by J. K. Holt
“Why would you being there help?” Tess asked with genuine curiosity.
Dray shrugged. “We never got the chance to talk about it… all that Loren said, or might have done to you on the Blackbirder that night.”
Tess grasped the implication all at once. Dray had boarded the ship to find a brute cutting off Tess’s clothes before Dray promptly killed him. Now he wondered if Loren might have done something similar. He was trying to protect her from the pain of facing Loren again, alone, if he had in fact done something brutal.
She sighed, heavy with the burden of the memory but intent on putting his mind at ease. “Loren bruised my ribs. He planned on blurring me and then drowning me at sea, but clearly that didn’t happen, and that was on someone else’s orders. And nothing else happened beyond that.” She made sure he met her eyes so he could see the truth there.
“There’s also the matter of your mother,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m welcome at the bakery right now.”
Dray dismissed the comment. “Let me deal with her.”
Tess sat up straighter, mindful of the same ribs Loren had smashed. “I really have no idea if I can help. But I’ll try.”
∞ ∞ ∞
The clouds parted to reveal a luminous and full moon as Tess slipped out into the night just twelve hours later. She stopped to admire its singular and desolate beauty before continuing her solitary trek to the bakery. Mercifully, the wind had stilled, and as she strode through the empty streets, Tess was struck by the silence of the town. The buildings acted as a buffer to the ocean in this section of the village, and in the absence of the howling wind, Tess was mindful of the sound of her footsteps, and how her breath trailed behind her as a dissipating mist. She breathed in and out, gaining some peace from the repetition, and the brisk air invigorated her in ways that it hadn’t before tonight. Tess wondered if that might be due to the feeling that she was walking towards something, instead of away from it. For so long, it felt like her life had been orchestrated by the moment preceding her current state of being, forcing her destiny but never pulling her. Now she felt the pull.
Tess would do this for Dray, though she saw no point in it. She doubted there was any chance she could connect to Loren in that space in the same way she had for Dray. But Dray had asked her to try, and this was the least she could do. And she didn’t do it only for him, but for the others as well- Ashe and Emme, Fish, and even prickly Rosie. She couldn’t ignore their need and still claim to be their friend. She couldn’t.
So it was that she found herself on the stoop of the bakery in the still of darkness to have the door opened by Ashe, who filled the space with his height and aura. Dray’s younger brother, he was the easier to smile of the two, and he greeted her now with a kiss on the check and a bear hug that was both tight and mindful of her injuries. He set her down only to grasp both shoulders and smile in that wicked and contagious way of his. “Tess. You look good,” he said, winking, and Tess shook her head, grinning despite herself.
Ashe always lightened her mood, both his blessing and his curse- he was unwilling to reside in the darkness, as Dray had to, and as such they were divided, unable to connect over the more painful pieces of their lives. They shared a father who’d been blurred, but Ashe couldn’t visit the memory or the shell of his father by the docks- Dray shouldered that burden alone. Ashe lacked both the constitution and the fortitude for that pain. And Tess couldn’t blame him. As much as it was in its own way a flaw, Ashe was a bright light in the darkness, and that beacon did its own work, illuminating the dream that was there, just beyond sight, of an easier life.
Ashe was hope personified.
He gave her that warmth in the moment, enough to steady her for the task ahead, and she was grateful for it. He pulled her fully inside the store, taking the time to give her a more careful once over. “I’m glad to see you. We’ve missed you these past few days. Dray tells me you’ve come to help watch over our resident comatose prisoner. I’m sure mum and Emme will be happy for the break.”
At the mention of Tulla, Tess stiffened. “Who’s watching him now?”
“Mum. I walked Emme home hours ago with orders to get some sleep. They’re both exhausted. Come with me- I’ll show you where we’re keeping him.”
He led her through the double doors and away from the display cases that threw light from Ashe’s aura into tiny rainbows in the dim surroundings. Tess had only been to the back once before, and now she found herself led to the same room where they’d brought Tom Engles after he’d been blurred and laid his body on the floor. That was the day she’d met Dray, the day she’d first begun to realize that not all was as it seemed in this sleepy town.
