by Kacey Ezell
“Good heavens and saints, Sister Amelia! We were worried sick. The Clinic needs the medicines and—wait, Lucia? You’re soaked through. And who’s this?” Mother Claude spoke in clipped sentences as she ushered the sopping wet trio into the shelter of the hall and summoned a Sister passing by. “Bring some towels and tea, before these three wind up in the clinic.”
Johannes reluctantly pulled the hood of his cloak back from his face and stood before the Mother, looking contrite.
“You, Immortal, out!” Mother Claude pointed to the door as if Johannes was a recalcitrant stray dog.
“Good evening, Mother Claude. I’ll be on my way. I had to help Sister Amelia and Lucia with the boxes. They’re very heavy, and, as I gather, quite precious cargo. I only wished to help. Sister Amelia did warn me that I wouldn’t receive a warm welcome, and one is not expected. I bid you goodnight, and good health.” Johannes bowed in submission before her. Mother Claude’s sharp demeanor was of no offense. The Eventides had been displeased with the arrival of the Immortals, the growth of the Source trade, and the task of care that had been pushed upon them when no one else stepped forth.
A pair of Eventide Brothers in dark blue robes tied with gray sashes hefted two boxes of medicines and spirited them away. Johannes turned and walked to the door, dripping wet, and started to cross the threshold into the dark rainy night.
“Oh, for the love of small things. Fine, to the storage room and back. No more. Lucia, take this wrap so you don’t catch a chill; go get some tea and warm up, go. And Captain?” Mother Claude called out. Johannes paused and turned on his heel on the slick marble floor.
“Yes, Mother Claude?
“Come in. Bring the last two boxes to the clinic storeroom. Thank you for bringing the shipment in this weather. I’m trusting you to bring Lucia to her home, sans chaperone, and so help me if any harm comes to her, you’ll face my wrath.”
“Absolutely,” Johannes replied, a bemused smile at the corner of his lips. Lucia prayed that Mother Claude, with her terrible eyesight, would miss Johannes’ subtle reaction.
Sister Amelia cast a surprised look at Lucia as Mother Claude granted Johannes permission to follow with the medical supplies. The halls bustled with activity, Sisters and Brothers hurrying to duties and to contemplation in chapel. A few cast glances at the Immortal man on the premises, but rather than stare rudely, they bowed their heads and moved on silently.
“The supply boxes go here, in the storeroom. We’ll sort things out from here. Johannes, if you’re not in a hurry, may I impose upon you to stay a while? We have some other heavy lifting to do. Since you’re here, you can be useful. Rules aside tonight, the Brothers could use your help,” Mother Claude requested, distaste and desperation in her tone.
Johannes stopped in surprise. “But of course, anything you need. I was about to offer my own ship’s highly trained mortal medic for the duration of our stay in the city, as Sister Amelia mentioned you were short-handed. Marit is quite adept in her trade.”
Mother Claude’s mood lightened a bit. “Thank you, we would welcome any spare help. I’d be foolish to turn any offers down. Go with Brother Gaston and borrow a robe so we don’t ruin your suit.”
“And so I don’t stand out,” Johannes said softly. Mother Claude let slip a bemused smile before continuing her orders.
“Lucia, if you’ve time to stay longer, we could use a hand in the laundry or the kitchens. The Sisters on nursing duty need clean linens and a good meal. I’ll send a message to your mother that you’re working.”
Lucia stifled a sigh. Roped into work with the Sisters once more, but duty, a sense of obligation, and public service won her over. “Absolutely, Mother. I’d be happy to help.”
* * *
Lucia stifled a grin as she saw Johannes in his borrowed robes, and he did the same seeing her.
“You look quite dignified. You sure you won’t join the Order now?’ Lucia teased.
“If in some future they accept me as a novice, perhaps. I’ll come by and find you when they finally get sick of me, Miss Delsarte. I’ll see you home safely after we’re done, or your mother may well have my head.” Johannes waved and followed the Brothers to move more beds into the makeshift hospital ward.
Lucia watched him walk away, ‘til Amelia tugged at her sleeve hem. “Off to work. You can chat him up on the ride home.”
