Pierre’s instructions were to use it well. I knelt beside him, feeling around for his heart beat. Nothing. Slowly I leaned back on my heels. The man was dead. I pulled the dart from his neck to inspect it. Leave it to Pierre to have a pipe that shot poisonous darts.
Someone came up behind me, and I turned quickly. Jericho stared down at me, his wolf mask giving him a sinister appearance, but it gave me relief. I signaled for Jericho to take the man’s legs and together we lifted the man and carried him to the end of the houses where we lowered him against the wall.
“We caught that fellow who left. He is snugly bound and awaiting transport.”
“Did Artemis follow Nicholas?”
“Aye, and will return when she knows where he has gone,” Jericho replied.
“Good, now let us get to work. There are only four men in the house.”
Bess grabbed my arm. “Loutaire, the man who opened the door, I recognized him.” She inhaled a deep breath. “He was the same man who struck Andrew the night of the musical.”
So that was it. Peter was one of the men from the black carriage. An even greater desire to capture him covered me. Leo and Levi joined us, and the four of us moved toward the assassins’ house, leaving Bess to guard the wagon. I put my mask on and even though the assassins had seen my face, I was wearing a beard that disguised the true shape of my face.
I opened the door to the house and walked in followed by my team. As Jericho closed the door, the four assassins stared at us for a moment before leaping to their feet. They knew whom we were without us having to say a word. It was four against four. A fair enough fight. Peter charged straight for me, but I raised my pistol. He slid to a halt, but it did not stop him as I had planned. He slammed his palm against the side of my pistol, and as it jerked in my hand, my finger struck the trigger and it exploded, the sound nearly deafening in the small room. One of the assassins sunk to the ground and Leo looked from the body to me then laughed. I would have laughed if Peter had not chosen that moment to grab me around the neck and slam my back against the wall. I reached my left hand out and grabbed the back of his head and jerked it toward me, then jammed my right thumb into his eye socket. He cursed, spraying my face with spit, and released me. I ducked and went to move around him, but his hand shot out and grabbed my beard. My head jerked for an instant before a sharp pain shot through my face as the paste ripped away from my skin. Peter held the beard in his hand and looked down at it then to me. I took his momentary shock to my advantage, throwing my fist against his stomach. He grunted, dropping the beard. I struck him again. When he hunched over, I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him toward me as my knee came up against his groin. Leo gave me his pistol, so I placed the barrel against Peter’s chin then motioned for him to sit. I never took my eyes from him as he stared down the barrel of the gun.
“I will shoot you and rid the world of your presence,” I said to him, as I could see that he was trying to decide if he could be faster than I could pull the trigger.
Behind us, the sounds punches exchanged echoed through the small room. Jericho, with a bloodied nose, came up beside me and pulled a cord of rope from his pocket. I kept the pistol on Peter while Jericho tied his hands. I told Jericho where to find the paper with Peter’s instructions on it. Jericho pulled it out of Peter’s pocket, but Peter growled and threw his forehead against Jericho’s head. I turned my pistol in my hand and slammed the butt against Peter’s head, twice. Peter’s back slid down the wall, but he was still conscious. I turned my pistol and pointed it again at him, but glanced at Jericho. He was shaking his head, dazed, and when his eyes were again focused, he took a step toward Peter.
“See to the others,” I said, motioning over my shoulder with my head.
Jericho sneered at Peter before moving to where Levi was still fighting one of the men. Jericho grabbed the man around the neck and pulled him against his chest as he waited for the man to lose consciousness. Levi wiped blood from his busted lip. His red eye would turn black. Leo moved to my side as I unfolded Peter’s paper.
Target-J.M. Remove body. Carry to SM where payment will be received.
My mind moved through all the people I knew with those initials, then my eyes slid shut as my heart thumped against my chest. Other than myself, there were two men I knew of with those initials, but only one was frequenting Philadelphia. James Monroe. I turned back to Peter. He was smiling at me like he was happy about something.
“You smile, but we have the advantage of knowing Levitas’ plans, and now that I have you, there will be no more disappearances.” Peter’s grin fell from his mouth.
Once the assassins were bound and loaded in Levi’s wagon, I took a black feather from my pocket and tucked it into the pocket of one of the men. Stepping back, the wagon moved away. Levi and Leo were escorting them to the constables while Jericho, Bess and I waited for Mariah to return.
Ten minutes later, Mariah came running up the path. “I did as you instructed, Raven. He is at the house of Mr. Calvert on Chestnut.”
Bess laid her hand on my shoulder, pressing it for a moment in silent blessing. I turned to look at Jericho. “Take them home, this next task I do alone.”
Chapter 16
Jack
The ride to Chestnut Street was brief, as we were on that side of town. I hitched Brutus to a post and ran through an alley, coming out on Chestnut across the street from the house that I sought. The first floor windows were all boarded up, making the house appear both deserted and eerie. A flash of white passed the upstairs window, and I smiled, pulling out my pistol. I ran across the street and opened the unlocked front door. All was black, but there was light coming from one of the rooms above stairs. Then I heard their voices.
“Have you done yet?” Nicholas demanded.
