Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (31 page)

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Authors: Chrissy Peebles

Tags: #romance, #love, #fantasy, #paranormal

BOOK: Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology)
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We can’t thank you enough,
Jules,” Sarah said.

After eating her meal, she excused
herself and squeezed between two long tables, heading for the bar.
Folding her hands on the wooden counter, she waved to get the
bartender’s attention.

He was a broad man with a black beard.
He turned to face her and arched his eyebrow at her inquisitively
(or perhaps flirtatiously) as he wiped down the filthy counter with
an even filthier rag. “May I help you?”

Sure.
Allow me to fill you in on the wonders of antibacterial soap. If
you learned a thing or two about germs, perhaps it would eliminate
all those plagues running rampant in the history books,
she humored herself. “Perhaps you can be of help.
I’m looking for a woman named Elizabeth Larker. She goes by ‘Liz’.
She’s my sister, one year older, and she looks just like
me.”

The man poured a mug of ale, avoiding
her gaze. “Never heard of her, miss, but I know there is an
Immortal who looks just like you.”

Sarah shook her head. “No, that’s not
her. Liz is human.”


How can she be a human and
your sister if you, yourself, are an Immortal?” He looked down at
her ring, then back at her face.

She sighed. “It’s a long story, sir,
but let me assure you I am not one of them.”

He smirked, then put the rag on the
counter and placed his large, hairy hands in front of her, leaning
forward as he emphasized each word. “Your finger bears the ruby
ring, and you are the spitting image of Princess Gloria. You must
be one of them.”

She
regarded him intently, trying to make sense of what he was
implying. She was obviously not Princess Gloria, and the only
person she’d ever known who looked even remotely like her was her
sister.
Wait…could Liz be…? No way. And if
she is, why would she change her name to Gloria?
She leaned against the counter, her interest
piqued. From the movies, she knew bartenders are the go-to people
for everything, so she was sure it couldn’t hurt to ask. “Perhaps
you could tell me more about this princess, this Gloria? Was she
adopted into the family as a teenager?” Sarah considered the idea
that maybe her so-called father, this king, abducted Liz or gave
her sanctuary in his kingdom after hearing she came through the
portal. Crazier things had happened.


Adopted?” He scoffed as he
used the same dirty rag to wipe down the glasses and mugs—the ones
his customers drank from. “No. I worked as a cook in the castle
when Princess Gloria was a baby, even courted her nanny for many
months. I do know that Gloria moved away to another country when
she was twelve, but she recently moved back to spend more time with
her family here in Dornia. She’s so grown up now. I saw her last
month at a ball at the castle.”

Well,
there goes that idea,
Sarah thought.
There’s no way that could be Liz.
“Could you tell me—”

A maid inched closer and whispered to
the grizzly barkeep, “You’re not supposed to talk about
them.”

The guy nodded, a frown perched
between his brows.

Sarah straightened her back, and a
determined look came over her face. She was unwilling to drop the
topic just yet. “You said—”

The man shook his head. “You may ask
all the questions you want, miss, but there’ll be no more answers
coming from me, I’m afraid. I have a bar to run here.” His tone was
sharp, almost arrogant.

Sarah wondered what had caused the
sudden sealing of his lips. “But I just—” Sarah started.

He slammed his fist on the counter.
“Just leave! I don’t want any trouble with your race. The last time
the Immortals were in here, they tried to kill me with a sword.
Your drinks and food are on the house, but I have the right to ask
anyone to leave my establishment, and I am asking you to go
now.”

Frank approached, touching her
shoulder as he whispered in her ear, “Not only does that ring get
us out of trouble, but it also gives us all kinds of perks and
freebies.”


Yeah, but Victor should’ve
given me a handbook. Clearly this guy doesn’t want to help,” Sarah
said.

Frank nodded, frowning. “Yeah. Nobody
else is talking either.”

The sound
of hooves thundered in the distance. Outside, horses neighed in
response. Sarah walked across the room and peeked out the door. The
sun glinted off the armor of twenty or so armed knights as they
dismounted. She raced back to Frank, her heart racing.
“Great! There are soldiers out there—hordes of
them.”


Where?” Frank asked,
rising from his stool.

She nodded to the door. “Out there.
Look for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

He weaved through the tables, heading
for the door. “Don’t worry, I still have the tranquilizer
gun.”

Keeping her gaze focused on the
entrance, Sarah hurried after him.


But how? How did they find
us?” Frank muttered.

She shrugged, even though he couldn’t
see her. “Jules.”

He shook his head. “Those aren’t King
Victor’s men. That’s King William’s entourage.”


How do you
know?”

Jules stood behind her, leaning over
her shoulder as he pointed out the doorway. “Look at the crest on
their armor. See the golden royal eagle?”

She nodded. “Princess Gloria’s father,
the ruler of Dornia?”


Speak of the devil, huh?”
Jules turned her to face him, a glint playing in his eyes. “King
William Jarod. What are the odds of them turning up at the same
moment we did?”

She took a step back, her dress
brushing the cool wall as she turned to Frank. “Maybe they’re just
coming in for a bite to eat. Just play it cool.”


But if you look anything
like Glor—”

She held
up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence as she scanned the room for
any other exit. There were no windows and no other doors—not even a
trapdoor in the ground.
Crap! Don’t they
have fire inspections around here! Talk about a fire hazard.
“We should sue them.”


What?” Frank asked, brows
furrowed.


Never mind.” Sarah pulled
the hood of her cloak up and returned to her bench with Frank in
tow. She took her previous seat next to the old woman, her eyes
darting toward the door as she whispered, “The place is surrounded.
How the heck are we supposed to bail?”

Frank gripped her hand tightly,
forcing her to meet his gaze. “Let’s just wait and see how this
plays out. In our world, police stop for donuts, right? Maybe here
they stop for drumsticks.”

