The City on the Sea (City on the Sea Series Book 1)

by Heather Carson

  She immediately turns her attention to the other men and asks about their game. Zoe moves down to the other end of the table. Neither of the girls look up at me and for that I am relieved.

  I back away from the main table and take the chair behind me. I’ll just sip my beer and watch their game. As soon as I sit, I notice I chose the table where Calder sits alone with the guitar at his feet.

  “Forgive me.” The beer sloshes from the edge of my cup onto the table as I jerk back. “Do you want me to leave?” He stares at the puddle of beer while he finishes chewing his food.

  “I don’t care what you do,” he says after he swallows. “This is your home, right?” I think he’s trying to make a joke but there isn’t much humor in it.

  “If you don’t care what I do,” I say taking a sip from my drink and simultaneously wiping the spill from the table, “then why are you always watching me?”

  “It’s my job,” he answers bluntly. “And no, I can’t tell you why.”

  The beer spreads a hazy warmth into my stomach. It’s definitely one of Aegir’s better brews. I take another sip. Lena’s laughter rises from the table behind me. It’s the sound of our youth. Carefree and wild. A smile spreads across my face.

  “Okay Mr. Mysterious. At least tell me where you got that instrument.”

  He glances down at the floor. “It was my grandfather’s,” he says quietly. “And his grandfather’s before that.”

  “The sound is beautiful,” I confess. “It’s nothing like the metal drums that the street musicians play. It almost hums. Are you going to play it again tonight?” His eyes travel slowly up to my face.

  “No.” The word is firm. It causes me to lose the wind in whatever sails I was unfolding. “I shouldn’t have played it at all. It’s not right here.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “It means that it’s not right for this time and place.” He leans his chin on his fist. “The audience isn’t right.”

  “Is it because there are women around?” I try to make the joke lighthearted, but I’m shocked at how uncouth this guy is.

  “Women maybe.” He arches an eyebrow. “But not the women I’m accustomed to.”

  The insult forces me to clench my teeth. “So, you think the women from your city are better than us?”

  “Something like that.” His eyes are challenging.

  “If you loved it there so much, why did you leave?” I meet the challenge with my own glare.

  “Someone has to do this job.” Irritation flicks across his face.

  “Well I’m happy that you have such great women where you are from.” I roll my eyes and lift my beer as I rise to leave. “And I’m sorry there are none that meet your standards here.”

  “It’s not that,” he chuckles. “I’m not interested in the feminine charms you are offering.”

  “Offering?” The blood rushes to my cheeks. “I’m not offering anything.”

  “Oh no?” He cocks his head to the side. “Then what will you give me to play the guitar again?”

  “Nothing,” I say in utter outrage. “There is something seriously wrong with you if you think that every girl that speaks to you is offering something.” He purses his lips into a sarcastic grimace as he looks to Lena and Zoe.

  “Just calling it like I see it.” He shrugs.

  “You have some nerve.” I grip the cup in my hand tightly. The thought of throwing it on his face crosses my mind, but there isn’t much left, and Aegir’s beer shouldn’t be wasted on someone like this guy. “I refuse to sit here with a person as rude as you.”

  “Hey now.” He pulls me back. There’s a trace of nervousness in his voice and I almost think he’s embarrassed. Serves him right.

  “Let’s make a deal,” he sighs. “I’ll play again if you agree.” There is no deal in the world that I want to make with this man. I don’t care if I never hear his stupid guitar again.

  “For curiosities’ sake.” I glare at him. “What’s the deal?”

  He leans back against his chair and smiles innocently with his palms outstretched. “Tell me what’s in the bag.”

  My blood boils. “You really want to know? It’s my father’s belongings. He died last year. Thank you so much for your concern.”

  I clasp my hand over my mouth. As soon as the words leave my lips, I want to reach into the air and pull them back. But I can’t. It’s like a smear of squid ink in the wrong place, once it’s there you can’t erase it.

