by J. K. Holt
Chapter One
The endless cloudy days had begun to take their toll on Tess’s spirit. No sooner had one ended than another began, the night sky shifting to middling levels of grey, intent on never allowing even momentary glimpses of blue. Under the heavy skies, the ocean seemed dull, vast and bleak, churning frothy waves of brown, a depressing backdrop to the small town. Villagers scuttled about, ducking their heads, grumbling passing greetings, less disposed towards conversations than returning indoors.
As such, Tess felt inclined to believe that the sleet currently falling on her head was overkill. We get it, it’s winter. How about some snow, at least? Her feet skidded on the slick cobbles, and she caught herself more than once, moments before her butt hit the ground. She mumbled to herself and wiped the stinging drops from her eyes, her lashes coated in tiny specks of ice. Her cheeks stung and she once again reminded herself to invest in a scarf.
Tess entered the market, a large open-aired area where the merchants set up shop once a week and the fishmongers sold the freshest catch each morning. Despite the weather, the fishermen would be out, casting their nets into the choppy waters, eager for an early haul so they could come home to a warm hearth and dry clothes. Tess approached the statue in the middle of the square, a large mermaid she’d named Peggy, and stood beside it as she ran her eyes along the length of the boardwalk, squinting at the spindly piers that disappeared into a distant fog.
The town clung to the ocean like a barnacle to the hull of a ship, wet and harsh, dependent upon the waters for its livelihood. It traded with a few towns up and down the coast, but kept to a mostly isolationist existence, contented with few grand ambitions. Still, it was not without its pleasures, and moments of understated beauty. Even now, Tess glanced about and noticed, for the first time really, how the ice that hung from the roofs, the railings, caught the light of the auras of passing people, refracting it into a thousand pieces of light, magnifying the effect tenfold. It was like existing in a prism, only no one else was aware of it. Will I ever get used to this strange place? she wondered as she pulled her cloak closer and continued on her way.
Tess stuck tight to the buildings in the narrow alley as she walked, but could not afford to keep her head down; safety was an illusion in this place. She’d learned that lesson the hard way.
She finally stumbled upon her destination and ducked into the shop after a great heave upon the door, stuck worse than usual in this cold and wet weather. Gowan, boss and surrogate uncle, glanced up from his position behind the counter. “Any luck?”
“No.” She shucked her outerwear, dropping her heavy coat and kicking off her shoes as Gowan gave a distinct glare at the water dripping onto his floors. Tess grabbed a nearby rag and mopped up after herself.
Tinker slunk from a nearby shadow, mewing hoarsely as he approached. Tess smiled at the cat and crouched, offering her hand for a rub, but an electric shock met his nose when they touched and he hissed, indignant. Tess laughed. “Sorry, old boy. Unintentional, I swear.” She scooped him up against his protests and walked back to her small living space at the back, no more than a cot and table, to deposit him on the blanket. “I know you’re thinking about going out, but don’t. It’s nasty out there.” She gave him a quick pet for good measure before meandering back to the front.
The smells along this section of the shop felt dear to her. Old fishing hooks, shells and coral that smelled like the deep blue. Musty books, half of which Tess had yet to glance through, mingled amongst the other bric-a-brac. A beautiful, ridiculous organizational structure that represented the rambling thoughts of an intelligent, somewhat scattered man. And a combination of mystery and knowledge in one place- if only it held the secrets Tess sought.
She renewed her train of thought as she turned the corner. “If anyone in Wharfton knows about those kinds of books, no one’s telling me. The owner of Milner’s said if anyone would have them, it would be you. I don’t think we’re going to find anything. At least not here in Wharfton.”
She perched on a stool across the counter and grabbed the spare mug Gowan had left for her, pouring herself some tea from the kettle that still steamed and wrapping her frozen hands gratefully around the hot earthenware. Gowan allowed her to settle in before he spoke, his aura thrumming around him in a soft yellow light. Steady and solid, just like him.
