Phantoms In Philadelphia (Phantom Knights Book 1)

by Amalie Vantana

Bess

  When Mother and I first arrived in the country, I thought monotony would be my lot, but for the last two days, Jericho and I had been riding out to watch Stark Manor. I had a feeling that I could not shake. The only connections between all the stories of the disappearances was the carriage and the direction that it left the city. Somewhere around Stark Manor there had to be a place where they were keeping the people they snatched. Unless they were dead, but I would not believe that. It would serve no purpose. From what Leo could discover every person taken owed money, or their family did, to Richard. Surely ransom would be the course he would take.

  Jericho and I had searched all over the property, but found no place where those people could be kept. We had searched Stark Manor before and found no clues, but I was sure they had to be there somewhere.

  We were across the road from Stark Manor, lying on our bellies in the middle of the woods, and I had my mother’s opera glasses up, patrolling the area, when a rider came into view.

  As soon as I saw the auburn hair, I smiled. Guinevere did not stop at Stark; she rode past without a care in the world. Jericho and I were on our feet and mounted within seconds. We stayed hidden in the trees until she turned off the road, cutting through the woods ahead of us. She had not seen us, and she did not look around as she rode deeper into the trees until she was half a mile from my mother’s house.

  What she could possibly be doing was not clear until a small cottage with smoke coming from a chimney came into view. There were trees all around, but the weather had stripped many of their leaves, so seeing Guinevere stop outside the cottage was simple, even from a distance.

  We left our horses and moved ahead on foot as she knocked on the door. It opened, and a large man with a pockmarked face stepped out, followed by George.

  Sucking in a quick breath, relief and disbelief tumbled in me. Jericho looked as astonished. George was pushed down to a wooden bench that was against the front of the cottage and Guinevere spoke to him. She was wearing her cloak and mask, but now that I knew who she was, I could see it in the way she walked, and held herself. We were fools ever to have thought that she was Hannah.

  Guinevere looked over her shoulder, straight to where we were hiding, and smiled. She knew we were there.

  “You get George, I will handle her,” I said to Jericho, who took out his pistol, aimed, and shot the man standing over George.

  Guinevere lifted her skirt and ran, disappearing through the trees at the back of the cottage. I followed; my heart pounding as I pushed myself hard. Knocking my way through the low branches, I came upon a clearing. She was waiting for me.

  “Raven, I have been awaiting this moment for some time.”

  “No more than I,” I said in a growl.

  Pushing off the balls of my feet, I ran at her, keeping my fists up to guard my face as she threw a punch. I tackled her to the ground, and she threw her foot against my stomach. My fist hit her jaw, but not hard as her hands were flying all over, pulling at my coat, my hat, whatever she could grab. She ripped off my mask before throwing her head against mine. The pain was sudden as black spots danced before my vision. I rolled off of her as we both rubbed our foreheads. The world above me spun, but I tried to ignore it as I reached over, grabbing her hood. She jerked away from my hand, and her hood came off, her hair along with it.

  So that is it.

  Her hair was ebony, not red. She scurried to her feet, but my hand flew out and caught her leg. I wrapped my arm around it, pulling her down. She turned and threw her fist against my left eye. Pain shot through my eye and down my cheek. I saw more black spots floating around joined by white ones, but I kept my hold on her leg even as she pulled my hat from my head. My hair was tied back, but pieces of it were loose and hung around my face. I slammed my fist into her side. She bent over me with a groan. My hand grabbed her hair, wrapping it in my fist, and pulled her head toward me, but then froze as the barrel of her pistol met my temple. I released my fingers one by one from her hair. She stumbled back. Her left hand held the pistol out before her without shaking, but her right hand wrapped around her side where I had struck her, and she winced. I pushed to my feet, facing her.

  “Let us finish this. I know you, and you know me,” Guinevere said as she held her side.

  “What do you plan to do with your knowledge?” I asked in my own voice. What was the point in pretense now?

  “What do you plan to do with yours?” she retorted, as her smug smile dawned.

  “Shoot me. We waste time talking.” I held my back straight, ready to take what she dealt out.

  “I do not want to shoot you, Raven,” there was true regret in her voice, “I want to pretend like this never happened, but alas I cannot, and neither will you.”

  “It appears we are at a standstill,” I said, crossing my arms. The action sent aches dancing along my shoulders and down my back.

  “No, indeed, for I have an offer to make you.” I raised my brows, and her smile turned frightening. No one who knew her would ever suspect that her lovely purplish eyes could look so deadly. “I will keep my knowledge to myself in exchange for you doing the same.”

