Secrets In Savannah (Phantom Knights Book 3)

By Amalie Vantana

Guinevere Clark's life has always been about survival and secrets. Aligning herself with the Holy Order was the only way to protect herself and her family, but after being on the run for eight years, her dangerous past has finally caught up with her. Her sister has been captured, she is being hunted by the people she thought she could trust, and there is only one person who can help her.

Jack Martin knew his fate was sealed from the first time that he rescued Guinevere Clark. Discovering her dual identity only sealed his conviction. Now after a year of fighting against her, with her, and for her, he hopes that they can finally end the mystery until she comes to him with one request. Help her rescue her sister.

Secrets will out, battle lines are drawn, and the Phantoms find themselves facing the largest war of their career.

When you live a life of secrets, you trust no one and question everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amalie Vantana
• Release date: Jun 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311539687

Amalie Vantana

Amalie Vantana wrote her first story at age seven. When many little girls were dreaming about being a princess, Amalie was dreaming about being a musketeer. When she's not writing adventures, she spends her time with her family, sword fighting with her husband, exploring historical locations, and searching for adventures to be had. Amalie makes her home in West Virginia with her husband.Amalie writes Historical Fiction, Action Adventure, Supernatural and Paranormal Thrillers.

Book preview

GUINEVERE

25 April, 1817

Charleston, South Carolina

Secrets have the power to destroy our world and the power to save it. Secrets can be the key to success, or the guillotine of failure, it all depends upon choices.

Had I known that by choosing to marry Jack Martin I was sentencing him to death, I would have made a different choice...

Gazing over the water at the bottom of the hill, it rippled and fluttered in the two wing shaped ponds, matching the fluttering in my body. My thoughts were nearly spiraling out of my control as they circled around one question. Was I making a mistake?

My heart cried no, but over the past eight years I had learned not to listen to my heart, but to my guilt. My heart would lead me astray, but my guilt kept me on course. So it was with a mixture of foreboding and relief that I faced the only one of my heart’s desires that I had ever given in to.

Marry me, Jack, right here, right now.

His marvelous blue eyes widened, but the love in his gaze filled me with assurance. We were doing right.

Lifting my hand as a signal, Reverend Gideon Reid approached us. Jack turned to his friend and mentor; his look incredulous. Gideon smiled like a fond father, and in many ways he had been a father to Jack since his own had died three years ago.

Jack took my hands in his, and our eyes met. When we had first met in Philadelphia, I had thought him handsome, but I knew to look beyond appearances. What I found when I delved into the secrets that made up Jack Martin was a man of honor, determination, and passion, and he loved me. What we were doing would have repercussions, but together we could face anything.

As Gideon opened his book and thumbed through the pages, Jack’s gaze went a little wide, as if finally realizing what we were doing. I pressed his hands, assuring him with my touch that all would be well.

We were at a plantation outside of Charleston, and I had chosen the location to meet with Jack due to its privacy and the beauty of the surrounding grounds. It was on a small hillside just as I had once told Jack that I wanted if ever I was to marry.

After hours of pouring my heart out to Gideon, he convinced me that it was not a sin to accept what my heart wanted. It did not make me a weak person to give in to a desire when that desire was to love. Jack would never betray me, and if I allowed him to share in my secrets, he would help me to conquer the beasts of my past. After eight years, I was prepared to let someone into my heart; I was willing to trust.

One moment, if you please, said a voice that caused fear to slam into my chest, freezing my blood into shards of ice.

A tornado of terror sucked me in its grip, and I felt myself shrinking in, my body trying to escape from the vicinity of that speaker. How he had found me, I did not know, but after eight years of running, my past had caught up to me in the worst way.

My eyes remained on Jack as my body began to tremble, my teeth audibly clicking together. Jack shoved me behind him, facing the man whom I detested almost more than anyone else. Lucas Marx, though that was not his true name. Glistening on his finger was a gold snake ring with red jeweled eyes. One of the artifacts of the Holy Order that he had stolen from the man who had been protecting it for years.

