Bound by the Depths

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Bound by the Depths Page 9

by Stacey Trombley


  But I suspect she hopes the captain will keep quiet about her indiscretions once we dock. The less the crew knows about her, the better.

  I will do my best to ensure the captain fears us enough to keep his mouth shut.

  The captain doesn’t ever welcome us to dinner or tell us we can take his quarters for the night, but when Joey comes up with dinner and the captain is nowhere in sight,—we assume he’s just going to allow us the place until tomorrow. I suppose my little speech did some good.

  Rose and I eat in silence. The salted ham is tender and busting with flavor. “Be sure the captain gets a taste of this, yeah?” I tell Joey, before he retreats. “He must see how good of a cook you are. They’ll be looking for a new head chef tomorrow. Could be you, if you play your cards right.”

  The keeps his eyes low, but his expression lifts at those words. “Thank you, m’ lord.”

  I cough. “Don’t call me that.”

  He nods, then turns to retreat. “You’re a talented chef,” I say as he leaves, but he doesn’t pause to acknowledge me.

  “Always trying to help people.” Rosemera smiles.

  I shrug. “Ever think we’re too nice?”

  Her smile is sad, eyes turned down. “For pirates? Yes.”

  I nod, knowing she thinking of her choice not to let the captain die at the hands of Stede’s crew. The decision may cost her chance with Robert.

  I’m hoping we can reverse the damage, but it’s a long shot, regardless.

  “What now?” she asks when he clears our plates. “Why did he let us go?”

  I suck in a long breath. “I don’t know. Only thing I can think is...”

  I pause, and her eyebrows rise in anticipation. “Yes?”

  “They’re after Whitley, not me. They weren’t entirely sure where to go looking for her, but I’m they’re best bet. They must have suspected I’d be on this ship, sailing to New York, but couldn’t be sure until they boarded.”

  “So they now have a heading.” She nods. “But couldn’t they have killed you? Or at least stopped you from sailing further? Captured you? Something?”

  “They need me alive in order to use the power we hold. But yes, they could have stopped me, somehow. Sunk the ship. Captured us. Something along those lines.”

  “So why didn’t they?”

  “Because they still need me, I suppose. To find her.”

  She purses her lips.

  “If she’s heading to New York, it’s because she has connections there. Memories. Things neither the sirens nor the pirates know much of. Stede knows a few pieces, but they clearly assume I know more.”

  “Do you?”

  I press my eyes closed. “Barely.”

  “So what do we do? They’re going to follow you right to her.”

  “There isn’t another choice.” I shrug. “I still must get to her, whether they’re following or not.” I simply must hope that I get there first. I must hope I can make her remember.

  But I won’t have much time to do it.

  Whitley

  The bed is incredibly comfortable. Waves crash in and out of my dreams. Strange melodies wake me every few hours. I’m restless, but the soft covers sooth me back into those dreams just to be jostled awake again.

  I fight this battle all night—external comfort versus internal discomfort.

  I wake feeling rested enough—human enough—to go through the motions. Martha, the maid servant, is at my door when I finally open it.

  “You’re awake!” she says as she charges in and draws the curtains, exposing an incredibly bright sun. “You slept through half the day. I was under strict instructions not to wake you. He said you needed rest.”

  I smile and nod. “I think that’s true.”

  “Well good. Would you like something to eat?”

  My stomach grumbles. But so does something else. Something deeper.

  I search for the source of the feeling. It’s a new kind of hunger.

  Or perhaps it’s not new.

  The images of sharp teeth sinking into flesh and splatters of blood bombard my mind. I wince.

  I should be disgusted by that image. Instead, I feel—ravenous.

  “Yes, please.” I shake my head from the urges.

  She aids me in dressing. The clothing feels familiar and comforting, bringing me closer to humanity. More memories fill my mind. The first time my father forced me into a dress. He’d told me I was done playing in the mud like some kind of beast.

