Albert walked away, refusing to see their disappointment.
Chapter Eighteen
Pierce. It’s All Right.
Evening came, but Pierce had lost all sense of time. The lightless cell offered no clue to the hour. It mattered little. Eventually, time would catch up, take him by the hand, and lead him to the gallows.
A great emptiness had come over him. For the past couple of days, he had felt it. It felt as if someone had snuck up on him during the night and scooped away a vital part of his self. Grandmother Fey was no longer with him, and her absence made him hollow. Never had he experienced such a loss of self before, even in the worst of times. He felt very much alone.
It occurred to him that whatever plans Orenda had for destroying Freya, it did not mean he’d make it out alive. According to what Freya had revealed, he just needed to die first. What a fool he was.
Since returning from his trial, he had moved little on the cot he lay in. Only when the lock clicked, and the door opened did he sit up.
“Landcross,” a silhouette called from the doorway.
“Who is it?” Pierce demanded while someone seized and unshackled his wrists.
“It’s Robin.”
The relief washing over him made him lightheaded with glee. “Robin? Bloody hell, mate. Is it really you?”
“It is,” he confirmed, unlocking the ankle chains. “Come on. The Sea Warriors are here in London. I was planning to sail you out on a ferry, but this is more convenient, eh?”
“They’re here?” he asked, standing.
“Docked at the harbor. I’ll get you to them.”
Another escape? If Pierce succeeded, it would not only drive Darius to insanity, but it would also make a great addition to one of Clover’s books!
They dashed outside into the dimly lit corridor where a couple of guards lay in an unconscious heap on the floor.
Even so, the sight of every closed cell door was unnerving.
Moments into their escape, the doors opened and armed soldiers hurried out. Among them was Darius, with Luke beside him. Apparently, they’d been expecting such an attempt.
Pierce stopped short and yelled, “Fuckin’ hell!”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Luke to Darius. “You were right.”
“Stay back,” Robin ordered Pierce, grabbing his coat collar and holding him behind him.
“Yes, Landcross,” Darius said, stepping forward. “Keep back. This isn’t your fight.”
“Lieutenant Javan,” said Robin. “Or, Lord Javan, is it nowadays? I’ve often wondered if our paths would ever cross again.”
“I have been hoping as much,” Darius admitted. “You’re not taking Landcross this time, demon.”
“Oh, but I am. And your little band of soldiers isn’t going to stop me.”
The number of armed sods blocking their way didn’t exactly fill Pierce with loads of confidence. It would only take one bullet for Pierce, unlike his immortal mate who would most likely compare being shot to being stung by a bee.
“Er, Rob,” he cautioned.
“Let me handle this,” Robin hissed from over his shoulder.
“I need not involve anyone else in this,” Darius stated, unsheathing his military sword. “We can settle this like gentlemen.”
“Is that a challenge, Lord Javan?” Robin asked.
“Is it,” Darius stated, holding out his hand.
A nearby soldier unsheathed his own blade and gave it over to him. Javan stood with both blades drawn like a damn medieval warrior.
“Will you honor a gentlemen’s challenge?” he asked Robin.
“Don’t,” warned Pierce, taking hold of Robin’s arm. “He has a bloody silver dagger on him.”
“I do not.” Javan slowly twirled around.
He wore no coat, which proved there was no knife or gun tucked under his belt.
That did nothing to ease Pierce’s worry. “We ought to make a break for it.”
Robin didn’t seem too inclined to back down.
“Challenge accepted. I shall fight you honorably.” Then he added darkly. “And when I win, your men better run.”
“We shall see,” Darius said, tossing him a sword.
Robin caught it by the handle and released Pierce’s coat. He shook off Pierce’s grasp and stepped forward.
Pierce offered up one last plea. “Don’t do this, Rob.”
The headstrong vampire ignored him and turned to face his opponent.
