Chasing Shadows (28 page)

She leaned against the front of the settee, pressing her back to his bent knees, angled so he could fit on the small couch. She wondered if the contact was meant to comfort him in his sleep, or if it was to reassure her of his presence. Either way, in the silence of the room, she couldn’t ignore the fact that there was something in Damien that pulled her to him.

Yes, he was attractive, self-confident, and ridiculously charming, the kind of man that got under your skin whether you wanted him to or not by being so irritatingly endearing. But beneath the layers of confidence and charm, there was also sadness that Sarah wanted to wipe away. Maybe God had brought her into Damien’s life so she could draw him to the Lord. She had failed to do just that where Will was concerned, but this might be her second chance. Convenient that she only seemed to remember to mention God and faith when the man she wished to save was unconscious.

Sighing, Sarah rose and went to the fire, dumping the contents of the pitcher beside the hearth onto the dying embers. The orange-yellow glow quickly went out with a prolonged hiss as the water sloshed over the logs.

She slipped out of Damien’s room, with a final glance at her sleeping patient, into the empty hall. Closing her own door with a muted
click
, she quickly readied for bed and slipped under the quilts. Her body tense with concern, she forced it to relax and prayed for peace and safety for Damien while he slept. Then she tried to close her mind for the night, but it refused to shut down completely, and she remained awake as her mind raced to put all of the missing pieces together.

Yet no matter how hard she tried to fill in the blanks, there were just too many unanswered questions that left huge chunks in her theories. She wasn’t any good at solving these things alone.

Sarah smiled to herself in the dark room, reminded that she would never be entirely alone. She whispered a quick prayer for wisdom and decided that tomorrow she would see if there was a way to get a message to Karen. But it was a comfort to know she had at least one friend out there, and for now, she chose to remember that Someone was always with her.

~Chapter 25~

Will closed the door with more force than he’d intended. Though the dull
smack
as wood met wood was perfectly satisfying, it did nothing to lessen the dark cloud hovering over his current mood. Yes, he had been in the right when he decided to let her go, he was sure, but that did not mean that he was pleased about it. He hadn’t even gone back to tell Robert that he was leaving for the day, but had come straight home.

Irritated, he stomped his heavy leather boots on the entry floor, knowing he would have to clean up the mess later but needing to act irrational for one
blasted
moment. Shrugging off his coat as he kicked his boots into a corner, he tossed the garment carelessly onto the rocking chair, setting it in a hazardous motion and nearly toppling it.

The chair had been his uncle’s house warming gift to him, and, craftsman that he was, Thomas had spent weeks carving ornate designs into the arms and legs of the chair, all things that reminded him of his nephew, he’d told him—the leaves and trees of the forest, tangled vines, animals of the wood, and a bow loaded with a single arrow in the center of the oak headrest; the string was pulled back, always at the ready.

Will frowned. He would hate to break something that his uncle had put so much thought and effort into in one childishly hotheaded moment. But he felt too worked up to go over and still the rocking chair.

He crouched before the hearth, starting a fire with little effort. It would take hardly any time for the heat to permeate the sparse one-room cabin he and his uncle had built when Will decided it was time for him to be a man. At the present, he felt more like a petulant child than the grown businessman that he was.

Sighing, he rose, walking to the chest in the corner of the “bedroom.” He gingerly removed the patchwork quilt his mother had made and given to her older brother, Thomas. When Will’s parents died, his uncle had given it to him, saying that he needed it more than he did.

As with every other time he touched the fabric, he allowed himself a few seconds for the memories to surface as he reverently held the quilt. But when the pain returned with those fond memories, as it always did, he quickly folded and placed it on his bed and out of sight, tamping the remembrances down with it.

With only a brief hesitation, Will knelt and hefted the chest lid open, the rusty old hinges groaning in protest. He pulled out the stack of trousers and shirts and set them on the floor. His breath caught in his chest as he stared at the past, out of sight but never completely forgotten.

The thick woolen cloak had been carefully folded, and atop it laid his precious bow. He had placed them at the very bottom of the cedar chest beside his quiver—stocked full of unused arrows—in the event that someone went searching through his possessions. Will reached inside and pulled out his trusty bow, which his father had helped him make when he was yet too small for the weapon. So many memories. . . .

