse.”

He smiled at her. “Look at me, love. I have one blind eye, two useless hands, and I’m covered with smallpox scars—”

“I know what you look like, and who you are.”

“You flatter me.” He half laughed and then sobered, and then the question of what he was looking like these days crossed his mind. “Do you have a mirror?”

She did not want to give him one. Instead of replying immediately, she found herself examining the state of the floorboards, which were worn down right around the bed and dusty in the corners. “No, I don’t.”

Opal rolled over onto his back. “Why did he bite your mouth?”

Cameo met his eyes. “We should leave here soon.”

He felt himself pale. “You let him?” he asked, incredulous.

“I had to create a distraction.”

“And I actually felt badly for having a few drinks with Peg and Helena, while you were going around actively kissing vampires—”

“I was attempting to distract him with blood. I knew that if I drew blood he would be somewhat disoriented and there would be a slim possibility that he couldn’t read my mind. I don’t think it worked.” She fought to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want any regrets creeping into her expression, but she was fighting a losing battle.

“It must have worked. You’re still alive.”

“That’s true, but I think he knew his life was soon to be ended. He gave me a parting gift.”

“What?”

“Oh, something about… he was giving me a piece of himself when he bit me. Passing on some trait that was specific to him, I guess.” She shrugged. “I’ve seen no change in myself though, so I really have no idea what he was talking about.”

“He’s dead then? I mean, really dead this time?”

“Yes.” She pulled out the pistol she had stashed in a mausoleum seven years ago and examined it.

“Yes? Just yes, hmm?”

“Yes.”

Opal looked down at his hands, two busted appendages that curled inward at the wrist, which resembled the hands of an elderly man. They were still foreign to him. These two hands that had been so coordinated before his capture.... His mind drifted off to the night that he had arrived to save Cameo from Edel’s clutches. How dashing he had looked. He smiled at the thought of himself riding the white steed.

Cameo took aim at a pitcher that was sitting in a wash basin.

“What are you thinking?”

“What are you thinking?” she replied without hesitation.

“I was thinking of the time we spent together at Edel’s apartment.” He smiled thoughtfully at her, hoping she would also remember the time they spent together, entwined in her sheets, or at least that she might remember that she had admitted to being in love with him, perhaps spark an interest in changing the tone of this meeting. “What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking of killing Avamore,” she said coldly.

“Ah.... Well, he deserves it.” He tried to tuck his hands under the blanket.

She focused her attention on him, “We need to get you out of Shandow as soon as possible.”

“So you can return and assassinate the King?”

“Aren’t you the
architect of the revolution
? I would think you would be thrilled that someone wanted to take him out.”

“I’m probably just tired.”

“I want to do it for you.”

“Yes, that’s very romantic, my dear.” He turned away from her. This probably meant she would move him to some other place in Lockenwood, return to Shandow, kill the king, and then come back after a time. All in all, he’d be left on his own for heaven knows how long again, waiting for her. He was starting to regret how he had spent the majority of his life leaving this girl or that girl, telling each one he would be back as soon as he had the chance, never to return, and without any intention of ever doing so. That was what he had become, a girl in a town. A sad girl in a town. Now he needed looking after, he needed a servant or a wife. And if this was how he was to spend the remainder of his life, as an invalid, he would have to change his ways. He certainly couldn’t fight his way out of problems now, so he’d have to go about his life differently, not as a highwayman at all anymore.

“So, you were for the revolution then?” Opal asked in a small voice that nearly seemed to come from some other place in the room; it was timid and seemingly aloof.

Her eyes lingered on his weakened form—the triangular shape of his back, which was currently pointed in her direction—and set the pistol down. “Yes. I was for it.”

He released a low sigh of relief. “For some reason I thought....”

“That I might be related to royalty?”

“Yes.” He turned over to face her.

She met his eyes, one hazel the other white, blinded by a childhood bout of smallpox. “No,” she lied.