Not much had changed in the room since then. A small cot had been hastily thrown together on the floor, tucked into a corner- Tess assumed the form of the person lying there, face turned towards the wall, was that of Loren. A few lanterns were lit in the space, enough to see by with or without another person and their aura present. And Tulla Reed sat in a small chair near Loren’s bed, hands in lap as she glanced up at Tess’s arrival and looked at Tess in a way that appeared both wary and hopeful.
“Mum, Tess is here to relieve you for a bit,” Ashe said. “Anything I can do before I go?”
Tulla kept her eyes on Tess as she answered. “No, dear, thank you. Where are you off to?”
“I’m meeting Dray for a pint at the Spilling Inn. Thought we might visit with Rosie for a bit.”
“Alright then. Go safely.” She spared him a loving glance as he left the room. “My sons,” she said, as though to herself. “Can a mother ever keep her children safe?”
Tess knew the question did not beg an answer, so instead she moved a few paces further into the room and waited for Tulla’s attention to return to her. When it did, Tess inclined her head towards the cot and asked, “How is he? Any change?”
Tulla frowned, the gesture highlighting the dark semicircles beneath both eyes. She seemed ancient in this moment, frayed at the edges by what Tess knew had been an exhausting week. Tess had played her own part in that, she knew. She wanted to talk with Tulla about their last conversation, but she knew she could not be the first to open the dialogue. She did not have to wait long.
“So,” Tulla said, “You say you can see us, our essence, our aura, whatever you call it. Correct?” She smoothed her pants absently with her hands as she spoke.
Tess nodded. “Yes, something like that.”
“And people who have been blurred, or are dead, no longer have that aura about them. Which is how you knew that Tom Engles had been blurred, before the others did. Correct again?” Tulla spoke plainly and without malice, but Tess was wary. Nevertheless, she answered with a nod.
Tulla harrumphed. “Then look at him, and tell me what you see.” She pointed at the prone form of Loren.
“Alright,” Tess answered. This she could do. She stepped to the head of the bed and kneeled, her hand flitting near the blankets before she pulled away. She didn’t want to touch him, if she could help it. She concentrated only on his aura, trying to get a feel for the weight of it, the solidness of it. “It’s still there. Which means he’s still there, at least in theory. But it seems dimmer than it should be.”
“And do you think you could tell me if it gets incrementally dimmer or brighter over the coming days?” Tulla asked.
Tess considered. “I think so.”
“Good.” Tulla stood as if to leave the room, but Tess stopped her.
“Does this mean you believe me?” she asked softly.
“Snails no, girl. But I’ve not chosen to disbelieve you either, which is saying quite a lot, given how absurdly impossible that story you fed to myself and Gowan was.”
“I suppose that’s fair.” Tess conceded.
Tulla regarded her with cool eyes. “Have you really only come here to watch him?”
Tess didn’t want to lie, but nor could she fully explain. “In a way, I suppose. I’ve come to help, I can promise that.”
>
“And Dray asked you to come?”
“Yes.”
Suspicion arose in Tulla’s face. “Have you chosen to tell him your story as well?”
“No, I haven’t.” Not yet, at least.
“Then tell me, why does he think you’ll be in a position to help?”
There had only been one (albeit, somewhat large) detail that Tess had left out of the story she’d told to Tulla and Gowan- the odd circumstances of her saving Dray mid-blur, pulling him back from the nothing. She’d not told it for the simple reason that what she’d learned about Dray had felt so intensely personal that to share that knowledge with others felt like a disrespect to Dray. But it was exactly this experience that had led Dray to thinking she could help.
She chose a half-truth in response. “Dray doesn’t know about me, or at least he doesn’t know the things I told you. But I think he’s… intuitive in some ways. He might think I may somehow be able to help, even if he’s not sure what exactly I could do.”
