I don’t see why she’d want to take the risk and end up back in a city where neither of us belong. But if she wants to get away from her father and follow me—well she’s right that I could probably use the help.
But then I see her marching up the dock, and I nearly choke on my swig of rum.
Based on her attire—she is not planning to stow away. Her dress is bright red and beaded, tight over her stomach—is she wearing a corset?—and bust. Her hair is mostly hidden beneath a prissy bonnet.
What in heaven’s name is she up to?
I don’t recognize the dress, though it’s reminiscent of the one she wore to the ball. She does like the color red. It was her first ball in New York, when she aided my rescue of Whitley from her fiancé Jeb—well, I wasn’t rescuing her from him. It was the pirate’s intent to kidnap her that pushed me to turn vigilante rescuer, but somehow he’s the one I remember with bitterness.
That whole business was the reason Rosemera was “ransomed” to be begin with. Whitley and I escaped one way, she escaped another. And no one quite knows how she managed it.
I stop to watch the pinned up and proper Rosemera, and I hold back a laugh at the way she turns her nose up at the sweaty sailors as they pass her. Just a few hours ago she was just as smelly. And yet, she’s selling the high-society princess bit fantastically.
She must have learned a thing or two from me in the years we’ve spent as practically brother and sister.
Within moments she’s boarding the ship, holding onto the Captain’s hand daintily, as if she needs help crossing the rickety plank.
I shake my head.
Rosemera searches through the crew’s faces as soon as she lands on the main deck. She’s looking for me. She might be able to tell which sailor I am impersonating based on the amount of interest I show her. Problem is, the entire crew has a high level of interest in the pretty lady.
“Attention, gents,” the captain calls. “We’ll be making way in under an hour, but I want to introduce you to our guest, Miss Rose. She is a friend of Master Robert Windsor. She is to be treated like royalty aboard this vessel, you understand? Any a you steps out of line with her in word or action, you’ll be tossed to the sharks, mark my words.” He puffs out his check proudly. “Ya hear?” he shouts.
“Aye!” the crew hollers haphazardly.
“Aye,” I say quickly behind them all. A sailor beside me chuckles at my awkward response.
“Surprised you even made it aboard, Dodgy.” He winks at me and I smile. Oh, Dodgy very much did not make it aboard. But it does remind me that I’ll need to play drunk to sell my part. Surely half the crew saw me staggering inside the tavern only a few hours ago.
I force out a burp and a sloppy laugh. “I wouldn’t eat the stew if I were you,” I say with a slight slur.
The sailor slaps me on the back. “Thanks for the warning.” Then he heads to his duty in the pit.
Rosemera stands there awkwardly, looking around. The look in her eyes works as the confusion of a lass aboard a working vessel, but I know better. It’s an honest confusion. She eyes the ropes, the knots and sails unfurling. She longs to tend to them. To do her part.
If she’s not one of the sailors aboard a ship, what does she do with herself? That’s her conundrum, I recognize.
As the fat cook, I’m in a similar predicament. A man like Dodgy would not be intent to help. By the look of his flabby arms and crooked back—he’s not a worker. So I too am stuck unable to join in. I could go below and hide for a while. Familiarize myself with the pantry: the pots and the stove and spices—whatever else is available in the galley. I could try to figure out something to make for the next two or three days.
But, given the situation, I suppose there is one other route I could take. One that could kill several birds at once. It would keep me temporarily busy and away from prying eyes while also signaling to Rosemera which body I’m in—based on the way her eyes search, she still hasn’t figured it out—and most importantly,—sate my curiosity.
How in the world did she manage to convince the captain she was a lady friend of a Master Robert, whoever that is? Just a name drop would not have been enough. She’d need something kind of proof.
So I approach the captain.
“Cap!” I say, realizing I don’t actually know his name. “I could, ah, show the lass around. If that helps ya at all?”
The Captain takes in a breath and examines my appearance. “You in the right state for that, Dodge?”
“A course!” I say, standing up straighter, sticking out my chest.
“Very well, just until we shove off. Then I’ll take over. Take her to the helm and let her watch. She’ll enjoy that part, especially at sunset.”
The captain turns to Rosemera. “Lady Rose, our cook, Dodge, is going to accompany you while we make way.”
“That’s very kind of you, Captain Moore, but—”
“I have a few duties to attend to. Once we are well on our way, I’ll get your quarters settled.”
Rosemera gives a small head bow and polite smile. “Of course. I understand my presence was a surprise. I’d be happy to show myself about. No need to steal a workman from his duties.”
“Oh Dodge here is happy to do it. Don’t want to leave you alone, of course.”
Rosemera raises her eyebrows, but then nods, annoyance only barely veiled on her expression. I hold back a smirk. “Very well, then.”
The captain nods. “Be on your best behavior, Dodge.” Then he rushes past me, barking orders immediately.
“Come, miss, I’ll show you to the helm where you can enjoy the view.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As I lead her up to the platform in the back of the vessel, I consider another potential perk to this plan. She still doesn’t know it’s me, which leaves me with ample opportunity to tease her.
I smile at the thought.
