by Kacey Ezell
“I hope you’re right.” Lucia watched Marinport shrink away as the Leeuwin sailed. A knot of unease formed in Lucia’s belly. Unease or anticipation, she couldn’t be entirely sure.
De Graaf handed off the helm to the second officer, an Immortal like himself. “Thank you, Aida. I’ll take the second half of the shift; I just have some business with our guest. I’ll be in my cabin. Send Florian if you need me,” he directed.
* * *
Inside Johannes’ cabin and alone once more, Lucia handed him the letter addressed to him. “From my father, for you. I didn’t read it.”
Johannes opened the letter and read silently as Lucia peered at the spines of the books on the bookshelf, then wandered to the window to watch the city vanish over the horizon. After a few moments, he spoke.
“Your father’s entrusted your safety to me, with payment for passage. I’m encouraged to keep my personal distance, but he understands we have something of a relationship. I’m threatened with perhaps a staking if I overstep your bounds, however you define them. And have a safe trip. Ah. I think we can manage that.” Johannes set the letter aside. “Your father is most modern and trusting, and rightly so. How are you feeling? I’m terribly sorry you got stuck on the wrong side of the blockade. That was unforeseen. That goat of a man Remy should be ashamed. There’s a reason I’ve never done business with the Elidons. Matthias…Matthias was a good man.”
Johannes poured a heavy mug of dark rum and handed it to Lucia. “Marit told me about the scene at the docks. I’m mortified. I hope you weren’t harmed.”
“Is,” Lucia replied, “Matthias is a good man. And I’m fine, only shaken up. I’ll have a stiff drink and a rest, and I’ll enjoy the sailing. Since I’m stuck here, I might as well appreciate it.”
Johannes sat down on the long chaise next to Lucia. “That’s the spirit. So, we have four nights at sail, a stopover in Paris for cargo, and three nights of leave in port. You and Marit can replace your dress, and she’s talked of needing new work clothes. We’ll show you the city and sail you home, and by then, I hope this absurd cordon is lifted, and you can be working with Amelia at the Eventides after only a fortnight away.”
Lucia sipped her drink. “They’re scared and angry. The plague, and, you have to admit, a good number of our citizenry seem to be down at the docks plying a trade to your kind and coming to unpleasant ends. Sylvain, Lisette, Matthias. You didn’t think anyone would notice?”
Johannes sighed. “We thought we were being circumspect. And until the plague, it seemed fine. There’ll be changes in how things are run at the docks. This should never have happened. I don’t even know how it spiraled out of hand so fast.”
“A confluence of unfortunate luck. It’ll all blow over, like the storms in winter. By spring, this will be a distant memory. Elidon will get his son back, and the ships will sail. The citizens won’t stand for going without their perishables, luxuries, and remedies for long.”
Lucia stared at her mug and drained the rest of the drink. “I hope so.” She rose to her feet and walked over to the windows.
“Better view from the top deck. Come with me,” Johannes suggested as Lucia wobbled.
“The rum went to my head. As long as you assure me I won’t go overboard, I’ll go with you,” Lucia replied.
“But of course. Here, take this coat. It’s a little cold outside.” Johannes handed Lucia a heavy wool coat. Lucia slipped it on and followed him through the quiet ship to the upper deck steps. She waited as Johannes unbolted the door, then took his hand and followed him hesitantly onto the expansive deck. Behind and above them, the Navigation Room’s windows gleamed in the moonlight. A shining brass rail wrapped around the deck, and far above, the massive balloons that held the ship aloft rippled in the breeze. A few wooden supply lockers and neatly coiled cables lay on the deck itself.
“Look, the moon. The stars. Off to the left, that’s France, Spain, and Portugal if we sailed further on. Over that way is England. Those bright lights low in the clouds are other NightShips. And below, the ocean-going vessels. I come out here often just to bask in the silence and watch the world go by.” Johannes pointed to the various features of the night sky.
“It’s so quiet. No one yelling.” Lucia turned to face Johannes. “I’d stay out here every night if it wasn’t so cold.” The ship wobbled a bit in the wind, and Lucia’s legs felt the effect of the rum. Johannes moved quickly, holding fast to Lucia with an arm around her waist, and pulled her close.