There was a pause as Tulla absorbed Tess’ explanation. She looked about to ask more but thought better of it, shaking her head. “You’ll tell me if you need anything. I’ll be upstairs,” she said as she departed.
Tess dropped into the chair, considering the task before her. For the first time, she spared a moment to look, really look, at Loren, not just his aura. His face had grown sharper since she’d seen him last, his cheekbones in stark relief against the milky pale of his skin. His brown hair, cut close, had a sheen of grease to it, and his breaths were shallow. He looked as though he was in pain, though if pressed, Tess couldn’t have said why. She found a cloth beside the cot and kneeled beside him, pressing it to his face.
She realized with a start that she pitied him, in this moment. This man who had bruised her, looked at her as if she was nothing, blurred Russ and tried to blur Dray- she could not muster anger when she looked at him now, small beneath the blankets and slowly wasting away. Ironically, she was mad at herself for not being able to hate him, as if it was some personal character flaw. She wondered how that feeling towards him might have changed if he’d been able to succeed in blurring Dray.
Visual inspection complete, she reached out with her hands and felt along Loren’s skull, carefully moving his head as she ran gentle fingers along it. She’d had a little first aid training, and she wanted to see if she could identify any damage that might explain Loren’s inability to wake up. She found a scabbed and bruised area along the back of his skull, presumably where Fish had hit, but the bone beneath it seemed intact, so far as she could tell. She pulled up both eyelids and checked his irises for any irregularities in contraction to light, also a sign of brain damage, but saw none. And this was as far as her medical training could help her.
Now for the difficult part. How could she enter into his mind, as she had with Dray? Since she’d never done it before or since then, she had no other experiences to rely on but that one. How exactly had it happened? Loren had used his machine on Dray, and when she’d reached him he’d already begun to fade. She’d grabbed his face with her hands and just… geez, who was she kidding? She had no clue how she’d done it. It had happened, in a moment of desperation. And Tess didn’t think she could recreate that feeling again, not for Loren.
She also wondered if it might be something that she could only do when someone was in the process of being blurred, as their aura was pooling out and away from their body. Maybe it was something in that moment that allowed her access to them, as the pieces of them were spilling out. They had Loren’s blurring device in their possession now, but the orb in it had been broken, by Tess as she had saved Dray, and she had no idea if it would work without it. Plus, that would be a desperate move, because there was no going back if it didn’t work- Loren would be as good as dead, with the amount of good he could do for them.
So, what could she do now? Borrowing the cushion from the chair, she settled it on the floor and lay down, using it as a pillow. Though she hadn’t wanted to touch him, she’d been holding Dray when she saved him, and she had a feeling the physical contact might be necessary. She ignored her discomfort, reached beneath the blanket, and withdrew Loren’s arm, clasping his hand in hers. She’d expected it to be clammy, but it was dry and rough. The lifelessness of it gave Tess goosebumps, but she kept her fingers grasped in his. Then she closed her eyes and tried to feel for him.
She spread out her awareness as far as it could go, trying to visualize the contact of his hand with hers, the touch of his aura. “Loren?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
She felt nothing, but pushed the disappointment aside. Keep concentrating, keep trying, that was the thing. And so she did, as the long minutes ticked by. She whispered what she hoped were persuasive encouragements, feeling for anything resembling the living beat of his aura, and moved her hand from his hand to his head, then back to his hand again, searching for something that might feel right to her.
She began to feel more and more like an idiot, like an imposter playing at magic. Only her desire to help with this tangible goal, and perhaps to prove herself to Tulla, kept her going.
Tess at last began to tire. Her head felt heavy and she was ever so slightly disconnecting from her task. Her grip on Loren’s hand loosened, and she felt the lightness that comes with sleepy dissociation. She felt something then, like a soft tug on her consciousness, in Loren’s direction. She followed it, curious, but it ended as soon as it had begun, disappearing. Tess tried to recreate the sensation, again allowing herself to tire and again feeling the slight tug. But try as she might, she couldn’t follow it- it ended somehow, like she couldn’t follow the thread in the dark. It was maddeningly frustrating.
