Or someone.
Do they think Whitley will come to save me? My stomach twists. She won’t, that much I know.
“Well, we’re headed south. We going to the mob?” I ask, at this point just seeking the opportunity to annoy them. Or distract them. “Five Points, right? That’s the area of town the mob meets.”
The larger man grunts in annoyance but doesn’t respond.
“Mr. Robinson is the puppet master of the mob, isn’t he? Makes sense he’d take me there.”
“Shut your mouth about things you don’t know,” the smaller man says under his breath, rage simmering in his tone. I’ve hit rather close to a truth not meant to be spoken aloud. Good.
“Just stating the obvious,” I shrug. “Mr. Robinson is the mob boss the authorities have been after for years—yet are secretly working with. Money buys you all kinds of power,” I muse.
A hand slams on grate blocking me from the front of the carriage, rattling the whole thing. I start, but then laugh heartily.
“Yes, yes. I get it. Just tell me our current destination and I’ll stop talking. Innocent information. That’s all I require for my silence.”
Both men groan quietly.
“The harbor.”
I nod. Unsurprising.
“Your fate ain’t nothing to us, so don’t bother asking.”
“’Course not,” I say. “You’ve told me enough. My fate will be up to those pirates, not you.”
“You said you’d hush,” the large one growls.
“Aye. I’ll hush.”
I sit and smirk quietly as the buildings grow larger. My future isn’t looking bright, but it always makes me feel better to make an opponent miserable, particularly in ways they can’t control.
Words are my favorite weapons.
The clothes on the strangers we pass grow brighter, more luxurious, and even larger the further south we go. This is where much of high-society’s best live. Ostentatious hats and skirts, with feathers and jewels line the streets here. How people even find this attractive is beyond me. I’d greatly prefer a simple beauty.
A woman in only a white cotton dress, her hair unpinned and flowing. Preferably wet, head to toe.
I shake my head of the image.
Memories like that only lead to added heartache. Something I certainly don’t need now.
The smell of salt and fish fill the air around me, and I know we’re getting closer to the harbor. I watch as we pass by a large fish market. Then a trader’s market with tents and stands and storefront shops.
Just as the sails of the ships come into view over the stone buildings, a familiar face catches my attention. I sit up, leaning to get a better view as Rosemera, dressed in a royal blue velvet dress and leather gloves that don’t remotely match, skips to cross the street right in front of my carriage.
I swallow, ready for the inevitable. She’s going to risk her life, and worse, give up entirely the opportunity to marry Robert. If that’s what she wants, I want her to have it.
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on shrinking my hands to a child’s size, but keeping the rest of my body whole. It’s a challenge to be two forms at once. But it’s the only way I can achieve both goals—keep what manner of surprise I can, and free my hands of these shackles to allow them the chance to recuperate before a battle. I’d be useless with numb hands.
Because a battle is coming.
Whitley
The murky water greets me like an old friend. Cool fingers massaging every bit of exposed skin, twisting around me. Swirling into every pore.
Come, the water whispers to me. Farther. Deeper.
I allow myself several moments to enjoy this pleasure, ignoring the swishes of fins surrounding me and the song pushing its way through my mind, hypnotizing.
I feel the waves. I breathe them in and embrace the natural pull of the depths, like the love of a father to his children.
I belong here.
That’s a truth I cannot deny.
Come.
I want to, I tell the whisper of the waves. But I can’t. Not yet.
The melody around me is dizzying. I swim freely, surrounded by two dozen sirens of varying colors and sizes. The queen up front, leads the pack. The farther we go, the closer to the ocean we get—her outline becomes fuller.
She’s getting stronger.
And yet, the farther we go, the more tension seeps from the sirens around me. They’re letting their guards down inch by inch.
The water becomes saltier, the taste singing in my mouth.
Part of me does not want to leave. I would do anything not to force my body back into the bite of the open air.
Bluff.
As much as I want the open sea, as much as I belong there—I belong with him more. He’s near. I can feel it.
A rush of power flows through me from the sea—Go find him.
Even the sea agrees that I need him as much as I need it.
I close my eyes and remember the feeling of his embrace. His hands on mine. My back arches involuntarily at just the thought of his lips on my skin.
And with another rush of magic—not from the sirens, not from me, but from the depths themselves—comes a realization. It fills me with a feeling I’ve been searching for. Assurance.
The magic stirs something deep within. Another part of me that was buried.
I blink as I realize my truth.
I don’t care if Bluff loves me. I don’t care if I can trust him or not.
I thought I had no one to trust, but now I realize I always will. I can trust myself. And deep down I know my truth—I love him.
Though many memories are still missing, my confusion is gone. I don’t have details. But I have feeling.
A blue swirl appears around the siren queen ahead. My stomach sinks. I recognize it. I remember it.
Drowned in magic.
They’re preparing for a second round.
Well, so am I.
I clench my jaw and don’t hesitate. I whip my body to a sharp left toward the bank of island. We’re near the tip, near the docks where ships intersect and cargo is transported.
I rush through the siren bodies around me, slipping through the gaps, completely clear of their cage before the screeches begin.
