Whitley
You’re not a monster.
I blink as I consider those words. Did I hear it right? Or was it my imagination? More of what I wanted to hear?
Based on the ache in my heart, the dagger twisting in my chest, the way my whole body protests leaving that near stranger behind—I did love him. Did he truly love me?
I’m quiet as we ascend the stairs, light streaming through the house as we reach the top of the second set. We reach the main floor, and the guards seem to realize this is my best shot at escape because the grip on my upper arms tightens.
Well, thank you for the cue.
The song begins somewhere deep in my chest, vibrating.
I notice Mr. Robinson’s eyebrows twitch. It builds, drifting up and out until the melody makes itself known. Magic twists itself through the air, into the ears and hearts of the four men surrounding me. There are more, I’m certain. Watching. Waiting.
They’ll be too late, if I get my way.
The house is large, and I don’t know exactly where the best exit is, but there’s a window. It’s good enough for me.
Our party stops, the men listening to my song. Their nerve melts beneath the heat of my magic. I slip from the grip of the two men easily, sneaking forward.
“No!” Mr. Robinson says, reaching for me. Apparently my spell was not strong enough for him. His desire is not for my beauty, not for my body, but for my power.
I note this for the future. Mr. Robinson will require a different song.
I continue the song as I dodge his grasp, hoping to regain control of his head. Footsteps sound in the next room and I realize it’s too late. I must get out of the house now or they’ll recapture me.
I leave my vengeance behind and sprint for the window, crashing my body through it, shattering the glistening glass as I fall from the largest manor in New York. I hit the small patch of grass with a thud, but the fall was short, the contact soft.
I stand and sprint down the street as shouts of anger and panic follow.
NEARLY A MILE INTO my run, I begin to slow. I’m farther uptown than I’ve ever been, where trees take over and, for the first time, outnumber people and buildings. There’s no one around now. No one to stop and watch, wondering why a girl in an elaborate dress is fleeing pursuers. There’s no one to rat me out to Mr. Robinson, who must have spies all over the city.
Convinced I’ve lost my pursuers, I stop, gasping for air for much more than running.
My heart still hurts. Body aches.
What now, I wonder? I have nowhere to go. No allies. No one to trust.
The small pitter-patter of feet echoes behind me. I freeze, listening.
Dammit, I don’t want to run again. I want to think. I want to feel sorry for myself.
It’s only one person, which means they’re not so much a threat. I can easily kill them. And I will.
But then I recognize the sound, not as heavy souled boots. But heeled shoes. High-pitched clicking.
I spin, brow pulling together in confusion. Around the corner turns a dark-skinned woman in a velvet red dress. Her hair is pinned up like... like she just attended a ball.
“Where is he?” she says, stopping a few feet from me, out of breath.
“Who?”
“Bluff,” she says, exasperated. “What happened? I knew when he never made it home something must have happened. I hoped he was just with you, but...”
I raise my eyebrows. “Who are you?”
“Dammit, Whitley, how do you still not remember?”
Bluff
I close my eyes and listen to her song as it drifts through the house. Only the few near her would be able to hear it, the few affected by its spell. But if I search for it, I can recognize the sounds of my own kind better than any human could.
It’s a relief when I hear it, and I allow myself a moment of pleasure, letting her beautiful song fill my soul.
The song stops, and part of me is disappointed. But the crash of glass and angered shouts give me relief. She got out. So long as they don’t chase her down—unlikely—she’s free, for now.
I swallow. The sirens are waiting around the entire island. I never warned her that the canals would likely be overflowing with them by now. She can’t go near water without them finding her.
But perhaps it’s a moot point anyway. She hates me.
No, I shake my head. Don’t give up yet. It’s not over until she’s one of them fully. I can wallow in my own self-pity or I can keep working towards the off chance that I’ll get another shot. Perhaps I can explain to her what it is about sirens that I’m so turned off by. I can tell her what my mother did to me. I can tell her about Azalea. I can tell her that I don’t care if she’s a siren, heartless and cruel. I’ll tell her that even all of that is no excuse for what I said and the thought of losing her, of hurting her, is the most torture I could imagine. Even loving a siren.
Because I do. I’m over this thought that I can’t love her if she’s one of them. I’ll always love her.
It’ll just kill me that she’ll never love me back.
Fate has never been on my side before, but it pushed us together when I did everything in my power to fight it. If that happens to be what it still wants, then perhaps we’re on the same side.
I shake my head.
Very well, time to stop the pity party. I have a job to do. Now, how do I escape from this hell hole? This is not the first time I’ve been in a cell like this. In a prison, cold and dingy. Shackled and underfed.
My escape plan doesn’t need to be any different. So long as Mr. Robinson doesn’t know the extent of my power... should be so easy even a child could do it.
Whitley
“How do you know him?” I ask the pretty dark-skinned girl. She doesn’t look like a typical high-society lady, but she’s sure dressed as one. She does seem familiar though.
“I’m Rosemera, and Bluff is my best friend, lass. He’s out there risking his life to get to you.” She attempts to run her fingers through her hair, but they get tangled up in the tight pin. She rips her hand away, pins flying with it. “Damn hair,” she spits.
