by L G Rollins
“Papa, don’t go!” Melissa cried out, throwing her arms around his neck.
Gently, he pushed her back into bed. “Elise will take care of you and keep you safe.”
That single sentence landed on Elise’s shoulders with the weight of an anvil. He trusted her with the one thing he loved most. He trusted her to keep Melissa safe. Could she? Elise had never been on a submarine before this expedition. She had no idea what has happening outside this room. Most importantly, she wasn’t any kind of a shot. Perhaps she should explain as much to him, make him understand she wasn’t good with guns.
But Melissa’s big eyes were filling with new tears as she listened to her father. Speaking of her own concerns wouldn’t do anything but fuel Melissa’s. So Elise stayed silent.
Nathaniel stood. “I’ll be right back, Poppet.” He bent over and kissed her once again on the top of her head.
Together, Nathaniel and Elise moved toward the door. He placed the small gear back in the center hole, but before pulling it open he turned to her.
Nathaniel wrapped an arm around Elise’s waist and hugged her tight to him. His lips pressed against hers. The kiss sparked like bursts of colored lights behind her closed eyes. Her hands, moving of their own accord, grabbed hold of his collar and tugged him still closer.
If only there was no threat, no mutiny beyond the doors. She wanted no more than to stay here, in his arms, lips against his. Nathaniel pulled away all too soon, resting his forehead against hers. She could feel his heart pulsing madly in his chest.
“Promise me you’ll stay safe,” he whispered.
All she could do was nod.
Nathaniel pressed one more, desperate kiss to her lips, then pulled the door open and slipped out.
elissa didn’t fall back to sleep after Nathaniel left. She cried for a minute, then fell into a silent vigilance. Elise tried rubbing the girl’s back, but soon felt Melissa preferred to be left alone. Moreover, her own legs were aching with immobility. Elise stood and began pacing.
She both blessed and cursed the locked door. Yes, it kept out the werewolves. But it also made her feel closed in. Trapped. Like she was in a coffin. Elise didn’t actually believe the submarine was sinking, but she kept getting the feeling they were. The term “watery grave” replayed over and over in her mind.
A loud knocking came from the door, echoing around the small bedchamber.
Nathaniel! Relief flooded her. He was back. She took a large step toward the door. The knocking came again, a hard pounding noise. Elise paused with her hand holding the small gear halfway toward the opening. Nathaniel hadn’t knocked like that before. His had been a distinct, soft rap. This was a unapologetic pound.
Elise’s hand closed around the gear.
“Elise?” A loud voice from the other side of the door. “Are you in there? It’s me, William. Open up.”
Elise hesitated. Nathaniel was quite clear about opening to no one but him. William called again. She could hear well enough to recognize his voice; it most certainly was William and not someone pretending in an effort to trick her.
“Open up. Everything’s under control out here.”
Elise’s gaze jumped from her fist, clutching the small gear, to the locked door. If everything wasn’t safe outside, surely William wouldn’t risk yelling so loud. His voice neither sounded urgent nor panicky. He, of a truth, sounded quite calm.
Her heart, however, beat an uneasy thrum. Elise glanced toward the small table, where she’d left the gun. Surely Nathaniel would be back in a moment or two. He said he wouldn’t be gone long. She moved to table and picked up the firearm. Perhaps she should just wait a bit.
Elise let out a breath—she sounded like a ridiculous, love-struck puppy. Wait for Nathaniel when William was here saying all was fine? No doubt, if everything was once more under control, a captain would be busy with his crew.
It was largely thanks to William that she was able to keep Melissa safe. If he had not shown up when he did, Antsy most certainly would have overpowered Rowley and then her. Nathaniel probably sent William, the one person he knew Elise would trust. And she was doing what? Stomping her foot, pouting, saying she wanted the handsome Nathaniel to come rescue her.