“We must start somewhere.” He tugged off his glasses and polished them as he spoke. “You’ve tasked me with helping you, but this is no easy feat.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Tess sighed. “I know how crazy it all sounds, trust me.”
“Half of the time I wonder if you’ve not lost your mind,” Gowan grumbled.
“I’m surprised you don’t believe that constantly,” Tess admitted. “I think I would, if the situation was reversed.”
If she was being honest with herself, Tess had indeed assumed she’d lost her own mind when she first opened her eyes to this new and strange place. Now, months later, the only thing she felt that she really, truly knew, was that Wharfton, and the people in it, were as real as she was. But every other fact that she thought she knew had changed. Reality shifted like quicksand beneath her feet, and she felt no closer to an anchor that might ground her to the truth of things. This is what she searched for now.
Gowan pursed his lips, put his glasses back on. His eyes took on a far off look as he considered her implied question. “I suppose, as outlandish as it all seems, there are some aspects of it that… well, that feel true. I’m not sure how on earth it might align with anything, other than that sometimes pieces of a puzzle don’t seem to fit together until they do. Perhaps that’s true here.”
He reached out a hand and placed it lightly on her arm before giving it a squeeze. “But first we must find more information. And I’ve no clue how to do it, I’m afraid.”
Tess felt deflated at his own admission. “Me neither.”
“Something will unearth itself eventually. In the meantime, how’s the tea? I’ve tried a new ingredient from my herbal cache.”
“Honestly? It’s pretty disgusting.”
“Ah, good. Exactly the effect I had in mind.”
∞ ∞ ∞
As much as the uncertainly was eating at her, Tess had done her best to avoid the others, save Gowan, in the past week. There were always chores at the shop- inventories to keep, floors to wash, and customers to assist. Tess’s injuries, also, had needed time to heal. Her ribs still ached, a dull continuous throb that no sooner seemed to be lessening than stole back in and took her breath from her. She favored her right side, and winced as she lifted items in the shop to higher shelves. But self-pity did not penetrate her thoughts, and she was grateful for that much. She’d seen recently how bad it could get, and realized how much worse it could have been for herself. By all rights she should have been dead. Or blurred, at least, though in many ways that seemed to be a worse fate. And knowing how close she’d come had been enough to force perspective.
Emme had stolen in, just once a few days past, to give Tess a quick hug and see for herself that Tess was well. Though she was as lovely as ever, cheeks flushed from the cold and blonde hair in a loose braid down her back, she seemed preoccupied and distant. She’d been able to give Tess an update, which was the same as no update, really. Loren, the same person who was responsible for Tess’s current bruised state, was still unconscious, and they were beginning to wonder if he would ever wake. Though Tess doubted anyone personally cared for his well-being, she understood the implication- without him, they had no leads, no idea where to go next on this wild goose chase they continued upon. It was grave to consid
er, given what was at stake.
Though Emme’s stay had been brief, and she’d no real news to report, it did Tess good to see her friend. It also gave Tess a piece of the answer to a question she’d been mulling over- who else knew the truth about Tess? Emme was nothing if not transparent- if she’d known, it would have been obvious. And though she couldn’t be certain, Tess doubted there were many secrets between Ashe and Emme, which meant that he was more than likely unaware as well.
It had been a calculated risk for Tess to tell Tulla Reed about how she’d come to arrive in Wharfton. Telling Gowan felt natural, and safe, but Tulla was a wild card. Tess had tackled them together, laying out the odd and surreal story. Though she knew it would be difficult to believe, Tess had finally felt that she had no choice. Months after arriving here, she’d begun to realize just how important that information might be in helping Tulla and the others to uncover the truths they so desperately sought, and this made the risk worth it.
