by Kacey Ezell
“I don’t mind if they talk about me. My apologies, however. Are you at least having a good evening? See any suitable bachelors that haven’t stepped on your toes or whispered wild tales of sitting by the fire mending all their torn trousers?” Johannes teased as he and Lucia whirled on the dance floor. Her pulse raced under his touch.
“They’re tolerable, so long as the wine’s flowing. I’m of a mind to leap on the next ship out if that gets me away from these interminable events. And yes, I am enjoying myself now with a gentleman who can dance properly,” Lucia said.
“My ship waits at the ready should you need it,” de Graaf replied as they danced.
“I’ll keep that in mind. So tempting to run down to the shore and take in the cool air. It’s stifling in this dress.” Lucia fanned herself, to little avail.
“That gown looks ravishing on you. Blood red is a divine color, and I guess it hides the wine spills.” Johannes winked at her slight flush of embarrassment. “Yes, I saw that gentleman as he slopped his wine glass about.”
They danced on. Lucia’s mind swirled with comments, but she could barely breathe. De Graaf held her in his arms, and she forgot the stares of the crowd as they danced.
“This will end too soon. I may be able to sneak away for one more dance with you, but in case I’m hurried away, this has been the highlight of my evening,” Lucia whispered in de Graaf’s ear, her lips close to his skin as she rose on tiptoe to speak.
“And if you ever feel the need to flee to adventure and foreign lands, there’s an open bunk on the Leeuwin for you. And not in my cabin, either, though you’d be welcome there. We’ll dance on the top deck in the ocean air, and you in your dress,” de Graaf replied with a chaste kiss across the back of her hand and a deep bow as they parted.
Lucia didn’t get her second dance with Captain de Graaf. Over the crowd they stole looks, but nothing more, as Edith Delsarte kept a steady line of suitors at the ready.
De Graaf left shortly after midnight, as the party came to an end, and comforted himself with the memory of Lucia in his arms.
* * * * *
Chapter 10
An evening later, de Graaf looked up from his desk in his suite on the Leeuwin as Marit rapped on the doorframe.
“Sir? Duke Delsarte’s here asking for permission to board. Florian is off—well, I don’t know exactly where, getting provisions from the brewery I think.”
“Ah, bring him in. Wait, I’ll go see to him myself,” Johannes replied.
At the gangway, Etienne Delsarte stood looking up at the ship and the state of repairs.
“I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement. The workers have done a fine job.” De Graaf gestured for Etienne to board. He strode up the gangway to the ship, gripping the rail as the Leeuwin swayed in the breeze.
“I appreciate that. You’ve done the NightShip service proud. No crew or cargo lost in how long?” Etienne ran his fingers over the polished wood as de Graaf led him to the navigation deck. Delsarte grinned, the view was a favorite.
“Almost a century,” de Graaf answered. “Not a single lost soul under my watch. Wait here a moment, please.”
Delsarte walked around the empty room, past the ship’s massive steering wheel, to the windows looking out toward the open sea. “I can see why Lucia’s so drawn to this place. Perhaps…” he spoke to the empty room.
“Perhaps what?” de Graaf spoke behind Etienne.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself. Are Edith and I making a mistake, letting Lucia associate with you, hoping she’ll stay in Marinport? I see what’s become of Sylvain, Lissette, Matthias, and what happened to Amelia, and I don’t want that to repeat. If she stays, she could be lured in by other Immortals. If I let her go with you, I risk her reputation.” Delsarte gripped the ship’s wheel.
“You sent her off for extensive education, and she knows what lurks over the next curve of the horizon. It seems out of character for you to contemplate keeping her here. If it’s by her choice, I’d love to have her aboard. We on the Leeuwin could use her historian’s mind, and I’ve found I enjoy her company immensely. But it’ll be her choice, not ours, and I await my fate,” de Graaf replied. “Here, a travelogue from a former crewmember. She may want to read this before trading silk gowns for shipboard cottons.”
Delsarte took the small leather-bound journal de Graaf offered.