“Any time you like, I’ll come with you so you can feel safe that you won’t fall overboard. We can drink tea and watch the world go by,” Johannes suggested.
Lucia looked at Johannes as he moved his hand to the small of her back, and his other hand slid down her leg. She stilled his hand with regret as her heart raced at the memory of his touch.
“Stop right there. Not here on the decks,” Lucia warned him and kissed him lightly on the lips. His lips, as her own, tasted of the sweetness of the rum. He broke the kiss as quickly as she’d instigated it.
“Lucia—” Johannes started. “The other night—”
“I regret nothing. My mother knows; she expected it. We’re no longer talking about virtue on this ship. Kiss me.” Lucia grinned. She pulled him close, and he enthusiastically responded. Lucia’s tongue grazed his fangs, a reminder that her suitor was, indeed, not a mortal man. Wary of those sharp teeth, they kissed as de Graaf’s hand slipped up the inside of her thigh, scandalously high this time, in a passionate embrace under the stars.
Lucia didn’t want to stop him this time, yet an ingrained sense of propriety took over. She held his hand at her thigh to savor the touch of him for a moment.
“It’s quite chilly, and I’m going to return to my cabin, alone, before I catch a fever from being out on the decks.” Lucia licked her lips, and her cheeks burned red with desire.
“If you returned to my room, it would get all out of hand again,” Johannes replied as he opened the door to the interior.
“I’ll give it some consideration, in that case.” Lucia crept down the steep, narrow steps. It wasn’t far to her cabin, and Johannes paused at the door, but didn’t come in until Lucia gestured for him to step inside.
“I didn’t mean to badger you. I only miss your company and would welcome your affections as you see fit,” de Graaf replied as he pulled up the room’s only chair and sat down. “I overstepped again.”
“I want to. I would let you bite me, and let it go from there willingly. However, I’ve had a trying day, and I need some time to sort out my own thoughts. I’ll come find you,” Lucia replied. “Good saints above, I want to, don’t get me wrong.”
“I’ll dream well on those words. Sleep well, and I must attend to the business of being a captain. ‘Til tomorrow evening, Lady Lucia.” Johannes rose, and they shared one more kiss that lingered even longer, promising everything.
Her face red with desire and a racing heart, she bolted the door shut behind him as he left, fingers fumbling over the brass latch. She wasn’t lying about her fatigue. She slipped into her nightclothes and into bed, lulled to sleep by the gentle sway of the ship as it powered through the air on its way to safer shores.
She woke at sunrise, light streaming in the small porthole window of her cabin. She ached with lingering temptation to find de Graaf but satisfied herself with making him wait ‘til they were at least a day’s sail out of Marinport.
* * * * *
Chapter 16
“Father,” Matthias rasped, blinking, as the Elidon armsmen finally allowed him into this father’s office. The young man pushed his wasted form past the burly, frowning pair and their deadly pikes. They weren’t worth his notice. He was once again the Elidon Heir.
“My son,” Remy said as he looked up from his ornate walnut desk with a thin smile. “You’ve returned. Do you have the price of your return, that which will return our fortunes to better days?”
“I do, sir,” Matthias said. He tried to draw himsel
f up straight, but the action irritated his cough. He doubled over again until the wracking spasms stopped. A grimace of distaste crossed Remy’s face, and he oh-so-casually raised a perfumed handkerchief to his face.
Matthias forced himself to drag in one long, slow breath, and then another. His recent fever, coupled with inhaling clouds of smoke from the warehouse fires, had ravaged his lungs, just as his addiction to rum and Bliss had ravaged the rest of him.
But that’s all over, he reminded himself. De Graaf had fled town, leaving Matthias as if he was nothing and no one. Matthias blinked red-rimmed eyes and once again forced himself upright, shoulders back as he’d learned to do at the Naval Academy.
“I do, Father,” he said again and reached inside his filthy doublet to pull out a scrap of fabric wrapped around something roughly the size of a child’s palm.
