Dusk's Revenge

by A. W. Exley

  “Any sign of the missing steamer?” Hector folded up the paper and tossed it to one side.

  Elijah managed a smile. “No. I got a very good poke around in the warehouse today, but I couldn’t see any ships waiting to be assembled.”

  Marjory set plates and cutlery on the table. “It’s your first day. I’m sure you’ll find it, if it’s there. Anything else of interest happen?”

  His lips said no but his mind recalled the bright spark when he’d touched Beatrice Hamilton and the passionate way she’d spoken of trying to reform the mill to better everyone. His curiosity was aroused by her, but he told himself that was all. Her behaviour didn’t fit the neat mould he wanted to place her in. Prolonged exposure would no doubt reveal her true nature. After all, it had taken some time for Ava to reveal her true face to his father.

  Over dinner Marjory and Hector told of their day in the village. Hector had gone in search of any older residents who remembered his family from fifty years previously.

  “Reminding the locals I was born here means we’re not strangers and they’ll stop looking at us sideways. It might also stop any silly whispers about you stealing one of their jobs.” Hector touched the side of his nose, pleased with the way he’d turned old events to their advantage.

  “Do you have a problem with your hand?” Marjory asked as she picked up the finished plates and took them to the bench.

  “Pardon?” Elijah looked up from the lines on his palm to the older woman.

  Marjory chuckled. “You’ve been staring at your hand for a full five minutes now.”

  “Oh.” He closed his fingers to a fist and then dropped his hand to the table. “I was just thinking that I have the hands of a noble. Soft and without callouses, red spots, or scars.”

  “Well, don’t go getting your hand caught in any machinery just to try to look more working class.” Hector nudged him.

  He had been staring at his hand because he expected it to supply answers to the questions in his head. Elementals were given a gift by their creators—a mate. To signal they had found their perfect match to spend their prolonged lives with, a tiny mystical plant would spring into life. They called it the Cor-vitis from the Latin for heart and vine.

  The plant only appeared under special circumstances. Usually only mates could see the mystical plant and the patterns it spun over their bodies as it grew. However, a heart and Lord Warder (and their Soarer equivalent) could perceive the bonding plant or make its path visible to others.

  Elijah had grown up listening to stories his uncle and aunt told of how Gaia crafted the perfect match for each of her children and of the bone-deep love that a fated couple shared. There were even rare examples when an Elemental was mated to a human, like his aunt Lettie and Dr Day, and Gaia provided a way for them to share a thousand-year lifespan.

  But a Soarer and a Warder?

  Impossible.

  Neutral Meidh could find their mates among any type of Elemental, and they then became aligned to that family, like Dawn had done. But a Warder and a Soarer would never find neutral territory; one would always be the enemy in the other’s camp.

  If Gaia had made an error in pairing Elijah with Beatrice, they would become the Romeo and Juliet of the Elemental world and probably both end up dead. The feud between their families could never be overcome. They had been enemies for thousands of years. His mission in Kessel was to destroy Beatrice Hamilton’s family, not become part of it.

  He stared at his knuckles as he made a fist. But did it have to be that way? If she was his gift, how could he destroy her family and watch everything she loved fall as he trampled her into the mud?

  Marjory removed a divine-smelling pie from the oven and carried it to the table. “You were so quiet and serious that I felt sure you were thinking about a woman, not the softness of your hands.”

  Hector chuckled and wagged a finger at Marjory. “Don’t tease the lad. He has the look of a man trying to figure something out.”

  “He never looked this confused about Amelia Green.” Marjory picked up a knife and cut two large slices of pie.

  Hector let out a snort. “That pretty little thing scratched an itch. By the look on Eli’s face, he’s met a woman who has got right under his skin and won’t be so easily removed.”

  The commentary was veering too close to the bone for comfort. Elijah held out the hands in question and took a plate. “You are both wrong. I’ve been smelling this pie for the last hour and all I can think about is devouring my share.”