“I’ll pass it along. The night grows long, my day is at an end, and yours is just starting, so I’ll take my leave. I only came to check my warehouses, and I saw you on board. I need to tend to my own business and get home, before Edith serves me a cold dinner.”
* * *
Duke Etienne Delsarte bolted the door on the storehouse at the docks and bid goodnight to the guardsman.
“Thank you, sir,” the duke said as he handed the man a few coins for his loyalty. “The Sund’s cargo has been loaded, and there should be nothing more forthcoming. Thank you for staying late for me.”
“Certainly, sir.” The guardsman tipped his head toward Delsarte and pocketed the coins.
Delsarte’s path back to the main road led him past the Sources’ bunkhouse. The duke tried to avoid staring at the pale, tired figures that loitered around the house, but the way they huddled over the thin warmth of the lanterns, sipping from bottles, and watching the seas for incoming ships, pulled at his compassion. For their sake as much as his own, he hoped more NightShips would soon arrive. For him, it might mean a lucrative shipment. For these wretched souls, however, the NightShips meant a chance for a warm bed and a meal.
Matthias Elidon sat there with his colleagues in the ill-respected trade. He looked too lost in his bottle to notice Delsarte passing by. Funny that Remy had claimed he hadn’t seen Matthias at the docks for some time. Matthias was nearly always there, and often seen boarding the Leeuwin. But then, Remy had a tendency to mask the truth. Especially when the truth reflected poorly on himself.
Delsarte stopped in his walk, frowned, then backtracked to the Sources. He paused for a moment, then set a few coins down in front of Matthias.
“Go see a medic and get a good hot meal. You look on the verge of perishing.”
Matthias looked up with dark eyes rimmed red with a lack of sleep and too much wine.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. Delsarte thought the poor boy probably didn’t even recognize him. What a shame. What a waste of youth and promise. The duke walked away, feeling equal parts gratitude for his own children, and distaste for a man who would abandon his son thus.
At the entrance to the dockyards, several of Delsarte’s business colleagues waited for carriages to take them home to comfort, dinner, the arms of their loving families, and the warmth of homes.
Except Remy.
“Rumor has it Lucia’s been seen on the Leeuwin. You condone this after what they did to Amelia? To Matthias? For shame. She could be the prize of any bachelor in the city, and you’re turning your eye away from this? Her reputation will be in question, and you won’t find a suitor with so much as a one room shack to his name for her as his bride. I suppose you have a plan, but I’m questioning your sanity.” Remy smirked as he waited alongside Delsarte.
“Lucia’s not interested in being married off, and I see no need to push her. You have bigger concerns, your son is down at the docks, wine-sick, cold, and starving, and you dare meddle in my affairs? I daresay you have no place to judge. I gave the man a few coins for comfort, which is more than you, his own father, has ever offered. If rumors are true…” Delsarte said in a clipped tone. Remy had a volatile temper, and Delsarte’s words seemed to goad it. That wasn’t the duke’s intent, but he found he didn’t mind. Let this poor excuse for a man get angry if he would. Delsarte spoke only the truth. What harm could Remy do to him?
* * *
“Ah, Miss Delsarte, no chaperone tonight?” Johannes looked around for Amelia as he arrived at Lucia’s booth in the Oliphant and Rose.
Lucia set her tea down and closed her book. “No chaperone. I’m
free to see you.”
“That you are. I have no intention of abusing your father’s trust in either of us. He made his expectations clear, and it wouldn’t suit me to evoke his wrath.” Johannes sat down across the table from Lucia, poured a cup of the spicy tea, and breathed deep.
“Oh, if I could find a way to impart blood with such spice. Few things flavor the blood like this.” He raised the cup to Lucia by way of a polite toast.
“Dare I ask what does flavor blood so?” Lucia grinned.
“Ah, no. I won’t tell you here and now. Your father will have my head if I keep telling you tantalizing tales of vice and lust,” de Graaf replied.
“Don’t let my father frighten you. He trusts me to choose my own boundaries of conduct,” Lucia said with a slight involuntary shiver. Johannes had reached across the table and now gently caressed the palm of her gloved hand. He smiled at her reaction, flashing a bit of predatory fang under his smile before threading his fingers through hers. She felt her heart rate accelerate, and senses low and dark in her body seemed to ignite at his touch.
