phantom knights 04 - deceit in delaware (6 page)

When his back was to her, Rose leaned a hand against the wall as if she needed the support to keep herself standing.

Guinevere took my hand, lacing her fingers with mine. When I turned toward her, she was sad.

She pulled me with her back down the hall so that Rose would not see us watching her. When Rose had walked down the stairs, Guinevere and I went to the foyer.

Leo and I had spoken much about his past in the last few weeks. He had only taken the post as Phantom so that he could help my father protect Guinevere and Edith. George and Sam were the ones protecting Rose, until my father enacted his death and George moved to Philadelphia.

George was never taken into my father’s confidence about Rose being the queen, but Sam was upon the occasion when they first met. It was during the war when my father met with him, and it was what my father told him that brought Sam back to Charleston to take the reins of the Charleston Phantoms when George was moving.

When I asked Leo if he was going to go with Rose now that I knew who he was, he grimaced. “I would never choose to abandon you, Jack, but my first duty is to my sovereign.”

So it should be, though I would miss my friend.

Dudley came in the house and I hailed him.

“I hear that I owe you my thanks for protecting my wife and Mrs. Eldridge.”

Dudley grinned. “No thanks needed. Doing my duty, you know.”

After my father and Freddy arrived, and we had said our farewells to Mrs. Short, two carriages set out for the harbor.

During the trip to Charleston, my father and I never spoke to each other beyond the necessary pleasantries. There were always people around and I was not yet prepared for the coming confrontation.

We arrived at the Charleston harbor on the evening of the twenty-fourth. Since we had not sent word ahead that we were coming, I did not expect to see my sister or Sam awaiting us.

As it happened, Guinevere was the one to point out Sam. He was standing before his warehouse where he stored shipments coming in and prepared cargo that would be transported on one of his many ships to locations all over the coast.

Turning to speak with Leo, I was interrupted by my wife’s exclamation of horror.

“No!” She was moving toward the gangplank before I could ask her what the matter was.

Freddy was squinting at the warehouse. “Is that smoke?”

Spinning around, I took in the warehouse and, just as Freddy had said, smoke was coming from the crack in the closed door. Sam was not in sight, but my wife was running toward the burning building.

“Fire. Go for the fire brigade. At once!” I did not wait to see Freddy go, but turned and ran down the gangplank and across the way toward Sam’s warehouse.

The air at the harbor was always foul, smelling of sewage, rotten fish, unwashed bodies, and mixing with salty air. As I sniffed the air, there was a distinct smell that overshadowed the stench of rot. Oil.

The front door had a large lock in place so I ran down the alley beside the warehouse, following where my wife had run. She was already inside when I reached the open side door.

There were loud crashes coming from the other side of the warehouse as I found my wife. She was hunched down beside a crate, looking around the side. The smell of oil was thicker inside the warehouse, mixed with a quickly gathering cloud of smoke. The smoke was trying to find an escape, through cracks in the large door, but also moving toward the open side door.

Grabbing Guinevere’s arm, I tried to pull her toward the door, but she fought me. “Sam is in here.” The words knocked me off my course to the door. “I saw two men hit him and drag him inside. They are the ones who set the fire.”

Guinevere’s purple eyes were alight with anger and determination, so I followed her further into the warehouse.

There was a maze of crates, bolts of fabric, and barrels that were marked for transport. The warehouse was fuller than normal. It appeared that Sam had taken on more shipments of late.

Once George Crawford, Sam’s uncle, had died, Sam thought that the responsibility of providing for all of the former Phantoms fell upon his shoulders. The truth was that it was my father who formed the Phantoms and it was to my family that the responsibility of offering recompense to the Phantoms belonged. My mother and sister had told him as much, but Sam was an honorable man. He felt his uncle’s betrayal keenly and was trying find a way to make up for George’s final actions.

“That’s enough,” called a voice from the other side of the crates that were stacked three high.

My body tensed into a tight coil as I listened with my hand on my pistol.

“Any more and he won’t suffer and she will have our heads,” said the same voice. “Let’s be off.”