  After dinner Elijah left the cottage for the embrace of full dark. He called the watcher down from its perch behind the barn, relieved that it had managed to elude the raven slayers so far. The large black bird landed on his outstretched arm and cocked its head to one side, ready for its mission.

  Elijah gave the raven a brief message of events to date, letting his uncle know he had a job at the mill and that he would keep his ears and eyes open for any sign of the ghost ship. Then he tossed the bird into the sky and its inky wings disappeared against the velvet above.

  “Fly safe and stay away from slingshots, my friend,” Elijah whispered.

  He didn’t want its demise on his conscience. He shuddered to think how many birds had been killed and plucked over the years as the Soarers had expunged any trace of Warders from their land. Elijah would only call the bird to him at night, when it would be invisible in the dark. Better to let it hide during the day and do its job of watching.

  Thinking of watchers reminded Elijah of seekers. They would have to be vigilant against the Soarers’ servants, lest tiny ears overhear their conversations. Hector had acquired a cat, as felines were ever-vigilant against the rat, mice, and stoat servants of the Soarers.

  He decided to give Hector and Marjory their privacy and set off for the local pub. He found the other lads in the same corner, slid his coin across the counter, and ordered a beer.

  Drink in hand, he took an empty spot at the table. He wasn’t sure he could spend the evening staring at Manny, John, and Reuben. His eyes wanted something finer to feast upon and preferably not a redhead. “What is there to do around here at night?”

  Manny grinned. “There are some right pretty girls, if you know where to look.”

  Elijah sipped his beer. That sounded like just the distraction he needed to wipe Beatrice Hamilton from his mind. “You make it sound like a hunt. Do we need to flush them out of the undergrowth?”

  “It’s only Manny they hide from. I find they come to me.” A sly smile crept over John’s face.

  The warm expression took Elijah by surprise. In their short acquaintance, the youth was usually grim and dour looking.

  “Where do we find these fine specimens, then?” Elijah asked.

  Manny tapped the side of his nose. “Finish your drink and we’ll be off. There’s a place us young’uns have for when we want to be away from the peering eyes of our elders.”

  Elijah was intrigued and there was nothing more he could do that night to find the ship. Any distraction would take his mind off Beatrice Hamilton and his reaction when he’d touched her bare skin.

  With a round of goodbyes to their friends, the four young men left the pub and walked out into the dark.

  “This way,” Manny said, and he turned eastward, towards the mountain range that sheltered the village on one side.

  They chatted of inconsequential things as they walked past cottages and houses with their curtains drawn tight. Light escaped in small chinks and lit the dirt road. Snatches of conversations wafted from each home and faded to whispers behind them on the night air.

  The houses thinned and were replaced by trees as they neared the looming range of hills. High above, nestled into the mountain range, was the Hamilton mansion. Light blazed from its many windows and the people inside caused the light to flicker as they walked by.

  At the bottom of the hill where a winding road led up to the mansion sat a large barn. Light squirmed through gaps in the planks and the sound of laughter came
from inside.

  Manny grabbed the edge of a large door and slid it sideways, far enough to admit them.

  “What is this place?” Elijah asked as they stepped through into a softly lit room. Movement caught his eye and a stoat jumped under a pile of hay and squirmed its sleek body beneath. Seekers. Nowhere was ever away from the Hamiltons’ prying gaze.

  “It’s an old barn the Hamiltons don’t use anymore. They gave this one over to us. Probably so our parents know where we all are without having to know exactly what we get up to.” Manny elbowed Elijah in the middle and winked.

  Within, the mood was light. Young people milled and chatted. Women laughed and tried to entice the men to dance to a tune being played on a fiddle. A long table was set along one end of the barn and a beer keg sat in the middle. Mismatched chairs were placed around the space so that people could sit and talk or play card games. Horse stalls were draped with old curtains, turning them into small, private rooms.