Armed with only the story, and her pair of bright pink sneakers as proof, she’d laid it all out for them. Tulla had been quiet, asking but a few questions. She’d departed soon after, saying that she needed time to consider it all, and she’d also asked Tess not to visit the bakery until Tulla had made up her mind. That had stung worse than anything else.
Now Tess remained in a holding pattern. When in a morose mood, she felt doomed to repeat the same monotonous days over and over as she awaited her sentencing.
Gowan had proved her only lifeline. She wasn’t sure how she’d found him as she had, scared and alone that first day, but he’d shown her nothing but kindness since she’d first stumbled into his shop; certainly some benign force must have been watching out for her. And, faced with her truth that day along with Tulla, he’d had a choice to make. He’d not even hesitated. Tess loved him all the more for it.
Still, though, her life had seemed a bit more monochrome since her lifeline to the others had been cut. She wouldn’t go against Tulla, so Tess had no choice but to continue on as she had, waiting.
It sucked.
∞ ∞ ∞
“He’s doing it again,” Gowan declared as he shuffled inside the shop two days after Emme’s visit.
Tess looked up from her seat near the display cases and cocked her head. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”
“Yes, but seeing as you’re a bit slow I’ll help you along- Draker Reed is loitering in the alley just along the way.”
Tess’s heart found immediate lodging in her throat. She spluttered when she noticed Gowan’s amusement at her reaction but failed to think of a quick explanation, so she settled for feigned nonchalance. “He could be there for any number of reasons.”
“Reasons that explain why he’s been watching this door for the entire time I’ve been gone? If you say so.”
“If he wants to see me, why hasn’t he just come in?”
Gowan gave her an annoyed look. “How on earth would I know? Go out and ask him yourself, for goodness sakes. Or don’t. Just thought you should know.” He walked towards the back, muttering under his breath.
Tess had a sudden case of déjà vu, as her mind was thrown back to the last time Dray Reed skulked in the shadows outside the Muddy Gull. That time, he was raw and hurt, still reeling from Russ’s blurring and stung from the words Tess had thrown at him in her own grief. She had no idea what he might want this time, but for her part, Tess was determined to have a softer touch.
She took the time to bundle up, feeling ever the hobo as she pulled mismatched mittens over her hands, chapped from the many times she’d forgotten to cover them in the last month. She tucked her dark waves under a warm cap and ignored the butterflies that had begun to take up residence in her stomach.
“Don’t be weird, Tess,” she muttered to herself.
She scanned the street as she exited, and spotted him quickly, gazing at her sheepishly as he leaned against the dark brick of a nearby building. His look helped steady the ground beneath her feet, and she felt slightly less nervous as she approached him.
“You know, you can actually open the door to the Gull. I know it sticks a bit, but I think someone like you could manage,” she said as she drew even with him.
He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “How have you been?”
Tess nodded. “Good. Healing. You?” Why haven’t you come to see me before now?
“Fine.” He looked about to say more but hesitated, glancing around them. Tess wondered if it was just out of habit at this point.
“Will you come inside? I want to talk to you, but it’s seriously frigid out. C’mon?” She motioned to the door with a nod.
“Won’t Gowan be in there? I thought to speak with you, ah, privately.”
Tess considered. “He’s there, but we can find a place.” Rather than continue the discussion, she turned to walk back. Reluctantly, Dray followed.
Gowan gave a short greeting to Dray as they entered, likely cut off from a sarcastic comment by Tess’s glare. He chuckled and went back to his work. Tess led Dray to her small personal area in the back of the shop, and found a chair for him. He seemed somewhat unsure of himself in this space. “Have you ever been back here before?” Tess wondered aloud.
“Only once, but it didn’t look the same then. It was-”
“Right, of course. That night.” The night she’d been taken by the lampreys, and Dray, Ashe, and Fish had come back with a desperate Gowan to this spot, to see for themselves the struggle that must have happened here. The night he’d rowed out to their ship with Fish and stolen her back. That it had been just over a week ago felt unreal. She saw Dray’s look and realized he too was lost in the memory. She cleared her throat and his grey eyes refocused, leveling on her. “Is this really the only space you have here that’s your own?” he said, his voice low.
