It was chaos. This was the heaviest I’d ever been fired upon. Cursing our rotten timing, I peered up, squinting through the foggy air. Hands reached out of cells, begging to be released. Through the now missing wall, I could see a building burning, another cannon pounding into the ground and sending rock flying every direction.
“Olivia!”
A hand grabbed mine, squeezing tightly as it dragged me toward the bars of a cell.
Looking up, I saw the blue eyes of my love, his blond hair unkempt and shaggy, a beard marking the lower half of his face.
“What are you doing here?” August growled. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
The statement made me laugh, my nerves fraying with every second that passed. “I think what you meant to say was ‘thank you!’” I shouted, blinking away tears as I saw he was fine for the first time in almost three weeks.
In spite of himself, August grinned, pulling me close and sharing a kiss through the bars. “Thank you,” he breathed. “You wonderful, crazy, impulsive woman!”
Holding him the best I could through the barrier, I let my relief take control, kissing him as the earth shook around us, fire and brimstone falling from the sky.
“Get his keys, Olivia!”
Pulling away, I looked to the other side of the small building. Charlotte’s expression was a mixture of amusement and annoyance, waiting for me to finish what we’d started. Her hands held the lock of the cell in front of her, and I suddenly realized she intended to release everyone, rather than leave them to die here.
Glancing around, I saw the body of the jailer lying beside me, the keys looped around his belt. With trembling fingers, I undid the belt and took them, stumbling to my feet. Letting August out first, I then hurried to her side, choosing another key at random and trying it until I found the right one.
“You shot the jailer?” I asked, opening the cell and letting the man inside go free. “I thought you didn’t change the past.”
“He was going to die anyway,” she replied without hesitation. Glancing at the ceiling as we moved to the next cell, she hurried me along. “We all will if we don’t get out of here soon. This place will be a pile of rubble in the next couple of minutes.”
A closer cannon fired before I could reply, signaling the British’s return attack. The sound made me jump, and I dropped the keys, hurrying to pick them up as Charlotte chastised me.
August’s fingers wrapped around mine as I retrieved the ring, his smile encouraging as he took them from me. He made quick work of the other locks, ushering the prisoners out and directing them to safety across the street. Then, grabbing my hand, he pulled me in the same direction, using his body as a shield until we were inside an abandoned house and safe from random bullets.
No sooner were we inside did he grab me and kiss me, pulling me against him, devouring my lips hungrily. It was like we’d been apart three years, not three weeks, the way he drank in my presence, worshiping my mouth as if it were the only thing that gave him life.
The contact made my head spin, my heart racing, skin flushing as I allowed him to treat me so. Even with the danger surrounding us, I could have lived in that moment for the rest of forever, feeling the might of his love for me displayed in physical form.
“Keep it in your pants, you two,” Charlotte butted in, completely focused on what was going on outside. “We aren’t out of this mess yet.”
Breaking away, August stared at me with happy eyes and swollen lips. Rubbing his thumb over my own mouth, he leaned in and gave me one more, chaste kiss. “Thank you,” he breathed.
“I would have come sooner if possible,” I muttered, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tightly. “I petitioned to have you paroled, but no one would listen to my requests.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “Thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart, love. The lengths which you have gone to for me are astounding.”
“Thank Charlotte,” I stated, blushing. “It was her idea.”
“I never would have made it to the jail without Olivia,” Charlotte conceded without a pause. “You’re welcome. Now, where do we go from here?” She looked at me expectantly, as if she thought I might suddenly spout off the perfect route home, with a place to stop for dinner along the way.”
“Uh.” Frowning, I considered all the options we had, knowing almost everything in the vicinity would now be either destroyed or crawling with units firing on the Continentals.
Raising my fingers to his lips, August kissed them gently and replied when he saw I wasn’t sure of what to do. “We will find a way to someplace safe,” he stated simply.
I’d become so used to the sounds of battle that I could sleep through them now, the clashes lulling me into slumber as if they were a strange kind of lullaby. The next morning, as I sat up from my uncomfortable bed in the abandoned house near the beach, I yawned, ignoring the battle going on all around me as I looked outside. Masts from scuttled ships rose out of the water, horse carcasses lined up and smelling like death.
We’d not made it to the apartment as we’d hoped the night before, instead forced to take cover on the beach below the bluffs. Most, if not all the residences were abandoned there after the American shot and set fire to the ships in the bay. It wasn’t ideal, but I’d finally managed the first real sleep I’d experienced since August’s arrest. Having him back by my side made me feel more at ease than anything else.
Frowning, I glanced to my right, realizing he was no longer curled against me. Instead, footprints trailed across the sand outside, down to the water and then along the shore, disappearing off in the distance.
As my expression lightened into a smile, I stood and went that direction as well and found him, sitting just out of reach of the water where he was busy rinsing out his hair. The filth of the prison washed from his face, and he appeared more relaxed and calm than when we’d hastily bedded down for the night.
“Good morning,” I said warmly. “Fancied an early morning swim, I see?”