“What? I wasn’t—” Lucia protested.
“You were. Your face lights up every time he walks into your presence,” Amelia remarked. “It’s very plain to see. You’re smitten.”
“I have no plans to hand him my virtue on a silver platter. I simply enjoy his company,” Lucia confessed as she slipped on an apron in the massive monastery’s kitchen, and alongside Amelia, set to chopping vegetables and preparing broths and stews.
“What about Samuel, he was a nice man? Your parents approved of him, and he’s mortal, to boot,” Amelia asked as the heaps of vegetables never seemed to diminish under the chopping of their knives.
“He was nice, but I found him a little too stoic. He’d make a fine partner for someone who wants to stay at home and live a quiet life. He didn’t like reading, the theatre, or music. Or art. He was dull. Very, very dull.” Lucia shoved a heap of carrots into a stewpot and moved onto parsnips.
“Ah, and de Graaf is adventurous, colorful, rich, and oh-so-forbidden. You know if you skip off with him—and I know you’re thinking of it when you look at him—your parents would be horrified. You’d be disowned from the Delsarte fortunes. Don’t do it. What they promise isn’t what they deliver.” Amelia picked up a parsnip. “Ugh, I detest these things. Why do we grow them? Everyone picks them out of the food.”
“I haven’t packed my bags yet.” Lucia wiped her brow.
“Yet.” Amelia caught her cousin’s slip.
“I have to decide soon. I think my parents are about to marry me off to the next suitor who comes to the door bearing a ring and a promise,” Lucia admitted.
“Even if it was de Graaf?” Amelia asked.
“Well, except him. Yes, I’ve considered it, and I know it won’t happen. I just want to dream for a minute of more than what I’m told I should do.”
“Choose wisely, cousin. Follow your heart, but listen to your head,” Amelia replied.
* * * * *
Chapter 7
Lucia bustled around her suite after a long week of working with Amelia and at the museum. Emme had set the fireplace, warming the room against the early autumn chill. Methodically, Lucia set books back in their places on her bookshelves and turned her attentions to planning the next few weeks’ lessons for the Order’s small cluster of orphans, simple lessons in history. She sipped at a cup of tea as she worked and lost herself to the task before her.
A soft knock at the door broke her concentration.
“Come in, Mother,” Lucia called, recognizing her mother’s habit of a soft methodical rapping at the door.
“I should change up my knock; you know it’s me. Tonight we have a guest arriving, so set aside your work now and get dressed for dinner. That blue silk would be a nice choice.” Edith went to Lucia’s wardrobe and pulled the dress from its hook in the ornate oak cabinet.
“Who’s the guest?”
“A business associate,” Edith replied. “Come down shortly and help me with dinner.”
“Captain de Graaf?” Lucia inquired.
Edith paused at the threshold. “Just hurry down and put the day’s work aside for now.”
Lucia did as her mother bid, slipping into the dress and tidying her hair. A quick rummage in her modest jewelry box found black pearl earrings and a matching pearl pendant. That would do.
* * *
Down two flights of stairs, Lucia found her mother in the kitchen bustling about with the cook and main floor servant as they prepared the meal.
“Hurry and help Emme set the table. You look stunning, Luce.” Edith handed Lucia a handful of silverware bundled in fine cotton table napkins and p
aused only to adjust a stray lock of Lucia’s hair.
Lucia pondered who the guest might be as she helped Emme set the table with the full settings they reserved for honored guests. It wasn’t common for Duke Delsarte to bring home clients for dinner, but it wasn’t unheard of, either.
It could be Captain de Graaf, given recent events and his delayed departure from the city, but then, he didn’t dine as mortals did. Duke Delsarte wouldn’t invite an Immortal to something so awkward as a fine dinner, would he?
“Lucia, take the tea and wine to the formal sitting room; our guests will be here soon.”
Edith handed off a heavy silver serving tray laden with a teapot, a carafe of wine, and cups to Lucia and sent her daughter off to the sitting room. Lucia caught the sound of carriage wheels approaching the house and fought the urge to run to the window to catch a glimpse. In the front room Emme had set up the chairs and low table for guests. The cozy room with the heavy red and gold drapery glowed with the fire in the fireplace and some oil lamps placed around the room. Lucia had rarely been allowed in this room as a child, and still didn’t often venture in as an adult.