  Meghan’s worry hits me in the stomach. She was so adamant that I didn’t tell anyone, and I’ve just told this jerk who happens to be a watchman. Not just any watchman either, but the one who is watching me.

  I stare at his face in horror. He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and lowers his gaze to the table. With his shoulder’s sagging like this he looks less powerful. Maybe he didn’t know my father died. Of course, he knows my father died.

  Leaving right now seems like my best option, but I’m rooted to the spot when the deep voice calls from behind me, “What did she say?”

  Drake stands from the table. His chair squeaks against the metal floor. I can feel his eyes on my back. Calder raises his head. Whatever softness or empathy he may have felt is replaced with the steely glare of resolve.

  ‡ Chapter Twelve ‡

  “It’s in the bag.” Calder stands from his seat.

  “Well tonight just got interesting.” Drake is suddenly right beside me. My heart thumps hard against my chest. I want to run. If I can make my feet move, I can get to my room and lock the door behind me. Then maybe whatever is about to happen won’t happen…

  Except Calder is two steps ahead of me blocking my escape.

  “I think we need to speak with Henry,” Calder says.

  “He’s not going to care.” Drake laughs from somewhere deep in his chest and the smell of beer permeates the air around me. I don’t even know who Henry is, but every fiber of my being is begging them to go see him.

  “We need to follow protocol.” Calder shakes his head.

  “To hell with protocol. You only needed proof before you could take it. We both heard her confession.” Drake’s tone is good natured, but my stomach recoils in fear.

  “We can’t enter her residence without speaking with Henry.” Calder stands his ground.

  “Knock, knock.” Drake raises his fist theatrically and smiles. “Guess what? We’re already here.”

  “Excuse me,” I speak up. “I’d like to leave now if you don’t mind.”

  Both men ignore me. They are locked in some sort of staring match of wills. If I can just slip behind Calder I can get away.

  “What’s going on guys?” Lena asks as she walks over to stand beside me.

  “Nothing for you to worry about.” Drake gives her a charming smile. “This is official business. Go sit back down.”

  Tears form in her eyes. I know what she wants to do, but no one refuses an official order from a watchman. A lump grows in my throat as I watch her leave. Whatever is going to happen will be Calder’s decision and he hates me. The rest of the watchmen are silently looking at us. If I don’t say something, I’m afraid I’ll disappear right where I stand.

  “Why is my father’s bag so important to you?” One answer. That’s all I want. If I’m going to be taken away to wherever it is they take trouble makers and never come back, the least he can do is answer me.

  Calder glances at his guitar. For a stupid moment I wonder if he is going to play it again and forget this conversation ever happened. When he looks back at me his eyes are distant.

  “Because it’s not right for this place,” he states coldly and steps aside.

  Suddenly, I’m being dragged by my elbow down the long walkway to my bedroom door. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck. If I scream, what will anyone do? Nothing. No one challenges the watchmen. It takes everything in me to not cry. I won’t give them the satisfaction of my tears.

  “Unlock the door,�
�� Calder commands. I should have thought to drop the key. My hands are shaking as I press the cool metal into the lock. Drake shoves me roughly inside of my room. The sound of the tavern and conversations are muted as Calder closes the door behind him.

  My heartbeat quickens and the pounding in my ears is deafening as the walls around me blur. The familiar comfort of my mattress catches me. I’m not sure if I sat by myself or was placed here.

  “Well, where is it?” Drake is rummaging through the closet while whistling a happy tune.

  I’m going to be sick. The beer churns in my stomach. My face feels cold and sweaty. I can’t focus on their words. Everything is shaking. The age-old motto passed down through the generations echoes in my brain.

  Do the right thing. Don’t cause any trouble.

  I see Zander smiling up at me. Meghan holding baby Thora in her arms. Rowan stands protectively behind them. Lena and Beau surrounded by all her daughters. Tordon and Aegir with his younger sons standing on the fishing docks. Everyone I know is slipping away and there is nothing I can do about it.