Grinning, he waded over and kissed me in greeting, plopping down and wrapping his arms around me, sharing some of the cold water with me. “I thought you might appreciate if I smelled somewhat decent,” he joked. “Though I’m afraid the beard will have to wait until I can obtain a razor to cut it with.”
He rubbed the long stubble with a frown, his distaste for facial hair evident.
“I like it,” I teased, rubbing it as well.
“That tickles,” he complained, chuckling as he released me and rolled away to get dressed.
Laughing, I splashed some water on my face and threaded my fingers through my hair, cleaning up a bit as well, feeling refreshed and ready for whatever the day—and our fight this evening—would bring.
Or so I thought.
It wasn’t until I saw August raising his hands over his head that I realized anything was wrong. Turning slowly, I frowned as I stared at Smith, his rifle and bayonet pointed at the both of us.
“Deserting, betraying your country, and now breaking out of jail?” he shook his head, glaring at August. “You have much to answer for Bancroft.”
“Olivia, get behind me,” I ordered, staring down Smith with a frown. “This quarrel has nothing to do with you.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” Smith growled. “That woman is the whole reason you’ve gone off and ruined your reputation! If not for her, we wouldn’t even be here!” He brandished the gun somewhat, taking a step forward, his lip curling like a dog about to attack.
“That woman will be my wife!” I growled, feeling my own hackles rise. “You would do well to watch your tongue, sir.”
Smith paused at that, a laugh breaking from him as his anger grew tenfold. “You mean to tell me, after all this time, you still haven’t married her? What was the point of running away, if not to elope?”
“There’s a lot you don’t understand,” Olivia offered, her voice quivering as she held up a hand, remaining in front of me.
“Shut up!
” Smith’s ire turned to her, his eyes narrowing. “I do not care what I misunderstand. Whatever it is, it cannot be more than what I do realize.”
His gaze swiveled back to me, frown deepening. “We looked for you,” he hissed, hurt entering his eyes. “Searched that damn riverside up and down for two days, thinking we would find you frozen to death or murdered by some patriot scum!”
“I did not ask that of you,” I interjected. “Nor did I intend to vanish into thin air!”
“I don’t care what your intentions were,” Smith answered simply. “I thought you were my friend.” Laughing, he shook his head. “I thought you were dead.” The light in his eyes darkened, his hold on the musket steadying.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I realized he intended to shoot me. Smith sought justice for the wrongs he felt I’d committed against him and our country. If no one else followed through on punishment, he would take care of it himself, as he would have as my commander.
“Olivia!” Reaching to drag her out of the way, I flinched as a shot rang out, the burning smell of gunpowder filling the air. My hand locked around her arm, throwing her to the earth, and I stepped into her place, shielding her from the shot.
Except it wasn’t Smith who had fired.
My eyes met his as the blood dripped from his mouth. Surprised, his hand went to his chest, touching the hole there, and then he crumpled, his weapon burying itself in the sand with him.
“Smith!” I shouted, running toward him and sliding to my knees.
The blood pumped from his chest in great spurts, his breath labored as he looked at me with wide eyes. My palms were quickly bathed in red as I desperately tried to stay the flow of lifeforce from him.
“Olivia,” I called. “Come quick and help me! I don’t know what to do—”
Smith’s hand wrapped around my wrist, squeezing for a beat and then falling slack as the light went out from his eyes.
My breath caught in my chest, tears clouding my sight as I stared at him, refusing to believe he was gone. He had been my friend and leader, the man who saved my life more times than I could count. We were soldiers, bunkmates—the closest thing to a brother either of us had ever had.
And he was dead.
“Olivia,” I called weakly. “Olivia, help me. Please?”
Glancing at her, I felt my heart seize, eyes going wide as I watched her a few steps away.
Sitting in the sand, silent tears pouring down her cheeks, she covered her mouth with one hand. In the other, she held a gun from her own time. The horror on her face was unmistakable, as was the rocking motion she was making. Sand had intertwined in her hair when I threw her down, but the damage had been done.
She’d shot and killed Smith.
“What’s happened?” Charlotte appeared at the top of the bluff, quickly making her way down, glancing every which way as she did so. As she neared us, she slowed, looking at the body and my bloody form.
Olivia sucked in a huge gasp, her sobs muffled by her hand. Suddenly, she seemed to realize she was still holding the gun, looking at it in disgust before she threw it into the ocean.
“No!” Charlotte pushed forward, growling as she waded into the water and began to search for it. “You can’t just throw a modern firearm into the bay!”
Olivia didn’t answer, instead using both hands to cover her mouth as she shook her head, large tears washing her skin. Her face was turning red from exertion, fingers trembling, eyes locked on the body beside me.
Finally, moving her palms to her cheeks, she attempted to form words, the trembling of her body increasing. “I . . . I . . .” The crying increased further until she sounded like she was going to hyperventilate. “He was going to kill you,” she whispered. “And—and I had the pistol in my pocket—”
Covering her face, she leaned forward, sobbing into the dirt, her shoulders shaking and body trembling as she expressed her fear and regret over what happened.
Gingerly rising to my feet, I wiped my palms on my pants and went to her, carefully tucking her into my embrace.
