Bound by the Depths

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Bound by the Depths Page 18

by Stacey Trombley


  There isn’t much to be said about the boy, except that he’s tiny. His skin color is hidden beneath a layer of muck. It could be white as snow or as dark as night. Impossible to tell. His clothes are rags, hanging off his tiny body.

  He sits, wrapping his arms around his knees.

  I sit beside him, legs folded beneath me. “Can I tell you something, Bingo?”

  He nods eagerly.

  “I don’t know who I’m supposed to trust.”

  “That’s the key to most people’s lives, innut? Who you trust. Probably says something that you’re questioning. Most don’t. They just go on trusting people they shouldn’t and only realize it when it’s too late.”

  My eyebrows rise up high. “That’s very wise, Bingo.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You don’t have to call me that.” He interchanges between miss and ma’am randomly, but I’d prefer he use neither.

  “What should I?”

  I shrug. “Whitley?”

  He shakes his head. “That what everyone calls you. How about Whit?”

  “Sure. Whit it is.” I smile. “I think I was one of those people, once. I trusted people I shouldn’t. I learned not to trust my father, eventually. I think he’s to blame for most of this shit I’m in.”

  “Most parents are,” he agrees seriously.

  I hold back a chuckle. “But not all of it. Those creatures want me, but I’m not sure I can run from them forever.”

  “Perhaps not. But that doesn’t mean you give up, does it?”

  I shake my head. “I suppose not. But Bluff is my only other option, and I’m not sure I trust him either.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “But I must trust someone at some point, right?”

  He considers this seriously, brow pulled low, staring at the gravel near his guck covered bare feet. Finally he looks up, eyes bright. “You can trust me.”

  I smile. “Can I?”

  “Sure.”

  A vague memory stirs, of little boys with similar grime-covered clothing, if a bit lighter, with blades pointed and cruelty in their eyes. The image of a silver-haired boy, mixed with blood, unconscious and bound by ropes.

  My stomach clenches.

  Great, I meet a friend and turns out I can’t trust him either. “Will you tell me about me? What do you know about the time I was here with Bluff?”

  “Sure. You came to us with that pirate boy, looking to barter for a way to get out to sea. Wanted to catch some pirate ship in the bay.”

  “And?”

  “We helped...sorta.”

  “Sorta?”

  “We took you to a ship, we just did it with you bound. Cause they were willing to pay. We knew it was the same ship you wanted, so didn’t see any harm ensuring we received payment by taking you in all tied up.”

  I raise my eyebrows. So that explains the memory. “But I should trust you?”

  “That was Knick. Not me. I would’n’a done it.”

  “Very well, I believe you.” Or, really, it doesn’t much matter. The memories are what matter, and I need more of them. “What else do you remember? What did we say when we bartered? What did we want to get to that ship for?”

  “That, I dunno. You didn’t tell us much. Just that some bad men were after you—pirates. And that you needed to get away. We accused you of eloping, but the pirate boy seemed pretty against that accusation. Had his nose up and all. Which was crazy, if ya ask me. You being so pretty and all.”

  My stomach twists. So even then he wanted nothing to do with me. What is Bluff’s deal? Why is my soul so drawn him, and yet everything I learn tells me he hates me? There has to be more.

  I want there to be more.

  “Thank you, Bingo.”

  “Not a thing, Whit. Just the truth.”

  “Anything else? I’m having... memory issues, you see.”

  He nods. “I can understand that. I don’t remember much before turning to the gutters. Before Knick.”

  “How long ago is that?”

  “Four or five years.”

  Well, he was probably six or seven, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t remember. I don’t say that though, just let him relate.

  “You paid using an emerald ring. You said some old rich man wanted to marry you using your own mother’s ring.”

  My mother’s ring. I used to wear it on a chain around my neck. Just one more way my father betrayed me.

  “That pirate boy didn’t seem to like that part very much. I remember the look on his face. Shocked, kinda like when you really want to stick something sharp into someone mean to you.”

  “He wanted to kill me?”

  “Not you, Whit. The man who wanted to marry you.”

  I close my eyes, letting the wave of emotion roll over me. I’m not even sure what to make of that. Another image flashes into my mind.

  Bluff on a ship, starlight casting down on us. The wind tossing his hair back.

  His fingers lightly trail down my upper arm. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice so soft.

  "For what?" I turn to meet his eyes, full of some mysterious emotion.

  "I didn't believe you. I still..." He shakes his head. "I don't understand it. But I trust you."

  I swallow, blinking back the memory. What do I make of that?

  I trust you.

  He trusted me. Here I am not trusting him. Guilt twists through me once more. I so wish I just knew. Knew the whole truth. What happened?

  If you remember, it’ll all make sense. That’s what Bluff told me. I need more.

  A stirring begins in my chest. At first I think it’s due to my memory. It’s a calling, a pull. It’s not entirely unlike how I feel with Bluff. And yet, there’s something bitter to this feeling. Something sharp. Dangerous.

  There’s a sound to the feeling. A song.

  Bingo’s head whips to the entrance of the sewer. That’s when I notice the screams. Distant and echoing. So very light, only barely audible.