Remy used his handkerchief to take the package from his son’s hand, and with trembling fingers unwrapped the filthy rag. He inhaled slowly and lifted the emerald to the window. The afternoon sunlight, weak though it was, shone on the gem and ignited the deep, verdant fire that waited within.
Remy’s mouth dropped open slightly, and he closed his eyes as if uttering a prayer of thanksgiving. He closed his hand about the emerald, and when he opened his eyes, true joy shone from within.
“Thank you,” Remy said to his son. He reached down and twisted one of the branches on the ornate candelabra that stood upon his desk. Matthias blinked as a small drawer sprang open, and Remy carefully put the stone inside.
“Denis, Georges, take this piece of human filth and lock him away in our deepest cellar,” Remy said, his voice still suffused with the joy of rediscovery. “I never want to see him again. My son is dead; I have no son.”
As the two burly armsmen stepped forward and grabbed Matthias’ arms the young man simply gaped and struggled in their grip.
“Father, no!” Matthias shouted, gasping for breath, unable to believe what was happening.
“I have no son. No son of mine would sell himself to Immortals for comfort and rum, and throw away a good life for baser lusts,” Remy said and gave a nod to the armsman on the right, who responded by driving a meaty fist into Matthias’ stomach, causing the young man to double over again, wheezing for air. Tears filled his eyes and began to stream down his cheeks as the horrible reality of the situation set in.
Matthias couldn’t even find it in himself to struggle as they dragged him away.
* * *
The servant lingered by Matthias Elidon’s bedside as sickness raged through the young man’s body. Jerome, the upstairs servant, daubed at Matthias’ feverish brow with a cold cloth, but it seemed to provide no comfort to either of them. Matthias seemed to have lost all will to live and made no effort to respond to his name.
Maybe the gods will be merciful and take you soon, dear boy.
“Jerome? I have clean bedding. I’m going to send for one of the Eventides. They might have a remedy.” Astrid walked into Matthias’ cell in the basement of the Elidon mansion carrying bedsheets.
“Or at least prayers and a last rite.” Jerome paused as Matthias drew in a wheezing breath and shuddered, murmuring in his sleep. Jerome leaned close, but could barely make out words, only “De Graaf, cold, flames.”
“The master has refused to let the Eventides or the physician see Matthias. I told them to return with a constable.” Astrid set the clean bedding down on a nearby chair. She yawned, turning her head away to hide it. Her usually tidy uniform now showed the fatigue of days, wrinkled apron and dress, and hair falling away from under her cap.
“Sneak him out. If we can’t bring a Sister here, we can slip him out the servant’s entrance. Bundle him in those sheets and carry him out while the master sleeps. I’ll have the cook prepare the duke’s tray with a more potent drink at dinner to ensure he’s indisposed. It may be too late for the poor young soul, but I don’t want him to die alone. His father doesn’t come down to see him. We’ll do what we must. I’ll summon the medic and the Eventides and bring them here once Duke Elidon has retired for the night. Perhaps slipping some sleeping herbs in his evening wine might be an idea.” Jerome set the cloth down and helped Astrid change the bedding under the sleeping Matthias, who barely responded to the two servants moving him as they worked.
* * *
Astrid buttoned up her cloak against the chill and left the Elidon manor after serving the duke his midday meal. She dosed Remy’s carafe of wine quite liberally moments before bringing it into his study. Her hand paused over the vial of sleeping remedy for a moment as she considered buying Matthias more escape time. She just couldn’t imagine why his father had brought Matthias back and then confined the young man to the cellar rooms. Matthias had raved and yelled for a day or so, then as the fever raged, he’d slipped into unconsciousness. Astrid didn’t care to watch a man die like this.
“Astrid?” Remy called drunkenly from the upstairs balcony overlooking the foyer as he heard the door click. She was gone, in the carriage from the Elidon stables.
* * *
Curiosity piqued and fed into a vague suspicion. Remy made his way through the sprawling mansion to the cellar. It had been days since Matthias arrived home. Might as well check on the pitiful excuse for a man he’d had confined in there. What was left of him, at any rate.