But he had made a vow, had he not? As much as he wished to don his cloak once more and be
useful
, he was no longer benefitting Serimone as vigilante for the people. With Captain Quinn back on the royal guard, the riffraff on the streets were quickly being purged, and the Shadow was becoming more and more obsolete. And the vendetta that had caused him to create his alter ego was a moot point now, what with Gabriel being nearly nonexistent.

Sarah’s words about him being needed came back to haunt him, and he thoughtfully plucked the string of the bow. It had felt good to be needed.

His head snapped up at the sound of cracking branches and an animal’s high-pitched squeal, shattering the perfect stillness of the forest outside. He quickly stashed his bow back in the chest and closed the lid in one familiar movement before silently making his way to the tightly shuttered window—the only one cut into the side of the small house. Listening for any further sound from outside, his body tensed as he unlatched the shutter and cracked it open before pulling it wide. A badger that had no business being out of its hole this time of year scurried away through the cascade of powder falling from a low branch. The animal must have been seeking high shelter and fallen from its unstable perch.

Will re-latched the window as his pulse slowed. He was being jumpy, out of practice after so many months in reclusive hiding. He glanced back at the chest and frowned. But he did need to be more careful.

Opening the lid again, he placed everything back inside before covering it with the beautiful quilt. It was a life he had buried long ago, and along with it, his belief that he could make a difference. Experience had taught him that the past was best left in the past, however much he wished to resurrect it.    

****

Sarah watched as Edith dutifully shoveled the ashes from the fireplace. She munched on her apple, feeling idle even though the older woman had scoffed at the idea of them working side-by-side, the lady and the maid.

“I don’t see why I can’t just help a
little
.”

Still gripping the small scoop, Edith cocked her head so that Sarah could see the streak of ash on her cheek and the smudge on the tip of her nose, as if she had face-planted in the pile she was scooping. Sarah was going to bring it to her attention when the older woman quirked an amused brow. “Is this the face of a lady?” she asked wryly.

Sarah grinned and took a cloth napkin from the tray, holding it out to her. “Yes, it is the face of a lady, but you still might need this.”

Edith smiled in return, though she declined. She said, “It would just be a waste to clean up now,” and went back to scraping the ashes into a pile.

Leaning against the hearth, Sarah watched as the sky gave way to dusk through the small crack in the window. She felt nothing but gratitude for their friendship and knew that Edith was on the same page—today she seemed brighter and happier.

“What does the good lord have in store for you today?”

Sarah blinked, surprised. Then she realized that Edith was referring to Damien, not
the
Lord. That was a little easier to answer; she was still trying to sort out what God’s plan for her was, exactly. “I don’t think that we have any set ideas for today. I haven’t even seen him yet this morning.” That fact had worried her, and she had walked past his door four times since the morning, listening for any sounds of movement. She thought he might have awakened early and gone out until she spotted a servant tiptoeing into his room with his lunch tray and leaving quietly a moment later. Though she wanted to give him space after his ordeal last night, she was still tempted to check on him.

“Oh?” Edith leaned back on her heels and studied her. “It seemed that the both of you were getting rather close, so I assumed he would have engaged you for the evening.” She paused. “Neither of you attended supper.”

Sarah swallowed, feeling caught. Did she know something about last night? But her face was merely curious, and there wasn’t a note of suspicion in her gaze.

Sarah breathed a little easier. She shrugged. “He wasn’t feeling well, so we decided to reschedule for another night.”

Nodding, the older woman rose from her cramped position and clapped her palms together, sending a cascade of pale ash onto the floor. She pulled a well-worn handkerchief from her apron pocket and went about dusting her face and hands, though it only served to smudge the gray color over her skin.

Edith held her arm up for her inspection and chuckled. “I will certainly be needing a thorough scrubbing before traipsing about the castle. I’ll be doing more harm than good in this state!“

Smiling, Sarah remarked, “You’re in an awfully good mood this morning.”

Glancing around, Edith leaned in. Sarah had never seen her eyes so bright or her face so radiant, coming from within. She took the younger girl’s hands in her own. “We can’t talk here—someone might overhear. But, oh, Sarah, I have such good news.”

Sarah gave her hands a quick squeeze, watching her face with curiosity. “Well, what is it?”

“Later. It was simply something you said yesterday. I was up all night thinking about it!”

