“You realize that your parents are not down here, yes?” Nick asked, leaning towards her. “You can chew with your mouth open and scarf down food if you want.”
“I do not want,” Remy retorted, but only after she had swallowed the bread.
Nick shrugged his shoulders, silently saying ‘suit yourself,’ before leaning back down in his chair.
As the night progressed, Remy noticed that Edward and Adele still had not yet arrived (though Giselle assured her that that was normal, that supply shop was quite popular especially at night and they probably will not be back for another hour or so), that Nick’s lap was suddenly occupied by two whores and one standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders (Remy could not even look at him, she was so disgusted by the sight), and that the bread had run out, thanks in large part to herself.
Giselle and Calum were in another one of their hushed battles and Remy felt… alone.
Actually, she felt the same way she felt back at home when Charlie was not around. She was surrounded by people and yet, she felt by herself. This place was not as different as her own home, was it? The thought was not comforting, actually, but just furthered her rather dismal mood.
She missed Charlie.
She wanted to feel like she belonged somewhere. She did not like feeling alone, especially in a place she was unfamiliar with, especially with people she would otherwise have never spoken to.
Remy supposed she just wanted to connect with someone, and not on a superficial level like Nick was connecting with the women surrounding him. Perhaps more like Calum and Giselle were connecting. Yes, they seemed to be arguing, but whenever they finished their fights, they did not seem to hate each other. And Calum was protective over her, even if Giselle did not mean it. And their attention was only on each other, despite the amount of people here and the number of distractions.
Maybe her entire perception of a potential suitor was wrong. Because right now, all she wanted was to be noticed.
Chapter 12
She was not certain how long it had been since her depressing revelation concerning suitors, but her mug filled with water was now only half full, the basket of bread was still empty even though Remy was certain the bar wench noticed it when she passed out the second and third rounds of rum to the occupants of the table. Excluding Remy, of course. In fact, when Remy mentioned that she did not drink rum, the prostitutes and the bar maid looked at her like she was the odd one.
She, Remy Cutler of the Cutlers, one of the most sought after girls before Lord Huntington had admitted his intentions and they were soon engaged. Yes, the same girl was the odd one.
Had they looked at their reflections lately?
Remy had gotten over the shock, and even the loneliness she had previously felt, by way of distracting herself. To do this, she opened her ears and listened to the passing conversations that took place in the tavern. Surprisingly, it garnered her much information about The Underworld, and though she would rather not admit it, found the discussions rather fascinating, whether it was the subject matter, the way they spoke, or how the participants spoke. She had never socialized with people like the ones here and found that they were more interesting – and informative – than she originally credited them with.
An example of this is when she was listening to two women of the night conversing behind her. Their voices were hushed, probably to keep their potential customers from listening. One was telling the other how she hated having to give her body to a stranger every night simply to be able to afford food for her child. The other was so desperate for money that she was being forced to do it by her own husband. Apparently, he refused to get some kind of job.
It made Remy really put things into perspective. Perhaps not all whores were one and the same. Perhaps this particular profession was not a choice for them. Perhaps they had no other option but to acquire funds through this measure. They all had a story to tell, and most were not happy. There was more to them than their painted faces and colorful clothing.
However, every time Remy happened to glance over at the women around Nick, she had to swallow in order to keep the delicious bread she had recently consumed from coming back up her throat and all over Nick’s usual table. These particular women did not look upset or distraught or conflicted about their career (Would that be the correct word? Remy wondered.). In fact, if she was being honest, they actually looked like they were enjoying themselves.
But maybe they were. Maybe Nick was one of those rare customers who was both attractive and charming, willing to pay for a night of pleasure. It would make sense if these women just waited for him to return and then all lined up in order to get his attention, to be able to be the next girl he takes upstairs – because certainly he would not take him to the ship, would he? He would not row all the way over to where it was docked, have at it, and then come back. They would be too tired! Not that Remy had any experience, of course, but even she snuck racy novels her parents disapproved of back home and at least knew the basics of what went on in the physical activity – and to experience his prowess.
For whatever reason, Remy was annoyed at the sight before her. It was obvious that one of these women would be going to bed with Nick – another thought that made her nauseous for whatever reason – so she had no idea why he was delaying the inevitable, making some silly spectacle in front of Remy, Giselle, and Calum. Did he have no shame?
“…just came from nowhere, like a wraith, a phantom, I tell you.”
A voice caught Remy’s attention and her skin erupted in goosebumps. There was something hauntingly familiar about this conversation, and she could help but listen to it more. And she also got to look away from the scene before her, which she was happy about. Her eyes focused on the wooden floor beneath her chair, but she tilted her head in the direction of where the discussion was taking place.
“Survivors?” the other man asked.
“None but me. For whatever reason, he likes to leave one survivor. At least, that’s what I heard. I think it’s too spread his story, get some fame, and all that.” A pause; Remy assumed he was taking a long gulp of his drink. “’T’was awful, mate. The sight of the ship into pieces, nothing as large as the length of me left. I could smell my friends and shipmates being burned. I could hear them screaming. I watched as they died. And now look at me. I survived. Me.”
