by Kacey Ezell
“Miss, your order?”
“A pot of tea with two cups and a sampler plate of the small cakes and sandwiches,” Lucia requested.
The server returned with the plates and tea and set them before Lucia as she sat lost in thought, anxiety growing. Surely someone she knew was going to walk in the door at any second and see her in a tea house of ill-repute. Lucia avoided looking at the door and concentrated on writing in her notebook, scribbling thoughts and doodles as she waited.
“Good evening, Miss Delsarte. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” de Graaf said in a silken tenor voice, drawing Lucia from her thoughts. She looked up in the direction of the speaker. There, in an immaculate dark blue suit of the newest fashion among sailors, stood Johannes, with his overcoat draped over his arm. The cut over his eye had healed without a trace. He’d clearly fed well since their last meeting. In contrast to his earlier pallor, his complexion was now flushed pink with the hue of life. Lucia tried to put that aspect of his existence from her mind—the bite, the drinking of blood. It was easy enough, as he appeared to all indications utterly mortal before her.
“I wasn’t waiting long. I ordered tea. I assume you drink tea? Perhaps you don’t, I guess.” Lucia gestured at the seat across the table from where she sat.
“I would love a cup, thank you.” Johannes glanced over to Amelia.
“She isn’t going to cause trouble unless you do,” Lucia replied, a wry smile on her lips.
Johannes sat down while Lucia poured herself a cup of tea.
“I’ve been known to cause my share of trouble, but I wouldn’t dare cross your cousin. I just prefer other sustenance. Don’t let me make you feel awkward, please, enjoy your treats, they look divine. My mortal crew talk often of the culinary delights of each of our ports of call, a fondness for sweets they all share.” He nudged the plate closer to Lucia in a gentle motion.
“I want to hear tales of your travels. My family dragged me to the quartet, but I confess I prefer theatre and ballet. And you?” Lucia said as she picked up one of the sandwiches.
“I sail by the night sky with my crew. I’ve seen wonders, cities aglow at night, the oceans full of life. I can’t imagine any other existence. Sometimes it’s dangerous, like transporting that necklace. My ship is docked for an extra week or so for repair. I’ll have to find ways to occupy my evenings. Would you care to accompany me to another event more to your liking?”
Lucia blushed at his bold suggestion of night-time socializing, even as she knew he meant it in innocence.
“I’d like that, but I’m afraid it’s unlikely. I have a full schedule, and I’ve been told you’re not what you seem. So, pirates wanted the necklace? I do hope my father made good on covering the repairs.”
“I suspect someone tipped them off to the cargo onboard and to our route. I will sort the repairs, though I may have to negotiate with your father on that. It’ll be fine, nothing to worry over. We’ve been business partners for some time now because we’re both reasonable men. And you, what occupies your days in the city?” Johannes asked as he stirred his tea.
“I studied at Auclert Women’s University. World history, a few classes in philosophy, and linguistics. I attended, boarding on site, then moved home for a while. I opted to study further, and I now work in the city archives. I also tutor and lead classes now and then. When I go to the Eventides, I also teach the children there and offer general help. They do good work,” Lucia answered, suddenly uncomfortably aware she was babbling. “I’m surprised my father never mentioned me to you. Or you to me.”
“A very well-educated citizen! And he did; he speaks highly of you. He wished to protect you from the Immortals, and I didn’t pry. I respect the Eventides and what they do. Certainly, they provide needed services for the city. We bring them medicines and supplies on every sailing run and have done so for some time. Like you, I do my part.”
The conversation dimmed in the tea shop as a clatter of people stumbled in. Amelia glanced over at Lucia and Johannes and returned to her book. The candle lamp on the table flickered for a moment, sending shadows to shift across de Graaf’s face. Lucia watched the play of candlelight across his features.
“I’ve seen how you leave mortals. Bereft and ill. Broken. It’s very noble of you to bring medicine to help them.” Lucia said without malice, merely forthright.