I let out a small laugh. She clearly doesn’t belong to of this part of society. She almost had me fooled, though. There’s just a roughness about her that can’t be hidden for long.
“Just tell me what happened.”
“We, uhh, were alone when Mr. Robinson grabbed us and put us in some holding cell, threatening to sell us to those pirates that want me. I don’t know. It’s so complicated.”
“Arse!” she shouts to no one in particular. “That guy has a whole lot coming to him. How did he overpower the both of you?”
“I didn’t know it before last night, but he’s the head of the mob. He had a bunch of men and a prison cell in his basement. We didn’t have much time to put up a real fight.”
“This place is so messed up.”
I laugh bitterly. Yes, yes it is.
“So what happened to him?”
“He’s... uhh still there.”
Her eyes grow huge, her body stills, tense. Coiled like she’s about the strike me. “You left him?” she says between her teeth.
I consider defending myself. I could tell her that he’s disgusted by me. That he wanted me to get out, even if it meant without him... but in the end I just nod.
“Girl,” she says, shaking her head. She rubs her face with her hand. “So what’s the plan?”
Anger simmers in my chest, mixed with guilt and pain and sadness. “I don’t know. Why is it up to me? I don’t even know what’s happening.” I turn my back on her, hand on my neck. “I don’t know who to trust,” I say under my breath. How do I even know to trust her?
She doesn’t speak for several long moments.
Finally, I turn to face her again. She’s tapping her hand on her leg, lips pursed, considering something. Her face is softer as she speaks. “Fine. Here’s the short list of who not to trust. First, sirens. Second, Stede’s crew. Third, Mr.
Robinson and the mob. Do you have anyone else to turn to not on that list?”
Jeb pops into my mind, but I know better than that. He’d be willing to help, but he couldn’t. I shake my head.
“I’m probably your best option then, huh?”
I swallow.
I don’t know you, I think. How am I supposed to know who to trust? Everyone lies. Everyone wants something. “No,” I hiss. So fed up with this game. I’m tired of feeling guilty. Tired of being manipulated. He thinks I’m a monster, and Rosemera thinks no better of me.
I’ll show them the kind of monster I can be.
Bluff
“Help,” my high-pitched voice calls out. “Someone help me, please?”
The door squeals open. A guard peers in, eyes narrowed. His back straightens, eyes growing wide as he registers the scene: a little boy, no older than age six, is standing in the cell, shackled to the wall, where the pirate prisoner is supposed to be.
He swallows. “Who are you?”
I resist the urge to smile. “My name is Charlie,” I say with a small sad voice. “Can you help me please? I’m not supposed to be here.”
The guard steps in, eyes darting around, looking for anything out of ordinary. “No, I can’t let you out,” he says. “I don’t know why you’re here, but... he has his reasons, all right?”
I grit my teeth. So child prisoners are not out of the ordinary for the magnanimous Mr. Robinson. Wonderful. Time to improvise.
“There was another man here,” I say, eyes cast down. “He had silver hair and said he would help me if I helped him...”
The guards face drains of all color. Yes, that’s better.
He steps back, lungs filled with air ready to sound the alarm. “Wait!” I call.
I want him to be scared, I want him to know this wasn’t part of Mr. Robinson’s plan... but I don’t want more guards to come or I won’t be able to fight my way out.
“He’s long gone by now.”
“How long ago...” His voice trembles as he speaks. He fears his punishment for allowing the prison to escape.
“Hours,” I say with a shrug.
“But you only just started crying out. I would have heard it an hour ago...”
“I was unconscious. He didn’t want me to sound the alarm, I think.”
The guard nods quickly, looking down at the ground absently. “If you let me out, they won’t know I’m the one—”
“No,” he says firmly, looking me in the eye.
I shrink back, feigning fear.
“If you call them now...” I say quietly, thinking this through. How do I get him to do what I want? Just open the cell door. “I won’t tell them it was hours ago. You must take me to see him.” I say it too forcefully, I realize. “Take me. I don’t want them all to see me here,” I add, sadly. Embarrassed.
He takes in a deep breath. Just open it.
The guard steps forward, fumbling with the keys, eyes still searching, still considering. You can change your mind after the cell is unlocked. I don’t care.
My heart pounds as the key clinks inside the lock, churning the metal.
Click.
The guard pauses before opening the door. He shakes his head, and it’s then that I know I must act.
“Hey Tom!” he calls as I slip off my shoe. It’s not a full alarm, but he’s going to get help, which is still bad. He thinks I’m still shackled, so an unlocked door is not a problem. But what he doesn’t realize is that this shackle was put on an ankle three times the size of the boy now in it.
I pull my foot out of the shackle easily and then morph my body into a larger, stronger man and pull the door open. The surprised guard’s grip slips, and it crashes open. He cries out as I shove my massive form into his chest until we crash to the floor. My best course of action is knock him unconscious and escape without a fuss. But now another guard—Tom, presumably—is standing in the doorway.