We reach the rear of the ship and look out over the port. She eyes the ship three to our left, eyes soft and sad.
“You’ll see him again.”
She blinks and meets my eye. “What?”
“The master. You’re a friend of his, yes?” I say.
Her face falls back to its somber sadness. “Oh, yes. Of course.”
I look down at her forearm and notice a smudge of dirt. I point to it. “You missed a spot.”
She looks down at the spot and rubs it frantically. Then she looks up into my eyes again, eyebrows pulled low. I can’t help but smirk.
“Damn it, Bluff,” she says this time, smacking my on my arm.
“Ow!” I say, laughing. “What? You did have a spot.”
“You coulda told me it was you.”
“What, in front of the captain?” I whisper. “I only stalled a few minutes, and I could have kept it going for so much longer. Truth is, I’m too curious. You have some truth to spill, Miss Rose.”
She purses her lips. “Like?” She looks out over the port again.
“Like where this dress came from. And how you managed to convince them you know their Master Robert.” She has a stash of clothes on The Freedom, but I’ve never seen anything this lavish.
“The dress is from my time in New York. I spent three days there before getting back to the harbor. A girl needs more than one dress.”
So she stole a second dress to keep up her ruse? I suppose I can buy that. “And the second?”
She shrugs. “Because it’s true.”
My eyebrows shoot straight up. “It’s true?”
“Is that so surprising?”
“Why, yes. Yes it is.” She did say her friend was involved in the company. She means to tell me he owns it?
“How do you know him well enough to gain passage on one of these cargo vessels?”
She takes in a deep breath but doesn’t answer.
“Rose?” I ask softly.
“It’s a long story, all right?”
“Well, we officially have three days.”
“Robert helped me esc
ape. In New York.”
“Sounds like a simple enough story,” I ask, realizing that’s very likely untrue.
“It’s not.” Her cheeks darken beneath her freckles.
“And does that have something to do with your desire to accompany me on my siren hunt?”
“Siren hunt. You make it sound like you’re going to slaughter her.”
I take in a breath of salty air as the ship begins to stir under our feet. The wind gusts through the sails suddenly— eager, as usual, to draw me out to sea. These men are much less prepared for the sudden change in winds than the crew of The Freedom, so it takes them by surprise. There are shouts and panicked orders to stop the ship from pushing off directly into a ship on the far end of the dock.
They pull ropes to readjust and only barely avoid contact. I look to Rosemera, who’s laughing at their frantic shouts and actions.
“Perhaps I can kill the siren inside of her,” I shrug. Knowing that’s not going to happen. If I could do that, I’d have done it myself. But I can help the real Whitley resurface and fight the magic trying to drown her soul. I hope.
“Good luck,” she says.
“You didn’t answer my question. Is this Robert the real reason you’re coming with me?”
Because that makes a huge difference. If she’s coming with me out of friendship, thirst for adventure, or just to finally break free from her father’s pirate ship, that’s one thing. If she’s coming with me in order to track back down a lad she left mere days ago— a rich tobacco trader’s son in high society New York—I’m not quite sure what to think about that, but it could be life changing for her.
“Perhaps.”
“Wow, Rose. That’s pretty big...”
“Well,” she lifts her chin. “You’re chasing after a murderous siren because you’re desperate for her. You don’t have much room to talk.”
I laugh despite myself. “True.”
We stand there and watch as the ship coasts away from port, away from The Freedom and the little town with the sun setting behind it and towards the open water. Towards massive changes for the both of us.
“I rarely get the chance to enjoy this view,” I admit. I usually have my hands busy with the sails, anticipating the gusts of wind that push us out to the open water so eagerly. I don’t like not working, not helping. But it is necessary today, and I’m rather grateful for the opportunity.
“And you wonder why I choose crow’s watch so often.”
I smile.
I find myself split between not wanting this moment to end—standing on a precipice of change with my best friend, admiring the beautiful world—and desperate to get moving— needing to get to Whitley as quickly as possible.
Whitley
The carriage bounces over cobblestone roads as we approach a body of water which stands in our way to the city. I want that water. But my limbs shiver with weakness, my mind fuzzy.
I sway with the motion, vision blacking in and out.
I’m starving, I decide.
And there is food right here. “Stop,” I croak to the driver. The young man pulls the reigns, and the two dirty horses neigh as they pull back, bringing the carriage to a stop.
“What’s wrong, miss? It’s a long journey to the city,” he says with a thick southern accent. He’s annoyed with me.
“Not that long. Just across that water there.”
“There’s no bridge, miss. It’s too big. We must go several miles north to get to the island.”
“No point in that, sir,” I croak. “I’ll just swim,” I whisper.
“Did you say swim? You couldn’t make that swim. No one can, and you’re weak as a poodle.”
“I do require some energy,” I admit, feeling stronger as the predator comes to life. I twist my back, feeling the bend, the slither. My conscience doesn’t seem intent on eating nice men. Since there are so many others in the world, I don’t feel the need to fight that particular obstacle.
But in this case... this man was only hired to help me. For all I know, he is bad.
