The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) (29 page)

“Come to gloat?” I asked, but inside I was a ball of
hope.

“Do not be a fool, Bess. I have
come to set you free.”

“Why?” I demanded, feeling skeptical. “Why help me
when you delivered me to them? What game are you playing?”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging. “He promised that
they did not mean you harm, they were to exchange you for the
artifacts.”

Being correct in my assumption offered me no
satisfaction, because her tone caused a knot to form in my stomach.
Guinevere was truly concerned, scared even. They meant to do it.
They meant to kill me. Swallowing the burning in my throat and
trying to appear disdainful, I scoffed at her, “And you believed
that twaddle?”

Her shoulders squared, her jaw set in a hard line,
and she became the Guinevere that I knew. “Do you want my help or
do you not?”

When I nodded, Guinevere moved silently to the door.
She paused at the door, her ear pressing against the wood.

“You have five minutes only. Take the back stairs.”
She reached down and turned the door knob, but did not open the
door. She met my eyes. “No one knows that I am here, so if you are
captured and blame me, no one will believe you.”

“Get me out of this house, and no one will capture
me.”

There were no lights in the hall as we stepped into
it. She pointed to the right, toward a narrow staircase, nodded,
and moved quietly toward the front of the house. I did not have a
weapon or a plan, but I knew Guinevere well enough to know that she
meant what she said. The guards would be distracted for five
minutes.

There were many doors along the hall, but I passed
them without a single glance, my focus on the stairs at the end of
the hall. The staircase was dark as I gripped the banister and made
my descent. With each step, I tensed. The third step creaked, and I
winced but kept going. Four more steps had creaked before I reached
the bottom that ended at a wooden door. I turned the knob and
gently eased it open.

A small white hall unadorned of portraits assured me
that I was in the servants’ area of the house. There were three
doors before me. The two on the left had the locks like bedroom
doors, but the one on the right had the key in it, so it locked
from the hall, which meant that it should be a door to the outside.
It led onto a large porch, the boards and columns all painted
white. As I stepped out into the crisp, evening air, I glanced
around. The sun had set, but it was not so dark that I could not
see my way.

Moving soundlessly across the porch and down three
steps, I nearly laughed in astonishment as I looked around, but
there was no time. When the house was behind me, I entered a long
line of trees and moved through them, but did not step into the
open field that was beyond the trees. I knew the field could be
seen from the house. I made it a good twenty feet before I heard
the first shouts from the house.

My heart and stomach lurched.
Pushing harder and running as swift as possible, branches slapped
my face, pulled at my hair. With the trees about to end, I had to
make a choice; run into the open field or between rows of cabins. I
chose the cabins.

There were at least twenty, and
all made of dark brick and the same uniform size,
rectangular and each with a single chimney. They
also looked deserted, which was not reassuring. They would find me
if I tried to hide in one of the cabins, so I ran along the back of
them. There was a gap between each cabin that made my progress
slow, due to having to halt and make sure I was not seen. There was
movement up at the house, but they had not seen me. I forced my
breaths in and out in slow, even rhythm.

Fear was trying to snake its way
in my mind, but I kept reminding myself that I feared nothing—that
I rendered fear in others. At the last cabin, there was a barn a
short distance away, but it required running in the open. It was
that or risk going back and trying to make it across the
field.

Watching the house until all the guards were gone
from my view, I sucked in a deep breath, then rounded the cabin and
ran. No one stopped me. No one came into view, and the barn door
was open.

Inside the large, darkened barn, there were two rows
of horse stalls, but only half of them were occupied. Choosing a
horse, there was a saddle nearby. Speaking in soothing whispers, it
did not take long to saddle the horse. It stamped a few times but
did not fight me. Grabbing the reins, I started to back the horse
out of the stall.

A click echoed through the dark barn as steel was
pressed against the back of my neck. My hand gripped the leather of
the reins, my body straightening, readying for a fight.

“Do not try it, Elizabeth, I would hate to have to
make you unconscious.”

My mind and body wanted a fight, but I did not
move.

“A skilled attempt, my dear, but one you should not
have made,” Harvey said.

“I would not be a Phantom if I did not find a means
of escape and take it.”

There was a pause then Harvey said, “I will fire
this weapon if you make a move not to my liking. You are scheduled
to die in three days. What is a few days early?”

He was capable of leading the Holy Order, of eluding
us, deceiving us for years, so I knew he meant what he said. I
released the reins and stepped away from the horse.

The walk to the house was silent but when we reached
the bedchamber, Harvey’s voice was deceptively soft over my
shoulder when he asked, “Who aided your escape?”

Giving Guinevere up would do me no good. If Harvey
did not know she had helped me, she might try again. For the
moment, Guinevere was my only ally.

“I do not require assistance escaping your pathetic
excuse for a prison. Do not think me a fool that I do not realize
what you are doing by holding me here. Your plans are as
transparent as you are.”

Harvey laughed, the sound full, coming from deep
within him. “And yet you never once suspected me. All of this could
have been avoided if your brother had heeded my warning about young
Madison’s character.”

Danger or no, I turned to stare at Harvey, keeping
my face blank.

He shook his head slightly. “I had thought I
succeeded when I convinced Madison that you were a fortune hunter,
but it turned out to be the opposite. Why else would he have
returned, begging like a dog for you to take him back?”

As my mind accepted his words, there was no reply
that I could make strong enough to make plain my feelings.

“When Henry stole Sfære af lys, he did me a great
service, for I saw my way clear. Not only did he offer me a way to
remove young Madison from you, but offered me a way to draw both
you and your brother to me.”