  Bingo jumps into action, bolting to the sewer and throwing his tiny body through the hole.

  “Wait!” I call to him, but he’s already gone. “Dammit!” I don’t think, I just throw my own body into the small sewer entrance, realizing after it’s too late I’m not even sure I’ll fit.

  Bluff

  I’m dragged back to my cell, tossed inside aggressively, and this time, the shackle is snapped much too tight, cutting off circulation.

  Well, that didn’t go as planned.

  “Buck up, boy,” the guard says. “You’ll be back on a ship where you belong soon enough.”

  Mr. Robinson stands with his hands folded, watching as I’m secured. “I know of your useless powers, boy. You won’t be getting one over on us again,” he tells me as the cell door clicks back into place and the locked snaps closed.

  He holds up a rolled piece of parchment. “This is a letter to Stede. He and I have become close allies these past few weeks. Really, I’ve made a good amount of money helping him get his hands on that girl, and he never seems able to seal the deal.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  He smiles. “Don’t you worry about that. Just know that I thoroughly intend to sell you back to him. Unless...”

  I clench my jaw.

  “Unless you’d like to cooperate? Now that I know the truth about Whitley’s power, I’d much rather have her to myself than help that idiot pirate have her. So, if you have any information that may help, I might reconsider what happens to this letter.” He holds up the paper, waving it in the air.

  “So what? You think I’d help you get Whitley to save my own ass?”

  “You’re always out for yourself, aren’t you, Bluff?”

  My lip curls. “No.”

  “You’ll be back on his ship by tomorrow night unless you speak now.”

  “What the hell do I care?” Stede had the chance to have me days ago and passed it up. Now that they’ve closed in on Whitley, will that remain the same? Probably not.
/>
  But even so, I don’t care what happens to me. So long as Whitley remains hidden.

  He shrugs and puts the paper back in his pocket.

  “Very well,” he says, leaning into the bars. “Just hope I don’t get my hands on your whore of a girl before they do.”

  Whitley

  My arms barely squeeze through the slimy stone culvert. It scrapes and pulls at my skin, but thanks to the unpleasant slime, I do manage to slide through and land in the few inches of stinky water below.

  I wrinkle my nose, then listen. There’s no movement. No sound.

  Then the cries begin again.

  “Help!” little voices cry.

  “Don’t hurt them! We don’t know where she is!” an older voice calls. A voice I recognize—Knick.

  I run through the tunnel towards the noise, the whimpers growing louder as I approach. My feet splash. No way to hide the noise when moving this quickly through the tunnels. It takes several minutes, but by the time I reach the gathering, they’re all staring right at me.

  Three sirens, skin glistening with varying colors, purples and pinks and blues and yellows. Webbed hands and claws, scales all the way down their legs. Their appearance is partially transparent, especially the largest of the three.

  She’s the one that steps forward.

  Run, the voice in my head tells me.

  I should run now. Something tells me that she’s weak. This woman is magical, pulling power from the sea, much the way I do. I could get away, that’s what my gut tells me. They can’t pull me all the way to the sea from here, not with this little water. They’ll need help. They’ll need to hypnotize me.

  But I look behind the blueish mer-woman, her fins wiggling in the disgusting water, to see four figures, huddled in the corner. Three of them children: one girl with pig tails, one larger boy, and Bingo. The fourth is Knick.

  I don’t care all that much about Knick after his betrayal that Bingo so graciously exposed—even if they didn’t think it would really hurt us. That broken image of Bluff tells me it was more than just convenience for them.

  But Bingo, a boy I met less than an hour ago, has become my only friend. I doubt the sirens would hesitate to kill them. Children or not.

  “Whitley,” the woman purrs.

  I wince.

  “So good to finally see you. It’s been too long.”

  I swallow.

  “We’ve been looking for you. I realized, though, that it has to be me. I’m your mother, sweet child. You won’t trust just anyone.”

  Mother. Does she think I don’t remember my own mother? It’s been a decade since I’ve seen her, but I haven’t forgotten. Those memories are broken and scattered, much the way my newly recovered memories are, but due to distance and time, not magic. I remember her face. Her sweet, reassuring voice. I remember her cough. The way she squeezed my hand too tight the last time I saw her. How the doctor wouldn’t let me see her in her last few days on this earth.

  I remember the bitter tears my father cried. The new cruelty in his eyes in the weeks after. That was when he changed.

  “You are not my mother,” I challenge her.

  “Well.” She tsks. “Not your physical mother. I’m your magical mother, though. I birthed you into the beautiful siren you are now.” Her voice is like a song. The magic of the words reaches into my mind, a pull much stronger than I expected. She’s not at full strength. But she’s not weak by any means, not in magic, at least.

  “Did you?” I say, eyes harsh. “Are you also the reason I’ve lost my memories?”

  She purses her lips in a fake pout. “An unfortunate side effect of the change. It does happen on occasion.”

  I narrow my eyes. “So it won’t happen again if I go with you now?”

  Her face perks up at that mention. It’s exactly what she wants.

  “Of course not! We can help you recover fully. I’ll even bring you to Bluff... You do remember him, don’t you?”

