“I don’t understand,” Hetty said, confused by Olympia’s appearance as much as her words. People had brought them food, but it had never been Olympia before. “What are you saying?”
“She’s saying we should leave now,” Benjy jumped in.
They both turned to face him. He sat up, watching Olympia quite closely. “And that she might have even bought us some time to do so.”
Olympia blinked at him. “You’re well! You have your wits about you!”
“You know about the taint?”
“More than I wish. Not all of us in the village care for Nanette’s ways. She knows it, too. Which is why her medicines have it cut into them. My husband injured his leg and I wanted him to live. Now he can’t go without Weeper’s for more than a few hours these days. You were so sick. How did you manage?”
“I burned a candle into his skin,” Hetty said. “Fire purifies.”
“It worked.” Olympia studied Benjy for a long moment. “Then you are strong enough for travel. I had hoped you would be, for I did not want to burden you further.”
“Though you will with your next question,” Benjy said.
“If you mean to leave, take us with you. I cannot let my son live here any longer. Nanette was the one that told him to go beyond this camp, all for her little games.”
“Your husband cannot leave because of his taste of the taint,” Hetty pointed out. “We do not separate families.”
“In this case you must.” Olympia met Hetty’s eyes with a force of will strengthened by her sorrows. “You will not be able to leave this village without me, and I will not get far without you. I know little of the land outside this swamp, but I know it will be dangerous with the armies north of us.”
Hetty snapped into attention. “When did you last hear this?”
“Two days ago.”
Hetty bit her lip. “Too much of a risk.”
“Risk for what?”
“We’re here looking for her sister,” Benjy answered. “We hoped to get outside of Richmond before the armies settled into fighting.”
“I wouldn’t chance it,” Olympia said. “Going west would be better than north.”
Hetty knew a bald-faced lie when she heard one, but she grudgingly respected this one. The woman was right: They needed the other’s help.
“Will you take us?” Olympia asked again.
“Yes, but it means we lead the way once we leave the swamp behind.”
Olympia nodded, and then went to the door. “I’ll knock when you’re clear to go.”
“Shall we take her on the path we charted?” Benjy asked once they were alone. “We can take her and her son to a safe place and then press on after your sister. We slipped past armies before. I know we’re later than expected, but it’ll only cost you three days.”
It was six days, but she wasn’t about to correct him. If he knew he would get upset and offer up suggestions that would be of little help.
Hetty had seen those days come and pass with little more than a sigh and no regrets. She’d made her choice to stay here with Benjy, and it was the easiest choice she had ever made.
“We go south and we keep them with us. The armies are moving faster than expected,” Hetty said. “I don’t want to get involved in any shooting until it’s the only option. I’ll have other chances, maybe even better ones, later on.”
CAPRICORN
20
THE ACRID ODOR of smelling salts had Hetty gagging.
“Get those away from me,” she coughed, uselessly waving a hand at the source of the stench. “Get them away!”
“You certainly wake in a cheerful mood.”
The source of the vile odor was a vial held in the hand of a neatly dressed woman sitting in a chair next to Hetty. Her hair was streaked with gray, braided into a large plait. She appeared neither friendly nor unfriendly, merely resigned to the task at hand.
Beyond the woman, Hetty could see the canvas of a tent, and other women lying on nearby cots, their faces scratched and their limbs bandaged. Some heavily so, some less. As her eyes focused on them, it dawned on her that they were the other bicycle racers.
“You had quite a nasty fall,” the nurse went on. “You’re lucky you didn’t break any bones. Although the true luck of it is that that no one died.”
“How many . . .” Hetty forced herself into a seated position. “How many were injured?”
“A half dozen or so. Minor scrapes and bruises. A few broken bones. Though there was one lady who insisted on finishing the race even if there was no one to race against.”
“Have you seen—”
“Your husband was sent elsewhere so he could be useful instead of hovering over my shoulder.” The nurse drew the sigil for the Arrow into the air. It glowed, and a pitcher fluttered over to her, tipping its contents into a glass. “Drink, and don’t fret. You remained unconscious for the better part of an hour.” The nurse glanced at the vial of smelling salts. “I did that as a last resort. Drink,” she said pointedly.
Hetty sipped the water.
As she did, the nurse reached over and slapped a bandage across Hetty’s collarbone. It burned her skin at once, and Hetty half choked on the water even as the heat faded to a cooling mist.
“All better. Can’t have your skin marred by that mark.”
The nurse snatched the now empty cup away from Hetty as the tent flap was thrown open.
Benjy walked in.
He had misplaced his jacket and he held a basket of laundry the nurse had presumably given him to occupy his time.
His eyes found Hetty’s, and before she could even blink, he was already halfway across the room.
“You’re awake!” Heedless of the nurse’s clucking tongue, Benjy dropped the basket onto the floor and settled on the edge of the cot. All this attracted attention from other eyes around the room, and Hetty wasn’t sure if it played any part in his reaching for her hand. As if he was playing up the role many—including the nurse—had placed him in. However, as he held her hand in his, Hetty wasn’t sure he noticed anyone else in the tent. It was almost, she thought idly, worth her little dip into the river.
