Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Samantha yanked down the rear gate as the horses pawed the ground. “Get in. Now.”
“I, I can’t—” Mr. Ross stammered, turning to look back at the house.
Samantha shoved him toward the wagon bed. “You will. Get your daughter to safety before it’s too late.”
Josephine helped Abigail climb into the back, her hands trembling. “Lay flat. Stay out of sight.”
“I’m scared,” Abigail choked.
“I know,” Josephine whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her friend’s face. “But you have to do this, it’s the only way.”
Mr. Ross climbed in behind his daughter, finally shaken into motion.
Samantha turned to the waiting driver. “Make haste. Don’t stop until you reach Augusta.”
He nodded, pale and determined, and with a slap to the reins, the wagon jerked forward.
Wheels crunched over gravel, then mud, vanishing into the shadows just as shouting erupted from the far side of the house.
A crash came, the unmistakable clatter of furniture toppling.
Josephine spun, her heart in her throat.
Samantha’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening with determination as she drew her rapier. “Stay here,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding. Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and disappeared into the darkness of the house, her figure swallowed by the shadows.
Josephine stood paralyzed, her heart hammering in her chest as the clang of steel rang through the air, sharp and jarring.
A wave of panic surged within her as she glanced down the empty servants’ road.
In a matter of minutes, she could slip into the night and escape the nightmare unfolding within the house.
Her hands trembled as she clenched them into fists.
But then another crash, louder than the last, followed by a desperate shout.
Her breath caught in her throat. No. She couldn’t run.
Not now. She took a shaky step forward, her feet heavy, as though made of stone.
Her gaze locked onto the darkened doorway.
She couldn’t stand by while people she cared for fought for their lives.
With a sharp breath, Josephine made her choice.
Her heart hammered as determination surged through her, and she pushed forward.
A moment later, she crossed the threshold.
Her chest heaved in short, ragged gasps as she ran down the corridor, shadows twisting after her.
In the main hall, the battle raged. Blades clashed, men grunted and shouted, boots skidded across the wooden floors slick with broken glass and splintered debris.
Her stomach turned when she nearly tripped over the leg of a prone man.
A flash of silver on the floor caught her eye.
A cutlass. She snatched it up, her fingers trembling around the hilt, and pressed on.
In the drawing room, she found Samantha locked in a deadly dance with a broad-shouldered pirate.
Her friend’s movements were swift and fluid, each parry and strike precise.
Then the door behind her slammed open.
Another pirate.
Josephine didn’t think. She lunged, blade raised, a cry tearing from her throat—more fear than fury.
Steel met steel with a jolt that rattled up her arms, but she held her ground.
The pirate snarled and swung again, but Samantha turned, caught the blow mid-air, and drove him back.
They worked together, Josephine cringing at her wild and clumsy strikes.
Samantha’s blade flashed alongside hers, and within moments, both attackers lay motionless on the floor.
Josephine stood over them, chest heaving, the sword trembling in her hands. Blood pounded in her ears, and she gave a shaky laugh. “We did it.”
Samantha gave a nod, then raised her sword again. “Stay close. We’re not done yet.”
They eased from the room into the hallway. The sounds of fighting had grown distant and muffled. Outside. At the very end of the hall, the front door hung wide open. They moved that way, swords held at the ready.
Without a word, Samantha held her hand out, drawing to a stop. She took a deep breath and gazed down the hall. Her eyes widened. “Fire.”
Josephine’s chest tightened as she caught the faint scent of smoke.
“We need to get out of here.” Samantha’s words came out in an urgent whisper. Before Josephine could respond, a door to their side slammed open with a crash, and another pirate charged into the hallway.
Josephine leapt to the side as the man barreled into them.
Samantha’s rapier flashed in a blur of silver, the steel catching the low light.
With a sharp twist of her body, she drove the blade toward the pirate’s chest. He parried, and her sword moved in quick, decisive arcs.
With each swipe, she pushed him farther toward the wall, her eyes focused, determined.
The pirate snarled and lunged, grazing Samantha’s side.
She stumbled and he swung again. No. Josephine gripped her sword tight and launched herself from the wall.
She drove the blade forward with everything she had.
For a heartbeat, time stood still. Then it came—the awful give of flesh, the jarring resistance of bone.
It sank into his side with a sickening jolt.
He let out a guttural scream, twisting violently.
The hilt tore from her grip as he dropped to his knees, clutching at the steel buried in his flesh.
Josephine froze, her breath caught in her throat. Horror twisted through her, cold and biting—but beneath it burned something else. Something fierce. Wild.
Samantha grabbed her arm. “Well done. Now, let’s get out.”
Josephine nodded, swallowing hard. Her eyes watered as acrid fumes burned her nostrils.
The thick, suffocating haze clung to the ceiling like a dark shroud.
An ominous orange glow pulsed from the side of the foyer, where flames licked greedily at the wallpaper and thick smoke obscured the front door.
Heat surged down the hall like a living thing, pressing against them in warning.
Their feet pounded against wooden floorboards as they raced down the hall. Smoke chased them, stinging and smothering. The house groaned around them, timbers popping behind them.
It seemed an eternity passed before she flung the back door open and the two of them stumbled into the night, gasping for breath.
The door slammed behind them, muffling the growing chaos within.
They rushed down the back steps, wood slick with humidity.
The night air hit her like a slap, damp and heavy—but gloriously breathable.
Josephine gulped it in, her lungs screaming as she doubled over, hands braced on her knees.
Samantha was already scanning the yard, sword still in hand, shoulders tense. “Let’s get away from the house, into the shadows.”
Josephine nodded, her heart slowing as the night began to calm her. The cool air. The sound of crickets still chirping beyond the edge of the chaos. The faint flicker of firelight reflecting in the windows.
And then—
Her eyes lifted toward the second floor. Abigail’s room. The curtains billowed faintly, a thin wisp of smoke curling toward the sky.
A violent jolt struck through Josephine’s chest.
“Lola!” Panic clawed at her gut. “She’s still in there.”
With a cry, she staggered back toward the house, but Samantha caught her arm. “Are you insane? Look how fast the fire is spreading. You can’t go back in.”
Flames already fanned from some of the bottom windows.
Josephine’s eyes scanned the dark windows on the second floor. No flames. No glow. The fire hadn’t spread upstairs yet.
With a jerk, she yanked her arm free and sprinted back up the steps.