by Amy Braun
“Thank you,” I said to Riley, taking a steady breath. “I needed that.”
He chuckled, a rich, warm sound. “We both did.”
Riley suddenly reached out and tucked some loose strands of hair behind my ear. I was frozen to the floor, heart thumping wildly as his fingers feathered down my cheek. He watched my face with soft eyes, intent and focused on my lips.
Ever since rescuing him from the Behemoth, Riley had stayed close to me, always nearby to help or keep me company. Abby adored him and saw him as someone to talk to about things I wouldn’t understand. Nash and Gemma liked him and Sawyer, despite his moods, respected him.
As for me… I didn’t feel stressed or awkward around him. Riley was a good, kind man and I saw him as my friend.
But he made it clear that he wanted more than simple friendship, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted the same thing he did.
“I should check on my sister,” I whispered, forcing myself to draw my mind away from his heated gaze and recall why I’d come up here, isolated from the eyes of the Dauntless crew.
I didn’t notice how close Riley was until he leaned back and unthreaded his hand from my hair. The expression on his face didn’t change.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, I just want to see how her fever is doing. Would you mind waiting outside, just in case?”
He smiled gently. “Of course, Claire.”
I nodded to him and walked to the far cabin where Abby was sleeping. Though I tried to get her to do otherwise, Abby typically slept through the day. She claimed the light hurt her eyes and head, so she rarely ventured outside of the ports. Even when we risked sailing the Dauntless, my sister often stayed in the cabin.
When I reached the captain’s quarters near the stern of the ship, I knocked on the door. Abby wouldn’t leave her bed, but at least she would know someone was there. I wrapped my hand around the door handle and pushed it open.
“Abby? Moira?”
The interior of the cabin was dark, the windows covered in thick cloth to help her sleep. Unused tables were pushed against the walls, revealing a wide space of hardwood that creaked under my foot. Lying on the bed across from me, covered in heavy blankets, was the sleeping form of my little sister.
Abby was small, even for an eight year old girl. Her time in captivity left her nearly drained of all her blood, turning her smaller still.
A woman sat on the bed near Abby’s feet, humming softly as she sewed one of Sawyer’s shirts together with a needle and thread.
Moira was around the age my mother would have been if she were still alive, but she looked far older. Streaks of grey lined her copper red hair. Faded freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. A ratty brown shawl was wrapped around her neck, draping her shoulders and covering the top of her buttoned-up dress. On the outside, she looked like a calm, controlled, sane, and loving mother.
On the inside, she was broken.
Garnet Dayton, the self-imposed, so-called “leader” of my old underground colony, had believed in repopulation. He took young girls into his chambers and forced himself on them, thinking he earned rights to their bodies in exchange for sheltering them. Moira’s daughter was one of the girls he abused, a girl barely out of childhood, who died nine months later in childbirth with her unborn baby.
The tragedy destroyed Moira, who tried to use a knife to escape her pain. Garnet stopped her suicide and forced her to continue work as a nurse. It took a couple years, but after treating so many children, Moira’s mind broke. She saw each little girl as her daughter, every baby as her grandchild.
She looked up when she heard me approach, smiling brightly and setting the shirt aside. I tried not to look at her wrists, and the two rigid scars marking her skin.
“Claire,” Moira said quietly. “I’m so glad you’re back. Molly was asking about you before she fell asleep.”
I forced my lips into a smile. All of the crew, myself included, let Moira call Abby by her dead daughter’s name. She wasn’t entirely sane, but if she thought Abby was her daughter, then my sister would be safe. It was a small, strange mercy for the woman who cared for my little sister and sewed up our wounds.
“How’s she doing?” I asked.
Moira’s smile slipped, and she looked at the sleeping child on the bed. I followed her gaze, my heart wrenching when I saw Abby’s pale, hunched form. Moira reached over and put one of her hands on Abby’s shin, displaying the white scars I was trying not to see.
“She’s been in and out of consciousness. I did another checkup, but I don’t know how to treat what she has. Her symptoms are almost flu-like, but rest, hot foods, and the antibiotics aren’t doing anything. I’m worried about giving her more medicine, since I don’t want to treat the wrong disease.”
A knot built in my throat and halted my breath. “Is there anything I can ask Sawyer to find? Something else that might help her?”