“We’ve inadvertently harmed people, I know. Not intentionally, or rarely, at any rate. It’s not something we encourage, either. The Sources will recover. It does us no good to harm mortals; we would perish without what they give us. I wouldn’t have risen to captaincy if I couldn’t conduct myself in the ports of call. Your life and virtue are safe with me.” Johannes poured more tea for them both. Steam curled off the well-worn china cups.
“Yet it happens. What do you do when someone harms a mortal, a Source?” Lucia pressed on.
De Graaf looked down at his tea and contemplated his answer. “They face sanctions, the loss of a ship, or even execution, if need be. They’re stripped of privileges and freedom. Rest assured; they don’t walk away unpunished.”
* * *
The two talked into the night over the clinking of china and the din of other conversations until Lucia finally stared down at the empty plate and cups. Amelia walked over to their booth, book in hand. The expression on the young Sister’s face was clear, it was time to go.
“I hate to disturb you, but Lucia, we have to be going before they close the Compound Gate. Captain de Graaf, it’s been lovely. Safe travels, and have a good stay while in the city,” Amelia interjected into the conversation, polite and direct.
“Might I ask Miss Delsarte out to one of the court dances? I believe there’s one in two nights time. You’re welcome to join us. My treat.”
Lucia shot a look at Amelia. “Please?”
Amelia sighed. “Very well. I’ll sort it with your parents. Don’t hold your breath; they’ll keep you under lock and key around Immortals if they feel it necessary.”
“I know,” Lucia muttered. “There’ll be more than de Graaf there for them to pair me off with. That’ll be all they need to hear.”
“You refuse all the suitors they bring to meet you. They only want what’s best.”
“They want what’s beneficial to them. However, Captain, I shall see you again.” Lucia blushed as Johannes bowed slightly and brought her hand to his lips.
* * *
Piotyr had been a handsome man once, in his youth. But years of backbreaking toil at sea had weathered his fair skin and roughened his clear voice. He’d kept the twinkle of humor in his eyes, though, and even added to it as his travels showcased the world’s foibles wherever his ocean-going vessel carried him.
Another thing that hadn’t changed was Piotyr’s love of women. Fat, thin, tall, short, old, young, blonde, brown…Piotyr didn’t care. He loved them all. From the sway of their hips to the scent of their hair, women intoxicated him. No matter which port his captain sailed into, it was a sure bet Piotyr would be known at the local dockside brothel. By and large, the girls liked him, for he was a kind man and paid well.
For that reason, the first night Piotyr returned that summer was one of great merriment for the dockside girls and boys. Piotyr had brought friends, and his friends had brought gold. They began an epic carouse, complete with barrels of wine, cartloads of food, a seemingly unending supply of desire, and the coin to pay for it. It had been a good trip, apparently.
Unfortunately for Piotyr, all good things must come to an end. The morning after his triumphant return, he was found dead in his favorite Consort’s bed. The immediate cause of death wasn’t apparent, though his tongue was oddly swollen, and he had white lines, like the tracks of tears, running from his eyes to his chin.
* * * * *
Chapter 5
The sick started turning up the next night, as Amelia and the others were finishing their nightly prayers and ablutions. There sounded a frantic knock at the door, followed by more pounding that echoed do
wn the halls, while the brass bell at the door clanged with fury. Mother Ingrid and Brother Stephan were first at the door to find the mortal woman lying bundled in a woolen blanket, breathing in shallow rasps, deep in the grip of fever. Whoever had left her there was long gone into the shadows.
* * *
The young woman didn’t have a name. At least, not one she’d been able to articulate to the Eventides, and no name on anything in her carry bag. She’d simply appeared on their infirmary doorstep. Brother Henri carried the woman to the infirmary and let the Sisters take over her care, as they all fussed over what this could be—a portent of things to come, or a single case.
“Amelia, can you sit for a short while? We need to bring her fever down.” Mother Ingrid found Amelia by the kitchens and thrust a bowl and towels at her. “Sister Iris is bringing cool water, and someone will take over shortly so you can rest.”