“Are you ever going back out again?”
There was a long silence. Remy held her breath.
“I don’t know…” He shrugged his shoulders. “Those souls, my friend’s souls, are lost here forever. I thought I was safe. But methinks land might be better for me. That, or just moving on. Truly dying doesn’t seem so bad now, no matter which way I go.”
“Did you see who did it?”
“No.” His voice grew darker. “All I can tell you is that the ship appeared from nowhere and disappeared into nothing. Like I said. Like a phantom.”
Remy snapped her head up and focused her eyes on the mug in front of her. Why did that sound so familiar to her? The fact that the ship came and went as it pleased, disappearing and reappearing.
And that was when her epiphany hit her.
The reason why the story did not sit well with her was because she had met a ship like that in her short time here. James’s ship. It emerged from the fog having come from The Underworld. Even Nick had been surprised to see it, and Remy believed that Nick did not actually surprise that easily.
But why would James kill souls? He was ruler of The Underworld, was he not? Did that not mean that he was in charge of the souls sent to him? Why would he murder potential souls that someday might belong to him? Unless, of course, there was some sort of overpopulation problem in The Underworld.
That sounded impossible. Like Heaven, or The Paradise, or whatever it was called went on infinitely, certainly The Underworld did too. And James had mentioned that Nick had not been bringing enough souls back to him. As though there was some kind of shortage of souls.
Which meant that i
t was likely that James was not, in fact, this phantom murderer.
Well then, who else could it be?
Perhaps the man James had warned Nick about. This… Captain Pan. Remy had not heard Nick speak at all about the man, but he certainly seemed taken by the sight of the fire poker James had showed him. And she remembered that the ruler of The Underworld said that the instrument was recovered at one of the devastation sites. It was more and more likely that this Captain Pan, whoever he was, was responsible for the slaying of souls.
But why would James warn Nick when it was obvious that the two did not get along?
Remy’s head began to hurt and she took another long gulp of her water. It was not her responsibility to figure out why things were going the way they were going down here. It was not her responsibility to care, really. All she wanted to focus on was how to get home. Away from killing souls and watching a pirate captain enjoy being assaulted by whores. Back to her room, her bed, her wardrobe.
Why was Nick so tense when he saw the poker, though? His voice had gotten lower and he almost sounded… Remy was not sure how to describe it. Certainly he was not afraid, but he was mad. Angry. But controlled. And yet tense. As though he was afraid James would somehow get over to the Black Star and use it on Nick.
What was the significance of that poker anyways? Remy opened her mouth to ask, not too concerned whether or not the question was tasteful, before shutting it abruptly, only to find Nick in probably the most visual lip-lock she had ever seen before. She had never encountered many, of course. There was little to no physical contact between her parents that sometimes made her wonder if they truly loved each other or if they married because it was arranged. She had never been kissed before because she had never been wooed before. And she had never really met anybody worth kissing. Apparently, Nick kissed whoever it was that wanted to kiss him, and Remy could not control the sound of disgust coming out from her mouth if she tried.
Not that he noticed, of course. Because even though his attentions were on the woman on his lips, the whore behind him was still whispering in his ear and rubbing his back, and the third was kissing the crevice of his neck.
“This actually isn’t all that uncommon,” Giselle whispered to Remy. Unlike Nick, Giselle seemed to have heard the telling noise she could not control.
“But why is he being so blatant about it?” Remy asked, trying to keep her voice as level as Giselle’s was. “Why not go upstairs and keep things like touching and kissing private, as they should be?”
“I’m not sure I agree about physical affection being private, but I will say there should be a limit on it, certainly.” Giselle glanced at Nick before shrugging his shoulders. “He’s a sailor, Remy. A pirate, in fact. You know that. When a man is at sea for a long while, he returns to land wanting to sleep in an actual bed, eat hot food, and make love to a woman.”
“My father has been at sea for long periods of time before, and he never made love to any woman but my mother,” Remy pointed out.
“I highly doubt that,” Calum said, deciding that he, too, would like to contribute to the conversation. Giselle nudged him and he turned to her. “What? She’s not a child anymore. She should know that faithfulness isn’t reality.” He fixed his blue eyes on Remy. “I guarantee you that your father has slept with whores while away from you and your mother.”
Remy’s mouth dropped and Giselle yelped Calum’s name. But these two things did not distract Nick from his task at hand, and it appeared now that he was kissing the other woman on his lap.
“What?” Calum asked. “It’s the truth.” He looked back at Remy. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”
“Well, what about you?” Remy asked, doing her best to ignore the pain that came from Calum’s words. Not because he was so blunt about what he said, but because the more time she spent here, the more she realized that it was probably true. “I don’t see you with women on your lap.”