  “Did you do this?” Calder stands by the mural studying the spray of paint that is the storm of my life. I think about answering him, but if he’s too stupid to see the paint and brushes on the table it’s his own fault.

  “Huh?” Drake glances over his shoulder to see what Calder is talking about. “Would you look at that? I didn’t think they knew how to paint.”

  “What is wrong with you people?” My voice cracks through the room so loudly that it’s jarring. “What do you have against us? Is it really the women thing? How can you think so lowly of anyone that isn’t you?”

  Drake gives me a condescending smile and shakes his head. “Tell me where the bag is and then we can go.”

  “No.” Red sears my vision and humor dances across his annoying face.

  “It’s under the bed,” Calder states calmly. “Near your feet.”

  Drake lowers his eyes and laughs. “How did I miss it?” His meaty hand grips my father’s bag and he lifts it in the air.

  “Put it down,” I scream lunging forward as I try to grab it from him. Maybe I can jump out of the window. Maybe I can make it past him out the door. Whatever my plan is, I’m not going to sit here while they touch my father’s things and take me away from everything I know when I haven’t done anything wrong.

  Calder grabs my upper arm. His hand clenches my bicep like a vice. “Calm down,” he whispers heavily against my ear. I struggle to free myself from his hold but it’s no use.

  “She’s a feral one.” Drake smirks and empties the contents of the bag onto the bed.

  “Aren’t they all?” Calder’s words are flat and emotionless like his cold, dead heart. His chest is against my back. If I can throw my elbow, I might be able to get him in the groin. He squeezes my arm tighter in warning.

  Drake investigates the empty bag in disappointment. I inhale quietly. Right before he tosses it to the side, his eyes light up as he discovers the hidden pouch.

  “There they are.” He smiles broadly, examining my father’s plans to save the world.

  “What do you want with them?” My voice cracks but I don’t let it break.

  “Don’t you worry about that.” Drake winks. “These are much too dangerous for a little lady like you to have. No, it’s better that we take this and destroy it.” My knees buckle and its only Calder’s grip on my arm that keeps me from falling forward.

  “Please don’t take them.” I hate that I whimper these words. It dawns on me that I was avoiding Meghan for just this reason. “You don’t understand. They mean so much to me. I know the machine is dangerous and I’ll leave it alone. Please don’t take my father’s paintings. They are only thing I have left of him.”

  “Can’t do that.” Drake shrugs like my heart isn’t wrenching itself from my chest right in front of him. “But I’ll let you keep the bag.”

  He tosses it at my feet. It’s such a degrading action that I can’t force myself to look at it. Drake resumes his whistling as he opens the bedroom door. Calder is still holding my arm, but he’s relaxed his grip. I raise my chin and step over the bag.

  “Will you at least tell me where we are going?” I find the strength within me to speak these words out loud.

  I hadn’t allowed myself to fully imagine this before now. Troublemakers disappear and they don’t return. There is no jail floating somewhere on the ocean, no rehabilitation, no real place to go. I’ve always known this.

  Disappearing is death. That’s the only way to assure someone will never come back. I just don’t know where they take you before the end. Probably to their ship. It’s ironic that I’m going to die on the sea when I just decided I wanted to die on the land. But that choice was never really mine to make.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Calder takes his hand away. I spin around to face him. He looks at me with such pity that I’m disgusted.

  “What?” I snap.

  “Did you want to go somewhere?” He arches an eyebrow and the beginning of a smile teases his lips. He quickly presses them flat. “Stay here. Get some sleep.”

  With two long strides, he is out of my room. I hesitate momentarily to catch my breath and pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. As my nails dig deeply into my skin, a new force overtakes me.

  I don’t care what happens to me. They can’t have my father’s drawings.

