Soul Singer_Iron Souls, Book Two

by Becca Andre

  She pulled out a well-worn rag doll and set her on the small shelf beside her bunk that served as a nightstand. Lock had been watching her from his perch on the lid of the trunk, but hopped over to the shelf to examine the doll.

  “I didn’t have a cute automaton to keep me company as a child,” she told Lock. “I had Sally.” She waved at the toy.

  Lock moved closer to give it a tentative poke with his nose.

  Briar laughed at the little dragon’s antics and turned back to the trunk. Among her uncle’s old ledgers, she found another familiar item. It was a worn copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. She opened the cover and read the familiar inscription.

  To our little wonder on her first birthday.

  Love, Aunt Aggie and Uncle Liam.

  Briar blinked her eyes. The heartache that was never far away returned in full force. All these years, and they had never told her that Liam was part of the Scourge, the half-human guards the ferra used to keep their male counterparts in line. Maybe Agatha, too, judging by her knowledge and actions the night she and Liam had boarded Briar’s boat on their hunt for Grayson. How could people she had known most of her life—

  Her gaze returned to the inscription. She had seen it dozens of times—the book had been a favorite—but now, she truly thought about it. Her first birthday. Her father hadn’t died until she was three, which was when she had gone to live with Uncle Charlie on this boat. She hadn’t realized that Liam and Agatha had known her prior to that. She thought they were friends of Uncle Charlie.

  She rose to her feet and set the book on the shelf beside Sally. Taking a wooden jewelry box from a shelf above her bunk, she opened it to reveal the most recent item Liam had given her: a small silver gun. It was a Scourge weapon designed to take out ferromancers and their soulless henchmen. Liam had given her that gun in case Grayson devolved to the point that she needed to end him.

  Briar reached out to touch the weapon when a knock at her door made her jump.

  “Captain?” It was Zach.

  She closed the box and returned it to its shelf. “Come in,” she called to Zach.

  Lock flew to her shoulder as she left her alcove for the main part of the cabin.

  “How did it go at the toll office?” she asked as Zach stepped into the cabin.

  “I thought it went well, considering.” He handed her a rolled piece of paper.

  Puzzled, she unrolled it, then blinked when she found her own likeness gazing back at her. Above the image—a reproduction of a portrait Andrew had once forced her to sit for—the word wanted was written in bold print.

  Beneath the picture was her name, a description of her boat, and an offer of a two hundred dollar reward. Andrew’s contact information was listed at the bottom.

  She turned to Zach. “I don’t see how anything having to do with this,” she rattled the paper, “could go well.”

  “The toll collector doesn’t know that the Briar Rose was even here, and if things go extremely well, he won’t remember the poster.”

  “That does sound like a promising turn of events. Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

  “I knew something was wrong when I gave the name of our boat. The toll collector went real still and opened another book to look at some papers.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “He asked me to repeat the name, and I changed it.”

  “What name did you give?” Briar asked. He couldn’t just make one up. Every boat and its weight was recorded at every toll house.

  “I told him we were on the Beaumont.”

  “Your father’s boat,” she whispered. Zach’s family had died in that boat.

  “To my knowledge, it was never delisted, but it was a heavier boat and cost you a little more.”

  “That’s fine. Quick thinking. What happened next? How did you get the poster?”

  “I convinced him that he wanted to give me the poster, then I spent a few minutes suggesting that he never saw it.”

  “You used your voice.” Briar couldn’t decide if the notion impressed her, or scared her.

  Zach shrugged. “Seemed the only solution.”

  She looked down at the poster. “What I don’t get is why Andrew would put up a reward if he needs the money?”

  “Maybe it’s not him—and not the boat that’s wanted,” Zach said.

  Briar straightened. “Solon wants Grayson.”

  Zach nodded.

  “Miss Briar?” Eli called from the cargo hold. “You’ve got company.”

  Company? What did that mean? A friend from another boat? Was it just her imagination or did Eli sound worried? Had the toll collector remembered the poster? Had he come to the docks?

  Lock rubbed her cheek with his, picking up on her anxiety.

  “Coming.” She met Zach’s equally concerned gaze and they headed for the door. “Lock?” she reminded him.

  He scampered down her waistcoat, morphing into the watch as he slid into her pocket.

  Briar stepped out into the sunshine. Eli stood a few feet away, and at his side, a familiar woman. A woman who looked very out of place on the deck of a canal boat.

  “Molly?” Briar stared at her cousin’s wife. “What are you doing here?” And a much bigger concern: was Andrew with her?

  Chapter 3

  Briar glanced back at the dock, searching for Andrew’s familiar red hair or an expensive coach. She saw neither.

  “Bridget,” Molly greeted her, using her given name as always. “Thank God I found you.” Her chin quivered as if she fought back tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Briar stepped closer. Had Molly found out that Andrew had been made soulless?

  “Mr. Rose divorced me,” Molly whispered.

  “What?”

  “He sent his attorney. He’s selling everything. The house, the warehouses, and this boat.”