As they positioned themselves, the guards formed a circle around them. Pierce rather disliked having the soldiers near him, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Luke elbowed Pierce. “We’re about to have ourselves a show, aren’t we, boy?”
Robin and Darius stood facing each other a moment until Darius went in for an attack.
The clashing of steel echoed loudly through the long corridor as though they were giants fighting with massive weapons. Both man and monster were very apt with the blade. Fortunate for Darius, it was only due to Robin’s honor that he even stood a chance. Darius brought the weapon down, aiming to cut Robin through the head. Robin blocked it with his sword and pushed it away, shoving the Persian backward.
“C’mon, Rob!” Pierce cheered. “Cut ’im down!”
Darius regained his footing and charged. His movements were quick. Robin’s were quicker. He even decided to show off by running up the wall, across the arch ceiling, and down the other side. He did a back flip off it and landed with a deep bow to Darius. Pierce grinned at his mischievousness.
“You must move faster, my lord,” Robin advised his unamused opponent.
With a frustrated huff, Darius came at him again with his sword raised high. Pierce wondered how much longer the man could keep this up. He didn’t expect Darius had gotten a lot of sleep, and it wasn’t as if the vampire was going to tire out anytime soon. Darius had definitely bitten off more than he could chew.
The fighters crossed blades and circled them around, trying to force the other to lose his grip. Darius’s sword flew out of his grasp and the second it did, Robin jabbed the tip of his blade into Darius’s side just enough to maim him. Darius cried out as he struggled to stay on his feet. The guards raised their rifles at Robin, making Pierce jump. Robin snarled at them, bearing his deadly fangs.
“Stand down!” Darius demanded while holding his bloody wound. “Lower your weapons!”
Grudgingly, the soldiers did as they were told. Pierce couldn’t speak for Robin, but it made him feel loads better.
Robin relaxed his killer pose and focused on Darius. “You’re a good soul, Darius Javan. You’re loyal and honest. I shall grant you the same mercy and allow you to live. Having said that, however, I am taking Landcross with me.”
He tossed his sword and turned to Pierce with a winning smile. For one steady heartbeat, Pierce truly believed they were going to get out of there.
Another guard secretly handed Darius the silver danger.
“Robin, watch out!” Pierce shouted as Darius came at him.
The ex-lieutenant was quick as he charged Robin. When the vampire twirled around, the blade sank into his gut. The sound of his painful cries resonated throughout the entire underground cellblock.
Darius held onto him and whispered coolly in his ear, “I’m honorable to humans, not demons.”
He pushed him off and Robin fell to his knees, the blade sticking out of him.
“Robin!” Pierce cried, rushing over.
Guards tried to stop him, but Darius held a hand up for them to stay put. Pierce dropped to his knees in front of his friend and grabbed him by the arms to hold him up. Dark blood poured from his stomach along with the smoke that was drifting out as the knife burned him from within. He shook with torment and his skin turned another shade whiter.
“Rob, no worries. I’ll pull the knife out, eh?”
“No.” He took Pierce’s wrist when Pierce grabbed the handle. “The poison of the silver has already spread. It’s no use now
, my friend.”
“Don’t say that. Just let me—”
Robin clasped his shoulder tight. “Pierce. It’s all right. Tonight . . . tonight I shall be reunited with my Marian.”
The scraping of the sword sliding across the stone floor as Darius picked it up caught Pierce’s attention.
“No,” Pierce whispered, shaking his head. “No, Rob. Don’t let this happen.”
He looked into the vampire’s bright blue eyes—eyes filled with experiences that stretched back centuries. Robin of Locksley had lived for so long and had done so many things, and yet, in Pierce’s selfishness, he didn’t want him to go.
“Farewell, my friend,” Robin said. “Until we meet again.”
Someone took hold of Pierce and hoisted him to his feet.
“No!” he shouted as the soldiers pulled him away. “Don’t do this! Darius, don’t do this! Please!”
Darius stepped alongside the vampire with the sword clutched tight in his fist. Robin tilted his chin up to him and gave a slight nod as if telling him he was ready. He turned his head away and bowed it.