“Well, I” - Was it possible that Calum was actually uncomfortable by Remy’s questioning? Whether he knew it or not, his eyes shifted to Giselle before they quickly returned to Remy’s. “As a physician, I know that it’s important to be aware of the people you have sex with. I have no idea where these whores have been and therefore, not willing to risk catching something that will either kill me or be with me for the rest of my days for one night of pleasure.”
“What are you talking about?” Remy asked, furrowing her brow. “Catching something?”
Before Calum could answer, Nick interrupted them. “I think I’m going to head up to bed,” Nick said with a sly smile. Remy’s mouth dropped open, once again, at the fact that not one but all three whores were standing along with Nick, as though they, too, were heading to bed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“How is that possible?” Remy asked once he had left. “Three women at one time?” Her face was aflame for asking but her lack of comprehension forced her mouth to move on its own accord.
Calum was about to answer, but one look from Giselle caused him to reconsider. “It is possible,” he said instead. “You’ve a lot to learn about the world, missy.”
Remy rolled her eyes, a look nothing short of disgust etched firmly on her face. Three women at one time? And such a thing was possible? Why would any man in his right mind want to have three women at once? Would that not be a lot of work for him? He would have to make sure that each woman was satisfied –
The blush on Remy’s face caused all thoughts to cease, and she began to pick at the handle of her mug. It would seem her fingers needed something to do in order to prevent such taboo thoughts from entering her mind once more.
Personally, she believed love-making belonged to one man and one woman at a time. She wanted to make certain that all of her attention was bestowed on one person – the man she loved – and that his attention was focused on solely her.
Not, of course, that she thought about such acts. Ladies did not think about such things as that.
But if she happened to be asked her opinion on the matter, and the company was trustworthy, she had an answer to give them.
The candle sitting in the middle of the table flickered. It was halfway down now. They had been sitting there for quite a while, and Remy was getting bored. She had consumed the rest of her water and she no longer had a burning sensation of hunger. But she was not tired.
She wanted to do something.
At that moment, Giselle stood. “I’m going to get us another round of drinks,” she announced. “It shouldn’t be long before Edward and Adele arrive. Do you want me to bring back some bread, Remy?”
“Yes, please,” the young girl agreed. It probably was not the healthiest decision, but perhaps eating something would cause her boredom to vanish.
After Giselle left, Remy expected Calum to start a conversation, but he seemed to be far away, in his own thoughts. Which meant, once again, Remy was on her own.
Perhaps she could explore the tavern for a bit. Just until Giselle gets back, at least.
She pushed her seat back and stood, expecting Calum to tell her to sit back down or at least ask her where she was going. But he did not even look up. Either his thoughts were too consuming to notice Remy’s lack of presence or he truly did not care.
As Remy sifted through the crowd, she was not sure whether or not she liked this. On the one hand, she realized she now had this freedom she had never experienced before back home. She could leave when she wanted to, do nearly anything what she wanted (except, of course, go back home) to do without asking for permission. But with this freedom came with a new-found responsibility she did not know if she liked. Normally if she made a mistake, someone else was blamed. Now, Remy would be blamed for it.
And, to be honest, leaving Calum without him even noticing almost felt as though he did not care about her welfare. And perhaps he did not. She could not blame him if he did not, considering he barely even knew her. It mirrored the fact that while she was constantly looked over back home, her parents ra
rely inquired as to how their only child was, how she was getting on with her studies. They had not even asked her if she wanted to marry Lord Huntington before they arranged it.
She was realizing she did not like the feeling of being alone much.
At all.
She was outside now, having followed a crowd out the doors and down one of the many dirt paths. She could see a couple of tracks left by horses and carriages but for the most part, there were footprints left scattered about.
Turning, Remy kept a sharp eye out for the tavern. Her heartbeat slowly started to increase as her eyes searched the unfamiliar setting for something – or even someone – familiar. How could she have been so stupid as to let her thoughts get the best of her and cause her attentions to be focused elsewhere when they should have been on her whereabouts? People flooded the roads despite the darkness; she could not even enjoy the twinkling stars and the law crescent moon due to her fear starting to get the best of her.
What to do? What to do?
Breathe, Remy, she instructed herself. Stop for a moment, and just breathe.
Since she had no one with her to advise her, that was what she did. Remy forced herself to stop and simply breathe after she found a safe place to do so on the side of the road.
“You look like you could use some help, poppet,” a voice said from beside her.
Her eyes flew open and she turned. “Yes!” she exclaimed, a smile on her face. “Yes I do! I am looking for the Albatross. It is a tavern of some sort. It should not be far…” Her voice trailed off when she realized that the man – normally someone she would not even consider speaking to, considering his tattered attire and the fact that he barely had any of his teeth – was staring at her. And not in any way that she would approve of.
“Albatross, ay?” he said after a moment.
“Actually, I remember now,” Remy said, backing up from him. She bumped into people behind her, but at that point, she did not care. “I know where it is. Sorry to have wasted your time.”
Death in Neverland: Book 1 in The Neverland Trilogy (The Neverland Series) Page 12