  The boat she knew about, but not the rest of it.

  “He left me nothing,” Molly whispered.

  “Oh, Molly.” Briar knew Andrew was a cold-hearted bastard—even before he lost his heart.

  “And he didn’t even have the decency to tell me in person.” She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

  Eli and Zach exchanged a look, both appearing as uncomfortable as Briar felt. Not certain what else to do, Briar stepped forward and hugged Molly.

  Molly slumped against her, pressing her face to Briar’s shoulder. “I sold his gold cuff links to finance this trip to find you. Your family in Columbus told me you’d gone north and that I might catch you here.”

  Briar realized she was talking about Liam and Agatha.

  Molly straightened and rubbed a hand across her eyes. “I’m sorry. I feared that I had missed you.”

  “Fortunately, we—”

  Rapid footfalls on the gangplank made Briar glance over. Her heart surged in her chest when Grayson leapt onto the boat. What had sent him running back to the boat? Had that ferromancer found them? Law enforcement? Solon?

  Grayson pulled up short, his eyes meeting hers. A hint of movement came from her pocket. Lock. The little dragon had a bad habit of calling for Grayson when he thought she needed help. He must have misread her anxiety when Eli had told her she had company.

  “Mr. Martel?” Molly stared at him.

  “Mrs. Rose.” Grayson offered her an easy smile. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I could say the same for you.”

  “Miss Rose kidnapped me.” He waved a hand at Briar.

  Molly’s mouth dropped open.

  “Only for a few days,” Briar cut in. “He’s here by choice now.” Kind of.

  Molly stared at her. “You kidnapped a man?”

  “Um, yes.”

  “And I t
hought the time you filled Mr. Rose’s small clothes drawer with poison ivy was bad.”

  Briar grinned. Andrew was extremely allergic to poison ivy. He’d scratched his crotch for weeks.

  “I bet that prank doesn’t seem so bad now,” Briar said.

  “It didn’t seem so bad then.” Molly tried to smile.

  The pain in Molly’s eyes broke Briar’s heart, and she hugged her again. “Why track me down?”

  “I had nowhere else to go.”

  Briar hugged her tighter.

  Grayson frowned at them, no doubt figuring out that Andrew was behind this.

  “Can I stay with you, Bridget?” Molly stepped back. “I don’t have any particular talent, but I’m willing to learn.”

  “I’m not turning you away, but before you ask, I should mention that we have problems of our own.” She handed Molly the wanted poster. “I took the boat without Andrew’s leave. That’s his reaction.”

  Grayson leaned in to study the poster. He didn’t comment, but his expression made it clear that he wasn’t pleased.

  “The bastard,” Molly whispered a moment later.

  “Aye,” Briar agreed.

  Molly handed the poster back to her. “That just makes me want to join you more—if you have use of me?”

  Briar glanced at Grayson before continuing. “I’ll be losing my cook in a few days. Do you have any cooking experience?”

  “I’ve run a household for years. I planned the meals and stocked the pantry, but I’ve never personally prepared a meal.”

  “It isn’t difficult,” Grayson spoke up. “I’d be happy to give you a few pointers.”

  “He’s your cook?” Molly asked. “I thought he was an engineer.”

  “He is,” Briar answered. “He’s a versatile fellow.”

  Grayson grinned.

  Molly glanced between them, then nodded at Grayson. “Thank you. I would welcome the instruction.” She turned back to Briar. “You’ll take me on, Bridget?”

  “On one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “You call me Briar.”

  Molly smiled. “Thank you, Briar.”

  They tied up for the night about eight miles beyond Newark. Grayson had taken Molly to the aft cabin for her first cooking lesson. The aroma that now hung in the air was certainly enticing.

  The sun was sinking toward the western horizon when Briar went to see how things were coming along. She opened the door and was met by Molly’s laughter. At least Grayson had cheered her up.

  “How’s dinner coming?” Briar asked, stepping into the warm cabin.

  Molly turned, giving Briar a view of her rosy cheeks and the sheen of sweat on her forehead. She was smiling. “I’ve only burned myself once.”

  Briar returned her smile. “And how is that a good thing?”

  “It could have been more than once.”

  “Point taken.”

  Grayson was transferring some muffins to a towel-lined basket, but glanced up, smiling at the exchange.

  “Mr. Martel prepared a poultice,” Molly continued.

  “He is handy for that.”

  “I took the liberty of using some of your paper and ink to write down the recipe.” Molly gestured at the table where she’d taken out those items. Several sheets of paper were covered in Molly’s elegant writing.

  “I also took some notes on the meal he prepared,” Molly added. “He tells me he’s going his own way once he reaches Cleveland.”

  “He is.”

  Grayson didn’t comment, setting the basket of muffins beside the basket containing the plates and cutlery.

  “I’ll take those out and set the table,” Molly offered. She picked up the baskets, then hesitated. “Where is the table?”

  “Just outside.” Briar waved a hand toward the door that led into the empty cargo hold. “The boys already set it up.”