Moira glanced at me, sympathy and heartache filling her crystal blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Claire. But the risk is too great. I’ll need to watch her and make more observations.” The pain hardened into resolve. “But I won’t let anything happen to our Molly. She’ll be safe with me.”
Moira wasn’t a fighter in the traditional sense, yet I knew she would do everything in her power to protect Abby. She’d already lost one daughter. She was determined not to lose another, even if that daughter didn’t belong to her.
“Thank you, Moira,” I said quietly. Finally swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded to my sister. “Do you mind if I spend some time with her alone?”
Moira hesitated, glancing between Abby and me, reluctant to leave her “child.” Still, she smiled and stood up, gathering the needle, thread, and shirt to her chest.
“Not at all, my dear,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to bring this back for our young captain.” She held up the shirt, then shook her head. “That boy. He just can’t stay out of trouble, can he?”
No, I thought ruefully. Not even once.
Moira patted my shoulder as she left the cabin, closing the door softly behind her and locking the silence in again.
Blowing out a steady breath, I knelt down by the bed and gently touched Abby’s shoulder with one hand. The other smoothed back tangled golden curls, revealing a sweet, baby face. Abby’s skin was drenched in sweat, but her skin was cold as ice. She whimpered and rolled onto her side, facing me. I tugged up the blankets to her chin, worried that she would never get warm.
Abby suddenly jerked and snapped her eyes open. She opened her mouth to scream, stopping when she saw me.
“Claire?” she whispered shakily, big green eyes filled with terror. Her sickness had begun to turn the whites an ugly shade of pink. “Are you here? Is it really you?”
My heart ached. “Yeah, Abby. I’m here.”
My sister lurched forward and wrapped her arms around my neck. I cradled her as much as I could, hoping my body heat would transfer to her. I stayed with her, listening to her strained breathing and feeling her shake in my arms. Rubbing my hand up and down her back, I looked over my shoulder to see if she’d eaten the food I left out for her.
It was all but untouched, as was the pitcher of water.
“Did you eat anything?” I asked.
“Moira wanted me to,” she moaned. “But it doesn’t taste right. I don’t like it.”
I pulled back, holding Abby by her frail shoulders. “Abigail, you have to eat, even if you don’t like it. You’ll keep getting weaker if you don’t.”
She bit her lip and averted her gaze.
“Did you have nightmares again?”
Abby nodded as though she was guilty. As if any of this could be her fault.
“Do you want to talk to me about them? Riley’s outside if you want to talk to him, too.”
“No, I…I think I’ll go back to bed. I’m still sleepy. I’ll eat when I wake up again, I promise.”
I was hesitant to leave her alone, and thought about forcing answers from her. But a
fter everything she had been through, all the horrors and abuse she’d endured, my sister deserved to rest. There was little more I could let her do at this point.
“Okay. Moira’s just dropping something off for Sawyer. She’ll be right back. I have some projects to finish, but they aren’t important so I can leave them if you need me to. If you want me to stay, just tell me.”
My sister shook her head. “I’m okay. Just wish I wasn’t sick.”
I rubbed my hand up and down her arms, trying to soothe and warm her at the same time. “You’ll get better. I know you will.”
Abby stiffened slightly, and I almost pulled back. Before I could ask what was wrong, she wrapped her arms around my stomach and squeezed tight. “Why do you always have to go?”
I hesitated, then lifted her carefully into my lap. She felt so tiny in my arms.
“We talked about this, Abby. I need to help Sawyer and the others find the Breach. We need to stop the Hellions from coming back for good.”
“But why does it have to be you?”
I rocked her gently, hoping the movement would mask the slight tremors coming from my skin. I wanted to give her the answers–that no one else would be able or willing to create a machine to stop them, that the Hellions would keep hunting us until we were extinct, that their King would probably seek vengeance for what we did to his ship–but I stayed silent. Anything I said would only make Abby more upset, and she couldn’t add stress to her illness.
“I’ll be safe,” I assured her. “The crew will be with me. It’ll be okay.”
Abby’s whimper crushed my heart. “What about when you’re not? What if something happens?”
I stopped rocking and closed my eyes. Each breath I took strained my chest. “Abigail. Please. I need you to trust me. I need you to…” I need you to have faith in me. If you don’t, then I’ll doubt myself. I’ll fail.
Abby wriggled out from my hold and looked into my eyes. “I do. I’m sorry. I just…I get scared.”