Men ran around the plantation house and flanked Lucas. Fifteen royal guards all wearing the serpent ring on their right hand. Loyalists to the man that I loathed more than Lucas.

You thought you could escape me, Lucas said to me.

My body shrank a little more. His discovering my identity meant that it was only a matter of time before the man that he served arrived and forced me into a fate worse than death.

Gideon stepped around us, and I wanted to pull him back, but my body would not move. Sir, I will have you know that this is a private affair.

You are the priest, yes? Lucas asked, and Gideon gave a short nod. Lucas turned to the men surrounding him and said, Gem den præst. Save the priest. Relief was in my mind until Lucas looked at Jack and said, Skyde den anden.

No! I screamed as I stepped around Jack. He reached out for me, but I kept away from his hand. Shielding Jack with my body, I tried to bargain with Lucas. I will go with you, but you must spare his life.

No, Jack said with vehemence as he moved toward me, but Gideon grabbed his coat and held him back.

As Lucas smirked at me, the same loathing I felt for him was reflected in his eyes. Love? You disappoint me.

Lucas snapped his fingers, and six guards moved toward me. My heart kicked in response, but I was prepared for this; had been training for seven years for this moment. I pulled my dagger from beneath my cloak and swung at the first man who reached me. Red appeared on his arm where my blade slashed him, and the second guard received a graze across the back of his hand.

Two guards charged me together. My blade cut through the coat of one, but the other got a hand on my arm. Breathing in and then out, I allowed everything to fade from my mind but what was facing me. I was devoid of weighty emotion. I was wind; I was fire, and I would win. Nothing mattered but the moment and the men before me.

Throwing my hand toward his face, he grabbed my wrist as the tip of my blade was an inch away from his eye. As he forced my hand down, I stomped on his foot with the heel of my boot, and as he released me, I threw my elbow into the man who got behind me. For a second, I caught sight of Jack as he slammed his opponent on the ground. Gideon fired two pistols; the first shot hit a man who was running toward me, and the second flew toward Lucas. One of the guards jumped before Lucas, taking the shot in his shoulder. A guard beside Lucas raised a gun, pointing it at Gideon, and I leapt toward Gideon, my breath catching in my throat, but Lucas stayed his hand by shouting.

No! To kill a priest is to burn in hell’s fires. Lucas took the gun into his own hand.

My moment of distraction cost me as five men circled me.

They knew better than to take me on one by one, instead choosing to inch their way toward me together. A choice had to be made, which man deserved my attack first?

Choosing one, I kicked him between his legs while stabbing the man beside him in the shoulder. That was as much as I accomplished before the others captured my arms and wrenched the dagger from my grip. My determination mixed with fear to create a delirium within me. They threw my dagger away from me, but I would never give up.

Throwing my head against the man closest to me, it hit his chin. I twisted to my side and kicked out while jerking the men attached to my arms around. More guards surrounded us to help restrain me, and when they fell against me, my heart ached, for I knew I was caught.

When my gaze rested upon Jack, a fiery ache took hold of my stomach, for he, too, was being held, as was Gideon. Jack’s focus was on Lucas as Lucas took two steps toward Jack. He was still ten feet away, never one to engage in a fight, but he knew that he had won the battle.

My tremors returned as sweat built on my brow and in my palms. I could not allow Lucas to win. Twisting my body, I set to thrashing against my guards.

Enough! Lucas shouted, and my desperate movements halted. Lucas was pointing a pistol at Jack.

Jack’s gaze shifted to me and held. I bit my lip as tears began to fall from my eyes. Jack and I both knew what was about to happen, and I was helpless to stop it. His gaze was full of sorrow and love, and the resignation in his eyes broke my heart into pieces.

Farewell, John Martin, Lucas said, and the gun exploded.