  “Oh.” With an uncertain look, Molly hurried outside.

  “The lady is very much out of her element,” Grayson confided once they were alone.

  “She’s not going to make a good cook?” Briar was disappointed. She didn’t need another mule driver, but if Molly couldn’t cook, that was the only place for her.

  “She has a quick mind and a willingness to learn,” he explained. “I meant on this boat in general. It’s not what she’s used to.”

  “I know. She’s from some well-to-do family in Philadelphia. Andrew met her when he attended college there.”

  “She said he divorced her and is selling off all their property.”

  “I’d blame Solon, but it might be entirely Andrew’s doing.”

  “Perhaps, but Solon most likely influenced him.” Grayson pulled a familiar envelope from his pocket and passed it to her. The bloodstains around the edges were now rust colored.

  Trying not to think about that, she turned it over and extracted the card. As Farran had suggested, it was an invitation.

  Grayson Drake, you are cordially invited to a gala held in your honor. Don’t let your brothers down.

  She looked up. “Don’t let your brothers down? What does that mean?”

  “It’s just a myth. Did you notice the gala’s location?”

  He was clearly trying to deflect the question, but she let it go, turning her attention back to the invitation. “Portsmouth,” she read aloud. “Why Portsmouth?”

  “That’s the part that Andrew plays, I suspect. Plus it’s on the river and easily accessible by train or steamboat.”

  Briar’s gaze returned to the invitation. “Brothers. As in more than one?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say Solon invited everyone.”

  “But I thought the ferromancers were in Europe.”

  “Most have fled, and this is the land of opportunity.”

  Briar stared at him. “How many are we talking about here?”

  “There were never that many, and even fewer loose in the world. Maybe a few dozen.”

  “A few dozen ferromancers in Portsmouth.” The notion filled her with dread.

  “With Andrew gone, I didn’t think you had any family there.”

  “I have friends, and my crew has family. It’s our hometown.”

  “I’ll lay you odds that these friends and family won’t even know my brethren are there. We hide from humans and the ferra alike.” He was beginning to sound angry. “It’s what we do.”

  He held out his hand for the invitation, and she passed it back to him.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Just what I planned. I’ll take you to Esme, then separate myself from my construct.” He picked up the cast-iron Dutch oven. “If you like, return to Portsmouth and show Solon my severed construct. He’ll cease and desist then.” Carrying the Dutch oven, Grayson headed for the door.

  “Or he’ll go mad and take out my community.”

  Grayson stopped on the threshold. “Then play him a song.”

  “You’re really just going to run away?”

  “I’ve been running since I was eight years old. Why stop now?”

  “Eight. Wasn’t that when you escaped the ferra?” She stopped and thought about that. “You’re saying the ferra cut out your heart when you were eight?”

  “Yes. In case you haven’t been paying attention, everyone wants to possess a drake, but no one asks the drake how he feels about it.” He turned and left the room.

  Dinner was a quiet affair. Briar wasn’t certain if it was Molly’s presence that had the crew on their best behavior, or if they were still subdued after burying the soulless man this morning. She couldn’t ask with Molly present—which presented Briar with a new concern. Should she tell Molly about Grayson? It wouldn’t be fair to Lock that he
now had to hide while in the cabin. But Briar would need to clear it with Grayson first, and right now, he didn’t seem to want to discuss anything. Solon’s invitation had certainly put him in a sullen mood. What exactly did his brethren want, and why was he so afraid to give it to them?

  After dinner, everyone pitched in on cleanup, making it go faster. The members of her crew were hard workers, but at the end of the day, after a satisfying dinner, no one wanted to tidy up. Maybe the crew was uncomfortable with Molly washing their dishes. They had shown no reluctance when Grayson performed the task.

  Briar had been surprised by Molly’s willingness to work. She had never been haughty, but Molly had always known her place and was a great observer of proper etiquette. To see her so humble and willing to be part of Briar’s crew made Briar vow to strangle Andrew the next time she saw him—soulless or not.

  Night was full on them, and as was their habit, everyone moved off to prepare for bed, the men discussing the wisdom of sleeping on the deck with the clouds growing on the western horizon. If it did rain, Briar hoped it would pass overnight. A rainy day made it miserable for the mules and crew, and slowed their progress. They were already running behind.

  “Briar?” Molly called to her a short time after they’d retired to the aft cabin.

  Briar left her curtained alcove to find Molly standing beside the cook’s bunk, her small trunk open on the floor beside her. “Would you unlace me?” She gave Briar her back.

  “Sure.” Briar walked over to her, the worn floor smooth beneath her bare feet.

  “Is this why you wear men’s clothes?” Molly asked as Briar worked.

  “I guess it could be one reason, but I mainly dress this way because it enables me to do what must be done aboard this boat.”

  “Oh.”

  Briar focused on her laces. “I don’t think the crew knows what to make of you.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’d be comfortable dressing like that.”

  “It’s not the clothing. I meant you being a lady and all. We’re pretty common around here.”