  “Bluff...”

  “I’m his mother, dear. His real mother.” She winks. “You want to be reunited, don’t you?”

  Interesting. “You’d reunite me with him?” I ask, this time unsure. I run through all the things I know. They all want some power I hold. Bluff says we need to be together to harness this power. Somehow it’s connected between us.

  “Yes!” She slithers nearer, whispering my ear, more magic pouring into my heart, my soul. I’m dizzy with it. “We just need to take you out to sea.”

  I close my eyes with the pleasure that just the word sends through me. I long for the salt water, the lush waves. But my mind also clicks with a question—why?

  “He’s out there, on a ship, you see. He’s waiting for you.”

  My eyebrows pull down. I was just with him hours ago. He’s most certainly not currently on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

  The strands of her hypnotizing spell are broken with the realization of this lie. She doesn’t seem to notice, however.

  I close my eyes. I don’t want her to know her spell isn’t working. Make them think you’re giving them what you want.

  “What if... I don’t want him,” I whisper, not because it’s true, but because I’m unsure, and I want to know how she’ll respond. Give me another hint, I silently beg.

  She jerks her head away for a moment.

  “He called me a monster. He doesn’t want me now,” I tell her.

  Now her mouth twists into a sadistic smile. She seems to believe this without question, and it pleases her greatly. “Then I have good news for you.” She leans back in, the tingling coolness of her breath on my neck. “You have power over him. You can make him do whatever you want.”

  I narrow my eyes, but I’m careful about my response. “What...does that mean, exactly?”

  “It’s literal,” she says, coolly. “You can force him to jump. You can hurt him. You can make him hurt someone he loves. Just name it.”

  So I have the ability to control him? Literally?

  My mind spins. Is this part true? I can’t tell. I know she’s lying about some things... the rest?

  Her voice turns raspy. “You can do anything.”

  I believe her, I realize. The desire in her voice tells me this is true. This is part of the power she so desires. She wants to control her own son.

  And if it’s true and Bluff knows it... A fresh memory plays in my mind. Us in a quiet room, hidden away in a massive house. Kissing, intimately. A blush rushes to my cheeks as I replay his lips running down my chest, my stomach.

  If it’s true... why didn’t he pull out a blade right then and there and carve my heart out? It would have been easy.

  I will be the death of him.

  And yet he said he’d still come for me.

  If I’m the key to his enslavement, my death would free him. Unless he really does love me. Still.

  My heart throbs in my chest.

  She might be telling me the truth about reuniting me with Bluff. That fits into the pieces I know. So if I go with her now, I’ll see him again.

  But what she’s not being truthful about is why she wants to take me out to sea.

  She’s only a whisper of power here. Hypnotizing, but nothing more. Out at sea—that’s where she’s at full power.

  They drowned you in magic.

  New images: A flood of power. A woman’s iridescent face in mine, her clawed hand at the throat, squeezing so tight I couldn’t breathe.

  Then, he called my name, desperate, splashing through the water to reach me.

  “You’re worth saving,” he whispered into my ear while holding my limp body. Those words jerked my soul back to the surface—Is that the reason they weren’t successful the first time?

  I take in a long deep breath and begin tapping my hand against my leg. They’re going to drown me a second time. This time, I won’t resurface. I believe that part.

  I look at the boys again, backs against the rock wall. Bingo’s large eyes stare into mine.

  I could run, sti
ll. I think I could get away now. But they couldn’t. So, what are my choices? Run and leave them to a terrible death.

  Go with her and lose all my memories, leaving Bluff with a terrible fate. “You can make him hurt someone he loves. Just name it.” She longs to do that. Longs to give him pain.

  What a twisted creature. She is far from human.

  Make them think you’re giving them what they want.

  “Very well, I’ll go with you,” I say.

  Bluff

  I wiggle my hands in the shackles, seeking any kind of relief from the pressure, as I bounce inside the locked carriage. My hands are hot and stiff, blood flow restricted. I consider changing my form to something smaller, just to relieve the discomfort and limit the risk of losing my hands altogether. Not really keen on the whole hook hand, pirate or not.

  But I have time before it gets that serious, and I’d like to keep my ability secret from my current guards. Mr. Robinson knows of my power, and he’ll be prepared, but he obviously isn’t sharing the secret liberally with all of his employees, so the surprise factor is still usable, if only limited.

  Brick and stone buildings pass across the small window in my section of the carriage. I watch as men in suits and suspenders, women in dresses of varying qualities and cleanliness pass by.

  “Where are we headed?” I ask the driver casually.

  “You hush. Don’t be saying a word to us,” one of the large men in full black garb says both to me and the driver.

  “Just inquiring about my fate. That such a bad thing?” I ask, stretching my tingling fingers.

  “Every word outcher mouth is bad thin.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Don’t I deserve to know if I’m headed to the gallows? Not much I can do with that information.”

  “If ye know yer going to die, you’ll fight harder. That’s why you don’t tell a prisoner their fate. Just wait and see lad, ye’ll find out soon enough,” the other guard says, without looking at me. Their eyes are set, cast out at the street ahead as if anticipating something.

 

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