Phantoms In Philadelphia (2 page)

“No!” I took a step back, gripping my mask in my
hand.

Jack unfolded the note, holding it out to me. I
snatched it and read over the words, but did not believe it. My
father had been found dead early this morning. I dropped the
letter, sinking down onto the sofa.

“You understand what this means, Bess,” Jack said
softly.

Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment
as my heart and mind were begging him not to say it.
Please do not say it. Please...

“You are the new leader of the Phantoms.”

Bess

20 May 1816

Washington

S
even
years to the day it has been since the forming of the Phantoms. As
I sat on my bed in the house that our team always occupied, while
on a mission in Washington, I thought back to the night my father
William had come home to our cabin in North Carolina. I remember it
so well, because it was the day of my twelfth birthday.

My father had been a spy in England until his
identity was discovered, forcing us to flee. When we arrived in
America, smuggled in during the night when I was nine, my father
was determined to begin anew. He would disappear for months at a
time searching for the perfect men to join him in a venture. In the
end, he found three men, and together they formed the Phantoms.

I was not surprised when I learned that I had been
named the new leader; but neither did I wish for the charge. There
were those who thought that Jack should have been named the leader,
being the only son, but they did not know what we knew. My father
named me his successor, because I was the most like him.

The five members of my team accepted me without
question, following my lead for the last two years without
complaint, but I knew their faith in me would be shaken if they
knew my deepest desire. To find a way out. To have the one thing
that we fight so hard to protect. Freedom.

A knock fell on my door, and when it opened, it was
Jack. Seeing him never failed to bring me a moment of comfort. He
had come through the war with nothing more serious than a graze to
his arm. There was much to be thankful for that he was still with
me. So many people had lost their loved ones to the ravages of the
war that had lasted over two years. The war had ended over a year
past, and we had entered into a time of regrowth and by the end of
the year, new leadership, but we would never forget all that we had
lost.

“Many happy returns,” Jack said cheerfully.

My teeth clenched together. His
words were not meant to upset me, but my birthday was not something
I wanted to remember—ever. It meant that I had been the leader for
two years, but also that my father had been gone that long. It also
meant that I was nineteen, considered by society to be an old maid
with no marriage prospects; no way out.

“What are you thinking, Bess?” Jack nudged my arm
with his.

I did not want him to know my dark thoughts, so I
lied. “I wish that we were home with Mama. I have spent far too
many birthdays away from her.”

Over the last seven years, I had only been with my
mother for two of the last seven birthdays, my being leader keeping
me away for months at a time.

“We will soon be home. When she returns from
Savannah, I am sure that she will host you a large celebration. You
are about to come out after all.”

Groaning, I leaned my head against the bed post. I
did not know why our mother insisted that I come home and play the
demure daughter, about to make her debut in society.

“It is useless for what I want I will not find,” I
said seriously.

“Someone to match yourself in strength and
stamina?”

“Yes, for I cannot give my hand and heart to a
fool.”

“Is it so important that you do find someone?” Jack
asked quietly.

“I am nineteen, Jack,” I retorted indignantly.

“Undoubtedly an old maid,” he said with amusement
evident in his tone.

He was funning, but he knew not how
true his words were. I was nineteen, three years older than what
most of the other girls entering society would be. The war and then
my father’s death offered me excuses for why I had not yet taken my
turn being placed on display for all of the Philadelphia bucks to
ogle me, but that could not change the fact that I was an
old maid
.

Blowing out an exasperated breath, I frowned at my
brother. “Be serious, Jack.”

The light in his eyes faded. “If you want a man of
strength and stamina, you must first be willing to let a man come
close enough to show you his heart. You are so guarded that no man
can scale the walls you have built.” He took my hand in his. “You
will not allow the men who have shown interest to take Ben’s
place.”

Both surprise and alarm struck me a
fierce blow to the gut. “Are you saying that I should trust some
man with our secret?” It had been different with Ben. He had been
one of us. A spy. A Phantom.
It had gotten
him killed.

“Not some man, but the right man, perhaps. First,
you must open your eyes to look about you, and when you see him,
grant him a rope.”

“To hang himself?” I quipped.

“To scale the wall,” Jack said, nudging me with his
arm again.

My fingers twisted the ring on my right hand. Jack
had a way with words; he always knew what to say to make me think.
Jack touched his own ring, identical to mine. They were gold with
ornate scrolls on the sides and a round sapphire stone raised in
the center; the rings of our family. Our father had given them to
us the night that he told us we were to become spies. I was twelve,
and Jack was eleven.

Jack rose and held out his hand. “Enough of the
gloom. Come, I have a surprise for you.”

He escorted me down the stairs and in to the dining
parlor, where each member of my team was present to celebrate my
birthday with a special dinner. Jack led me to a chair at the head
of the table and sat beside me.

Junto, whose real name was Leo and the only one of
us with culinary skills, had cooked a wild turkey that Fenrir had
killed during his morning hunting trip. As Leo bent over the table
to place the turkey in the center, his dark brown hair fell across
his square forehead. As he straightened; one of his eyelids dipped
over his blue eye in a wink.

Each mask that was worn by the Phantoms coincided
with the wearer’s deputy name and the personality they would take
on when wearing the mask. Such as the green leaves on Leo’s mask
representing strength.

Fenrir’s mask of a wolf face and
his name both came from Norse mythology about the father of wolves.
When Jericho wore the mask, he became a wolf, but when he was not
wearing a mask, he was
both kind and
entertaining. Good looking, too. At eighteen, he stood taller than
the rest of the team, with rich blond hair and a face that turned
many maidens’ heads.