  “What are you doing you stupid girl?” Gertrude blocks my escape at the door. Lena’s eyes are swollen from crying as she rushes past the woman and into my room.

  “I don’t want trouble,” Gertrude sharply reprimands me. “Now you are bringing it here. What did you do?”

  “Nothing,” I whisper in defeat. “I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

  “Then what was that scene about?” She puts her hands on her hips. Lena sniffles beside me.

  “It was nothing important,” I reassure them, even if it’s a lie. “I had something of my late father’s that they were worried might be dangerous, so they took it away.”

  Lena sighs in relief and wraps her arms around me. Gertrude sizes me up with her shrewd eyes.

  “I don’t want any trouble here,” she says once more before leaving.

  “And I promise not to bring any.” I force myself to smile even though my insides are shattered fragments.

  *

  “What did you have that was so dangerous?” Lena wraps the blanket around our shoulders as we sit side by side on my bed. My father’s bag lies on the floor where Drake tossed it. I can’t bring myself to move it, so it stays as a taunting reminder that I wasn’t strong enough to do anything to stop them.

  “My father made paintings of his machine. He labeled the parts and explained how to put it together.” My voice is distant. Lena presses herself against me like she’s trying to make sure I know she’s still here.

  “I can see how that might be dangerous,” she whispers. “But I didn’t know that he could paint besides drawing those letter things he used to teach you. Do you think we can appeal to the other watchmen and see if we can get them back?”

  “They won’t care.” I stare at the ship on my mural wishing a wave would reach up and pull it under.

  “Hey now.” She nudges me. “They aren’t all that bad. Except for Drake and Calder. Those two are jerks. I’m so sorry that I asked for your help tonight.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Her guilt pulls me from my surreal daze. “But I don’t understand why you like to spend time with them. They’re all jerks. The way they treat women is sick.”

  “What?” Lena asked genuinely confused. “They’ve always been polite to me.”

  “Probably because you are offering something,” I mumble and instantly regret it when her body tenses.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” I sigh. “It’s been a hard night. You know I don’t judge you for what makes you happy. It’s just that the way they talk down to women is so wrong.”

  “Oh tha
t,” Lena relaxes. “That’s not a woman hater thing. Most of them generally think they are better than anyone else who isn’t a watchman.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s worse.” I put my head against my knees and block out the light from the lantern. “What makes them think they are better than us just because they wear a uniform?”

  “They do have a hard job,” she reassures me. “Making sure everyone is safe and not seeing your family for months must be rough.”

  “But did any of us ask them to do this?” I turn my head so I can see her response. “Who gave them this job? And why should we have to respect them anyway? There are more of us than there are of them. If we all work together, we can make them leave. Why do we blindly do as we are told without questioning it?”

  This small train of thought sparks an ember. It’s such a simple idea that I wonder why no one else has mentioned it before.

  “What are you saying?” Lena asks in horror before quickly lowering her voice. “Stop it. You know we aren’t supposed to talk like that. It’s asking for trouble. The watchmen keep it safe here and they never intervene with our lives unless there is a problem. Can you imagine what life would be like without them? It’d be as lawless as it is out to sea. Plus, who would protect the wall?”

  “If they aren’t allowed to intervene, why did they come into my room and steal my father’s work?” My face reflects the outrage in my voice. Lena reaches over and pulls me into a tight embrace.

  “It wasn’t safe for you to have it,” she whispers against my hair. “They were trying to do the right thing and keep you safe.”

  “That’s bullshit.” I shrug her off. “How is a painting dangerous? And so, what if it is? It’s my life to do what I want with it. If I choose to take a risk fixing the machine, then that should be my choice to make.”

  Lena is hurt. I can see it in the way she shuts down. “You might have a life that is all your own, but you still have people that worry about you. If one of my sisters was going to do something dangerous, I’d want the watchmen to stop her too.”

  The blanket falls from our shoulders as she stands. “I have to go now. My mother will be worried.”