Josephine broke into a run, ignoring the pain of the branches that clawed her bare skin. She had forgotten her slippers when she left the house, and now the soft soles of her feet were paying the price. Blood squished between her toes, but she didn’t stop running. Cold fear crawled up and down her spine, a strange juxtaposition against the heat that coursed through her body as she ran.
Her neat braid was coming undone, and long tendrils of dark hair whipped around her face. The emerald amulet hanging around her neck thumped painfully against her chest as she ran.
She was getting closer now. The sounds were becoming more defined: the horses whining in the stables, their frantic squeals sharp and panicked, the loud pop and crack of wood burning, glass breaking.
She burst through the tree line, her eyes wide and searching.
Bright orange flames danced, almost mesmerizingly, along the woodwork, igniting everything they touched. There was no saving it. The house that had taken two years to build, the place that had become her home, was lost. In minutes it would be nothing but a pile of ash and blackened rock. Josephine bit back a scream as the inferno burned.
Several feet away, two men dressed in black surveyed the work of the flames. She had never seen them before.
Where are father and mother? What about Mercy? The servants? Her mind was racing. Henry! Oh God, where’s Henry? An image of their earlier rendezvous flashed before her eyes. The picnic by the river. His sweet smile. The caress of his warm lips against hers. A sharp pang pierced her chest at the thought of her beloved. She couldn’t stand still any longer.
Without even thinking about her actions, she sprinted toward the house, her long nightgown billowing around her like a sail.
One of the men cried out as she raced past, but they wouldn’t be able to stop her—she was too fast.
Inside the house, the scorching air was thick with smoke, and her lungs screamed for oxygen. Her eyes watered from the thick smoke, making the limited visibility even worse. She tried to find her bearings, but she could hardly see two feet in front of her.
“Mother!” she cried out, choking and gasping. “Father! Are you here?”
She kept moving forward.
With every rapid heartbeat, a spasm of pain ricocheted through her skull. The loud sounds that had been deafening only moments before were now distorted and muted, as though she were swimming and her head had slipped beneath the surface of the water.
She stumbled forward, losing her footing.
“Josephine!” a familiar voice called to her as she fell. “Josephine, you have to get out of here! Hurry!”
A hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her through the burning wreckage and out through the service door. Once outside, clean air filled her lungs, and she choked and gagged until her throat was raw.
“What were you doing, girl? Trying to get yourself killed?”
Josephine looked up and almost burst into tears. The man standing before her with his full beard and thick wavy hair was as familiar to her as her own reflection.
“Father!” She threw herself into his arms. His dark green overcoat was singed and covered in soot, but he quickly removed it and covered Josephine’s bare arms with it.
“Jo, you must listen to me. You are in grave danger.”
“Father, I don’t understand. What’s happening? Where’s Mama? What about—”
“He found us.”
He found us. The sobering words crashed upon her like a bucket of ice-cold water. Her heart, already pounding with adrenaline, slammed against her rib cage, making her gasp. “No . . . please, Father, tell me it isn’t true.”
“I wish I could.” His face held such sadness, such utter defeat, Josephine had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from weeping. “I’m so sorry, Josephine. I tried to protect you, to protect my family. . . but I’ve failed.”
His words were like iron pokers to her heart. “Father? Oh God, what of the others? Of Mother? Of Mercy? Of . . . of . . .” She trailed off as her father slowly shook his head, his eyes swimming in pools of tears.
“No . . . No!” A wail of pain tore from her lips. Had it not been for his strong arms around her, she would have collapsed.
“Josephine, listen to me. You have to go! You must run! More of his men are coming. You don’t have much time.” His face, streaked with ash and tears, was as grim and serious as she had ever seen it.
“No, Father, I can’t leave you.”
“You must.” He gingerly fingered the amulet at her throat. “You have to protect it, keep it safe. No matter what, it must be protected at all costs.”
“But I’m so afraid.” The whispered words reverberated throughout her body as the truth of them resonated deep within her bones. She shivered.
Her father kissed her quickly on the forehead. “I know, my darling girl, but you must be brave. You know what to do. Now, go. Quickly!”
Josephine threw her arms around her father again, not minding that his arms nearly crushed her. “This is not goodbye, Father. I will see you again soon.”
“Go, Jo! Run!”
With his urgent cry echoing in her ear, Josephine picked up what was left of her tattered nightgown and fled.
She hadn’t gone very far when a shadow stepped out from behind a tall tree. A sharp yank of her arm brought her to an abrupt stop, and she screamed. One of the men in black had her arm in a vice, a cruel sneer across his face.
“And just where you do think you’re going, girl?” he drawled, pulling her closer in his iron grip. His hot breath sent a wave of panic down her spine. Josephine tried to pull free, but the man was twice her size. He laughed, his eyes shining. He pulled her even closer. She could see the stubble on his chin and a symbol of interlocking triangles in the soft skin of his neck. His mark.
“Let me go!” she cried, trying with all of her might to force herself free.
He laughed again, his fingers gripping her arm so tightly she was sure her bones would break. “Oh, the Master will like you, he will.” He sniffed her hair, and Josephine shrieked.
Then the man coughed and bright red blood exploded from his lips. Tiny crimson beads splattered against Josephine’s face and body, staining her nightgown red. The man sputtered and grew limp. When he slumped forward, Josephine’s knees buckled under the weight. She screamed and struggled to free herself from underneath the man’s body.
Someone yanked the man off her. There was a knife plunged deep into his back.
Another hand reached for her. She batted it away, fighting to be free.
“Jo!” her father yelled in her ear, the grip on her tightening. “You must run! Go now! Hurry!”
Then a loud crack shot through the darkness and ricocheted back off the tree line.
The sound of a gunshot.
The sound of death.
The hand that held her arm jerked once, then relaxed.
The cacophony of angry sounds died away . . . except for one. Cruel, delighted laughter echoed across the trees, ringing in Josephine’s ears.
She opened her eyes. The smoke made it difficult to see, but when her eyes adjusted, another man was lying on the ground next to the man in black.
A man with curly dark hair and a face that was the perfect mirror of her own.
A man with wide emerald-colored eyes now opened forever to the sky, as a pool of crimson blood stained the grass beneath him.
CHAPTER SEVEN