Their boots sounded against the hard floor as they walked down the row of crates that separated us.

Once they walked around the corner they would see us. Glancing around quickly, I found a space between two rows of crates and guided Guinevere toward it. She slipped in and I backed into it just as the two men rounded the end and walked toward the door.

They began to slide the door closed.

I pulled out my pistol, prepared to halt them. Aiming the barrel of my pistol toward the man that I could see, I pulled back the hammer on my pistol.

The snapping of ropes directly behind me had me twisting around to look. The fire had spread and a burnt rope snapped. A row of stacked barrels began to roll straight for us.

My heart and gut lurched in synchronization. Leaping up, Guinevere and I ran down the row of crates. The barrels hit the crates behind us, the force shoving the crates into the wall.

The door had been shut and I suspected locked as well, but I did not stop my running to check it. I had to find Sam and then I would worry about getting us out.

The smoke on the far side of the warehouse was thick and covering the ceiling. I could see the flickering flames dancing against the far wall and the crates that were stacked there. There were eight rows of stacked crates between us and the fire, and Sam could be anywhere between them. I only hoped that he was not where the fire was burning bright, but I knew that was where we had to search first.

Guinevere pulled two handkerchiefs from her reticule and gave one to me while she pressed the other against her mouth and nose. I held my own against my face as we ran down the rows of crates, directly toward the fire.

The fire spread quickly, catching to the two furthest rows. If Sam was there, then he was already gone.

“Sam!” Guinevere screamed from the edge of the crates that were not yet burnt, but it was too hot to stay there. Pulling her back, her body was shivering even though the heat overwhelmed me and made me perspire.

We would not give up our search.

Motioning Guinevere toward a row away from the fire, I had her search the length while I searched the unburned row closest to the fire. We began to search each row, shouting out Sam’s name as loud as we could.

I do not know how I heard it, but about four rows down I heard a low noise like someone mumbling. I halted for a moment before shouting Sam’s name again. The smoke was overwhelming me, making me gag, but I pressed on, running down the crates toward where I thought I had heard the sound. There was a narrow opening between the crates ahead of me and something that looked like hair was sticking out.

I pressed the handkerchief harder against my face, but the smell assaulted me, making my head light and my feet stumble. Dropping to my knees, I peered into the narrow opening. Sam’s wide eyes met mine.

Somehow they had managed to get Sam shoved between the crates, though the space was too small for him. He was wedged in there and there was a cloth tied over his mouth. His hands and feet were tied with rope making it impossible for him to get himself out.

Grabbing his shoulders, I tried to push him through the opening.

A crash behind me had me looking over my shoulder. The fire was at the row behind me and moving swiftly. So much wood was like a beacon.

Desperation overcame every other emotion. I shoved Sam as hard as I could, but I could not get him loose from the tight spot.

“Guinevere! Here!” I shouted, but the sound was not as loud as it should have been.

Guinevere appeared on the other side of the crates and saw Sam. I quickly signed what we needed to do and she nodded. The only way to get him out was to push him while she pulled him. Motioning for her to pull, I shoved his shoulders as hard as I could while Guinevere pulled his legs. When they were free of the crates, Guinevere quickly cut the binds around his ankles. Once his feet were free he began pushing into the floor. Guinevere grabbed on to his arm and one of his legs, got herself up to the tips of her boots, and gave the greatest heave while I pushed his shoulders. Sam’s body budged, which felt like the greatest victory, but it was momentary. I was trying not to inhale, but, with each breath that I was forced to take, more smoke entered my body, increasing the feeling of lightness and moving me one step closer to unconsciousness.

Wrapping her arms around Sam’s waist, Guinevere pulled with all of her might, shoving her boots against the crate for support. All of him up to his shoulders broke free. Guinevere cut the binds at his hands and he shoved himself out just as the crates on the other side began to fall toward me.

Guinevere tried to scream my name, but I was already moving, stumbling down the row of crates.

The crash behind me sent wood flying and flames blazing up to the ceiling.