  A group of smiling young women approached. One had long blonde hair and a sway to her hips that reminded Elijah of Amelia Green.

  “Ladies, this is Eli Hector. He’s new to town.” Manny draped his arm over a petite brunette’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him.

  “Hello, Eli. I’m Peggy,” the blonde said with a wink. “Do you dance?”

  Elijah’s last night at Ravenswing flashed through his mind, and he remembered the cornered feeling he’d had as Amelia had talked about finding true love. However, he was sure not all young women were intent on pinning a man down. Was it too much to ask for distraction and no more?

  “I might be persuaded,” he said and held out his arm.

  He danced a few times with Peggy while Manny took his friend off to a corner. They sat in the hay, arms around each other as they watched the dancers. John and Reuben mingled, talking to the other lads and laughing out loud as they traded imagined exploits and watched the girls.

  Beer kept thirst at bay and Elijah found himself enjoying the night. When they had enough of dancing, Peggy pulled on his hand and led him to a soft pile of hay, where she threw herself down. He dropped beside her and let his heavier weight sink into the fragrant hay. His time in Kessel might not be too unbearable after all, if he had good company to help pass the time.

  “Do you work at the mill?” he asked. It seemed the dominant employer in the village and it was also the best conversation starter he could pluck from his brain.

  “No, at the big house. I’m an upstairs maid, but I slipped out for the night.” She moved the hay around to create a pillow behind her back.

  As the night wore on, those present stopped dancing and sought out quiet corners in which to talk. Those who wanted more privacy took to the stalls, or braved the rickety ladder up to the hayloft. A group of lads sat around a box and played cards. Coins were placed in the middle, and shoulders hunched as the game became more intense.

  “Do you like working for the family?” Elijah had never considered if those in service chose their positions or did it because they had no other option. The Setons looked after their employees like family and ensured they were all well cared for when they could no longer work. That was the Warder way—to serve their community.

  She shrugged. “One posh family is much like another, I imagine. Mill or house, they work us just as hard, but at least we are given the ladies’ cast-off clothing. They don’t get that at the mill.”

  Peggy reached out and rested a hand on Elijah’s upper arm. Her fingers wrapped around his biceps. “My, you’re a strong one.”

  A few days ago, he would have eagerly grasped the opportunity presented to him. Peggy’s interest was obvious, she was attractive, and there was little else to do. Yet a part of his mind baulked. The rebellious slither within him superimposed a different set of features, with the glint of fire in her hair and gaze and lush ruby lips.

  Damn Beatrice Hamilton. She had ruined his evening and she wasn’t even present.

  Elijah took Peggy’s hand and raised it to kiss her knuckles. “I’m so sorry, Peggy, but it’s time for me to return to home and bed. Perhaps you would save me a dance for another night?”

  She pouted and leaned back on her elbows, which had the effect of pushing her bust forward. She lowered her lashes. “Shame to turn in early on your own.”

  “I’ve had a long day at the mill and I have got a little soft. I would hate to fall asleep on you and disappoint.” He winked and hoped she caught the joke at his expense.

  She burst out laughing. “Another night, then, when you aren’t so tired.”

  “Most definitely.” Once he managed to banish Beatrice Hamilton to a cupboard in his mind, he would be able to sample the local delights.

  8

  The next day, Elijah had laboured for three hours in the warehouse when Mr Baxter waved him over.

  “Yes, sir?” He wondered what he had done, or not done, to be singled out. Had the locals risen up against the interloper and got him fired? He imagined himself slinking home, tail between his legs, to tell his uncle he had failed in his mission.

  The foreman waved his pencil at the side door. He did a lot of waving with the pencil in their short acquaintance. Elijah wondered if the man dreamed of conducting an orchestra. “You’re having a change of job and are to report to Miss Hamilton.”

  “Miss Hamilton?” What did she want with him? He swallowed as his mind whirled with possibilities.