“No, and I will not if you keep plaguing me to make haste. Five minutes is all I require,” Hannah replied, exasperation filling her voice.
“Five minutes will be too late.”
“What have you done?” Hannah demanded in a shrill tone.
“Set fire to the house. No one steals from Levitas!” Nicholas’s voice was high pitched, hysterical.
“Then you must let me be about my task!”
“Well, I shall not await you to be burned to death,” Nicholas shouted. I edged against the wall in the shadows as Nicholas appeared at the top of the stairs and nearly ran down in his haste to flee the house.
Considering my best course of action lasted only a minute before I saw smoke filtering into the room from the back of the house. An orange light was vibrant and flickered through the crack beneath the door. I ran up the stairs, not caring if Hannah heard me.
She was on her knees before a strong box, her white cloak covering her entirely. A lit lantern was on the dirty floor beside her, and she did not appear to be aware of my presence. She gave a small cry as she pulled open the strong box door. She took a long black box from inside, pulled off the lid and reverently reached for a silver chalice. The woman hugged it to her breast before placing it in a burlap sack. Holding my pistol before me, I moved to stand behind her. I placed the barrel against the back of her head. She stiffened completely. I reached over her shoulder and took the sack from her grasp.
“Stand!” I demanded. She slowly stood with her back to me. “Walk,” I said, pressing the barrel harder against her. She edged around me and walked to the small landing at the top of the stairs.
Below was a mixture of smoke and flames as the fire was spreading at an alarming rate. I was considering the best means of escape, when Hannah turned quick, knocking the gun from my hand. She grabbed the bag and ran down the stairs.
Halfway down the stairs gave out, and she tumbled forward, landing in a heap at the bottom. The chalice landed a few feet away from her.
I shook the banister and found it sound, so with a deep breath I hopped on and slid quickly down. My feet landed above her head. The hem of her cloak was caught on the bottom step, burning. I could grab the chalice and run, let he
r get herself out of the house, but when I looked down at her back and the cloak covering her like a cocoon she was not moving. I quickly stamped out the flames on her cloak with my boots then lifted her still form and tossed her over my shoulder. The smoke was a fog, hiding the door from me. Moving forward slowly, my boot hit the sack with the chalice, so I scooped it up and inched forward until I found the door. Using the sack on the hot knob, I threw open the door.
As I leapt from the house, I gasped for fresh air, but the smoke coming from the house behind me made me cough. I ran across the street carrying the white phantom who had started coughing against my shoulder. I needed to get her away from the fire and out of that burned cloak.
She started to wiggle in my hold, but I held on until we were midway into a dark alley. The bells of the fire brigade sounded in the distance as I set her on her feet. I started to untangle the cloak, but as soon as her arms were free, she grabbed the sack from me and started to run. She made it five steps before I caught her and pinned her against a brick wall. There was a glow at the end of the alley from the brightness of the fire, but she and I were standing in the shadows. I could not see her face, but I was beginning to see a pattern with her. I held her arms against the wall and clicked my tongue. She growled in frustration and tried to hit my head with her own.
A deep laugh passed my lips but turned into a cough. She jerked up her knee, but I was faster. I jumped back, releasing her and barely missing the attack that was meant to pain me. She took advantage of her free state by running again. I ran after her, grabbing her arm and tossing her against the wall again, only this time I did more than pin her in place. I leaned down and placed my lips against hers.
She struggled so violently that I lifted my head. I felt a pang of remorse for having taken advantage of the situation––until she got a hand free and slapped my cheek so hard my ears rang. I did not know why I had kissed her, but the woman brought out a different side of me. I grabbed her wrist and forced it down, shaking my head to dispel the ringing.
Leaning close, I whispered in my deepest voice that I used only as Loutaire, “Yer not very conciliatory fer one who saved yer life.”
Her body stiffened, and I knew that she was staring at me, but I could not see her eyes in the darkness. After a moment, she pressed her lips against mine, a little crooked. Surprise burst in me, followed immediately by heat, everywhere.
Desire awakened in my belly, and I deepened the kiss, my mouth moving over hers like she was the water I needed to put out my fire. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew she was trying to distract me with her kiss, but it did not bother me. What caught me off guard was the way she melted into my embrace, leaning against me and her mouth following my lead. Her hand rested on my shoulder, and I placed my hand on her waist, pulling her against me. My other hand still held her wrist, but I raised it until it was resting against my shoulder. As her tongue slid into my mouth, she tasted sweet, and as much as I wanted to follow where this was going, I remembered whom I was kissing and where we were. I forced myself to pull back.
I could hear her heavy breathing before she turned away from me to run again. I reached out and jerked the sack from her grasp. She swung around. I raised my pistol and cocked it, the sound echoing like a sharp intake of breath. She did not move, but I could tell by her rigid stance that she wanted to fight me for whatever was in the bag. I swung it up into my hand and felt around the bag. It was the chalice, den kop torden. I began to back away, and she made no move to follow.
“We’ll speak again soon,” I said in my deepest voice before backing out of the alley. The last sight I had of her was her sagging against the brick wall.
After riding away at a clipping pace and following a roundabout direction, I left my horse at the livery that housed him.