“He told me of the necklace’s fate. It’s just as well. It was a bit bold for my tastes, though it was beautiful and well meant.”
“It looked astounding on you. I’d settle for that being all you wore.”
Lucia gaped, then laughed as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Too bold! That necklace can go back to Paris or wherever. In its case. You, sir! That was a daring statement.”
“I apologize. I’m used to being more forthright with my crew. No offense meant.” Johannes summoned a server with a gesture, though he didn’t release Lucia’s hand. “Some more of this tea, please? And whatever the lady would like.”
“Nothing more for me, I’m fine. Thank you,” Lucia replied.
“So, to what do I owe the honor of the invitation?” Johannes asked as the server placed a fresh pot of tea down on the table.
“I wanted to see you. A chance to talk, unchaperoned. Sister Amelia’s working; I just came from the Order. I had to drop off some donations my family had gathered up.”
“Amelia’s devoted.” De Graaf sipped at his tea. “So young to dedicate one’s life to the Order.”
“She’s had an uneasy life. Her parents perished some years ago, and she turned to Sourcing for a short while, before taking the vows of Sisterhood. The Immortals she worked for didn’t treat her kindly. She’s happy now, and I owe the Eventides for saving her,” Lucia replied.
Amelia had turned up at the Eventides, broken, bleeding, traumatized, near dead. Lucia had spent weeks at her cousin’s bedside.
“I would almost have joined, but I don’t think I’m entirely cut out for a life as a Sister.”
“And after all that, you come to me. You’re not afraid of my kind?” De Graaf folded his hands on the table and watched Lucia intently.
Lucia stared him down.
“Should I be? I think you have every reason to ensure my safety. I think, given your allegiance to my father, I’m quite safe.”
“I don’t harm my Sources. They’ve no need of protection by third party. I was about to head to my ship, check the progress of repairs, and bring some provisions aboard. I hate to cut the night short,” de Graaf said.
“No need to. I’d like to see the Leeuwin. May I accompany you?”
* * *
Outside, the streets smelled of fresh salt sea air, the lingering warmth of day, and something Lucia couldn’t place. The clear night sky had turned hazy.
“A fog rolling in?” Lucia asked. “I didn’t think it was the weather for fog.”
Johannes looked around.
“That’s not fog. That’s smoke,” he said slowly, a frown growing on his face. “From the warehouses. I fear our pleasant evening isn’t going to end so well. I better see to the Leeuwin immediately.”
A few streets over, flames snapped at the night sky, and people rushed to help with buckets and tubs, lining up in bucket brigades as the fire consumed warehouse after warehouse. Lucia rushed to join them, but de Graaf held her back.
“I have to move my ship, the fire’s close to the repair docks. I’ll come find you. I can’t be that close to the fires.” De Graaf scanned the waterfront. Large embers drifted through the night sky, carried on the wind down to the water with the billowing smoke. The stench of burning materials saturated the air. Lucia hesitated, not wanting to leave de Graaf. She remembered what she’d been told about Immortals, that they couldn’t handle flame.
It was one thing to shy away from a small candle or a fire in a fireplace. The blinding red and gold inferno of the warehouses going up would give any sensible person pause. Even more so when that person was Immortal. De Graaf no doubt felt the urge to get as far from the conflagration as possible.
Lucia couldn’t delay him, so she stepped away to give him his leave as he eyed the flames with pronounced unease.
“Stay safe,” she called over the sounds of shouting and clanging bells summoning the city’s residents for help.
“But of course. You, too. Come back to the Leeuwin if you need rest.” De Graaf leaned over and kissed her cheek in a spontaneous gesture. Then he hurried off toward the docks, leaving Lucia at the curb. She had little time to savor the kiss. Someone thrust a tin bucket into her hands.
“Miss, we need all spare hands. Come along. Even Sources, everyone.”