“How bad?” she asked.
“Terrible—you lost the race. In a rather spectacular fashion, I might add.” His words were airy, but his grip had tightened around hers. “Next time save the show for when your feet are firmly planted on the ground.”
“I’ll try,” she said, matching his tone. “Tell me what happened.”
“The explosion erupted right in the middle. A lot of people were hurt, even some who were only watching the race.”
“That is quite unfortunate. Do you know what happened?”
“Only a few things.” His pause was long, and likely due to the nurse, who was giving only a portion of her attention to the sleeping patient one cot over. “The excursion is over. They called off all the other events, including the cakewalk.”
A moan filled the air at his words.
“Oh, I was so looking forward to it!” a young woman cried, before she turned to sob into her pillow.
“What have I told you about upsetting my patients?” the nurse demanded.
“That was not my fault.”
“Off with you,” the nurse said, shooing him, “if you’re going to make trouble!”
“If he leaves, I’m going with him,” Hetty said.
“Are you well enough to leave?” Benjy asked Hetty.
“I feel fine,” she replied, even as the nurse rounded on her.
“You just had a nasty fall into a river. You almost drowned! I can’t let you walk out of here—”
“Sara!” another nurse called. Whatever else the nurse had to say was lost as she tried to restrain a convulsing woman whose fingers were aglow with scarlet light. With naught but a glance back at Hetty and Benjy, the nurse hurried across the tent to assist with the other patient.
No sooner had the train of the nurse’s dress disappeared than Hetty pushed off her blankets.
&nbs
p; “Let’s hurry while she’s distracted.”
“I don’t think she’s going to chase us. And she might be right—you should rest.”
“I want to know what happened since you don’t have the details . . . or your jacket.”
“I ripped it,” he said rather vaguely.
The basket on the floor held her clothes, cleaned and neatly folded. Such prompt laundry service meant only that magic was used. And rather poorly formed spells, at that. Her lips pursed into disapproval at the faded color.
“I didn’t wash them,” Benjy said, pulling out his own jacket from the basket.
“It might have been better if you did,” Hetty said. “My dress is ruined.”
“What a pity—you looked rather nice.”
He meant the color, Hetty told herself, even as her stomach gave an odd lurch. He never spoke about her clothes unless it was about the color, and the dress had been a rather vivid plum. Why would she care anyway? It wasn’t like she picked her clothes with the purpose of being complimented on them. Although this time she had hoped . . .
Attempting to abandon her spiraling thoughts, Hetty forced herself off the cot.
Despite Benjy hovering around her, her knees did not buckle. Her fingers did slip along the buttons and fastenings more than she liked. Her slower movement spurred Benjy to ask if he could help, but a few moments of that showed he was better in helping her remove clothing than pulling it on. As she attempted to smooth the wrinkles, Benjy handed her the cloth band.
All the magic was gone from the band, leaving only her stitch-work. Hetty tied it on anyway. Even without magic, it brought a small measure of comfort.
With Hetty leaning heavily on Benjy’s arm, they walked out of the tent. Outside, she realized this tent was pitched near the end of the boardwalk, and it was among the only things still standing. In the distance, Hetty could see scurrying figures dismantling tents and stalls. The pieces flew under the power of various enchantments cast by those eager to leave as soon as they could.
Hetty watched them work for a bit, then tugged on Benjy’s arm.
“What did you find that you couldn’t mention in front of the nurse?”
“That I couldn’t get near the explosion.”
“Which one? There were two.”
“Two,” Benjy echoed, as if repeating himself would make it less true. “Two explosions?”
“You didn’t see them?”
“I couldn’t get close enough. It’s blocked off a bit, I’m not sure we can get close enough to check.”
“Don’t you forget”—Hetty traced a finger in the air, slowly forming the Gemini star sigil. It flashed for a single moment before the magic cloaked them from sight—“this time I’m here.”
Hidden from sight, they walked through the remnants of the excursion until they reached the grassy plain where the race had taken place.
Several people swarmed the site like ants. Some were cleaning, and some were clearly there to stare and gawk.
The line of defense between the cleaners and the gawkers was George.
“George?” Hetty nearly exclaimed. “You couldn’t get past him?”
“Wait a moment,” Benjy muttered.
He’d barely spoken before a man strode up to George. Angry words were exchanged. The man tried to push past him. George’s fingers moved to form a star sigil. In the flash of light, the ground rippled under the man’s feet and sent him flying back to the ground with stunning force.
The man picked himself up. Hetty didn’t catch what was said, but it ended with George looking on smugly as the other man retreated.
She could see why Benjy had little success on his own. For someone who didn’t like magic, George was quick to cast spells.
Too quick, possibly.
“His spells are employed one by one,” Benjy said. “There’s no spell lying in wait.”
“Then sneaking past should be easy.”
Benjy didn’t answer her.
Isaac Baxter had just stormed up to George, scattering the lingering crowd. With a bruise and a slightly swollen right eye, he looked far from the polished hustler who sought attention from crowds.