  I wonder what he’d think of me playing in blood and shattered flesh. If he thought I was a beast then, I’d enjoy seeing the look in his face if he saw what I’ve become now. I shiver at the joy that brings me.

  My father wanted me to be a lady. And now I am anything but.

  That thought, at least, pleases me greatly—even if the reality that I thirst for death sends terror through my soul. Is that the person I want to be?

  Am I even able to choose anymore?

  The fact that I’m here, in my old dresses, clean and safe, suggests that perhaps I am able to choose.

  Do I must choose between being a monster or a slave to a husband? Another image violently shakes through me.

  An older man with hard lines to his face and beady, hungry eyes. He wasn’t hungry for vengeance, the way I am now. He was hungry for control.

  I shiver.

  That man was more a monster than I’ll ever be.

  I take in a shaky breath and let Martha lead me downstairs to Jeb. He’s sitting at the massive table with a cup of tea and reading glasses. How does he look so old? He’s just turned eighteen and he acts like a middle aged man.

  “Whitley!” He jumps up to greet me. I smile. His eagerness to be around me was always infectious. We were never affectionate in the traditional sense, but our friendship was life-giving for me in this suffocating world.

  “Sit. I’ll have lunch brought out for you.” He pulls out a chair and guides me to it like I’m a lost puppy. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I did just show up on his doorstep half dead after disappearing from right under his nose a few weeks before.

  “My father should be home this afternoon. He’s... not aware of your return.” He sits back down and sips his tea awkwardly. “I wouldn’t anticipate a joyous reunion.”

  I raise my eyebrows. Jeb’s father doesn’t like me? I wrack my brain, trying to remember our past interactions. I seem to remember his mother being cautious of me but his father treating me like a daughter.

  “He’s had less than kind things to say about you since your second disappearance. Word in town is that you’ve fallen into a bad way.”

  I nod absently. They’re not wrong about that. I look down at my arm. The skin glistens in the light as I turn it. It’s subtle. Someone might think it just a trick of the light or residue from something shiny that didn’t quite wash off fully. My tongue slides over sharp teeth. I remember the feeling of those fangs as they dug into a man’s flesh, oozing with his life blood.

  I enjoyed that.

  I shiver at that thought, and the reality that I want it again. It turns within my chest, this monster seeking the right moment.

  I find my eyes settling on Jeb’s neck. I blink and shake my head. You will not hurt him, I tell it. Or myself. I’m not entirely sure.

  Is this something new living within me, or is just a piece of me that was always there, just buried? It’s easier to assume the former, but I can’t help but feel like the latter is closer to the truth.

  I’ve always ached for revenge. To control my own destiny and make sure they all know I have power they’d never expected. I wanted to prove them all wrong.

  I am not a lamb.

  “I won’t take offense,” I promise Jeb. “I have no delusions of being forgiven again. I just appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have you to trust. Your aide is more than enough.”

  He looks me in the eye. “That will always be true, Whit. No matter what happens. Even if..
.” He looks down at his cup.

  I tilt my head. “If?”

  “I...” He stops and runs his hands through his hair. “Well, my mother and father are working on a new plan for my future.”

  “Another girl?”

  He nods.

  “Good.”

  His gaze rises quickly. “What?” His cheeks are red, his eyes sad.

  I open my mouth and let it hang there for a minute, realizing that I’ve hurt him. “You can’t marry me. I can’t marry you. It’s good if you can find someone else. Someone better for you than I could ever be.”

  “No one could be better for me than you,” he says in a whisper, and my stomach twists. Was he really that in love with me? “At least not anyone I’m allowed to be with.”

  I narrow my eyes at his last comment but know better than to ask. That was very likely more truth than he’d intended to speak aloud as it is. No one speaks truth in this place.

  “Not anymore,” I tell him. Because it’s true. We were good for each other when we had no other options in life. To find someone safe who cared for us was the biggest blessing either of us could ask for.

