“Aye, captain,” said both men and they walked back to the railing.
“So you’re here by yourself tonight?” Stephen asked as Robert held the door open for him.
“Sometimes I need a night off. And so do the men. Although my version usually involves silence and watching the city from my cabin.”
Stephen stepped inside the narrow hallway. “I’m sorry to interrupt, then.”
Robert laughed. “I always have time for an old friend. Just follow the passage to the last door.”
Stephen did as directed. The passage only ran about fifteen feet, with a door on either side in the middle. He could barely see the door at the end as he reached for the handle and gave it a turn.
The door opened into a room as large as his living room, kitchen, and study combined back home. To the left stood a double canopy bed built into the side of the ship and covered in a deep red bedspread. Ahead was the wall of glass he had seen from the outside. A polished metal table stood in front of the windows with matching chairs around it, the style more industrial than classic. Maps, papers, and navigation tools were spread across the top of the table—including what looked like a brass globe with a revolving spherical framework of rings around it—and a decanter half filled with an amber liquid and two round glass tumblers.
On the right side was a bench built into the wall, covered with a plump scarlet cushion. Next to it was a wardrobe and a desk, both made from the same polished metal as the table and chairs. Various swords and long tapestries from around the world hung on the wood-paneled walls. A simple chandelier hung above the table, lighting the cabin.
The subtle scent of pipe smoke hung in the air. One of the windows was open and a cool breeze blew through the cabin.
Robert shut the door behind him and walked toward the table. “Welcome to my cabin. I don’t think you’ve been in here before.”
“No, I haven’t.” Stephen looked around the room in appreciation. He placed his hat down on the bench. “Interesting choice in furniture.”
“Aluminum. Helps keep the weight down on the ship.”
That made sense. “I take it the, um, ‘privateer’ business is doing well.”
Robert poured a small glass of brandy and held it out to Stephen. “I prefer the term ‘blockade runner.’”
Stephen snorted as he reached for the glass. “And I’m a fugitive recovery agent.”
Robert laughed and poured himself a glass. “Is that what you’re calling yourself these days?”
“My assistant thought the term would be more palatable to polite society.”
Robert smiled and held up his glass. “To labels that have nothing to do with us.”
“And to friends who always live just inside the law.” Stephen clinked his glass with Robert’s then sniffed the amber liquid. A fruity, spicy smell filled his nostrils. He was tempted to take a sip, but placed the glass down instead.
Robert lowered his own glass. “Still don’t drink?”
“No.” Stephen ran a finger around the rim. “Still sticking to that promise I made myself a couple of years ago.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sure it’s a good brandy.”
Robert winked at him. “Only the best, my friend.” He took a sip, then rotated the glass between his fingers. “So you’re here for information, correct?”
Stephen nodded. “I’m working a case.”
“Yet this one doesn’t involve finding a criminal?”
“No, it’s unique. And it involves a young woman.”
“Interesting.” Robert took another sip.
Stephen waved his hand. “Nothing romantic. She was the charge of my aunt.”
“Is this the aunt who works for Dr. Bloodmayne?”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
Stephen walked toward the table. “Long story short, my aunt was murdered a week ago.” Robert didn’t respond, so Stephen went on. “The next morning, Kathryn Bloodmayne showed up at my door in search of a certain doctor. She won’t tell me why.” He tapped a finger along the table. “My aunt was very fond of Miss Bloodmayne, and I feel an obligation to help her. But not only that, I think she’s in danger and the men who are hunting her are somehow connected to my aunt’s murder.”
Robert cleared his throat. “Stephen, I’m sorry about your loss. What are the police doing about it?”
“Patrick—an old colleague of mine—is working the case, but it’s against regulations to bring me in because I’m family.”
“Odd.” Robert rubbed his chin. “You would think they would make an exception for a man with your skills.”
Stephen shrugged. “Sometimes it’s best to keep family members out of a case.” He paused, mulling over Robert’s words. His friend had a point. It may be regulation to exclude family from cases in process, but he was ex-police, a proven bounty hunter with a case record better than anyone on the force. It made no sense. Too many things made no sense.
“You know, you’re right, Robert. The deeper in I get with Kat’s case and my aunt’s, the more I see that they are connected. And from what I gather”—he shuddered, remembering her story and the icy calm that followed—“the Bloodmaynes have secrets. And maybe not just them. I think something more is going on. I think the World City council is behind the secrecy.”
Robert snorted. “You know how I feel about the World City council. A bunch of snakes dressed in robes.”
Stephen couldn’t help the smile that slipped across his lips. Robert might run the Austrium blockade for World City, but it was only for gold, not for a love for city and country. If Austrium paid him more, Robert would probably change sides. Regardless of the title he had chosen for himself, he was a pirate through and through, like the seafaring ones of old.
Not that he could blame Robert. The council did what was good for them and their privileged benefactors, not for World City or its people.
“So who’s this doctor you’re looking for?”