Jericho smiled as he picked up his glass. “I propose
a toast. To Bess,” his brown eyes lowered in sure sign of mischief,
“a far prettier woman than Jack could ever hope to be.”

Laughter spilled across the room as they raised
their glasses to me. On one of our missions, we had needed three
women, so Jack, being the shortest, and the others absolutely
refusing, donned the role. He had made a fetching girl in a brown
wig.

“Those petticoats were the devil. I do not know how
you women do it,” Jack interposed.

Jericho chuckled and Leo, who was silent most of the
time, smiled.

Jack was saying something, and Mariah laughed, her
sweet voice ringing out. My gaze moved to her, a smile touching my
lips. When my father had formed the Phantoms, he had gone in search
of children, orphans without family, declaring that no one would
ever suspect children of being spies. Mariah was the first orphan
my father brought home. He trained her along with Jack and I in
weapons and self defense, and my mother taught her all the skills
necessary to be a lady’s maid. Mariah worked as my personal maid
back home in Philadelphia when not on a mission. Something Jack
said made her head go back as her soft laughter filled the
room.

When meal was through, and everyone was moving out
of the dining parlor, Levi, the youngest of our team at fifteen,
stopped beside me. He held his hand out and dropped a smooth stone
onto my open palm. He had painted a raven taking flight on the
surface. I thanked him by rising and throwing my arms around his
neck. He was the same height as Jack and could have been our
brother, and was, in a sense. He had been given the surname of
Martin when my father brought him home as a young boy of eight. He
and Jack looked alike with their dark hair and narrow faces, but
Levi’s eyes were green. Levi was the wild one on the team, and his
name of Hades fit.

When Jack and I were alone, I watched him as he
drained his wine. A lock of his thick, black hair fell across his
brow, as it always did, making me think of our mother. She had the
same dark hair and they each had blue eyes, but Jack’s were so
light they were nearly gray. She was also the one that Jack
received his small stature from, while I was taller like my father
had been.

Before we had moved to Philadelphia, we had lived in
Savannah for a year so that my parents could test their acting
skills in society. My father bought a plantation and set us up as a
family of great means supposedly arrived from France. We had moved
to the much larger and grander Philadelphia after my parents
thrived in the ranks of high society and were confident in their
deception. We were thought to be a wealthy family who owned a large
plantation in Savannah. We did own the plantation, but the wealthy
part was questionable.

After Jack signed up to fight in the war when he was
fifteen, my father assigned me to Baltimore, and my parents told
their society friends that they had sent me to live with cousins
for the duration of the war. Since the end of the war, my mother
told her friends that I was traveling, but it was a lie. I had been
living outside the city, dressing as a man and working to protect
the good people of Philadelphia from dangers that they did not know
threatened them. Not all of the threats left when we won the
war.

Jack left the house a little while later, and I had
some time alone to think. Now that my mother’s two year mourning
period had ended, and she would soon return to Philadelphia from
her trip to Savannah, she expected me to return home. As the only
daughter of the house, it was my duty to marry well. It sounded
simple, but I was not like other young girls and my life was
anything but simple.

An hour had passed when Jack arrived back at the
house carrying a letter for me. He sat across from me as I broke
the seal and read the single sheet. The letter was dated 5 June,
which gave me my first clue. As it was only May, it meant that
every fifth word was the real message.

Dearest Elizabeth,

The carriage ride was the longest hateful mile of my
wretched life. To find that Sarah’s beautiful orchard is part of
Henry’s grown over property is reprehensible. Leads one to ponder
if the heart does indeed give way. Guard your own heart.

P.

Ride mile to orchard grown leads the way. P could
only mean one person.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

As I folded the letter, I replied, “Nothing of
importance. A note from Penelope only.”

Jack accepted my reply without question, and we
discussed our plans to go home within the next few days, and then I
took myself off to bed, but not to sleep, I had a meeting to
prepare for.

***

When I set out the following morning, the sky was
gray, and the sun had yet to rise. I was dressed in black boots,
breeches, shirt, coat, and hat. My mask was tucked safely in my
pocket, and my pistols were in my belt. I went first to the stable
where we kept our horses, then set off to the only orchard that I
knew of.

Jack would not be pleased when he discovered that I
had gone off without him, but as his presence was not requested in
the letter, I would not take him along. The man who had sent that
letter was an informant who had sold information first to my father
and after his death, to me. Pierre could be trusted to know
everything that was happening in the city.

Riding a mile outside of the city as the letter
directed, I reached the orchard. Looking around, there was an
overgrown lane that was barely visible due to a fresh set of horse
tracks. Turning down the lane, I rode through the trees until the
lane split in two. The lane to the right had the fresh horse
tracks, so that was the path I followed.

There was a bend in the lane before it stopped at
the steps to an old building. The white stones were molding; grass
was tall around the exterior, but it had signs of once beautiful
craftsmanship. The building was square with a raised dome colored
with stained glass. Two large doors were shut tight, and no windows
covered the walls. All was quiet in the stillness of the early
morning. To all outward appearances, the building looked to be
deserted, all except for a single mount that was standing in a
copse of trees.

Once my own horse was hidden in the copse of trees,
I put on my mask and walked to the building.

Pillars flanked the front doors, as I stepped up the
two stone steps. Pierre had led me there which meant that whatever
was on the inside he wanted me to see. I rapped on the door with a
brass ring.

“What’s the password?” A deep voice called from the
other side of the door.

“Écouter,” I replied immediately, knowing it was the
correct thing to say. Pierre and I used the password at our every
meeting.