  “Is there someone else? For you, I mean.”

  I blink, images blinking into focus—that silver-haired boy. His arms around me. That was a kind of freedom I’d never felt.

  I can’t even remember his name right now. How sad is that? I don’t answer Jeb’s question.

  “You know I wouldn’t care,” he tells me. “What other people consider damaged... I don’t. I don’t care.”

  I bite my bottom lip. He means if I’ve been defiled. “It’s not that...” It’s certainly not the reason I couldn’t marry him.

  “Then what?”

  “Do you really want to marry me that badly?” I ask him, out of curiosity more than anything. There’s no chance I could marry him now. For so many reasons.

  He sucks in a breath. “I’m afraid of life without you. What kind of wife will they set me up with? What if...” He shakes his head. “And I want to protect you. The best way I know how to do that is make you my wife.”

  “That’s sweet, Jeb. But even that’s not enough anymore.”

  He winces, and I realize that of all the things I’ve said, that hurt him the most.

  “So when is your father coming home, again?” I ask as a servant places a plate in front of me, full of slices of chicken and assorted vegetables. I forget my propriety and shove the meat into my face like I’m starving. Perhaps I am, I can’t remember the last time I ate real food.

  I’ve been hungry for other things.

  “Tonight. Tomorrow there is a ball he’s expecting me to attend. I don’t have to go, though.”

  A ball. Images float through my mind of pretty dresses and dancing. A handsome man holding his hand out to me, a glint in his eyes. Is that the same one as the boy on the beach? They don’t look alike, but they feel alike.

  “Of course you can go. You should,” I tell him.

  I take a smaller bite of vegetable, finding my footing back in this world where a lady is expected to act prim and proper. “Well, I’ll only go if accompany me.”

  I raise my eyebrows. That may not be the best idea, I think as something in my chest squirms excitedly. A sea of men, eagerly awaiting the chance to find a woman to control. I shiver at the desire that pulses through me.

  My siren wants to eat. This is her chance to find the men that once haunted my nightmares even more so than the pirates who tried to hurt me. At least those men wear their monsters like a badge of honor. Men of this society hide them beneath slicked hair and fancy tuxedos.

  Well, two can play at that game. They won’t have the slightest clue what’s coming.

  Bluff

  The buildings of New York come into view with the rising of the sun. I’m both excited and terrified. Just the thought of seeing Whitley again sends a flutter through my chest.

  But whether she’ll even know who I am is another story. Knowing what’s at stake... My stomach twists and turns with the slow rocks of the ship.

  I squeeze my hands into fists. I will find a way to bring her back to me. I must. Whatever it takes. No matter what she’s done. I’ve assumed the worst about her in the past, and I’ve turned out to be wrong.

  This time, I won’t make that mistake. I’ll assume the best—that she’s still in there. That she still wants me. Still loves me.

  God, I hope she still loves me.

  There’s so much I should have done differently.

  This time, if I’m wrong it will only hurt me. Hurting her was so much worse than the alternative. If I fail, it’ll be because fate was too powerful to overcome, not because I’m a damned moron.

  I slip below deck to change my form into an average-looking sailor that I hope the rest of the crew won’t bother to notice. This will leave me the chance to enter the port without much resistance. Rosemera will have a much harder time pulling this part of the journey off.

  Now that the captain knows she’s got some unsavory secrets, she’ll be at his mercy if she wants the chance to meet with Robert.

  My threat may work. It may not. We simply must wait and see what he decides.

  She joins me, standing on the deck to watch the slow docking process. I think back to the last time I came into this port. That was another time when my own stupidity caused me and Whitley pain. Pretending to be her fiancé, Jeb—I still mentally spit the name. Supposedly he’s a kind man but the thought of her with him makes me physically ill.

  I would give anything to do it over, to savor every second I had with her. Every kiss. Every touch. Every conversation.