The Persian held up the sword.
“Darius! Stop!” Pierce screamed.
With all his might, Darius brought the razor-sharp blade down, slicing it straight through Robin’s neck, severing it completely from his body.
Pierce lost his voice, unable to say anything else as the head and body collapsed to the floor. Black oil-like liquid quickly spread. For a moment, nobody moved.
The anger and hatred swelling in his stomach burned away Pierce’s shock and disbelief. Never could he remember being so enraged.
“You bastard!” he bellowed.
The guards holding him were no match against his might. He yanked his arm out of a guard’s grasp and chopped him in the throat just as Kolt had taught him. The soldier gasped and choked while Pierce shoved the other guard off him. Pierce charged at Darius, grabbed him by the lapel, and shoved him against the wall. Darius was a fairly large cocker, and yet Pierce could have sworn he had briefly lifted him off the ground. Once he had him pinned, Pierce wrapped his hands around his neck and started strangling him. Darius’s eyes bulged and he reddened with asphyxiation. Darius tried desperately to pry his attacker off, but Pierce’s grip was tight.
The bloodlines granted to Pierce upon his birth collided into a single fireball of power that ignited him from within. Only in the purity of anger did he feel it, yet it had never reached such magnitude before. He might not be able to break through walls or be unaffected by bullets, but he could squeeze his fingers straight through this man’s neck. This bastard who had stolen his freedom and had now murdered his friend right in front of him.
Darius’s dark skin turned purple as Pierce pinched his flesh tight. His fingers would have pierced it completely were it not for the sudden blow.
A guard swung his rifle, hitting Pierce in the lower back—something that was not unfamiliar to him, but incredibly painful, all the same. The hit sent electrifying jolts of agony throughout his body, weakening him enough for them to pull him off Darius. When Pierce lunged at him again, the soldiers pounced and held him back.
Darius gasped, coughed and gasped some more. He looked shocked and terrified by the strength Pierce had used on him.
“Ch . . . chain him to the wall!” he gurgled.
The soldiers dragged Pierce into his cell while Luke snatched some shackles hanging off a pike. Inside the cell, Pierce earned himself a hard punch to the stomach when he briefly freed his arm and punched a guard. The blow to the gut crippled him enough for the guards to shackle his wrists and ankles.
“Hook this to him,” ordered Luke, handing another pair of shackles over to a guard.
The guard clamped those restraints around Pierce’s biceps while Luke used a padlock to lock the chain he was holding to an iron hoop embedded in the wall at the rear of the cell. He latched the second padlock around the center link of the chain that stretched across Pierce’s back and clasped it to the second chain. Once secured, the guards finally released him, allowing him to fall to the floor in a heap.
“Get out of here,” Luke ordered them.
He sounded angry, but that anger wasn’t directed toward the soldiers. He grabbed Pierce off the floor and slammed him against the wall.
“I ought to kill you myself, you fucking tosspot,” Luke growled through misshapen teeth.
“Do it,” Pierce dared him. “It’ll save me the bloody trip to the gallows.”
“Boothman,” Darius called in a raspy tone from the doorway. “Let him go.”
The guard pushed the prisoner again and backed off, jabbing his finger into Pierce’s chest. “I can’t wait to watch you hang.”
With that, Luke went over to his wounded friend, who was leaning against the doorway for support. “You all right?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“What about the body?”
“Take it outside and burn it.”
“Aye. C’mon, lads, let’s get to it, eh?”
After he left, Darius closed the door and locked it.
* * *
Corwin Palmer was in the drawing room and working on one of his abstract paintings when a chill blew over him. He shuddered and searched for an open window. All of the windows were shut. He briefly wondered where the breeze was coming from. It was enough to flicker the flames on the candles surrounding him. Corwin shrugged it off and raised his brush to resume painting.