I smiled weakly and stroked her hair. “Don’t apologize. You know I would stay with you if I could.”
She nodded, biting her lip and looking away.
“Do you still want to sleep?” I asked when she didn’t say anything else.
Abby nodded again and pulled away from me, moving with painful slowness until she was stretched out on the bed and almost smothered by the blankets. I clutched her hand and pressed a small kiss to her head. Then I slid to my feet and turned for the door.
I paused when I reached it, glancing over my shoulder.
“Abby? What did you mean when you said the food didn’t taste right?”
Her back was to me, so I didn’t really hear what she said. But I must have misunderstood, because it sounded like, “It doesn’t taste alive.”
***
Riley pushed off the wall by the cabin door when I exited Abby’s room. He hurried to my side, putting a hand on my shoulder and looking concerned.
“She’s still not eating,” I whispered. My voice sounded weak, as if it was just a hairsbreadth away from cracking and bringing tears with it. “I don’t understand why she’s not getting better. She was fine when we brought her on the ship.”
He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his arms. I clutched his shirt and took in as much comfort as I could.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” I asked.
Riley sighed, smoothing a hand over my hair. “No,” he admitted regretfully. “And her nightmares aren’t like mine. When I have them, I wake up and remember where I am. Abby doesn’t, does she?”
I shook my head.
We stood in silence for a long moment. “She’ll get better, Claire,” he finally said. “You’ll see. Moira will find some kind of cure, and the rest of us will do everything we can.” He stroked my hair again, filling my chest with warmth. “If you need me for anything, just ask.”
I reclined my head to meet Riley’s face. His smile was sympathetic and understanding. Exactly what I needed.
“Okay,” I breathed, pushing out of his arms. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling worn out even though I’d done virtually nothing today.
My hand instinctively reached for the key on my neck. I drew it out from my shirt and twisted it in my fingers anxiously. As I spun the black steel key, I began to remember the epicenter of all my problems.
There was so much on my mind right now that it was easy to lose focus. I was always preoccupied with my job as Sawyer’s engineer, watching for Hellions and attacking pirates, and looking after Abby. It had been months since I was able to do anything surrounding the key, and the machine my parents tried to build.
I needed to concentrate on shutting the Breach, if it was indeed possible. Anything else would just have to wait until the Hellions could no longer threaten our meager existence. But where to start?
The answer came almost as soon as I thought about the problem.
“I need to go home,” I said.
“Home?” Riley asked, hearing the thoughts I meant to keep to myself.
“My parents house, where I grew up,” I explained. “I meant to go back and look around, but with everything that happened...”
Riley put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. “What do you think will be there?”
“My mother kept journals and notebooks to help her work. She might have left clues about the machine she and my father were building.”
He hesitated. “It’s been ten years, Claire. Do you really expect those journals to still be there?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. I turned from Riley and took a short breath to relax. “I have no starting point. I don’t know where their ship is or if they had some kind of secret warehouse or anything. But I have to start looking.”
I walked to the railing of the starboard deck and looked down. Gemma and Nash were working together to disperse the supplies and ration the food. Sawyer was cleaning his flintlock, and if the weapon-covered table behind him was any indication, he was just getting started.
“The Hellions will be back,” I said. “It worries me that they’ve been waiting so long. We have to find this machine and close the Breach before they return.”
“Then we will,” Riley assured, sounding close. “As soon as we find it, I’ll take you to the Breach.”
I looked at him. “You know where it is?”
Riley nodded slowly. “My father was part of the last Sky Guard resistance. There weren’t many of them. They had a map they used to mark off where the Breach was and how to attack it. I was fifteen but my father wouldn’t allow me to come, so after he left on a big mission, I memorized the map.” He looked at his feet. “They never came back that night.”
“I’m sorry, Riley,” I said. I understood what it was like, looking at your family desperately, wondering if you would see them again, and the wrenching pain in your soul when that wonder took a turn for the worst.
“After that I tried to get to the Breach myself,” he went on. He laughed bitterly. “Not the best idea I’ve ever had.”
A haunted look crossed his face, something I’d seen in Abby more frequently. He was probably thinking about all the horrendous sights and terrible tortures he endured during his two years of imprisonment on the Behemoth. As soon as I saw that expression, it disappeared, and the casual, kind Riley I knew was back in place.