My arms and hands were shaking
while my vision blurred with sudden stinging tears. How could we
have not seen it? My own father had claimed him as a friend. From
what Jack had
said, our father had
asked Harvey to watch over us, and Harvey
had
betrayed us all. It was a branch of
Harvey’s secret society who had murdered my father, making Harvey
responsible even if it was not by his own hand that the deed was
carried out. He was wicked, cruel, and deserved to receive a
horrendous fate.

He motioned with his gun toward the bed. I
hesitated, trying to determine if I could wrest the gun away from
him without being shot.

Harvey smiled, as if daring me to try. An inhuman
coldness that surrounded him made me not try to fight him.

Silence and three other guards appeared at the door
looking harassed. On Harvey’s order, they held their weapons on me
while Harvey left the room, only to return a minute later with a
coil of rope. When he told me to lay down I flatly refused. The
chorus of clicking hammers on the muskets is what made me sit on
the bed then slowly lean back, resting my head against the pillow.
Harvey tied my hands first, each one to a poster, using intricate
knots to secure my wrists. I tried to pull on the ropes, but I knew
I could not pull free. Harvey appeared to be a master at knots.
When he had done the same to my ankles, I laid there, watching
Harvey and fighting back the dark panic climbing my spine and
trying to overtake my mind.

Harvey sat on the bed beside me. “It was always in
your best interest, Elizabeth,” Harvey said, his voice soft, “as is
this.” He pulled the black cloth from his pocket and for the first
time since being captured, I felt real fear. My heart was beating
frantically as he placed the cloth on my head, but held it still at
my forehead. “Your brother will come for you, but do not deceive
yourself that he will rescue you from your fate. I have plans for
John.”

He covered me in darkness and left me alone.

Jack

S
am and I
had chased Levi all over the city until we had lost him on foot in
the bustle of a slave auction at the marketplace. I wanted to keep
searching, but Sam wanted to return to his house to check on Bess
and Charlotte, so I reluctantly agreed. When Guinevere and I
married, I would have her surrender Levi to me. If she would not,
then I would demand that Levi disappear, never attempting to
contact or attack any of the Phantoms ever again; not that there
were Phantoms any longer.

When we arrived at Sam’s house, Char was there to
greet us, but Bess was not.

Char stood with her hands on her
slender hips and a fiery passion covering her face. “She charged
after Miss White—only it was not Miss White because she had red
hair. Bess ordered me to remain in the house until she returned but
she has not.”

Sam stomped into his book room, and I followed
slower, trying to fight what my mind was telling me, that Guinevere
had again betrayed me. I would not believe it.

“Sfære af lys is gone,” Sam said.

“What does this mean, Sam?” Charlotte said.

Sam looked at me, and I saw the determination on his
face, like it had been on Bess’s when she told me she would never
stand silently by while I married Guinevere. Sam was holding
Guinevere responsible, not that I blamed him if she did steal the
black box. I knew that I could not save Guinevere, not while her
allegiance was to the Holy Order.

The front door opened, and Rose and Betsy came into
the house unannounced. They walked into the book room like two
fierce warriors.

“Sam, what is this we have been hearing about Bess
and Miss White galloping through the town and causing all manner of
chaos?” Rose demanded.

Sam glanced at me for a
moment
and
then
told them Miss White’s true identity, about the black box, and that
Bess had pursued her. Rose clasped a hand against her neck and sat
on the seat before Sam’s desk, pale and looking horrified. Her eyes
snapped to me. I held her gaze and watched as her blue eyes slowly
narrowed. She was placing the blame on me.

“I do not know where Bess has
gone, but you may be sure she will return soon either with Miss
White—Clark—whoever she is, or with information about her
whereabouts,” Sam said.

“That is not going to happen,
Sam,” Abe said from the doorway. His face and clothes were streaked
with soot. “I’ve been at the harbor fighting a fire and there
learned that two women had been inside.”

I gripped the back of a chair, my heart beating
painfully, and the sound of blood swishing in my ears.

Abe glanced at me. “They made it out before the
place went up.”

“Mine?” Sam asked.

“Harker’s. None of the sailors knew who the ladies
were, but said they were real finely dressed. I found Pegasus tied
to a post a few buildings down.”

I leaned over the back of the
chair as a pain so potent struck my gut, churning, grinding, and
burning me. Harker’s was the warehouse Guinevere, and I had spent
the night in. I was a complete fool. I trusted Guinevere. I trusted
that she meant what she said; that she would marry me and give up
the Holy Order, but history had repeated itself, striking me a
cruel blow. Guinevere had turned Bess over to Levitas once before,
and I was a saphead to believe she would do any different the
second time.

“They said the dark-haired woman was unconscious,
but the other and a man helped her into a carriage then drove away,
leaving the fire for the sailors to put out.”

“Did anyone see which direction they drove?” Rose
demanded.

“One man claims he heard the red-haired woman tell
the driver to take them to Moncks Corner.”

So it was for four days we scoured
the small area of Moncks Corner, and the surrounding towns and
land, but we found not a trace of Bess or the Holy Order. The town,
which Sam said could only be called such because it had more than
two businesses, was a two hour ride from Sam’s house. The town had
a tribe of Indians settled there, but most of the people were the
descendants of Huguenots, who settled there after fleeing France.
When Moncks Corner was formed, it had been a trading post, but over
the years, it had flourished into a quaint town.

Sam’s entire team joined us in the search, but not
dressed in work clothes. There were several homes and plantations
surrounding Moncks Corner, and many of those Rose and Sam knew the
owners. It was not that we suspected any of their friends of
harboring the Holy Order; it was the possibility that they had
buildings on their land that could have been used without their
knowledge. Plantation owners possessed so much land, many of them
owning thousands of acres, that Sam was convinced of the
possibility.

Sam, Rose, and Charlotte spent hours visiting many
different homes while Abe, Leo, Betsy, and I rode around the area
searching for any building that appeared suspicious.