I shiver as the horrid sound fills the water. I reach the rock of the bank before the first webbed hand grabs me. I twist out of it, but then there’s another. And another.
Bluff. The whisper rushes through me.
I pull my body into the unpleasant open air, wind gushing like the slice of a knife. I ignore the pain and climb, pulling my unwilling body out of the water. Out of the grip of clawed hands, desperate for me.
Bodies splash and climb over one another, clamoring.
One hand grips so tight, squeezing my ankle, and I can’t get free.
Then there are more—over my thighs, my waist. They climb and twist and hiss and cry until I’m buried beneath their weight.
I’m not going to make it, I realize.
One siren leaps forward, landing over my back, arms wrapped around my shoulder and stomach in a death grip. Another climbs forward and wraps her slimy arm around my throat.
I take one last breath and breathe him in. Bluff.
Slowly, I fade, slipping back into the dark waters.
Bluff
It begins with a shout.
“Whoa!”
The carriage rocks and trembles as the driver pulls the reigns to avoid the woman in the road. The horses neigh, and their hooves slides.
“Don’t stop!” the first guard shouts.
“I’m going to hit her!”
“Then hit her!”
The carriages rattles to a stop, and the guard shoves the driver out of the way to take the reins, but the damage is done. Rosemera is on board, Fists, blades, and luxurious blue fabric flying.
A gunshot rings, and the second guard falls lifeless to the cobblestone road.
There is chaos in the streets, people screaming and running fr
om the fight, including the driver.
Another body jumps onto the carriage, points a rifle at the lock of my cell. “Move!” Robert yells.
Well, that’s interesting.
He too is risking his reputation for me.
I retreat to the back of the carriage, as far as I can get as another shot rings out. Ricochets of splintered wood and metal rip through clothing and skin, just enough to sting.
Ignoring the minor cuts, I ram my shoulder into the door, and it gives immediately. There I aid Rosemera, grabbing the guard so she can get one major hit to his temple with her fist. He falls to the ground, limp.
“Let’s go,” she says, without so much as a greeting.
“Nice to see you too,” I say with a smile.
“There’ll be time for niceties when we’re safe.”
That’s when I notice the men, appearing from the shadows of the alleys all around. Apparently, the mob was prepared for an escape attempt. I should have expected that. And yet I’m used to people underestimating me.
One of the men wears a golden emblem on his head scarf. I cast my eyes to the larger man next to him. His shoulders are stiff and high as he steps forward.
“Stede,” I say, knowing my chances of getting out of this are now zilch.
Another carriage rides quickly to the standoff. A high-class imbecile unaware of the danger he’s riding into, or someone else?
Rosemera, Robert, and I stand on the carriage, chests heaving, hearts pounding. Waiting.
Stede doesn’t move, he just smiles, watching the carriage pull up. Before it’s even come to a full stop, the door opens and a shiny boot hits the first step. He hops down just as the horse’s hooves slide and the carriage lurches to a quick halt.
Mr. Robinson emerges from the carriage as a rather convenient black cloud forms over the Hudson river to our right.
“My, my. Mr. Windsor. I must admit I’m surprised.”
All eyes turn to Robert, still in his Sunday’s best suspenders and shiny black shoes, holding a rifle casually in his right hand. His expression is calm, eyes pinned unflinchingly on Mr. Robinson, the most powerful man in the city.
“From pirates, I expected this. From you?” He tilts his head to the side and steps forward casually. “You do realize who you’ve crossed, yes?”
He looks around. The crowds have scattered, leaving only a ring of mobsters and pirates within sight. The docked ships rock violently in the menacing wind. The sky is dark. A storm blowing in very quickly.
My heart begins to pound harder.
No one else bothers to pay attention to the weather.
“Then again, I suppose I’m fairly impressed.” No one speaks. Mr. Robinson looks down at his fingernails. “I could use a young, influential and—best of all—fearless, lad in my ranks.” He waits, studying his face.
“I have no intention of joining the mob,” Robert says calmly, his shoulders tight, eyes steady. He’s wary, but unafraid. I find I am impressed as well. I wouldn’t have expected this kind of bravery and loyalty from a rich lad in New York. Though I suppose I should stop making assumptions about the weakness of the rich in this culture. Between Whitley and Mr. Robinson...
“You realize your other option, then, yes?” Mr. Robinson lifts his chin, and narrow his eyes. His bottom lip pushes out into a fake pout as if he’s terribly saddened about the news he’s about to give. “Your whole family will be ruined, not just you. Fires, those can take everything from folk like you. Terrible things.”
I swallow, but Robert doesn’t so much as blink.
“I’ve made my choice, Mr. Robinson. Do what you must.”
He nods sadly. “Very well. Onto other business.”
Mr. Robinson’s gaze turns to Captain Stede, whose expression shows nothing but pure impatience. “Oh, is it my turn now?”
Mr. Robinson ignores his comments and smiles jovially. “I have a package for you, Mr. Stede.”
“I must say, your delivery methods are rather unconventional.”