Remy’s footsteps echoed on the hard stone floor of the cellars, past the wine barrels, dried goods, boxes, and crates to a small, dimly lit room at the farthest end of the hall. As he neared, he heard Jerome, the upstairs servant, talking in a hushed voice.
“Astrid has gone into the city. Wake up and eat some broth and regain your strength. Drink this, you’re parched.”
Remy lingered at the doorway, watching as Matthias struggled to sit upright on the hard cot in the room. Someone had lit a fire in the small fireplace in this room once meant for some sort of stable boy or scullery maid. With just Elidon and Matthias, there was no need of an army of servants. He could barely justify having the two on staff as it was.
Matthias coughed, a deep racking hack. “I feel like death.”
“You’ve had a terrible fever. Just rest. Astrid’s gone for help.”
“I forbade it. Matthias needs no medic.” Remy stepped into view in the small room, a crypt, really. “Look at him, his fever has broken. The man only needs to reform his wayward habits. He’ll stay in this room until he’s come around to living as a civilized man!” Remy snapped and turned on his heel, slurring his words as he muttered his fury.
Jerome cursed under his breath, “Merde.” His options were limited as he stood there alone with Matthias. Quit now and Matthias would never see medical care, or quit once Astrid returned and they had Matthias to safety. A lifetime of serving the Elidons, for naught…but Jerome would not be a party to torture and murder.
“You should rest, sir. The Eventides will be here soon. This is nonsense, keeping you in a dungeon.”
Once satisfied that his employ with Remy was done in either regard, Jerome found comfort in the inevitable. He helped Matthias back to bed.
“You should pretend to be near death, unconscious. We might be able to appeal to Remy’s sense of ethics if he thinks you’re dying.”
“My father has no sense of honor,” Matthias said softly as he lay back down on the small cot. Sweat beaded on his brow. “I’ll die here. He’ll be pleased.”
Jerome daubed the cold cloth on Matthias’ forehead. “Your fever is returning. You’ve overexerted yourself. The fates will sort their accounts with your father. Don’t worry about it now.”
* * *
Remy seethed in his office as the Eventides’ carriage clattered up the driveway. He could stop them. He had every right to; it was Elidon property. Closing up the emerald in its case, he tucked it into one of the myriad drawers of his desk as someone knocked at the door. The downstairs servant was nowhere in sight.
“Jerome? Don’t get the door,” Remy called from the upper floors as Jerome hurried from the basem
ent door. He took a long swig from his lunchtime glass of wine.
“I refuse to let Matthias die here. You can’t do this.” Jerome paused, hand on the door handle. Why hasn’t the drugged wine taken effect?
“I gave an order,” Remy warned, walking down the marble steps of the grand staircase.
“And I’m ignoring that order, sir. I will not commit murder at your command. I quit.” Jerome flung open the door and beckoned the Eventide sister, Astrid, and a constable into the house.
“I order you to leave my property at once!” Remy hollered from the upper stairs, slurring his words.
“Sir, you have a plague victim in need of care. Be reasonable.” The constable held out a paper, an order from the Eventides, signed at the bottom. “We have an order to remove one Matthias Elidon from the house and/or arrest you for obstruction of medical care.”
Remy stepped back, his face red with rage. “Take him, then. I’ll have my lawyer order Matthias brought back by sundown. Jerome, you’re fired! “
Jerome glowered at Remy. “With great pleasure, I tender my resignation. As soon as they remove Matthias, I will take my leave of your employment.” He led the Sister to the basement room and lifted Matthias into his arms. Matthias was so frail, and the fever had returned. Jerome felt the heat radiating off Matthias’ pale skin. He wasn’t acting; fever-delirium had set in once more.
“It’s the second stage of the plague. Sometimes they recover, sometimes not. If he remained here, he’d surely die. What in all the heavens could Remy be thinking, denying his son medical care?” the Sister fretted.
“Matthias was a Source at the docks, Sister.”
“Remy’s pride is hurt. He’ll come ‘round. We’ll take care of him.”
“I’ll be busy finding a new job. I quit. Got any work?” Jerome asked as they walked down the long hall and up to the foyer.