Guinevere grabbed me the moment she reached me at the end of the crates, and the three of us stumbled toward the side door of the warehouse.

Flames flickered into the air like hundreds of burning fireflies.

The ceiling was creaking and I knew that if we did not get out soon the ceiling would come down upon us.

Sam had pulled off his gag and pressed it against Guinevere’s mouth, but there was nothing against his. He was ingesting too much smoke, but he never stopped.

When we reached the barrels, I made it over, and helped Guinevere over. The one Sam stood on to get himself over rocked and Sam dropped back, striking his head on the hard floor. He looked up at me and blinked several times before his eyes began to roll back in his head.

Throwing down Guinevere’s handkerchief, I grabbed Sam’s waist and pulled him up. My arms tensed painfully as I pulled Sam toward the door, for Sam was a good deal larger than myself.

My head felt light, like the detached feeling that comes with a fever and influenza. Pushing through the aching and the darkness that was on the fringe of my vision, we got Sam to the door that was covered in smoke, but where the fire had not yet reached. I did not know how I was going to get us out, but I would try everything I could.

The fire was crackling as it burned the crates, but I refused to look behind me. At the door, I set Sam down carefully then pulled, pushed, and beat against the door. I tried shouting for help, but all my voice would do was crack. Guinevere’s voice was not any better.

Her knees were too weak to keep her up and she dropped to her knees as if her legs were made of jam. I pounded against the door with my fist, wanting to shout, but no sounds could be heard.

Sam began to shift, and then with a renewed strength he sat up. Dropping down before him, I felt around his head for a wound. He knocked my hands away as he glanced toward the door. I shook my head.

Sam motioned toward Guinevere, and at once I moved to kneel before her. She looked a moment away from a panic, and I was sure that she would be crying if she could form tears.

“I do not want to die,” she whispered.

“Focus upon me, Constance,” I said. “Stay with me.”

This was not the end, surely, but thoughts of our short life together filled my mind. Even though it had not been perfect, it had been the closest thing to perfection that I had ever experienced. Her brown hair was shorter than most women wore, she liked to have her own way far too often, but her purple eyes were exquisite, and her kisses could cause a fire to burn inside me. She was not perfect, but her imperfections made me love her all the more.

Holding my wife in my arms, I knew that if we had to go, this was the only way. Together.

The door jerked, and began to slide open. Sam, who had been trying to get the door open, stumbled as the door opened just enough for the smoke to pour outside. Sam disappeared from my view, and then hands grabbed me and pulled me outside. I tried to say my wife’s name, but nothing came out of my mouth. I looked up into my rescuer’s face and recognized my father.

Dudley helped Guinevere out of the warehouse and together the five of us moved down the alley. I could hear the bells from the fire brigade before I saw the wagon arrive, but sailors were trying to fight the fire that was too far gone.

Sam’s warehouse was destroyed.

CHAPTER 5

GUINEVERE

W
e arrived at Bess’s house to chaos. They had heard about the fire and Abe, one of the Charleston Phantoms, was trying to keep Bess from charging out into the night. A daunting task for anyone.

Elizabeth Mason was a woman whose unexpected beauty could overshadow a room. Her brown hair was laying in waves to her shoulders and her brown eyes were full of tears as she hugged her brother. She was tall for a woman, but it was her presence, her elegance despite her height, and her quiet self-assurance that made her truly lovely.

She was a woman who knew what she wanted and let nothing stand in the way of acquiring her goals.

The doctor arrived only minutes after we did. Jack tried to insist that the doctor examine me first, but I assured him, and everyone, that I was fine. Other than a sore throat, there was nothing much wrong with me.

Sam, Bess, and the doctor went up to examine Sam before Bess had realized who had accompanied us into her house. The fact that William Martin had immediately hidden himself away in Sam’s book room had something to do with that.

Mrs. Lacey, Bess’s housekeeper, was put to the task of finding places for all of us to sleep, but in the end only Rose, Leo, Jack and I were staying at the house. William, Freddy, Dudley, Hannah, and Mrs. Stanton were to stay at Rose’s house.