She set the tray down on the table and spent a curious few moments looking at the metal pitchers and sculptures, the old leather-bound books, and bric-a-brac from her father’s trading business that lined every nook, cranny, and shelf in the room.
“Our guests are here. Stand up straight and greet them. Straighten your skirts,” Edith fussed. Lucia stifled a laugh; her mother went into fretful mode every time they had guests.
“Mother, I know how to greet visitors,” Lucia chided gently.
* * *
Amelia was the first to be ushered into the room by the Delsartes’ day servant.
“Amelia?” Lucia exclaimed, confused.
“Yes. Your father sent the carriage and invitation to me yesterday, and here I am. I don’t know why I was called, but I took the chance for a break from the Order and the infirmary.” Amelia shrugged in her robe and head cover and hurried over to hug Lucia.
The quiet interlude between cousins was cut short as the rest of the dinner party walked into the room. Edith and Duke Delsarte walked in, followed by Captain de Graaf and one of his crew, a shorter blonde woman dressed in sailing garb of pants and a close fit jacket over a simple blouse.
“Oh, my,” Lucia blurted as she saw de Graaf standing in the foyer.
Duke Delsarte seemed bemused at Lucia’s reaction. “I’m told you’ve become somewhat acquainted. Friends, or more?”
Lucia cringed and looked at her parents, then de Graaf. “Yes, friends. I didn’t mean disrespect—”
Duke Delsarte held up a hand to stop Lucia, smiling as he did so. “I wasn’t asking for an apology, my daughter. Sit, dinner is not quite ready, and we have some matters to discuss beforehand.”
With a knot in her belly, Lucia took her seat next to Amelia on the settee. She watched as de Graaf and his companion took up seats across the table. The distance seemed a comfort at the moment. Curiosity, however… Who is this woman?
“Thank you for the invitation for me and my second in command, Delsarte. This is Marit, my ship’s medic. The other crew are all partaking of extended shore leave. Under the circumstances, they’ve earned it. And we’re here to sort out some business, I’m told.”
Duke Delsarte coughed to clear his throat. “Yes. There’s this matter of your interest in my daughter, and her interest in you, and not in a mortal suitor. I thought it high time to lay down some expectations that might benefit all of us and prevent some scandal.”
Lucia drew in a deep breath, anticipating her father’s next edict, that she couldn’t see Captain de Graaf in any capacity. Next to her, Amelia lowered her head in contrition.
“Duke Delsarte, it was my error in assisting Lucia to accept social invitations from Captain de Graaf. I should have put my foot down. I know better.”
Duke Delsarte waved off Amelia’s protestations with a friendly gesture. “You had the presence of mind to attend as chaperone. The matter at hand is less who you associate with, Lucia, but—”
“People talk,” Edith finished her husband’s sentence.
“Ah. We tried to be circumspect. I guess we failed,” Lucia replied.
There was a pause, a moment where everyone stared into their teacups.
“After much consideration earlier, when we found ourselves aware of this growing friendship, your mother and I have come to a solution,” Duke Delsarte broke the silence.
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Lucia asked.
Edith reached for her husband’s hand. “It’s apparent that both of you have struck up a friendship. Whether it should be anything more isn’t the point—or you’re headed well past that point. It matters not.”
Lucia winced, bracing for the bad news that she was about to be sent away to a relative’s, far from the Leeuwin.
“It hasn’t,” Lucia blurted and lifted a cup of tea to her lips to hide the blush creeping into her cheeks.
“Just keep it circumspect. And quiet. I trust Captain de Graaf, but others will surely talk if you’re seen cavorting on the arm of an Immortal, Lucia. That means not being seen flirting in the dockside taverns. Elidon and others have seen you two in company more than a few times. Mother Claude at the Order sent a letter, most shocked that you, de Graaf, seem to be spending considerable time around Lucia and Amelia. However,” Edith went on, giving her daughter a look that seemed almost mischievous, “she does commend your dedication to service.”