“Where is he?” he demanded. “Where’s Loring!”
George pointed. “He’s near the river—”
Snarling, Baxter pushed past him.
And like Baxter’s shadow, Hetty and Benjy followed. They couldn’t get as close as Hetty would have liked. The glamour might have kept them from sight, but the effort to cast it took more out of her than she’d expected. Their slower pace kept them some distance from Baxter, but allowed Hetty to take full note of their surroundings.
The first blast site was a crater, and the burn marks made it appear the work of a fallen star. Around it, the ground was lumpy and deeply gouged from bicycle wheels and boot heels. Chunks of grass and dirt were strewn about, and in the distance, Hetty spied a mound of the twisted metal of broken bicycles.
It was a sad sight.
But it didn’t hold her attention for long.
Baxter nearly pounced on poor defenseless Clarence, who barely had time to flee.
“You moonstruck fool!” Baxter hollered. “If you checked everything, why am I staring at a hole in the ground?”
“I did! I checked—”
“Not well enough. People could have died and it would have been on my head! It’s my name that people will remember, not yours! How could this have happened?”
“Someone must have slipped in when I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Stop giving me excuses,” Baxter snapped. “I need answers, solutions. Give me something! Your own wife was in there. Surely you care about her?”
At this point in the conversation, Clarence turned away. Hetty could see only a portion of his face. That sliver was not enough for her to tell what emotion flickered across his face. Whatever it was, it didn’t appease Baxter at all.
He did some more yelling, but Clarence said nothing more.
In the end, Baxter stormed off, but not to join the men cleaning up. He went in a different direction.
“He’s going where the second one was,” Hetty whispered.
“Then we keep following him.”
They got closer to Baxter this time. He had stopped, and as he reached into his jacket he looked around. His eyes darted in their direction and a ripple of panic crossed his features. Whatever was in his hand was shoved back, and he smoothed out his clothes, grinning broadly at them.
Stars, her spell had worn off !
Though that was alarming, she found herself more curious about his reaction.
Baxter should have started in surprise, but when he greeted them, he acted as if they hadn’t popped out of the ground like mushrooms.
“Are you feeling better, Mrs. Rhodes?” Baxter said, locking his gaze on Hetty. “I feared the worst.”
“Much better,” Hetty said.
“Good.” Baxter’s smile was thinly stretched and seemed ready to unravel. “Will you be leaving soon? The next train leaves fairly shortly. I’d be happy to buy tickets for you. There’s no need for you to linger here. People might think something is wrong.”
“Something is wrong,” Hetty insisted. “There was an explosion! I saw it with my own eyes—”
“An explosion that was fueled by nothing but hate.” Baxter found his footing with these words, easing himself into this lurch of conversation. “A trap set by someone who doesn’t want us to have our fun. There’s no need for poking or prodding.”
“Or asking questions?” Benjy asked.
“Or demanding answers,” Baxter snapped. He seemed to be ready to say more, but with one look at Benjy’s face, Baxter pivoted. “Surely after everything that occurred you don’t want to linger on this side of the river?”
Baxter was being too forceful. He already offered to pay their train fare, and now he was trying to convince them nothing of note happened when the opposite was clearly true. Hetty wasn’t sure how much Baxter knew about them. But
he obviously knew enough to know he didn’t want them poking around.
Very interesting, considering the angry words he had thrown in Clarence’s face.
Surely he wanted answers?
That he didn’t was a question worth looking into, but one thing at a time.
They needed to look at the blast site. But Baxter was dead set on leading them to the train station.
She had to do something. But what?
Hetty sagged against Benjy’s arm, playing up her exhaustion. “We can’t leave.” Hetty’s lip trembled as she looked up at Benjy. “I dropped my locket. I won’t leave without it. You promised we’ll find it.”
“The crew here will find it,” Baxter said. “It probably got swept up in the river—”
“It won’t take much time to find, as long as people stay out of the way,” Benjy interrupted.
Baxter had more sense than Hetty credited to him. Instead of contesting Benjy’s words, he just nodded and stepped aside.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Hetty said as soon as Baxter was out of earshot, “I would say he was trying to get rid of us.”
“Just me,” Benjy corrected softly. “For the bruise forming on his face.”
“You did that?” Hetty echoed. While that explained Baxter’s odd behavior, she had other concerns. Namely how such a detail went missing in Benjy’s recounting of events following the explosion. “Why?”
“He got in the way.” Benjy’s voice was flat and expressionless, as if he was reading from a newspaper. “After the blast happened Baxter raised a magical barrier to keep people back, and wouldn’t lower it. I suppose I could have used magic to shatter it, but punching him saved time. You were going to drown.” He added that part as if he expected her to complain.
“When did the barrier go up? Before or after I fell into the water?”
“I don’t know.”
Hetty blinked, stunned at these words.
“There was dust and people, and I was further back in the crowd.”
Hetty waited for him to continue, but he said nothing more. How strange of him to miss stating an obvious detail. If she didn’t know otherwise, it seemed as if he had been the one half drowned in the river.
The Conductors Page 23
