Darkest Knight (4 page)

Anna didn’t know how much time had passed when she opened her eyes. But at least the storm had finally passed. How she could fall asleep when she was scared was beyond her, but she was thankful she didn’t have to hear the storm. It was difficult to see in the gloom. Were those people moving around? Was it morning and she was actually in a part of the tower that allowed visitors?

Odd. She didn’t remember lights that looked like torches on the walls.

“No way those were there before.”

The sound of a throat clearing made her jump.

“Who’s there?”

A moan to her right sounded so real it had to be fake.

“Very funny. Ha ha. Good sound effects.”

Anna peered into the darkness. “I know we’re going to be in trouble for being here after hours.”

“Are you lost, demoiselle?”

Anna stepped back from the cell. “Before the storm I was standing in that very room and it was empty.”

Was she having some kind of an out-of-body experience? It was damp here, so there must be mold and the spores were causing her to hallucinate. Inside the formerly empty room was a man. Dressed in period clothing, he was seated at a table with what looked like bread and a goblet. There was a bed in the room, and as she stood there with her mouth open, other sounds reached her ears.

The sounds of voices. Yet none of them sounded happy. These were the sounds of broken men.

“Are you part of the tour? Do people pay extra for this experience?” She tried to see out the small window in the cell. It was dark. “You’re way past schedule. This place has been closed for hours.”

No. There was nothing in the brochures, and they way she’d found this place…no way they’d let tourists move through secret passages. So what was his deal?

“How did you get in there?”

The man chuckled. “The king’s men provided my accommodations. All of us are awaiting our deaths.” He stalked over to stand in front of her.

Was the door locked? He might be some kind of psycho.

“The guards are occupied playing cards and will soon be in their cups. They did not bring you in to please them. I ask you again, lady. How did you come to be here?”

Anna swallowed and took a step back. The tone of his voice made her look around for help. He might be locked up, but she was feeling like the one in a cage.

Her teeth started to chatter. “I got lost and somehow came through the passageway that brought me here. But there was no one here before the storm.”

“I can assure you, lady, I have been here a fortnight and this is the first time I have seen one such as you. For I would remember your face.”

She slowly turned in a circle, peering into the other cells. Each one contained a man. Some looked worse off than others. They looked and smelled very authentic. What was happening? Something was very, very wrong.

“I’m not sure what you’re doing here, but I have to go.”

The man peered at her through the close-set bars. He had long blonde hair down to his shoulders and kind brown eyes. Anna sucked in a breath as she got a good look at his face. The guy could rival any movie star in the looks department. Her breath whooshed out and relief flooded through her veins.

“I must have fallen asleep. You’re filming a movie, aren’t you?” Now it made sense why there would be people here after hours. A rational explanation always made her feel better. She looked around but didn’t see any cameras or any movie-looking people. Had she ruined their shot? Maybe they were on a break.

The man took a step back. “Are you unwell? I have heard tales of prisoners here who have lost their wits. Perchance you are lost and should go back to your cell, lady.”

Replaying the words over, making sense of what he said, Anna scowled.

“I’m not crazy. And I’m certainly not wasting another moment talking to you.” She spun on her heel then faltered. How did she get out? There wasn’t a lighted exit sign anywhere.

The chuckle she heard infuriated her. Anna rarely lost her temper. She couldn’t remember the last time she was really angry. But something about this man made her furious. She knew she wasn’t much to look at, but did he have to be such a jerk? Making fun of her looks and saying he’d remember her face. And what was up with the “wits” remark? Just because you got lost didn’t mean you were crazy.

It seemed to be getting warmer. Anna stomped back over and pointed at him through the bars.

“You listen here: just because I ruined your scene doesn’t mean you don’t have to be such a jerk. It isn’t nice to call someone crazy. I’m having a really bad day.”

Instead of throwing something, she took a couple of deep breaths and looked to the end of the corridor. There were torches burning on the walls, and as the light flickered she made out another door. It was open.

At this point she didn’t care if they arrested her for staying in the tower after hours. Or for ruining whatever movie they were shooting down here. Movie stars. Arrogant, good-looking jerks.

“My apologies, lady,” came the soft voice.

Why did his voice have to sound so sincere? She stopped.

He spoke again. “The ring of keys hanging on the wall. Take them and set me free. I will help you find your way back to wherever you need to go. You have my word.”

The keys hung on an old black iron ring. They looked old, and she had to give the movie people credit. Everything looked authentic. She loved going to the movies. But Anna always refused to watch the behind-the-scenes specials. No sense in ruining the magic. Instead, she liked to believe everything just happened. There was something about knowing how it was done that took all the fun out of it. Made it harder to suspend belief.

This man sounded like he could help, and given her bad luck so far in trying to find the exit, she could use some help. He might be a spoiled movie star, but she was willing to accept his offer if it got her out and on the way back to her hotel. All she wanted was a bubble bath, a pizza, and a gallon of root beer.

The keys were heavier than they looked.

“Wow, I would’ve thought they’d been made of plastic.”

“Plastic? Lady, you speak strangely.”

“Whatever.” Anna stuck her tongue out at him. “Keep making fun of me and I’ll leave you here.”