Lucia pressed her lips together, then smiled and gave her parents a nod to show that she understood. It was stupid, perhaps, but she could see the wisdom in trying to maintain at least the appearance of conformity with societal norms.
“That leaves the Order and de Graaf’s ship,” Lucia spoke with a laugh.
“Fine. The teahouse and Performance House, but use your good sense, clever daughter of mine,” Edith replied.
They were saved from further discussion on that awkward topic by the arrival of the first course. As the Delsarte family servants executed their tasks in a practiced, elegant fashion, Lucia found herself wondering if the captain would partake. She knew he drank liquids, but if his sustenance came from the blood of mortals, would he eat?
Lady Delsarte thanked the serving staff, which was the signal that the party may begin to eat. Lucia glanced at de Graaf as she picked up her fork, only to find him watching her with a small, amused smile. Without breaking the gaze, he lifted a piece of the fragrant, savory spiced bread to his lips and took a slow bite. The candlelight gleamed in his eyes, and he may have lowered one eyelid a fraction, in a slow, clandestine sort of wink.
“Lucia?”
Lucia started, then looked at her mother, who was watching her with an expression of exasperated affection.
“Did you hear a word I said, child?”
“Ah. No, Mother, I’m sorry, I was…distracted.”
Next to Lucia, Amelia snorted, choked, and then began to cough. Lucia kicked Amelia under the table, and then began to pat her back as she pretended solicitousness.
“I asked if you were as curious as I about the pirate attack. So bold of them to attack a NightShip! I’ve never heard of such a thing before,” Edith repeated for the benefit of her distracted daughter.
“Oh, yes!” Lucia said, “If it’s not too painful to talk about…I find I’m very interested, sir.”
“Not much to tell, really,” de Graaf said. “The pirates burst from behind cloud cover and fired on us with some new weaponry. We lost no crew, and we fended them off with skill. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first pirate raid on a NightShip in decades. I can’t even fathom what motivated them to try. Marit here is a credit to her trade. I should be very surprised if we see their like again, and certainly not this year. We sail this route once more before we move to winter routes down south, and the Sund takes the winter sailings. We’ll be more cautious in the future.”
The talk remained p
olite but inconsequential for the rest of the meal. Lucia barely paid attention to the discussion, as her thoughts whirled in gleeful excitement. She and de Graaf could continue their friendship! She would have the opportunity to hear the stories of his travels, learn about the fascinating technology of his airship…and get to know the man himself. If she was perfectly honest with herself, that was the most tantalizing and exciting bit of it all.
Lucia fairly skipped to her room after the guests had taken their leave. Her mood was a bit giddy. Her parents hadn’t forbidden her from seeing de Graaf socially. That could be enough. A weight lifted off Lucia’s shoulders. She hurried down the halls to her suite, her mind alight with the possibilities.
* * * * *
Chapter 8
Sister Amelia walked along the docks to the Source’s bunkhouse and rapped on the door at her destination. The wood decking under her feet squeaked, swollen by the damp air, and the rusting hinges of the door groaned in reply to the creaking docks. A maritime symphony of wear and tear and water.
“Yes, Sister. Come in.” The door opened a few inches, and a Source, a man, peered from the other side. His eyes were ringed dark, and his skin glowed pale. Serving the NightCrew appetites took it out of these poor souls. Amelia shuddered as unwanted memories floated to the surface. She knew all too well the risks and fates facing many Sources. The endless cold, the exhaustion. The dinners, fancy clothes, and coins for comfort offered. The craving for her client’s touch. And then the fall overboard, hitting the cold black water with a crash. Amelia couldn’t recall if she’d screamed all the way down. She shook her head to clear her mind. She drew several deep breaths, seeking calm, as she stepped into the main room of the Source’s spartan abode.
“I brought soaps, new linens, some baked goods, and toiletries for the ladies. Please, line up in an orderly fashion, and you’ll get the items you need. We might be a little short this week, so be patient. Brother Henri will be by to offer counsel as well. He was delayed.” Sister Amelia lifted her tote basket to the table as the Sources gathered round.