Her eyes were so bright that Sarah had to laugh. “You can’t even give me a hint? What if—”

A woman’s scream rent the air a heartbeat before a cacophony of objects clattering over stone echoed downstairs.

Edith and Sarah shared a worried look before bolting from the room. Running to the stairs with identical strides, they leaned over the short length of banister and saw a young servant girl on her knees the level below. She was weeping, wooden bowls and utensils strewn about from when she had dropped the tray in her fall. A single arrow lay broken a foot from the wall, having shattered when it connected with the hard stone. Sarah suddenly understood the girl’s distress: It had only missed her by a few inches.

A commotion sounded on the lower level above the girl’s cries, and a menagerie of workers and servants converged in the large room to investigate and offer help. Some questioned the distressed servant, while others began collecting the things she had dropped or offered her words of comfort.

“We should do something.” Edith began moving toward the stairs, but Sarah stood frozen, chilled by the girl’s shrieks and weeping; she sounded terrified. But what had frightened her? A better question would be who had tried to warn her off with that shot?

The shadows shifted in a familiar way, and the back of Sarah’s mind registered what was going to emerge before she was able to make out the cloaked figure crouched in the darkest corner below the stairs. While everyone was occupied with seeing to the girl’s needs, the Shadow rose slowly and then dashed up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. His hasty retreat had drawn the attention of the staff below—a woman cried out, a few servants called for him to stop, while the rest stared in disbelief at their first glimpse of the elusive vigilante.

Edith gasped and jumped out of the way as he came barreling up the stairs, green cloak flying madly behind him like a cape, bow drawn, hood pulled low to mask his features. What was Will doing? Sarah hadn’t thought he could be this careless, nor would he shoot at an innocent girl, even if it had simply been to warn her off.

She jogged a few steps after him down the hall, ignoring Edith’s protests behind her. “Will, stop!” He kept running and did not acknowledge her hiss. Her steps momentarily faltered as she realized her mistake in calling him by name if someone overheard. People were clamoring up the staircase, shouting.

Suddenly, he turned on her, bow raised, an arrow resting against the frame as he pulled the string back with a quivering hand. Maybe she had been wrong in assuming that he had intended to miss the servant girl. Sarah felt a knot of dread form in her stomach when she realized that this man was
not
Will.

Another warning shout filled the hall from behind, startling both of them. The Shadow’s hand jerked, releasing the string. Instinct kicked in and caused Sarah to dive mid-run just as the arrow sailed overhead. She glanced up from her flattened position on the rug, hands burning from catching herself on the rough fabric.

Though his face was cloaked in shadows, his body language—arm held out stiffly as if still clutching the string he’d released, fingers trembling—told her that he was frozen in shock. Then he turned and ran from the shouts and cries of alarm.

Sarah kept her eyes focused on him as she rose on shaky legs and took off in his wake, unwilling to lose sight of his back. Accosting her and impersonating Will had just made this personal. Now she was ticked.

Adrenaline pumped her arms and kept her legs moving, eating up the distance between them as his heavy disguise weighed him down. If she could keep close to his tail, he wouldn’t have enough time to load and draw his bow before she was upon him.

“Stop!” she called. Not that he was going to halt and give himself up to the girl chasing him, but she wasn’t working logically anymore.

The Shadow moved down the long corridor and ducked into one of the rooms. Sarah followed him as fast as her tired legs allowed and saw his cloak disappear into the connecting room. She managed to keep up with him for another room and saw him dart off to the left in the hall ahead, but the maze of corridors and rooms that he seemed to have memorized had her completely disoriented. By the time she reached the hallway, he had already disappeared.

Starting off down the left section of the corridor, she skidded to a stop at the faint echo of a table overturning behind her. Whipping her head around, she spotted a door slamming down the opposite direction. She was sure he had come down this way and silently cursed the secret passages he seemed to know so well.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sarah broke off at a dead run, following the muffled sound of his retreat. She threw herself into the room and ran in the direction she thought the noises came from, side burning. She found herself in a completely unadorned corridor that she assumed was at the back of the castle. How far had they gone? She whipped her head around in both directions and spotted him at the right end of the passage. The intruder stopped abruptly, throwing open a narrow door and launching himself inside. The door slammed closed behind him and was jarred open again.