“Just stay still,” I say. “I’ll be easier that way.”
“What?” he asks, spinning around, his eyes growing wide as he registers my fangs.
I let out one long note, and his face relaxes in an instant, his pupil’s dilating.
“Do you want me?” I ask him.
His head drops down, then up in a sloppy nod. “Good, because I want you too,” I purr at him.
His eyebrows shoot up, saliva dripping from his mouth. I crawl up to the driver’s seat, singing while I do. The horses neigh and buck, suddenly very uncomfortable.
“Shhhh,” I tell them. This won’t take long.
I climb beside the driver, ignoring their panicked whinnies, and grip his head in my hands just as the horses take off, pulling the carriage rapidly down the uneven pathway. I groan in annoyance.
I look ahead and realize the water is close now. So very close. I pull the reigns in order to persuade the horses to drift as close to the edge of the water as possible. Even in their terror, they still obey the gentle guidance of the reigns, at least enough for what I need. The carriage shudders beneath me as the thin wheels hit unworn gravel. My head is pounding now, my whole body aching and clenching with hunger.
Soon, I tell the monster within.
I pull the reigns to the right at the last second, and the horses take a sharp turn, which whips the carriage much too hard. It flings us out towards the water.
The driver lands on the bank, face down. I roll and manage to find my feet, crouching like an animal as I watch the carriage topple over. The horse’s harnesses are pulled tightly until the buckle holding their harnesses snaps, freeing them. They bolt off down the path, until they disappear in the rising dust.
I crawl to my meal.
“Come with me,” I whisper in his ear. He pulls himself up.
“What did you do?” he asks me.
Too conscious. I begin a simple melody, calming and sweet. He stops moving to listen, eye drifting to my lips. I brush the hair back from his forehead as I sing.
“Come with me,” I say again. This time he lifts his body from the ground. I take his hand and slowly guide him towards the water, never letting his eyes drift from mine.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me absently.
“Do you want me?” I ask him again.
“Yes,” he croaks. For the first time fear flickers in his eyes. He blinks and pulls his hand back from mine.
I allow him to stop but step closer so that my leg presses against his. I touch his chest with gentle fingers. “I can give you all the things you desire,” I tell him.
He groans, yearning covering every coherent thought.
“I just need you to come with me.”
“Where?”
“I’ll show you.”
My feet sing with pleasure the second the cool water is reunited with my dry skin. My eyes don’t leave his, even as I step back farther down the steep slope of the bank, sinking deeper and deeper.
He follows until he’s wading in the murky water. Then I slip the rest of the way under, disappearing from view. From below, I watch him blink rapidly, suddenly aware of his surroundings. “Miss?” he calls, fear and confusion breaking through, so deliciously.
“Bloody psychotic women,” he mutters, stepping backwards, but I’m too fast for him. I leap from water in one quick motion and drag him down beneath the surface.
Bluff
Below deck, I rummage through the food supplies, trying to make some semblance of sense out of these things. I have no idea what half of it is.
There are barrels filled with items I couldn’t name. Nuts? Oats? I’m unsure. Bags of powders of varying colors.
A young boy walks in, wearing food-splattered clothing and carrying a pot sloshing with something that smells rather decent.
“What have we here?” I say cheerily. Perhaps I’ve found a savior in this particular predicament.
“Stew is nearly rea
dy, sir,” he says with a mousy voice.
“Well, finish it then!” I holler, smiling all the while. Dodgy has an apprentice. Perfect.
“I brought you your spiced rum as well, sir.”
I nod appreciatively. It’s always nice when you learn the man whose place you took is a lazy piece of shit or a drunk. It makes impersonation rather easy. Someone else already designated to do my job for me? Couldn’t get much better than that.
Now I suppose I don’t have to worry about poisoning the whole crew.
“Captain wants two of those chickens cooked up for the lady tonight,” I announce.
I pick up the bottle, eyeing it up. “I suppose you have that under control too then, boy?” I have no idea what his name is. Patronizing tack is always an easy option when impersonating someone unknown.
“Of course,” he says, puffing his chest out.
“Good. Consider this a test.” I rush from the storage room, bringing the bottle with me. I head above deck, feeling rather pleased about my circumstances. I’m well on my way to reaching Whitley—assuming she’s where I believe she is. I picked possibly the easiest crew member to replace on the whole ship. And my best friend has managed to come along without putting my plans at risk.
This is going rather well.
Above deck, the air is fresh and cool as we travel further north. The winds seem fair and strong, pushing us along our route quite well. Rosemera is at the helm again, leg hitched up as she leans against the railing.
“You look rather comfortable,” I tell her.
She jumps and doesn’t seem to recognize the chubby cook as me for a moment. I smirk and her face relaxes. “Too comfortable?” she asks, knowing she must pass as a high society lady.
I shrug. “I doubt anyone will say a thing.”
I let out a breath. “I don’t know how they live like this. So uptight all the time. You can never breathe easy. It’s a miserable life, really.”
“And yet it’s the life we all seem to strive for. Why is that?”
She chuckles. “I don’t. Never wanted this.”
Bound by the Depths Page 5