  I released a harsh laugh. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because the moment you speak against me is the moment I speak against you.”

  She had me backed into a corner, so I did the only thing open to me. I agreed. When Jericho’s voice yelled for me, Guinevere grabbed her wig and backed away before disappearing through the trees.

  My pain hit me like a whip’s lash, and I sagged forward as Jericho burst into the open.

  “Raven, are you well?” he asked as he came up beside me. When I looked up at him and nodded, he winced. “Loutaire will not be pleased when he sees your face.”

  “Is it that noticeable?”

  Jericho grimaced. “You look like you engaged in a battle with a horse, and the horse won.”

  “Nearly. Where is George?” Jericho nodded toward the trees, then gave me my mask and helped me to walk back to the cottage.

  George was waiting for us, and when I reached him, he put a hand to my cheek, searching my face. “My dear Raven, are you well?”

  I fought back tears. The relief in knowing he was safe brought me close to the edge of hysterics. “I should be asking you that,” I whispered, as I laid my hand over his. Tears were clogging my throat.

  George’s bushy eyebrows lowered in a scowl. His white hair at the sides of his head, as the top was bald, was puffed out and sticking in all directions. He had a faint, greenish-yellow bruise beneath his right eye, but all else looked unharmed. “They did not harm me other than a fist to my eye when I tried to escape.”

  Smiling caused pain my eye to hurt.

  George had always wanted to be a spy, ever since he was a lad and helped his father, a Culper spy during the Revolutionary war, to thwart a message being passed to the enemy. The way George told the story to us it was his doing that turned the tide of the war and brought down the enemy.

  Jericho and I escorted George to my mother’s country house where we found Jack waiting for us. He was pacing outside the front door as we rode up. Jericho, whom I was riding with, helped me down as Jack ran forward. He had not yet noticed who was riding Pegasus. He grabbed my shoulders, and I cringed as pain shot down my back. Jack released me immediately. His gaze met George’s and widened in amazement.

  “John, it does my eyes good to see you.”

  It took Jack a moment to snap out of his astonishment, but he met George’s hand and clapped his other hand around George’s arm. “I am so relieved to see you safe, George. Pray, come into the house.”

  I walked with Jack and George into the house as Jericho went to stable our horses.

  When my mother saw me, she shrieked and ran to me. She reached out to touch the skin around my eye, but I jerked away. Jack gently laid his hand on my shoulder as he led me into the library. Mother and George followed, and once Jericho, Mariah, and Leo had joined us, George told us what had happened.r />
  He was in his carriage on the way to Baltimore to take a ship to Charleston to visit his nephew, when he was captured. The mention of Joutaine brought our encounter back to my mind. I bit my lip and shoved away thoughts of that kiss that made my stomach flip in an annoying way.

  George turned to my mother. “I wonder, my dear Nell, could you ask your cook to make me something decent to eat? I have been fed nothing substantial in weeks.” When Mother was out of the room we questioned him more closely.

  “Was it Levitas?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, though, I never once saw Richard Hamilton. It was always Nicholas Mansfield and that chit.”

  George had nothing flattering to say about Guinevere. He did not know who she was. One look at Jack’s mutinous face kept my mouth sealed shut. That and what Guinevere had said to me in the clearing. I would not be the first to break our agreement.

  Jack and I told George about what had been happening since he was gone. He was outraged when he heard about my mother’s betrothal. Not only because Richard was a villain, but I suspected that George had deep feelings for my mother.

  When we spoke of the artifacts, George grew anxious. He wanted them turned over to him immediately. The way his brown eyes stared at us made me feel uneasy. There was wildness to his eyes, like he knew what the artifacts did, and he wanted the power. It was ridiculous to think of George in such a way, but I could not shake the feeling.

  “I will be keeping the artifacts for the time being.” All eyes turned to me.

  “That is not your call, Raven,” George barked out. My team stiffened.

  “On the contrary, it is my call. As the leader of this team, I decide what is best—as my father directed.”

  George openly glared at me. He hated the fact that a woman was the leader of our team. He thought it should have been him or Jack, or even Levi would have been preferable to me. The subject turned to what our plans were, and when we told George about the attempts against Monroe, he was furious. He was a little relieved when Jack said that the Washington Phantoms had arrived. Jack tossed me a look that promised a discussion later. Then, we told George what we needed from him. After we had laid our plans before him, he rose.

  “I will do my part and we will meet at my house in four days’ time.” My mother came to tell him that food had been laid in the dining parlor. When everyone else left but Jack, he looked me over.

  “It is not as terrible as I first thought, but you will have a black eye.”

  Oh, the joy.