“I’m not—” Lucia said, but the man who addressed her wasn’t listening, only pointing to a spot in the line she should join. Lucia did as she was told and hefted buckets as they were handed to her. A never-ending stream of buckets passed down the line. Sea water slopped over the edges, saturating her dress and wrinkling her fingers. Before long, the cold, wet fabric clung to her skin, and smoke and ash settled into her hair. Another bucket. She handed off one only to turn and grab the next.
Her thoughts drifted as fatigue set in. Had someone set it? Who would do such a thing? Would it raze the city? Had de Graaf made it to safety?
As the hours wore on, she continued to hand off every full bucket. Her arms and back screamed for relief as soot and embers fell around the water brigades. It seemed hopeless. Warehouse after warehouse caught, each one accompanied by the sinking knowledge that yet another fortune, yet another life would be ruined tonight, her father’s very likely among them. Anguish twisted within her, but the tears didn’t flow, she was so parched. A younger trio of citizens came by offering fresh cold water, a small cupful for each person down the line. It wasn’t close to enough as Lucia gulped it down, cold and clear, but she resisted begging for more.
* * *
The fire was down to smoldering wisps by sunrise. The stench of burning settled over the city. The ruined dock warehouses were now a pile of burnt timber and not much else. A few people continued to heft water on the ashes, putting out the hot spots. Citizens wandered the streets in shock, exhausted, finding their way to rest. The streets in the warehouse and dock district were piled high with debris and mud for blocks in either direction. In the distance people called out, searching the ruins for survivors. Such devastation. Lucia choked back dry-eyed sobs, seeing her beloved city so charred and ruined.
“Miss, go home. The fire’s out. It’s over now.”
“I’ll do that, thank you,” Lucia muttered, distant. She ached, the stench of burning wood clinging to her dress. She glanced down the roadway. It was much too far to walk to find a carriage, and none could be seen. Turning back to the harbor, she spotted the masts of several ships a short distance away. She trudged in that direction, searching along the row of ships floating at their mooring masts. Sirene, Concordian, Northstar, Sund, Leeuwin. There it was at the far end of the line, a rough tarp thrown over its side.
“Sir, I’m a friend of Captain de Graaf. We got separated in the fire. He’s all right, I presume?” Lucia called to the airship crewman with a hoarse yell.
“Come this way. You’re the Source? He was expecting you. Some of the embers fell and burned him. He’s alive but needs sust
enance.”
Lucia startled. “Sir, I’m no Source. I can’t help him.”
“Let her up, Florian. She’s a guest. Lucia, come aboard.” De Graaf appeared at the top of the gangway in black linen trousers, bare feet, and no shirt. Angry red burns stood out on the pale skin of his back, shoulders, and arms. Florian stepped aside as Lucia hurried past. She tried to avert her eyes from de Graaf, sneaking only the quickest curious look at the man, fascinated by his lean muscled frame and alabaster skin.
Just a quick look.
“The roads are blocked. I came to check on you, and I’ll just walk my way to where the roads are clear.” Lucia rubbed her eyes. “Is your medic aboard? Someone should tend to your burns.”
“Marit is helping the fire victims with the Eventide Sisters. Come, before someone sees you. This is my beloved ship, the Leeuwin.” Johannes gestured around him. Lucia found herself overwhelmed. Brass rails and fittings gleamed against the pale, polished wood of the ship. Doors and halls led off in all directions.
“I’m going to be lost onboard forever,” Lucia remarked from the vantage point of the steps.
“You plan to return often?” de Graaf teased, grimacing as his injuries pained him. He turned Lucia around and led her down the stairs.
“Perhaps,” Lucia replied with a sly smile. “We’ll see.”
“Down the corridor that way are the passenger cabins and storage, but they’re currently under repair. My cabin is straight to the back and up the only set of stairs. Can’t miss it.”
Lucia followed along, trying to get her bearings. Curiously, the bannister running the length of the room was only half-carved.
“Marit and Jacoby started engraving it on our longer voyages. I suppose I have to keep them on ‘til they finish all of them now,” de Graaf explained. Lucia ran her hand over the intricate carving of flowers, animals, and sea life being worked into the wood.