“And yet they worked. Here is your prize. How about payment?”
They don’t bother even attempting to grab us before bartering over me. How arrogant.
I use their negotiations as a moment to examine my options.
A wall of men—pirate and mobsters—stands shoulder to shoulder in a circle around us. No gaps. No weakness. My eyes pause on a thin woman pirate, her eyes sharp. Nope, definitely not her. My first inclination is to find a physical weakness, but what I really need is a distracted mind, and a woman is least likely to shift her focus.
“I’m afraid the girl slipped from my grasp, but I assume you’ll obtain her soon enough. I intend to aid in any way possible.”
“No need,” Stede says, his eyes turning to me, his lips curling up into a smile.
My stomach sinks.
“We already have her.”
I suck in a breath but my eyes move to the black storm clouds. The light flashing behind them. A stirring swirls in my chest, a power pulled from within.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I whisper. He doesn’t hear.
On the bank of the Hudson, just past one last row of buildings, the water is just visible. The waves are disturbed, and a soft glow forms under the water. I take in a long breath just as the waters recede, pulling back, preparing...
I grab the pistol in Robert’s hand, point it into the sky to the east, and shoot.
Everyone jumps, turning towards the sound just in time for the wave to swell and crash onto the rocky bank, spilling into the streets with an explosion that rocks the carriage and turns every head in that direction.
The swell of water sweeps into the street, knocking over several of the men building our barrier.
Rosemera wisely jumps into action, cutting and shooting her way through every man she reaches, using the distraction to our advantage. And I should too.
Except that a familiar blond form appears over the rocks, just behind the wall of water, and I freeze. Whitley.
Whitley
The power that explodes from me is a shock, even to myself. I watch the faces of the sirens around me deform as the force slams into their soft flesh. The anger of the Siren Queen is an explosion all its own as she comes for me. Her expression is determined, despite the power she can’t overcome blasting her.
I pull power from Bluff, who is nearby, but not close enough. More power surges from deep within me, taking slices of my soul and exploding against my foes. It works, but flashes of black cloud my mind. I groan with the pain it causes.
I want those pieces back. But I push forward on instinct alone.
My mind goes dizzy with power as a wave of water crests up, moving me with it, away from the pile of creatures clamoring for me. It slams onto the rocks, sending the waves toppling onto the city streets and leaving me stricken with pain and dizziness as I grip the rocks, holding on as hard as possible.
Sirens hiss from the water, and I know I must keep moving. They’ll come after me if they can, and I’ve brought enough water into the city to allow them to do just that.
Sirens crawl into the street of New York, slipping on the thin water I’ve sent cascading down the streets.
I pull my body forward, desperate for any inch I can manage. Up ahead I notice a group of men ahead. They all stare towards me in wonder.
I meet the gaze of a silver-haired boy, whose eye bore into mine.
“Bluff,” I say, not even knowing what it means. I am supposed to know that word, aren’t I? I grimace. Only moments ago I knew it...
A chorus of hisses resounds behind me, pulling attention away from me. But it won’t be long. I slip down behind a stone and attempt to regain my balance on wobbly knees.
My mind spins.
What am I doing, again? Where...
I close my eyes and shake my head, trying to break free of the confusion. It’s from the explosion, right? I hit my head, and now I’m having trouble focusing...
But my eyes are focused. I can see my bare feet in t
he muck by the alley, toes squishing. I turn and survey the rows and rows of buildings. I can hear clinks of metal on metal and gunshots ringing out in the street just before me.
I’m in New York, near the harbor, with flags flying on the still rocking ships. I know that if I follow this alley it’ll take me into Five Points, and if I can make it past mob territory, in only a few more blocks I’ll be in a safe area with friends...
I just don’t know which friends.
I know details about where I am, but I don’t know...who I am.
Shit.
I let out a bitter laugh at myself. Hanging around pirates too long has me talking like them.
Wait, pirates?
I shake my head. The memories are there. They must be. There are pieces. Fragments.
A song begins, far away but right inside my heart. Humming softly.
It’s him, I realize. My muscles relax, calm flowing through my body. A soft hum reverberates in my own chest, my body returning his call.
They’re fighting. Am I supposed to help him?
My stomach sinks. I don’t want to lose who I am again. If he matters to me—and it sure feels like he does—I won’t let him lose. Not now.
Bluff
Whitley disappears as the fight begins. Rosemera slices through the few bodies on or near the carriage before I’m even aware what’s happening. I hum my desperate song to Whitley. It’s short but there is a clear response.
She responded!
Rosemera hops back onto the carriage and grabs the reins. “Ya!” she hollers to the horses, and they break into motion, charging through the crowd of terrified mobsters and pirates. Robert sends enough gunfire into the crowd to scatter any attempt at commandeering our vessel as we pass. But there are so many. Hands grab onto the horses, the carriage steps, Robert’s leg.
He shouts in a panic, and Rosemera turns back, eyes full of fear.
Then another explosion reverberates from near the bank, and a swirl of surprisingly controlled water whips towards us, crashing into the men at the front and knocking them to the side.
Bound by the Depths Page 19