She nodded in agreement and hid her
face as best she could.

A group of knights in chainmail coats
stormed in, and the tavern fell silent. The patrons, mostly humble
peasants, lowered their eyes to the ground, as if they were trying
to be invisible. Sarah’s stomach fluttered uneasily.


Attention, patrons,” one
soldier said. “We’re looking for Queen Gloria Fesque.”

Sarah
gasped.
Just my luck that they aren’t here
for a bucket of extra crispy.
Shivers ran
up and down her spine as she debated whether to make a run for it
or play dumb. As much as she fancied the idea of dashing for the
nearest exit, she realized her sprint probably wouldn’t get her
further than the nearest table.


We’ve tracked her here,”
the knight continued, whipping out his sword. “Point her out, and
we shall leave in peace.”

Sarah’s gaze wandered from the tall,
hairy guy to the gleaming blade in his hand, frightening in the dim
light. People dropped to the ground, scurrying under tables and
whimpering. “Oh my gosh,” whispered Sarah. “Are you telling me I’ve
somehow managed to piss off two kings? How’s this
possible?”


You better run, dear,” the
elderly woman whispered.

Sarah shot her a sideway glance. “I
really am a nice person.” Sarah paused, gathering her thoughts.
“Really, I am. Everyone loves me. I don’t make enemies. This is way
too much for me.”


I’d say you’re doing a
pretty good job considering you have two of the most powerful
Immortals on your tail,” said Jules, “and on mine too,” he
added.

The knight wrapped his hand in the
serving wench’s hair and yanked, hissing, “Where is she, wench?
Tell me, and perhaps you will live to serve these miscreants
another day.”

Another knight knocked over a thick
pillar candle on one of the tables. “We shall have no regrets
burning this hole to ash if that becomes necessary!” he
shouted.

Sarah peered up from under her hood at
the two women pouring liquid from a brown mug over the smoldering
flame that was threatening to ignite a nearby table.


Tell me if the woman I’m
looking for has been here or is in your fine establishment,” the
first knight continued.

The wench frowned and looked at Sarah,
as if debating whether she should keep quiet or rat her
out.

Sarah frowned and bobbed her head ever
so slightly, her eyes imploring the woman to keep quiet. Her life
depended on the kind stranger.

The knight pulled out his
jewel-studded dagger and held it to the woman’s throat.

The hostage’s eyes bulged like a deer
in the headlights. Pointing straight at Sarah, the woman said, “She
wears the mark of the Immortals.”

The knight threw the woman against a
table, sending cups and mugs crashing to the ground. He met Sarah’s
gaze. “In the name of the king, you are under arrest for the crime
of heresy. You are scheduled for execution. Surrender to me now,
and I will make this as painless as possible.”

Wait…did
she just tattle on me? What happened to girl power? Aren’t girls
supposed to stick together?
Sarah shook her
head.
Boy, she really is a wench. There
goes her tip, that’s for sure.
Her heart
racing, Sarah knelt and crawled under the wooden tables, bumping
into everyone’s grubby legs along the way. Jules and Frank trailed
close behind. Her hand stuck in something red and gooey, and she
quickly wiped it on her cloak, bumping her head. Mice squeaked and
squealed, none too happy to be interrupted from their feast of
chicken bones, orange peels, and apple cores that littered the
ground. She made it to the end of the table and peeked out to meet
the eyes of a dreaded knight.

He smiled, showing off the gap where
his two missing front teeth used to be. “There she is!” he
yelled.

Frank pointed the tranquilizer gun and
pulled the trigger. “Go Sarah!”

The
knight jumped back startled and pulled the dart out of his chest.
Sarah raced for the counter and jumped, easily soaring over it.
She’d no idea how she could possibly jump that high, but she was
aware that adrenaline could do some crazy things. Landing on her
feet, she turned and reached out her hands, dragging Jules over,
then Frank.
There has to be a way out.
There just has to be,
she
thought.


I lost the gun!” Frank
said. “He kicked it out of my hand.”

The bartender stood in the corner,
cowering. “I told you I didn’t want any trouble,” he
hissed.

Sarah grabbed his hand and gave it a
squeeze. “Please help us. This nutcase is going to kill
me.”


Surely you’re an honorable
man, sir. You can’t let them hurt an innocent woman over a case of
mistaken identity,” Frank said.

The bartender pointed. “Get to the
basement. In the back, under crates of vegetables, is a door that
leads to a tunnel,” he whispered.

Everything happened in slow motion.
Sarah ran toward the doorway that led to the basement, but she
suddenly felt a sharp pain in her back. She spun around to see the
knight holding a crossbow. He squinted, as if taking careful aim
not to miss his target. Before she could blink, more arrows shot
through the air. In the next second, another one pierced her heart.
Pain radiated through her chest. Frank and Jules yelled. Patrons
screamed. Her breath became labored as she dropped to the ground,
her face slamming against the cold, dirt floor.


Evil must be stopped!”
yelled the knight. “Your sacrifice will save our land.”

Sarah groaned inwardly. She didn’t
have one evil bone in her body. Scamming the king was wrong, and
stealing somebody’s identity was too. She only did it out of
desperation to get home, to get out of a world she didn’t belong
in. Her vision blurred, and her body went limp. She couldn’t even
move a muscle, let alone scream. Blinking, she tried to clear her
vision.


That ain’t happening!”
Frank scooped her up in his arms.

A door squeaked open, and footsteps
thudded down a steep set of stairs. Sarah could feel her head
bouncing back and forth, as if she was some kind of inanimate
bobble-head doll on a dashboard.


Keep going! I’ll hold them
back,” yelled Jules, barricading the door behind him with giant
jugs of ale that he dragged across the floor.

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