A Consort for hire, judging by her clothes, Amelia mused as she sponged the poor girl’s forehead with cool water. She was a pretty thing, with bold features and red, wavy hair plastered to her head now in fever. She seemed to be Amelia’s age, but Amelia herself couldn’t recall seeing this woman at the docks during her time.
“Did you know her? She looks like she might have been a Source for some time,” Sister Iris asked softly as she went through the woman’s handbag once more.
“I don’t recall seeing her at the docks.” Amelia daubed a cool cloth on the woman’s brow.
“Maybe she’d come in on one of the NightShips or joined the trade after you’d left the docks yourself to join us. Another one fallen to the Immortals. If this is troubling, I can take over. You can get your rest.”
“I’m fine. I’d rather stay here,” Amelia replied softly.
“Nessa Corwin. From Glasgow. So very far from home, poor dear.” Sister Iris found a small piece of paper, worn from travel, having been folded and refolded.
Amelia whispered a thanks to the gods and goddesses for steering the woman, and Amelia herself, away from the Source trade.
That Lucia seemed besotted with the captain was worrisome. Surely Duke Delsarte wouldn’t conduct trade with a terrible man, but Amelia still couldn’t help the unease she felt in the presence of the Immortal man. Best to approach him with caution and keep a watchful eye as Lucia pursued his acquaintance.
“What’s happened here, Sister?” asked Brother Stephan, who ran the infirmary, as he approached. Amelia looked up and gave him a tiny smile. He didn’t return it, but then he never did. All business, was Brother Stephan.
“She was abandoned at the infirmary door,” Amelia said. “She’s hot to the touch and restless.”
“A fever?” Stephan asked, looking at the patient.
“That was my thought. She’s burning up and shivering, even after we took the heavy blanket away. You’d know better, of course.”
“Of course,” he said, without a single trace of irony. He reached down and turned the woman’s head to the side, exposing a half-healed bruise on her neck just above the shoulder. “Ah. She’s a Source, or at least a Consort who’s serviced Immortals in the past. Look at this bruising here. I shouldn’t wonder if she contracted something from one of them. Unsanitary, their feeding habits. Poor soul. I’ll have someone relieve you for supper and take on the overnight shift. With our care, she may yet recover.”
“Nessa. Her name’s Nessa. May the gods and goddesses heal her. Poor soul, to say the least,” Amelia murmured, her thought going immediately to her own past, to Lucia and de Graaf. She kept her silence and nodded in agreement with Brother Stefan.
Just then the woman began to thrash, deep in fever-dreams, and both Stephan and Amelia had to hold her down to prevent her from injuring herself. She cried out, too, with heart-rending terror in her voice. Amelia found her eyes filling with tears. Something had badly frightened the poor girl, and her fever seemed to have locked her inside the memory of whatever it had been.
Stephan’s eyes met Amelia’s with a grim acknowledgement. Neither of them said a word, but Amelia knew what he was thinking: this was, unfortunately, all too often the life of a dockside Consort for hire. And for one who would share her blood with an Immortal…well…they’d both seen how it ended up. This was simply one new evil visited upon those who had no defense.
* * *
Amelia returned to her room, tired and with a heavy heart, close to midnight. By the light of an oil lamp, she changed from her habit to bedclothes, hanging up her day wear, and slipping off her worn leather shoes. On her bedside table lay her Eventides guidebook and a fiction book Lucia had loaned her. Amelia ordinarily spent a few moments in reflection, and then did some reading, but the constant pace of nursing care lately left her bone-weary. She blew out the light and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
And in dreams she felt she was standing, looking over the black seas. Lucia was falling, wide-eyed and pale, hair floating out away from her, and she sank in those dark waters. She reached for Lucia. Blood stained the water, and from the depths she heard the sound of a child crying as Amelia fell, hitting the surface to drown next to her cousin, screaming.