Stephen looked up. “His name is Dr. Joshua Latimer.”
Robert shook his head. “I’ve never heard of him. What makes him special?”
“I’m not sure.”
Robert looked at him over the rim of his glass. “You know, Stephen, it’s not like you to take a case without all the facts.”
“I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out the windows. The city of Covenshire twinkled below like a thousand fireflies on a dark summer night.
“Do you like her?”
Stephen dropped his hand and jerked his head back toward Robert.
“Do you like this Miss Bloodmayne? Kat, is it?”
Did he? Yes, he was attracted to her. Very attracted to her. But he also felt a connection with her via his aunt. Because of that he wanted to protect her.
Or was there more?
Robert nodded knowingly. “Good for you. It’s about time you stepped outside Vanessa’s shadow.”
Stephen didn’t flinch at the name of his former fiancée. He paused at that. Was it possible he was finally moving on?
“So what can you tell me about this Dr. Latimer?”
Stephen tore his mind away and back to the present. What was it Kat said about the doctor? “He used to work at the Tower. Ten years ago, I think.”
“The Tower? You mean that scientific nut house?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it that, but, yes.”
“Probably best the man moved on. Ten years ago, you say? That’s a bit of time to cover.”
“I know.”
“Anything else?”
“Kat read some articles by Dr. Latimer. That is how she found him.”
“Recent articles?”
“I’m not sure.”
Robert sighed. “Well, it’s not much to go on, but I’ll do my best. I’m heading to Austrium in the m
orning, via World City. I’ll check for him while I’m over there. Who knows, maybe he decided to find another academy to work for.”
“Thanks, Robert.” Stephen walked over to the bench and picked up his hat. “Send what you find to my office in World City.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll have Jerod wire you your usual finder’s fee.” Stephen put his hat on, pulling the brim down across his forehead. “And thanks for the drink.”
Robert grinned. “Anytime. Take care, Stephen.”
“Same to you.”
Stephen crossed the cabin and headed out the door. What people didn’t know was that he was a good tracker because he had good connections. If Dr. Latimer was outside World City, Grim would find him. And if Dr. Latimer was somewhere inside World City, it was only a matter of time before he himself tracked the good doctor down.
21
Kat slipped further and further into the sleepy recesses of her mind until she leaned forward and laid her head across the table, the penny novels in a neat pile next to her. Her damp hair—now clean and sweet smelling—was tied back in a loose chignon. It was past the usual time she went to bed, but Stephen had said he would be back tonight. And she would be waiting to hear any news he brought.
She closed her eyes. So tired. She wrapped her arms beneath her head like a pillow. Her breath evened out and the darkness beckoned her. Just a few minutes of rest. That’s all. As her body relaxed, the memories began.
“I don’t want to go!”
Ms. Stuart stared at fifteen-year-old Kat with that no-nonsense look, her hands planted on her hips. “You do not have a choice. Your father said—”
“My father?” Kat laughed. “My father has had nothing to do with my life. Why should I bend to his whims now?”
“Kathryn,” Ms. Stuart said warningly.
“No!” She slashed the air in front of her with her hand. “Not this time!”
Ms. Stuart lowered her hands from her hips, her gaze darting to Kat’s fingers. “Kathryn, please.”
Kat laughed again and flashes of color erupted across her vision. The sunlight streaming in from the large window across the library seemed brighter. Air whooshed across her face and around her body. Something burned deep inside her, something dark, something alive.
Ms. Stuart looked around the library and took a step back. “Kathryn, control yourself!”
“I’m always controlling myself!” Her voice took on a feverish pitch. “Kathryn, behave. Kathryn, watch yourself. Kathryn, you’re such a disappointment—” She raised her hands. “Well, not this time!”
The air stopped moving and silence filled the library, as if the room were holding its breath. Then Kat flung her fingers wide.
The books that lined the oak shelves shook and wobbled. First one, then another flew off the shelves. The chintz chair in the corner scooted across the wooden floor as if being pulled by a rope toward Kat.
The fire inside her took over, burning every part of her. It felt good to finally release the pressure. More books flew off the shelves, flying toward her, joining the tornado of pages revolving around her. The chair came to a stop between her and Ms. Stuart. The small table and lamp joined the chair.
Ms. Stuart took another step back and threw her hands into the air as a book came whizzing by. “Kathryn! Stop!”
The bookshelves rumbled. One by one, they left the wall and raced across the floor.
Ms. Stuart ran toward the door.
Kat laughed.
The shelves came to a stop beside the chintz chair, blocking Ms. Stuart from Kat’s sight, except for a small square of space. Books flew around Kat, dancing in the air.
This isn’t you.
Kat paused and the books slowed.
This isn’t you, the voice whispered again.
Ms. Stuart held her hand out, her face deathly pale. “Kat, please, stop!”
The voice and her nickname broke through the fiery haze.