He hadn’t made a move to open the door. Would the movie people really lock the actors in the cells in between scenes? Maybe it helped them stay in character. Who knew? She didn’t have a clue what went on during the shooting of a flick. Though didn’t the guy in those
Lord of the Rings
movies sleep with his sword outside during filming? From what she’d read, actors were an odd bunch.

The first key didn’t fit the lock, so she tried the second and third. The fourth one clicked and turned easily.

“I didn’t think I’d ever find the right key. You would think they’d all be the same.”

The door swung open and he put a finger to his lips. “Quiet. We must leave without being heard.”

Okay, she’d play along. Anna pursed her lips and stood back to let him out. He was really tall. She only came up midway to his chest. Typical movie star—he had the most perfect physique. Muscles in all the right places, and that gorgeous, to-die-for face. And the voice. His voice rasped over her and made her feel all warm and comfy inside. He must be six foot or six foot two. And, of course, he was the total stereotypical blonde god. The kind of man who would never look twice at someone like her.

 
A perplexed look on his face, he pointed to the door. “Shall we go, mistress?”

“Yes, let’s.” She made a face at his back and followed him through the doorway into the gloom.

Mr. Hollywood led her down the corridor. The man didn’t make a sound. Anna had to give him credit for staying in character. Of course, he was so quiet she almost ran into him when he abruptly stopped. The sound of her breathing seemed loud in the dim corridor. Satisfied with whatever he did or didn’t hear, he reached back and took hold of her hand. His hand was large, the calluses rough against her skin. The heat from his touch traveled up her arm and seemed to warm her from the inside out. It was a surprise to feel the roughness of his palm. Anna hated to stereotype, and here she was assuming he would be getting manicures every week, not doing the kind of labor that gave you permanent calluses. Point to Mr. Hollywood.

As they moved through the passageways, she occasionally heard the sound of voices and, even more disturbing, plenty of moans and screams. The guy was definitely going out of his way to avoid anyone. Was he really trying to stay in character, or was he some kind of movie set crasher? Rolling her eyes, Anna knew her imagination was getting away with her. Likely the crew was filming in another part of the tower and he didn’t want to ruin the shots. How much did it cost to make a movie here after hours? The insurance costs alone must be astronomical.

As he led her through an archway, the light glinted on his hair and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from asking where he got his hair done. Talk about highlights women would fight over. Bet his hairdresser made a fortune.

Hopelessly lost, Anna followed Mr. Hollywood. At the next door, he put his ear against the scarred wood, listening. Seemingly satisfied, he pushed the door open. The smell of water and something rotten filled her nose. They stood at the top of a set of stone stairs leading down to the water.

“I know where we are. We’re beneath St. Thomas’s Tower. This is the Traitor’s Gate. You probably studied up on the tower for your role, but did you know this is where they used to bring the prisoners before imprisoning them in the tower? It’s one of the most famous sights here. Can you imagine the feeling of sitting in the boat knowing you were going to be locked up here?”

Mr. Hollywood looked over his shoulder at her as if she were a silly child.

“Aye. I know what it is to be locked in the tower. To pay for the privilege. Charged outrageous fees for food and lodging. All while waiting for your head to leave your shoulders. Or mayhap hanged, then drawn and quartered. I have had much time to consider. I would prefer to escape and avoid either choice.”

“Geez, touchy, aren’t we? Somebody didn’t get a heart drawn on their coffee today.”

The man ignored her and let out a soft whistle. She heard the sound of oars slapping water as a man in a boat appeared. Mr. Hollywood had a conversation with the man, something about taking him down the Thames. The sound of the gate opening was her cue to go. Guess he was staying in character. Anna turned to make her way out of the tower. It was dark. How long had she been inside?

“Thank you for showing me the way out. I have to get back to my hotel, not to mention I’m starving.”

His response was lost in the noise. She heard the sound of footsteps and what sounded like metal scraping against metal. When she turned around to look, Anna’s mouth dropped open. There was a group of five or six men, brandishing swords and running straight for them. They didn’t look plastic.

Rooted to the spot, she watched as they came closer and closer. The next thing she knew, Anna was no longer touching the ground. Mr. Hollywood swept her up in his arms, climbed in the boat, and they were off down the river. If she were directing, this was where she’d have the hero give the heroine a big smooch. Too bad real life wasn’t like the movies.

“Wow, that was exciting. But you can stop acting now.”

The wind blew the right side of her hair up. There was a pinch on the back of her hand. Anna jerked her hand off the side of the boat to see she was bleeding. There was an arrow embedded in the side of boat.

She wiped the blood on her jeans. At least it was just a scratch. Who used real arrows in a movie? Idiots. “That’s taking things a bit far, don’t you think?”

Nothing made sense. The feeling that something was horribly wrong came back stronger than ever. As the boat silently slipped through the water, she looked around. Where were the lights? The cars? London looked the same, yet different.

“You are injured.” A ripping noise shattered the quiet. He’d torn a piece of his shirt and wrapped her hand. “You aided me. You have my thanks, lady. Once we are away, I will take you wherever you needs go. I keep my word.”