Ridiculous. She wasn’t a petulant child, nor a moody opera diva. Elise moved toward the door, shoved down the niggling worry in her stomach, and popped the gear back inside. Melissa jumped up from the bed and hid behind Elise’s legs.
She let the door swing open fully. William stepped over the threshold, his expression dropping into a relieved smile. “Thank goodness you’re alright.” His gaze moved across the room—to Melissa, the bed, the table, the gun in Elise’s hand—and back up to her. “That blasted captain might deserve a ‘thank you’; at least he knew how to keep this room protected.” He leaned in a bit, his voice dropping. “Just don’t tell him I said as much.”
Elise was calmed by his easy manor. He stood, fists on hips, with the door open and his back to the hallway. Not at all the image of a man concerned.
“What’s happening out there?” she asked.
His brow creased. “The fighting is over. Those responsible are being detained in the jail cells below.”
Elise’s gaze dropped. Of course someone would end up in the jail cells, if not worse. There was no other alternative. Still, hearing that it was an actuality made her sad. She nodded, though she knew it had to be this way.
William moved up close, placing hands on her shoulders. “Are you truly alright?”
Elise nodded. Again. Words just didn’t want to form across her tongue right now. It was all feeling very surreal. As strange as anything, was the realization that last time she and William talked, it was when she rejected his offer. He gazed at her, unmoving, and in his eyes she could see the hurt and anger still there. She knew him well enough to recognize the small tightness around his eyes and at the corner of his lips.
They would need to talk about it someday, probably. William liked to rehash those things that upset him. But if she didn’t bring it up right now, hopefully he wouldn’t either. It wasn’t as though this was the first time he was angry at her. He always got over it eventually. They would always be friends. Case in point, he had come for her. He was being decidedly sweet right now.
“Come on out.” His deep voice was steady and low. “See for yourself that things have calmed down.”
She allowed him to guide her out of the room, Melissa still clutched to her legs. Elise took a deep breath. The air out in the hallway was exactly the same as the air in the bedchamber, but simply knowing she was in a larger space gave her a much needed sense of peace. She really must remember to never conduct another science experiment in a confined space.
William’s hand slipped from her elbow down to her hand. With a quick tug, William wrenched the gun from her grip. Elise’s eyes flew open and she lunged forward to take the pistol back. William skipped out of reach, raising the gun until the barrel pointed at her own chest.
“William . . .” She could see what he was doing, but part of her still didn’t believe he was actually pointing a gun at her. “What . . .”
William’s smile morphed into a smirk. “You do remember when we talked of hiding and burying the past, do you not? Well I think it’s time for me to do just that.” With a jerk, he pointed down the hall, toward the hatch. “We have Captain Hopkins down below, and I’m sure he is just dying to see you.”
*****
Nathaniel threw his weight left. The men holding his arms grunted but didn’t ease their grip. Sticky blood trailed from Nathaniel’s ear down his jaw line.
A fist collided with his stomach, like a pillar of stone. Nathaniel wheezed as all the air was forced out of his lungs and he doubled over. The two men holding him prevented him from collapsing to the control room floor.
Antsy wrapped a fistful of hair in his hand and wrenched Nathaniel’s head back and up. “Where’s the key?”
Apparently, Nathaniel’s instinct on where to toss the key i
n the seconds after being jumped were proving good. The werewolves hadn’t found it yet, and without it they couldn’t access the array of firearms locked away.
Their lack of weapons was his one hope of ever regaining command of the Gearhound once more. No matter how they beat him, he wouldn’t give that up. He only stared back at the man, emotionless. He didn’t smile or scowl. Didn’t shrug or make up a lie.
Antsy put a left hook through Nathaniel’s jaw. Spots of white light skittered across Nathaniel’s sight.
“Listen.” Antsy was changing tactics, his voice softening, though it was still far from friendly. “We have no desire to hurt any of you.”
“You don’t say.” Nathaniel blinked multiple times, trying erase the haze out of his sight. He couldn’t fight what he couldn’t see.