  Had she told her uncle what had happened when she’d touched his hand? Was he going to be dragged off and interrogated to learn what type of Elemental he was? They only had to look at his build to know he wasn’t a sylph. He might be able to claim he was a neutral Meidh, if he could come up with a suitable name that reflected a trait. Perhaps Timor for fear, because that was what crept up on him as he imagined his short future in Kessel.

  Baxter stopped conducting unheard music and used the pencil to scribble on his clipboard instead. “You took the sample books to her yesterday. Surely you’re not so dim that you have forgotten Miss Hamilton already?”

  Elijah tried to concentrate on the matter at hand while covertly looking around for any Soarers about to leap upon him. “No, sir. I’m surprised is all I meant, and I don’t understand why she requires me.”

  The foreman arched a shaggy eyebrow. “Well, trot along lad, and you’ll find out. Don’t keep her waiting.”

  Manny shot him an enquiring look from across the open floor and Elijah shrugged in response. He didn’t know what was going on either, but he could tell his new friend later.

  He pushed through the door and walked the corridor with slow steps, wishing he could see through the doors that he passed. He knew the jobs that went on in the noisy mill, with the constant thrum of the machinery driving the looms, but he needed to peer into every corner to find something to use against the Hamiltons.

  He knocked on the third door on the right and waited for permission to enter. Today Beatrice was at her desk, peering at her ledgers. She wore a plain cotton blouse with a cameo at the throat. Her high-waisted skirt was of a tweed that, with its muted browns and pale-yellow strip, reminded him of diamonds in the rough. When first removed from the earth the gems had the same mottled appearance, and only polishing and the right cut allowed them to shine.

  Her hair was pulled back in a bun, but a single strand had escaped and brushed the side of her face. The wayward hair softened her hard and perfect exterior. His fingers itched to tuck the lock behind her ear, and he curled his hand into a fist to stop himself from reaching for her.

  She looked up and smiled at him. “Ah, good. I have a new project and I thought, given your interest yesterday, that you might want to be involved. After many months of petitioning, my uncle has finally agreed to let me trial silk weaving. I am allowed to use a small room with three looms and can have two people to assist me.”

  “You want me to help you?” Events kept spiralling away from how he wanted them to go. Part of that plan involved staying well clear of Beatrice Hamilton
and whatever had happened when he’d touched her the day before. The Cor-vitis was obviously mistaken and had simply overreacted to his first contact with a non-familial Elemental.

  The smile faltered. “Yes. I thought that after our conversation yesterday about bettering life in the mill for the workers, you would be interested.”

  “Of course I am interested. Silk doesn’t put fluff in the air like cotton. Not to mention it’s quieter. The machinery here for processing and spinning the thread is so loud that I can feel it through my feet.” When he touched his element, the earth told him the vibrations came from under the mill. That wasn’t possible, but the machines set up such a rattle that it was impossible to tell where it originated.

  She closed the open ledger on her desk. “I’m about to inspect the room Uncle has allowed me to use, and we can decide from there what we need. He doesn’t know it, but for some months I have been using my allowance to purchase spools of silk, and I have enough set by to manufacture several sample bolts of fabric.”

  Using her own money to buy spools of thread? He grudgingly admitted that he was impressed. He gestured for her to lead the way and then tucked his hands in the small of his back.

  He fell into step alongside her as they walked the wide corridors. They passed doors with frosted glass and shadowy people moved back and forth within. Other doors were firmly closed with not a squeak of sound escaping. He wanted to burst into every one and examine what lay inside, but he couldn’t.

  There was a benefit in being pulled from the warehouse to help Beatrice Hamilton: it might give him the excuse he needed to wander the mill and search for the Esmeralda. The vessel’s journey had ended here. He only needed to find it and what answers she might contain.

  “This is the one.” Beatrice stopped at a wooden door in a relatively quiet part of the mill. Excitement shone in her eyes as she turned the knob and pushed inside. Where excitement immediately turned to disappointment.