When Dray finally slipped in, Tess was sitting up, glaring at Loren as if he was personally responsible for her current predicament. She stood slowly, aching from her hours on the floor, and gave Dray a look that said don’t ask. He walked her home silently.
Tess needed time to think.
Chapter Two
Tess loved the Muddy Gull. She loved the battered wood floors, the musty and worn old things that cluttered the surfaces. She loved the minty and medicinal smells that wafted from the display cases and the way the light spilled in through the amber windows. As humble as it was, she even loved her little cot, her lamp, and the small chest Gowan had pulled from storage to keep her clothes and treasures within.
But even the most beloved places begin to feel claustrophobic when one is cooped up in them for too long, and the Gull was no exception. Tess needed space to think things through, away from customers and the prying, albeit caring, eyes of Gowan. She needed fresh air, and open space. She’d normally go to the docks, but today the ocean seemed too intimidating in its vastness. So instead, when she slipped from the shop, Tess turned west.
Wharfton’s streets shifted from their rigid and parallel pattern, becoming lazier in their ramblings as she neared the edge of the row houses and shops. The cobbles loosened, giving way to tight dirt and ruts carved by the wagons that rolled in and out of town. Buildings, less abused by the ocean winds and constant salt air, seemed a bit less ragged in comparison. Tess wondered who lived out here, on the outskirts- not the fishermen, who would want to stay close to the docks. Perhaps well-to-do shopkeepers, or magistrates. She still knew so little about her foster home and the people who lived here.
She kept walking until she found herself among houses interspersed with farmland. A few cows and horses grazed in the open grasses, and the sight was initially a little odd to Tess. She hadn’t been out this way since the day she arrived in this world, and she’d nearly forgotten there was more to the area than the tight streets and marketplaces that surrounded her small little microcosm of a world. She rambled until she found a mossy and low-lying stone wall, separating two fields that were now empty in the winter months.
Tess sat with her back against the cold stones, watching the horses in a nearby pasture as they whinnied and pranced, playful in the cold. She’d taken a
few horseback riding lessons ages ago, back when a few friends were “horse-people” and she’d begged Maggie to let her learn. Truth be told, she’d loved it, until she’d overheard the riding instructor telling Maggie how much she owed him for the sessions. Tess feigned a fear of horses from then on- they’d had better uses for the money, but even back then she’d wanted to spare her mother’s pride.
Here, apart from the town and the frenzied bustle, Tess found that she could breathe. She tilted her head back, watching her exhalations curl from her mouth in small white clouds, and considered. It was quiet here. With the town as a buffer, the continuous thundering of the ocean was absent, and in its place, smaller, more modest sounds could be heard- the warble of a winter bird, the beating of the earth as the horses galloped along their enclosure. But in the gaps between the cadence of sounds, it was silent.
Slowly, Tess allowed her own thoughts to trickle into the quiet spaces. In her single-minded pursuit of the truth of how she had come here, she’d effectively blocked out other thoughts that would have muddied the waters, distracting her from her objective. But now, she’d been reminded.
She had friends here now. They’d pulled her into their orbit part through chance, part through intention, but regardless, she was now entangled in their lives, as they were in hers. And they were hurting. The lampreys, a vast and hidden network of insidious people, slipped in and out of the lives of these townsfolk, blurring as they went, an effective way of erasing any pesky witnesses, all the while blaming a factitious illness- a most convenient excuse that allowed for all manner of misdeeds, including cordoning off all fishermen from the Sea Dimple.
What were they hiding? Tess was as desperate for answers as the rest of them. They’d hit a nerve when they started poking around, looking at the old records- enough that Russ had been blurred, and Tess herself had nearly been killed. What she’d seen aboard their ship raised a thousand more questions- who were they working for? What did they want at the Sea Dimple? Why the necessity for secrecy? The curiosity swelled within Tess, and her frustration at the lack of answers pulsed in response.