Antsy got up in his face. “Tell us where the key is. We only need the guns to insure you and your hoity-toity crew don’t try anything.” He leaned back, arms confidently crossed against his chest. “Then, we’ll take you all back to England unharmed. We only want the Gearhound.”
Only the Gearhound. It was like saying “only your house”, “only your child”.
“Ho, there Antsy,” a new voice called from the top of the hatch. A light clip-clip-clip told him that a couple figures were descending the ladder. Nathaniel twisted, but the two men holding him tight didn’t allow him enough space to see who was joining them. “Never you fear, I have the solution right here.” Cunningham. His tone was cocky, self-assured.
The people who had joined them moved into Nathaniel’s view, and all breath left him. His feet and hands felt cold, and an icy fear sent shards crisscrossing over his heart. They were both pale: Elise with her chin high, eyes jumping from person to person; Melissa half hidden behind Elise’s legs, visibly trembling.
William Cunningham held Nathaniel’s own gun. He rested it against Elise’s shoulder, urging her and Melissa forward.
“I told you she’d open to me.” Cunningham spoke to Antsy, though he eyed Nathaniel, smug.
Antsy huffed. “The stubborn idiot still isn’t saying where he stashed the key.”
Cunningham’s smile only grew. “Self-righteous, are we?” His hand came up and he hit Elise across the face with the back of the pistol. The thud echoed around the silent room. Nathaniel felt the impact across his own face, as though he’d been hit. He lunged forward, but the thick arms around him tightened, hauling him back. Elise collapsed onto the metal floor.
“We don’t want to hurt any of you.” Cunningham grabbed Elise, forced her up onto her feet, and pressed the gun deep into her neck. She blinked a few times, but her eyes remained focused. Melissa was crying, her sobs echoed a horrified tone against Cunningham’s brash, confident voice. “We only want the means to escape our unfair fate once a month.”
He had to protect them. Nathaniel twisted in the two men’s grasps. He’d heard that werewolves were uncharacteristically strong. Now his own experience proved it.
His brainbox kicked back a single word, uttered twice now by Cunningham. It was like an engine backfiring. Everything paused, then started with a small bang.
Cunningham had said “we”.
We don’t want to hurt you.
We want to escape our fate once a month.
Nathaniel’s jaw went slack, his brows pinching. He caught Elise’s gaze and titled his head ever so slightly toward Cunningham. She knew what he meant. Lips pressed in a tight line, she nodded once.
William Cunningham was a werewolf.
That was truly why he’d come on the trip. That was why he was never once seen in the cargo hold during the experiment.
“Why do this, William? You helped us escape.” Elise’s voice was soft, but—brave, unshakable Elise—her voice didn’t shake.
Cunningham took hold of Elise’s chin in a hard grip. He gazed at her with unveiled loathing. “I only held Antsy long enough for Rowley to lower his guard. I didn’t know you’d lock yourself in the Captain’s bloody bedchamber.”
His hand snaked its way down to her throat. “Alone with a man in his room—what will your mother think?” Fury burned against Nathaniel’s gut at the man’s touch. Though, no matter how hard he strained against his captors, he couldn’t get to her.
“But why do this at all?” Her voice grew firmer, and she met his gaze with a steely glare of her own.
“Stop acting surprised, sweetheart. This was your idea after all. Steal the Gearhound. Live on it. Dive every month.” Cunningham’s fingers wrapping around the base of her throat. “Even the pugilists in the group could see the genius in your suggestion. So, thank you for that, my dear.” He squeezed tight. Elise’s eyes widened as she wheezed, trying to draw breath.
Nathaniel twisted. Threw his weight first one way then the next. Strained to kick or elbow the two holding him. All to no avail.
Cunningham released Elise and the control room was filled with the sound of her pulling deep breaths in.
“Where’s the key?” Cunningham demanded of Nathaniel.