All was quiet when I let myself into my house. I walked up the stairs to my chamber. Leo must have arrived home before me, for there was a fire burning in the grate. Opening the bag, I pulled out an ornately carved chalice. There was an engraving on each side of the goblet, a throne on one side, and a crest that had an eagle and a lion poised over a shield. The shield had a phoenix in the center. Den kop torden.
I put the chalice under my bed and changed out of my smoke covered clothes. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stared out the window into the dark night. Hannah’s face flashed in my mind dressed as the white phantom. I put her up against the Hannah who flounced around ballrooms. One woman intrigued me, the other disgusted me.
Thinking about our kisses, heat crawled up the back of my neck. That woman knew how to entice a man, but I could not allow my emotions to get caught up in a few heated embraces. She was my enemy, and as such, I had a duty to fulfill. It did not matter that she could ignite a passion in me that I had never before known. Hannah would be present at a picnic Ephraim was holding, and I hoped that I could finally get some answers. Then I could put all of my misguided feelings for the woman to rest and focus my attention on a woman who needed me. Guinevere. But, first came Sunday, and I wondered for the hundredth time if Guinevere would ridicule me for my secret—or respect me.
***
On Sunday morning when Jericho stopped the carriage before Guinevere’s house, I opened the door. I had not particularly wanted to take a carriage, but what I was about to show Guinevere would take too long to reach on horseback. As I knocked on the door, it was opened immediately by Guinevere. I stepped back, admiring the picture she presented. She wore an ivory gown beneath a long pelisse of dark green velvet. Gold clasps fastened the top of the pelisse across her chest, giving it a military look. The green suited her pale skin and auburn hair. I asked after Martha, but Guinevere said she had not invited her to accompany us.
Chuckling, I offered my arm, and she stepped down, closing the door. I had prepared for such a circumstance. It was for that reason Mariah was riding beside Jericho on the box seat.
When we were seated in the carriage, she did not ask where we were heading. She trusted me. I liked that.
“I was surprised that you wanted to go out so early. Do not poets sleep until noon?”
Leaning into my corner of the carriage, I watched her. Her delicate brows were raised in question, but the twitch of her lips told me she was nearly laughing.
She was in a fun humor. I laid a hand over my heart. “You wound me, milady. I hardly ever sleep until noon.”
“Ten then?”
“I will have you know that I was used to rise promptly at eight every morning. Until I met you,” I said with an air of importance that one would expect from a devoted poet.
“What changed when you met me?” she asked, giving me a coy smile.
“My world.” The words dropped upon me like a heavy stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. It was true.
“Charming,” she replied.
My head warned to be careful where I went next. “But, you believe not a word of it.”
She laughed because I had caught on. She did not believe me; at least she was trying not to. Guinevere was guarded with her emotions, but she was honest, and she expected me to be honest in return. This day was the first step.
When we reached our destination, Guinevere’s eyes grew round as she looked out the window and then to me. The carriage came to a stand, and I opened the door.
“You are taking me to church?”
I could not contain my laughter as I stepped down from the carriage and turned, placing one foot on the carriage step. “You asked to see why I am called Saint John.”
“Yes, but I did not expect this.” There was no derision in her voice, only astonishment.
I held out my hand, and with a long-suffering sigh, she took my hand and climbed down as the church bells rang.
The church was a small, white building with a white bell tower on the top. Farmers and their wives were entering the building, but as we approached, people stepped back; the women beaming at us and men removing their hats. As we went through the double doors, I led Guinevere to a pew, and she slid in. W
e were the only two in the row.
When the bells stopped their joyous ringing, a door at the back of the church opened, and Reverend Gideon Reid my mentor and friend entered. He caught sight of me and my companion and smiled. I returned it readily.
Gideon had been a friend of my father’s, and after he had died, Gideon took me under his wing, mentoring me in all forms of literature. It was only within the last six months that I learned that my father had given a full confession to Gideon, extracting a promise that Gideon would look after me—help me to keep my cover of a poet. My father trusted Gideon so much that he told him our secret. Other than Bess and Leo, Gideon was the one person I could speak openly with. He never condemned me and was always ready with advice without being overbearing or interfering.
The service was wonderful as always. Gideon was unlike any minister I had ever met. Instead of reading from the Holy book alone, he would tell stories so his congregation could better understand what he was trying to teach them. He knew how to make a crowd hang upon his every word. When the service ended and Gideon had made his way down the center aisle, the congregation rose to follow.
Gideon stood at the door and greeted each person by name. I glanced at Guinevere and was relieved to see that she was not upset or nervous, only curious.
“Why, John, it was good to have you in service today. Won’t you introduce me to your companion?” Gideon asked as I shook his hand, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes multiplying when he smiled.
“Reverend Reid, this is Miss Clark.”
“Ah, yes of course. I have heard your name spoken.”
Guinevere glanced at me, and I looked innocently back. She turned back to Gideon, holding out her hand which he shook with a gleam in his eyes. “I thoroughly enjoyed the service, Reverend.”
“Thank you. I hope you will come again soon,” he said sincerely. Gideon was kind to everyone, and I had spoken to him of her when I came to see him one day a week.
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