Tess felt a bit defensive at the question. “Gowan took me in, when I had nowhere to go. He gave me a job, and a home. This,” she said, patting the bed, “this is plenty.”
“But he’s your uncle,” Dray replied. “Surely that’s the least he could have done.”
So, Tulla had not told her son Tess’s story. Tess wasn’t sure if she was relieved or a little heartbroken. It was still another secret between them. But she couldn’t dwell on it, so she shifted the conversation. “What did you want to talk with me about?”
Dray accepted the change in topic. “Right. Well, I came to ask for your help, I guess.”
Tess’s eyes shot up in surprise. “What can I help with?”
Dray shifted in his chair. “Ermm, it’s a bit… complicated.”
“I’m listening.”
He took a deep breath. “Well, you might remember that all the men who attacked us in the alley, other than the one Rosie killed, of course, were taken into custody only to be blurred that night.”
“Yes. All except Loren.”
“Right. We hid him away inside the bakery. Much as we all hate him, Emme and my mum have been doing their best to coax him back to life. He hasn’t woken up, though, and we’re beginning to think we’re losing our opportunity. They’ve been able to get a little liquid into him, but with no food, he’s wasting away.”
And with him, they were losing any and all information he might have about the lampreys, and their plan. Tess felt the loss as well. Still… “But what do you need me for? Do you need another person on shift to care for him? If so, I could probably spare some time after work-”
“No, that’s not it. Though, thanks for offering.” Dray couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s- well I’m not sure how to put it. It’s all just become so muddled, what with everything that’s been happening.”
His face took on a pained expression, and Tess resisted the urge to reach out a hand to his, guessing that the gesture might make it worse. “Dray. Just tell me.”
He finally looked at her. “That morning, when they tried to blur me.”
She finally took his meaning, but a surge of self-preservation urged her tow
ards caution. “Yes?”
“You stopped it somehow. I was fading away, losing myself, and then, there you were, with me. You helped me put the pieces of my mind back together. You… you brought me back.” He was speaking so quietly now that she had to strain to hear him.
She remembered it with crystal clear clarity. She’d been next to him on the ground, screaming, watching as the light pooled out of him, and then she wasn’t. She was with him, in another space, pulling him back, stringing his memories together. She’d been a voyeur into his life, witnessing his pain, his joy, his strength. It was incredible, and unfathomable.
And she had no idea in hell how she did it.
“I remember,” she admitted.
Relief crossed his face at the validation, and Tess wondered if he remembered what else she’d seen- the feelings that had begun to form in his heart for her. Fleetingly, she wondered if they were even still there, or if lack of contact had caused whatever spark had begun to fizzle. Now was not the time to find out.
Dray stumbled on. “I’ve no idea how you did it, but… do you think you could do it for Loren?”
“Huh?”
“It’s just… he doesn’t seem to be that injured anymore, not that we can see. Of course, Fish walloped him hard with that rock, good on him, and then Ashe certainly did a number on his body, but… none of it seemed so serious that it would keep Loren from waking. We don’t know what else to do, and I thought maybe you could try whatever it was that you did for me, for him?”
Her mind reeled with the unconsidered possibility. “Dray, I don’t…I don’t have any clue how to repeat it. I’d never done that before. I don’t even know what I did.”
Dray ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw and sighed. “I believe you. But- could you try?”
Tess blew air, disbelieving. “What would we even tell people I’m doing? Or does everyone know what I did for you?”
Dray laughed, without humor. “Tess, I’m barely able to believe what you did myself. Half the time I think I dreamed it. No, I didn’t tell anyone, though I think mum suspects something since then. But I do think you’ve already suggested the excuse we could give- you’re just there to take a shift at watching him. No one else has to be around, but I could be there if it would help.”