He’d had dreams of becoming a famous artist, traveling the world, painting everything he found interesting in strange and innovative ways. Perhaps discover a new style of painting. That would be a real treat.
He was fortunate the day Mr. Locksley took him in. He was starving to death in Derby. After his parents’ passing, Corwin had no other family, but Mr. Locksley had always treated him kindly, just as a family member would. When he learned that he was not only a vampire but also the Robin Hood, it thrilled Corwin to no end. Mr. Locksley watched over him and promised that he could stay with him for as long as he wished. Corwin never understood why he’d taken him in and blessed him with such luxuries as food, shelter, paints, and more, but Corwin was very grateful for it.
He hoped that wherever Mr. Locksley was at the moment, he was safe and would return home soon.
His hand froze when he tried touching the bristles of the brush to the canvas. It was as if something had taken hold of his wrist. He felt nothing grasping him, only a pause of his muscle. His stomach cramped. A dreadfully cold feeling of loss struck his very core. It was the same feeling he’d experienced when he lost his mother and father.
“Mr. Locksley?” he called out, not knowing why.
Corwin put down the brush and went into Mr. Locksley’s bedroom, where the man kept a strongbox locked inside a safe. Corwin knew the combination, and he had the key to the strongbox, for Mr. Locksley had entrusted them both to him.
He didn’t know why he had come here. Mr. Locksley had instructed him to open it only if something ever happened to him. Had something happened?
When he got the safe opened, the first thing that greeted him was a coarse, folded piece of paper with his name written on it. He took it out and began reading what was written on the back.
To my dearest Corwin, if you are reading this, then it means I have finally met my end. And the reason why you know you must read this is because of our connection. Let me tell you a little about where you came from . . .
Chapter Nineteen
And Then There Were Two
Callum was making incredible time. He had been traveling nonstop for two days and three nights. Neither he nor the horse had slept or eaten. They’d had only air and water.
Callum figured the woman who’d hired him had something to do with his and the animal’s unusual physical state. He went along with it, nonetheless. After all, he’d be paid and then be on his way home. To his good fortune, he hadn’t run into any more soldiers.
The lad had remained asleep, kept unconscious by chlo
roform. Sometimes, when Callum needed to apply another dose, he worried he might accidentally kill him and suffer the repercussions.
The boy didn’t die, and in the middle of the night, they arrived at the house in Lepe.
“Ah, you’re here,” greeted a man with a droning voice. “Bring him in.”
The lad’s dead weight made it difficult to haul him in, and it wasn’t easy to hoist him onto the table. There were straps on it that made Callum curious. He refrained from asking, though.
Callum caught his breath, wiped the sweat off his brow, and said to the man standing there in his night robe, “Erm, right. I was promised payment.”
“I’m sure you were,” he said, walking over to a bookshelf built from branches twisted together.
He reached into a large glass jar and brought out a thick billfold. “Is three thousand suitable?”
“Three thousand . . . pounds?”
“Yes,” the bloke confirmed nonchalantly.
“Er, yeah, that’ll do fine.”
“Good,” he said, handing Callum the billfold. “Have a safe journey home.”
“Uh, sure. Will do. Cheers.”
Callum left quickly before the man realized he’d paid more than Callum was promised. He had traveled an hour north when his head suddenly grew very heavy. In fact, his entire body weighed a ton and a fog of exhaustion clouded his mind. Callum didn’t have a chance to dismount from the carriage in order to climb inside of it before his exhaustion took him over. He closed his heavy eyelids and he and the horse fell fast asleep in the middle of the road.
With his task done, the spell of wakefulness had lifted.
* * *
Hours went by and Pierce was nowhere near falling asleep. He sat against the wall he was chained to. The cold floor had long grown warm beneath him. He sorely wished he could lie on the cot as before, but the chain wouldn’t reach. The cell was pitch black, with no source of light to allow his eyes a chance to adjust. It gave him the illusion that they were shut even when they were open.
Nonetheless, Pierce saw things.
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