Jack’s chest jerked back. Crimson spread across his chest with alarming rapidity. The pain that took hold of my body was the same, yet worse than when my father was murdered before my eyes. My mouth was screaming, but my ears were ringing too loud to hear what I was saying. The guards holding Jack released him and he dropped to his knees, and then forward, but Gideon had caught him before he hit the ground. Gideon’s mouth was moving as he held Jack against him.

Four of the seven guards surrounding me lifted me. My body became a battlefield of fire and ice, both fighting for supremacy. The fire lit my rage, and the ice froze my conscience.

Screaming, I threw myself against them. Clawing at the nearest hand, I got my mouth on it and bit as hard as I could. He screamed and dropped his hold on my right arm. Twisting my body, I threw my fist at the man holding my left arm. The punch struck his throat. He released his hold, and my upper body fell to the ground. Pain burst through my shoulders, but I knew I had a few seconds only. There was no time for pain.

Men were shouting as they surrounded me. Tears were clouding my vision, but I blinked them away as I fought for a view of Jack.

Guards reached for me, but I saw him. He was on the ground, laying against Gideon, his eyes open, but not blinking. Gideon had tears in his own eyes as he met my gaze, and shook his head.

All senses revolted. Growling and then screaming, I pulled against my captors that were picking me up, and got one hand free. My fist broke the nose of one of my captors; I pulled a handful of hair from another and hit two against the jaw. They released me, and I grabbed a dagger from a belt, twisting in a circle as I stabbed at the remaining men standing around me. My fighting ceased when I spun, and Lucas appeared before me, placing the barrel of a gun against my forehead. We were at the front of the house where two carriages were waiting.

"I will destroy you! You murdered him, and I swear on all that is good that I will kill you!"

Lucas smiled, causing me to leap toward him, not caring about the pistol in his hand, but a hand wrapped in my hair from behind and pulled me back.

That is only the beginning of things to come, Lucas said. You murdered my brother, and now I will take from you every person that you love. First him, and next, your sister.

No! Kicking my foot forward, it connected with Lucas. He howled, but the sound was brief, for I was knocked unconscious.

Waking to darkness did not alarm me, but the ache in my head did. Someone had hit me and by the pain on my temple, the blow was dealt there. My hands were bound behind my back, but there was nothing covering my head. The darkness came from the room in which I was being held.

Pushing my back against the wall, I rose. With my arm pressed against the wood of the wall, my feet shuffled forward until another wall was reached. Four walls and a door were all that met my touch. By the distance between walls, it had to be a closet.

Lowering myself back to the cold floor, my mind went over how I got there, and that led to remembrance. My gasp sounded loud in the closet as I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain, willing it under control. My arms and legs began to shake, and the ferocious agony made me suck in my lips as all I wanted to do was scream.

He killed Jack.

I tried to think of something else, but every thought, every feeling circled back to Jack. My mind assaulted me with memories. The first time I saw Jack, the first time he kissed me, when he rescued me from Nicholas Mansfield. So many memories, but the one that would stay with me for the rest of my life was his face so full of love and sorrow right before Lucas shot him.

My stomach was coiled tight. My body shook so forcefully that my nails made scratching noises against the floor. My stomach recoiled as Jack’s death replayed in my mind, and I felt as if I would be alarmingly ill, but the burning sickness would not surface. Tears would not come. I did not know how to grieve; I had never known how. With as much sorrow as I had seen in my eighteen years of life I had become a master at feeling nothing, but this was different. This was Jack, and his death was my fault.

The guilt would remain with me forever, just as the guilt of all the deaths by my contriving never left me. I was ten when I first killed a man, but he was only the beginning. After the third who had died by my hand, I no longer counted.

I was not worthy of Jack’s love while he lived, but if it took the rest of my life, I would avenge his death.

Scraping sounds came from the other side of the door, and my body tensed, preparing for a fight against Lucas. Rising quickly, and bending my knees, I was ready to attack. When the door opened, I ran forward into the bright light that blinded me from seeing whom I was attacking. The light swung aside as a strong hand hit my chest, holding me back.