“I didn’t think—” she started, clinging to me like a child to its mother.
“Hush,” I muttered. “I understand, love. We all do.”
She shook her head, my tender words only serving to ignite her reaction further. The feeling of taking one’s life for the first time was not a pleasant one. She’d reacted to the situation rather than think it through—a fact I was thoroughly grateful for—but I knew she would suffer from the decision for the rest of her life. Just as I could recall the faces of every man I’d ever taken from this earth, she would always remember Smith’s and recognize he was gone because of her.
“I killed him, August,” she muttered. “I killed him.”
Tightening my hold on her, I kissed the top of her head. “I know.”
Staring at Smith, I felt despair wash over me at his loss. My chest ached for Olivia and the pain she was going through as well, but there was nothing I could say that would ease her suffering.
Trudging from the water, Charlotte pocketed the now waterlogged gun, shaking her head. “We need to go. I heard that shot from the top of the bluffs, and I’m sure others did too. This place is going to be crawling with Redcoats any minute.”
Olivia pulled away in surprise, shaking her head violently. “We can’t just leave him here! We have to—”
“What?” Charlotte’s face was sympathetic but impassive. “The soldier is dead. There’s no use getting yourself hanged over it.”
Lips trembling, Olivia peered at me, a child-like innocence in the look. “We can’t drop him here like this. Alone, in the sand, abandoned. It’s not right.”
Cradling her face, I rested my forehead against hers and sighed. “Smith will understand.”
The horror that filled her face was only surpassed by her anger as I hauled her to her feet and began dragging her away from the scene.
“Let go of me,” she screamed, attempting to tug free. “It isn’t right! I shot him, I should be here to explain!”
“They aren’t going to listen to explanations,” I replied roughly, refusing to let go of her. “A soldier is dead, and the army is hungry for justice. With their men deserting, they’ll do anything they can to boost morale, including hanging a woman accused of murder.”
“I did murder him!” she shouted. “I murdered him!” The cry repeated over and over, dissolving into her sobs, her heels digging into the ground until I hauled her off her feet and over my shoulder. She screamed and kicked, the guilt she felt over what happened making her lose all sense of why she had done it in the first place.
Charlotte, her face stoic, gave me a look that warned of distasteful action coming soon.
“Olivia,” I started, trying to calm her one last time.
Before I could continue, Charlotte turned and punched her clean in the face, rendering her unconscious.
“Was that really necessary?” I growled, adjusting my hold on my love so she was cradled in my embrace rather than carried like a sack.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, jerking her head toward the city. “You tell me.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that there were indeed a few people gathering on the bluffs, using the opportunity to escape the barrage higher up.
“Come on,” she continued, not bothered in the slightest. “We have a lot to do before we go after Gabriel tonight.”
Staring at myself in the dingy mirror back at the apartment, I straightened the sleeve of my red coat. It’d been some time since I was in uniform. Did I imagine, or did I stand taller when dressed this way? Did I look more like an authority?
Or did I look like a criminal, sent to rob people of their freedom?
It did not matter how much studying I had done to prepare for Yorktown. Knowing what was going to happen did not make it any easier. If anything, it was harder, attempting to let things run their natural course. Worse, I had not considered the reactions of my group to certain situations. Somehow, everything was different tha
n I’d thought it would be. Crueler.
Sighing, I peered at the doorway behind me, catching sight of Olivia’s reflection there. Stiffening some, I only stared, not sure what to say. She’d awoken not long after we returned here, falling silent as she sat in the corner and stared at nothing. Charlotte had left and found a uniform for me, as well as one for her and Olivia, planning ahead for our sneaking through the city. Rather than change, my love had remained in her dirty clothes, wooden and despondent.
“You look nice,” she whispered, coming in and sitting on the bed. “All done up in red and white again.”
“Olivia,” I stated hesitantly. There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t know how to share it without wounding her further. “The fault does not lie with you.”
She winced, folding her hands together. “I am the one who shot him, August. I killed Smith. When I could have shown mercy, I did not.” Sucking in a sharp breath, she stared down at the floor. “Worst of all, I do not regret it.”
Surprised, I cocked my head to the side, not expecting the sudden turn of belief from her.
“You or I would be dead in Smith’s place, had I not fired,” she continued. “A prospect I find much worse than what actually occurred. However . . .”
Pausing, she stood and went to the uniform waiting for her, hanging on a nail in the middle of the wall. She ran her fingers over the small jacket, sighing before confessing further.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to do it again,” she whispered. “I can’t take a life, even if it means I lose my own instead.” Squaring her shoulders, she faced me, determination in her eyes. “Which is why I think you and Charlotte should go without me tonight.”
“What?” Shocked, I shook my head, moving to her side.
She held her hand up as a plea for restraint. “I will only be in the way. Surrounded by fighting, trying to stay alive, and if it comes right down to it, I will not be able to pull the trigger.”
“It is different when you’re fighting for your life,” I argued. “Things you did not think you’d be able to do come easily. Your very nature drives you to stay alive, Olivia.”
Abandoning Anarchy (The Lost in Time Duet #2) Page 18