* * *
Amelia woke with a shout and looked around in the room. Her roommate, Sister Beatrix, slumbered on. Nothing would wake her, save the crowing of the roosters at dawn, and she’d become accustomed to Amelia’s night terrors.
Amelia lay in the pre-dawn of the room and coaxed herself back to sleep, hoping de Graaf wasn’t another monster, as she recited Eventide incantations of comfort and calm.
* * *
Luce, I can’t make our appointment today. Something’s come up. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the latest and explain it all then. Please don’t do anything foolish. —Amelia.
Amelia signed her name to her hastily penned note and handed it over with a silver coin to the young man who often ran errands and did odd jobs for the Eventides. “Please take this to Delsarte House,” she said with a smile. “Quickly now, and I’ll save one of the best pastries for you to eat tonight.”
The young man flashed a bright grin at the Sister and headed off down the street. Amelia looked after him a moment longer, worried about her cousin’s reaction, then turned resolutely back to the tasks that awaited her within.
For Amelia, that was primarily nursing these days. The Consort’s strange fever was making its way through the dockside district of the city. For many of the poorer citizens, a private city-doctor’s care was far too expensive, so they made do with the nursing skills of the Eventide brothers and sisters. Amelia thanked their good fortune one of the brothers was a physician. Brother Stephan might be short of temper and blunt to the point of rudeness, but he was knowledgeable, and he did his best for those who came seeking care.
Since the previous evening, the number of care-seekers had tripled. The Eventides’ large infirmary was overfull, and makeshift beds had been set up in their main dining space. With so many needing time and attention, the Sisters and Brothers had forgone their large, communal meals. Not that she nor any of the others had much of an appetite.
The fever was prurient, and the scent of the white discharge that ran from the patient’s eyes, nose, and mouth seemed to cling stubbornly to Amelia’s skin and hair. She’d scrubbed her hands raw the night before in an attempt to get it off her. It hadn’t worked. The odor lingered.
Sister Beatrix and Mother Ingrid had brought in generous bunches of fall flowers and pine branches, setting them about to offset the scent of the sickness that permeated the air. When breathed in with the fresh air, the sharp, astringent pine fragrance worked as a momentary restorative.
“Sister Amelia, there you are,” a harried voice met her as she stepped through the great wooden doors into the converted dining hall. A set of bed linens was thrust into her hands, and she found herself drawn back into the controlled chaos.
Later that night, Amelia returned to her chamber at the end of her long shift and sobbed herself to sleep, too exhausted for the nightmares that h
aunted her still.
* * * * *
Chapter 6
Lucia laid out a dress and shoes with the help of Emme, her lady’s maid. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the next part of her task—confronting her mother. She went down to her mother’s study on the second floor of the Delsarte mansion. One last second’s hesitation, then she knocked on the door.
“Lucia, come in. Sit down. What’s on your mind?”
Lucia walked into her mother’s office, a contrast to Lucia’s personal rooms. Edith preferred a spartan space, with books and artifacts neatly organized on shelves, and thriving, lush plants along the table by the window. Edith had a practical, organized mind, reflected in her personal office.
“I accepted an invitation from de Graaf to see him at the theatre tonight, with Amelia. It was spur of the moment, and I felt it would be rude to decline such a generous offer,” Lucia rushed the words out, holding back the shaking in her voice.
“Oh?” Edith Delsarte paused in her accounts, pen hovering over paper. “At least you had the sense to arrange a chaperone for your own liaisons. I’m impressed we raised you that well,” Edith said sternly, yet Lucia saw her mother’s face soften, and a small smile still curled at her lips.
“Amelia was to accompany me to the theatre tonight with Captain de Graaf, but she just sent word she’s unable to do so, Mother. I humbly ask that you join me rather than stand the gentleman up. There will be others in attendance, good, upstanding mortal men to tempt me into a life of propriety.” Lucia sat in her mother’s study, feeling like she was a child pleading for a second slice of cake.
“De Graaf. The Immortal captain.” Lady Edith Delsarte put her pen down and closed her accounts ledger.