Forever I find you in a scrape, Ma belle, came a voice thick with a French accent.

My body stiffened for an instant before sagging. Do not call me that, Pierre. I am unworthy of the name, I replied, feeling too tired to do more than stare at him.

You are only unworthy if you do nothing.

Annoyance slapped me stiff, and I rose to my full height, which was not much above five feet. When have I ever done nothing?

Pierre smiled and went about cutting my bonds. As I rubbed my freed wrists, he gently but firmly guided me down a hall.

Have you come alone? I asked, accepting the pistol that he held out to me.

When have I ever come alone? Pierre mocked me, but it sent relief into me. He led the way down the hallway, passing open doors with elegant bedchambers. When we reached the end of the hall and came upon a wide foyer, a slightly hysterical laugh came from my mouth.

Arnaud?

The man who had been Jack’s family butler for years took my hand and patted it. Milady, you find me grateful that you are unharmed.

Not quite unharmed, but prepared to fight, I replied. You have my deepest gratitude for coming to my rescue, but you should not have done so.

Leave the fight to my brother? Bah! Arnaud exclaimed as he stared at Pierre.

Jack had never known that his butler worked with me. He had never known that the man was the older brother to Pierre, a French informant for the Phantoms, who also worked with me.

Thinking of Jack made me ask, Where is Marx? I hoped they had not dealt with him, for that privilege belonged to me.

The rat retreated upon our entrance, Pierre told me as he glanced out one of the front windows.

They laid before me the situation and their plans for our escape. They had gotten into the house that Lucas was holding me in by laying a trap for the guards, but more guards were waiting outside, between us and our means of transportation. Pierre said that he would lead the charge, but he cast a look of concern at Arnaud.

I was leading charges while you were still a suckling, Arnaud retorted.

Pierre mumbled something unflattering in French and Arnaud snorted as he primed his pistols.

Do you have any knives, Pierre? I asked, interrupting the brothers’ bickering.

The Frenchman huffed as he unbuttoned his coat to reveal it lined with an assortment of weapons. I took three knives that had good balance.

When we agreed that Arnaud would follow me from the house, Pierre pulled back the hammers on his pistols, opened the front door, and began to shoot. Return shots struck the door, the front of the house, and shattered the window. Arnaud bobbed back and forth as he fired his pistols through the broken window.

When Pierre gave the signal, we charged out of the house, Arnaud and I keeping low as Pierre, with his years of spy and military training, fired at every guard who stood in our way. There was not a single doubt in my head that Pierre would get us away from there. He and I had been through such battles in the past and always came out alive.

Lucas had been holding me in a house out in the woods, but it appeared that he did not expect people to come after me, because there were only eight guards fighting to keep us from reaching the carriage.

Pierre took out four, and as Arnaud and I followed, I pulled out knife after knife, throwing them into the shoulder, leg, and arm of three guards.

One man ran toward us from around the house, but Arnaud raised a small silver pistol and shot him before he could get within five feet of me. We moved forward, but something snagged on my cloak, and I stumbled backward. Twisting around to pull it free, one of the wounded guards had a hold on my black cloak and was pulling me toward him. My body wanted to attack, wanted to unleash some of my anger, but he was unarmed. I released the clasp, and the cloak fell away.

Running forward with Arnaud, we reached the carriage first. He opened the door, and I leapt in. He hurried to untie the horses as Pierre backed toward the carriage.

The largest of the guards charged toward him and Pierre squeezed the trigger on his pistol, but nothing happened. The man was nearly upon him.

Pierre flipped the pistol in his hand and hit the approaching guard with the handle. His attacker was large and thick, with fists that swung like hammers, so that hit did little to stop him.

Raising my pistol, I aimed it at the man. He and Pierre kept moving, dancing around each other, searching for a weak spot to hit. Blowing out a frustrated breath, my eyes stayed trained on them. When the large man lunged for Pierre, and Pierre ducked out of the way, I fired my pistol. The ball struck his shoulder.