I morph back into the child’s form and slip through his legs before he can even register what’s happening. They shout behind me as I bolt up the stairs.
I shift into the form of the guard who found me, shouting “The prisoner has escaped!” as I sprint towards my freedom.
Soon, light is visible, and I know I’m achingly close.
But the slight form of a man is blocking my path at the top of the stairs. I stop, panting. “Sir! He’s gone. The prisoner is gone.”
“Is he now?” Mr. Robinson says.
Three men appear behind him.
“Grab him,” he says.
My stomach drops as those three men jump at me. “Hey!” I shout. “What are you doing?” I say, sincerely confused.
They pin me to the ground, and I’m unable to move.
“Tell me, guard. What’s your name?”
I grit my teeth. Several answers pop into my mind, but it would be a crap shoot to try to guess that guard’s name. Just the fact that he’s asking the question is bad news.
“Sudden amnesia, eh?”
Fuck. How in the world does he know?
“You think my new allies wouldn’t give me information this important? Silly boy.”
Whitley
I bare my fangs at Rosemera, hissing.
Her eyes grow wide, and she takes a step back, all confidence draining from her. She fears me. Good.
She swallows and puts her hands up. “I’m just trying to help.”
I wrinkle my nose and sprint away from the girl I hardly know. Heart pounding and head throbbing, discordantly. I keep running, this time from no one. I know the girl isn’t following me.
But her words are.
His words are.
Bluff.
I run as tears stream across my cheeks until they reach my ears. The salt in them seeps into my skin, quenching a thirst I’d forgotten about.
The sea.
It’s the only thing I know. The only thing I can trust. I don’t know that I’ll be safe there, but I do know it’s the only place my body knows well enough to feel comfortable.
The only place I can heal and allow myself a moment to think.
I keep running for what feels like hours, but I know is more like minutes, until I finally reach the riverbank. It’s not as salty as I’d like it to be, but it does reach the sea. I wonder if I take a ship from here, if I could make it all the way out to sea and cross right over those watching out for me.
Or if, perhaps, I should just give in. Rosemera was right, I need to trust someone. If I’ve already burned the bridge with Bluff, then what are my next options? Sirens or no one.
What if the sirens really do want to take away my memories, the parts of me that make me me?
Then perhaps I’m doomed already.
But if that’s true, they’re the ones who took those memories to start with. They are the key to all the answers I seek, that much is achingly clear. They’re just also the source of all my fears, possibly the stream to a life of torture.
I stop, watching the waves ripple, feeling the pull. My hands tremble with desire.
I tap my fingers against my thigh, nervously. I want the water. Need it.
But I’m also so afraid of what lies beyond the surface. It’s either everything I’ve dreamt of, or my worst nightmares.
I bite my lip, considering. Perhaps just a taste... just enough to feel the water. I take one slow step forward, eyes pinned to the dark waters.
“Pssst.”
I blink, foot frozen an inch off the ground. I look for the source of the sound, but there isn’t anyone near.
“Pssst,” the noise sounds again. This time I look down at a small opening near the gutter.
One eye peeks up at me. The rest of his face hidden in shadow. “They’re looking for you. Waiting for you to enter the water.”
I swallow. “Who?” I whisper.
“Those creatures.”
“How do you know they want me? Who are you?”
“Name’s Bingo. And it’s pretty obvious they want you. What did he do to yo
u anyway?”
“Who?” How does a child inside a hole in the ground know more about this—about me—than I do?”
“Bluff, a’ course.”
Of course, I mock inside my mind. There’s nothing obvious about any of this. “He did this to me?”
“Seems so. You used to live here, all normal like the rest of us. Well, I mean you were high class, so not really like us. But you were still human. You left for a while and came back with that Bluff guy in tow, pirates chasing you. Now you come back again with these murderous pretty women and him after you. He’s got to be the key, innut?”
I bite my lip, looking down at my feet. “You saw me with him last time I was here? Weeks ago?”
“Yes, ma’am. And before that. You gave me a candy once. It was the best thing I ever tasted. That’s why I thought to warn you about the water.”
I look around. We’re farther north than the city reaches, only hints of the urban expanse are noticeable here. Like the distant noise from the horse trail nearby. Most cargo comes by ship, but by road is still common enough. Here though, most of what I see is trees.
“What are you doing down there?” I ask the boy.
“It’s where we live, miss.”
“Why?” I ask, remembering the night I spent there and the smell that took immense scrubbing to loosen from my skin.
“No one else’ll take us in. Live here or die, is really all we got.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, miss. It’s the state of the world.”
“Well, Bingo, I’m a little short on friends. Can I stay and talk with you a little while?”
The one eye appears in the hole again, bright and excited. “Yes, ma’am.”
I smile. “Would you like to come out? Only if you want.”
His little eye darts around what small parts he can see. It’s silent for a long while. “All right, but only cause we’re so far north.”
I nod. Certainly it’s safer in this part of town than any other, with people so few and far between. There’s a shifting, clinking, and then the scraping of feet against stone as the small body unfolds out of the hole.
Bound by the Depths Page 17