  I wasted so much of it being salty about things outside her control.

  Finally, the ship is tied tightly to the dock and the plank set. Rose marches up to the front of the ship, staring out at the docks. That’s when I notice the authorities marching down the dock toward us.

  “Are they coming here?” I ask, watching.

  There are two men in tailored suits and silk ties in the bunch. The younger of the two pauses mid step, apparently registering something on our ship—perhaps Rosemera’s scarlet red dress? His eyes light up, and he runs the rest of the way to the ship. He leaps across the plank and heads straight for Rosemera. I step back, out of his way.

  He stops just quickly enough to put his hands on her bare arms gently, but the look on his face is pure incredulity.

  “I can’t believe you made it.”

  “I told you I’d make it. One way or another.”

  Two older men, one a wealthy gentleman with grey hair and one a port authority, board the ship and head directly for the captain. I purse my lips. Perhaps I should have just tossed him to the sharks and taken his place. I don’t trust him in the slightest.

  But only a moment later the wealthy man turns and approaches the lad with slow, measured steps, leaving the officer to talk with the captain.

  “Father, this is Rose.”

  He stops feet from the ridiculously adorable couple and examines her up and down, face stern and flat. I immediately have the urge to smack him across the face. If he doesn’t approve of her, just because she doesn’t look exactly as this society says she should, he’ll have some vengeance to deal with.

  “So you aren’t a figment of his imagination,” he says, his face still serious.

  “No, sir. I had... a family emergency to attend to. But came back as soon as I was able.”

  I immediately change my form before anyone notices. I take on a dark-skinned middle-aged man dressed in a woolen suit and tie. Not as high quality as these gents, but passable in their world. Rosemera is the only one who notices. She turns her gaze to me.

  “Meet my uncle, Lord Sonseca. He ran into a crew of pirates in the south and needed aid in securing safe passage home. Uncle, this is Robert’s father, Mr. Windsor.”

  I approach, a huge smile on my face. “I’ve heard much about you,” I say with as thick a Spanish accent as I can manage.

  “Sounds lik
e you had quite the adventure. Interestingly, I’ve heard much about pirates lately. I do hope they aren’t becoming a prominent issue again.”

  “I suspect not,” I say. “Not like the old days. But they’ll never be extinguished entirely, I’m afraid. So long as men have wealth, others will try to steal it.”

  Or perhaps so long as men aren’t given the ability to obtain basic necessities, they’ll do anything to survive. That explanation wouldn’t go over as well in this crowd, though.

  “It was bad luck, in the end.”

  “Indeed.”

  The captain approaches slowly, I glance to Rose, whose shoulders straighten. She holds a breath.

  “Sir, I have something to tell you,” the captain says to the group. There is sweat beading on his brow. Will he wet his pants again, I wonder? He very well may once I’m through with him if he tries to toss Rosemera’s reputation overboard.

  Robert’s father gives the captain an annoyed look. “Yes?” he says.

  “Oh!” Rosemera says suddenly. “Did he tell you about the fight yet? The captain was so incredibly brave. He saved my life, truly!”

  The captain freezes, his mouth agape.

  “Indeed?” Robert’s father says. “I’d heard vaguely of the pirate I encounter, but it wasn’t described to me as quite so violent.”

  “A few pirates managed to get on board the ship, and one of them found his way to me. The captain jumped right between us. I wouldn’t be standing here without him!”

  Robert’s eyes grow wide, a mixture of horror and awe. Does he believe this story? How much about her life has she told him? I wonder.

  “Then the pirates retreated. It was an amazing sight.”

  “Well, it sounds as if a reward is in order.”

  The captain’s shoulders straighten, head high and proud.

  “You’re a hero, sir,” Robert’s father says, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “Tha—thank you,” he stutters.

  Clever, clever girl. She knew exactly how to shut him up. Give him exactly what he wants.

  Whitley

 

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