Pierre jumped up; his eyes ablaze, and I knew why. If he had happened to stand up, I would have hit him instead of the guard. Pierre was always telling me that I took too many risks. This day I agreed with him.

Arnaud climbed into the carriage as Pierre scrambled onto the box seat and whipped the horses into motion. Arnaud jerked the door closed as the carriage lurched forward and made haste down the dirt road.

It took only twenty minutes to reach Charleston, and when the carriage finally slowed, we were at the port of Charleston. Seeing it brought on painful memories of Jack that I had been trying to keep at bay; thoughts of the night that we spent together in a warehouse. I did not know that I was crying until I felt the hot tears slide down my cheeks.

We passed Samuel Mason’s warehouse, but the man was not in sight, nor did I expect to see him. His future brother had been killed only hours earlier. A silent sob shook me. Arnaud said not a word, nor did he look at me, but his hand reached over and tucked a handkerchief into my hand. The men in Arnaud’s family were not much on speaking, but they had always been some of my greatest supporters.

Seeing General Harvey’s ship anchored and awaiting us, my heart sped forth as my stomach twisted. For a hesitant moment, I thought he might be waiting for me. Then I remembered that he could not be in Charleston with the Phantoms searching for him.

When Pierre tried to guide me toward the ship, I pulled away from his hand. Standing in the midst of the bustle of sailors and dock workers, my gaze was searching the port. For one weak minute I allowed hope to fill me that Jack was not truly dead, that he would come to rescue me as he had so many times before.

I cannot leave him, Pierre. I must go see; I must know for certain that Jack is gone, I said, ending in a whisper.

Ma belle, to stay is to risk your life. Master Jack would not want that.

No, Jack would have told me to run, and he would find me as he had done for the past year.

It took both Pierre and Arnaud to persuade me to board the ship, and when it set sail, my mind raved at me that I was making a mistake. When I saw Bess Martin standing at the water’s edge, I knew it.

She was with Samuel Mason and Leopold Perry on the dock, watching me as we sailed away. Bess was gesturing wildly at Sam, but he restrained her, pulling her against his chest, his gaze never leaving my ship—me. They blamed me for Jack’s death, as I blamed myself, but in truth there was someone else to blame. Someone else who had been at fault for the last seven years.

Turning to where Pierre stood behind me, watching me cautiously, I said, Take me to General Harvey, for he and I have a score to settle.

CHAPTER 2

JACK

Guinevere’s smiling face was before me, but why was it so unseasonably hot where we were? Tiny beads of perspiration felt as if they were making patterns down my forehead, from my eyes.

Reaching out to grasp Guinevere’s hand, there was nothing there. As I swung about, searching for her, a bright light cast upon my face, almost as if trying to burn through me. Grimacing at the brilliance, a force of nigh unbearable fire burst in my shoulder, but the only sound that came from me was a slight moan.

Somewhere around me there was a faint yet annoying scratching sound that teased my ears, and wiped away the haze of sleep surrounding me. For a moment, I lay completely still, unsure of where I was or what had happened to me. When a creak echoed through the otherwise silent chamber, I opened my eyes.

My heart jolted in my chest bringing on a wall of fire as an unknown man stood over me. The hair on my neck and arms prickled, and my head thundered. The man’s thick head was bent over me, his brown eyes narrowed as his wicked intent twisted his ugly face.

As his right hand rose, the gleam of his knife sent panic down my body, cutting off my breaths when he plunged the blade toward my chest.

My hand flew up and wrapped around his wrist, my entire body tensing as I fought to keep the knife away. My elbow locked as my forearm shook against his strength. I tried to raise my other hand, but could not move it above a few inches from the blanket that was tucked around me. The tip of the knife was only an inch from my chest. My strength was diminishing. He was seconds away from piercing my skin.

Guinevere’s