She gasped and stumbled back. The books fell to the ground with a thousand loud bangs and thumps. The shelves gave one last wobble and stopped.
Silence filled the library once again.
Kat stared in horror, first at the books, then at the barrier of bookshelves, chair and table. She raised her hands, half-expecting her palms to be on fire, but found only faintly pink skin.
Slowly, fearfully, she looked through the tiny square space at Ms. Stuart.
“Ms. Stuart. I—I don’t know what happened!” She was going to retch or faint. Or both. The black spot inside her vision expanded and she was falling . . .
Kat jerked up from the table and looked around. She was in a small sitting area with a round table and four chairs. A door stood beyond the table. The walls were covered in hideous yellow wallpaper and a hint of cigar smoke hung in the air.
Covenshire. The inn. Waiting for Stephen to come back.
Kat let out her breath and rubbed her face, her heart returning to its normal beat. That was the third nightmare in two days. No, not nightmare. Memory.
She held her head between her hands. Ever since sharing about her father’s secret laboratories, the memories had started coming back, rushing to the forefront of her mind as if something had slipped open the door and let everything out.
“I don’t want to remember,” she said between her fingers. The room remained quiet. The silence pressed down on her. The lamp’s light wavered.
Kat sat back and swallowed. She had been stuck in this room, waiting for Stephen, long enough.
Don’t leave the inn.
Forget the inn, she hadn’t even left the room except to use the privy. Marty brought food, tea, and hot water so she could wash. She lingered over her ablutions, over her meals, over the books Stephen had left her. But when her eyelids grew too heavy, the silence came, dredging up old thoughts best left forgotten, twisting into nightmares when she fell asleep.
“I don’t want to be alone.” She shook her head and brought her hands down on the table. She looked at the door. “And I won’t be. Not tonight.”
Before she could change her mind, Kat hurtled from the chair and through the door that led out into the hallway. Already another memory was bearing down on her, but she focused on the faint voices drifting along the narrow corridor.
Didn’t Stephen say he was coming back tonight? She pressed two fingers to her temple. She couldn’t remember. Hopefully he’d understand. After all, she was only going downstairs.
She dropped her hand and followed the hall light to the door at the end and opened it. The voices from the dining room below grew louder.
Kat carefully made her way down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. Most of the tables in the dining room were empty, as were the booths that lined the outer walls. A couple of men sat at the bar, talking and downing pints of ale.
Marty stood behind the counter, laughing with one of the men. He looked up and smiled at her. Without another word to the men, Marty made his way past the counter and headed across the dining room.
“Stephen said you’d be staying in your room until he returned. Decided to come down, eh?”
Kat rubbed her hands together and glanced away. “Yes. It was a bit too quiet.”
The smile slipped from Marty’s face. “Everything all right? Do you need something?”
Kat let out her breath but didn’t answer.
Marty placed a hand on her elbow and led her toward one of the booths. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Kat nodded. The memories still clawed at her mind, but it was easier to keep them at bay in the presence of another person.
Marty guided her into the booth. She slipped across the leather cushion and sat near the candle that burned at the end of the table.
“How about something to drink?”
Kat looked up. “A drink?”
“You look
like you could use something.”
Kat touched her cheek. Was she really that pale? Before she could answer, Marty waddled back across the dining room. One of the men turned around on his stool and looked at Kat.
Kat ignored him and glanced out the window. A gas lamp stood on the corner with a pool of light beneath it. The rest of the street was dark.
Where had Stephen gone? He said he wanted to meet with a couple of his contacts, people who might know where Dr. Latimer was.
She pressed the side of her head against the window and closed her eyes. The coolness seeped into her skin and a chill went down her spine. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her body. She wanted to curl her legs up beneath her skirt, but that wouldn’t be ladylike.
God. The word came unbidden to her mind, but she pressed on. Please let Stephen find Dr. Latimer. Please let him cure me. I don’t want to live like this anymore! No more memories. No more incidents.
Like the other night at the dance hall.
Kat cracked one eye open and glanced down at her fingers. She had seen the surprised look on Stephen’s face when he saw the small flame. He thought it was from the candle. But she knew.
The power inside her was growing. And it wouldn’t be long before she couldn’t contain it.
“Here you go.”
Kat sat up as Marty placed a glass and a bottle of something on the table. Wait, wasn’t he bringing her tea?
He opened the bottle and poured a dark red liquid into the glass. “I don’t usually keep wine—the men usually prefer a different kind of spirit, but a lady like yourself shouldn’t drink such stuff.”
Kat eyed the glass suspiciously. Father didn’t believe in imbibing spirits of any kind. He said they clouded the mind and a true scientist should have control of all his faculties at all times.
Well, Father wasn’t here. A rebellious will filled her chest. Maybe the wine would help her forget, at least for one night.
She took the glass and gulped the drink. The wine flowed down her throat and warmed her belly.
Tainted (The Soul Chronicles Book 1) Page 15