How severely would he beat Elise and Melissa? Would he go so far as to kill them? Learning for certain was not something Nathaniel could do. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to not lay a hand on them.”
“I promise. But only because I don’t want to hurt anyone. Face it, Hopkins, you aren’t in a position to haggle.”
For one who had claimed, multiples times, that he had no desire to hurt anyone, Cunningham had inflicted much pain already. Melissa’s golden curls seemed dull in the dim gas light. Elise kept her chin up, but tears pooled in her eyes. Her cheek was already beginning to darken where struck.
He had to save them. “Atop an I-beam.” Nathaniel nodded his head in the direction. “Third one past the ladder.”
Ansty stalked off. Nathaniel could hear his footfalls echoing closer and closer toward the key’s hiding place.
Melissa reached for Elise’s lab coat, wrapped it in both fists and clenched it against her mouth. Her cheeks were red and her eyes large. Elise’s hand lowered to rest against Melissa’s back, where she began rubbing slowly. He ached from being beat, but even that was overshadowed by the pulsating need to hold Elise and Melissa close, to protect them.
“Bull’s eye,” Antsy called.
Cunningham’s smile widened as his hand grew lax, the gun dropping to Elise’s side as he addressed the two thugs holding Nathaniel. “Put him in with Lord Chauncey”—his gaze flitted over to Elise—“since the two gentlemen have such similar interests.”
Nathaniel felt himself being forced toward the ladder. “Let Melissa stay with me.”
“Oh, I think not.” Cunningham waved an unconcerned finger between Elise and Melissa. His smile grew until it was as sticky as the sweat pasted against Nathaniel’s back. “It would be far wiser for my best assets to be locked up together.”
wo sets of heavy footfalls banged against the ladder. Elise’s head came up sharply, eyes flying open as she lurched from sleep to full awareness. Pain jabbed all down her spine. Elise rubbed her stiff neck. How long had she been sitting here, back pressed up against the bars of her cell? She pulled out Nathaniel’s pocket watch. The sight of it made her heart ache like a fresh bruise. She tucked the watch away without opening it to check the time.
Lenton and Pearl approached the jail, several small loaves of bread in their arms. Most the crew stayed motionless within their cells, but eyes followed every subtle movement of the two werewolves.
Starting across from Elise, Lenton and Pearl pushed a couple small loaves through the bars. The bread was a dull pale color and hit the floor with a thud. They walked down the line, wordlessly delivering breakfast.
When they moved toward the back, Nathaniel stalked up to his door. “What’s going on up there?” he demanded. “You’ve turned the submarine around; where are we headed?”
Elise hadn’t felt the shift of the submarine, but apparently Nathaniel had. It was strange, she couldn’t feel the submarine moving, and there were no windows on thi
s level to watch their travel. Yet, they were moving, charging forward to some unknown location. The thought made Elise feel queasy.
Pearl shoved a loaf of bread into Nathaniel’s cell. It flew halfway across the space before hitting the floor. “Shut up and eat.” She moved on without a second glance.
Lenton placed a hand gently against the small of Pearl’s back. “Go on back up.” He took the loaves out of Pearl’s arms and added them to his own. “I’ll finish up here and be there soon.” His kindness and attentive care toward Pearl seemed out of place in the hostile energy of the cargo hold. Yet, Elise could not deny it, Lenton clearly cared deeply for the young woman.
Pearl looked at him puzzled, but Lenton pressed on before she could ask him anything. “We’d all feel better with you back at the helm.”
With one eyebrow raised, she eyed him suspiciously for a moment—Elise wondered if the thin and sometimes spiteful woman would balk at being told what to do—but then she wordlessly moved toward the ladder and began ascending. If that wasn’t a clear sign that she returned Lenton’s affection, Elise didn’t know what was. Had Pearl convinced Lenton to go along with the mutiny? Or had it been the other way around? Then again, it was entirely possible neither had needed convincing any from the other.
Elise stood and pulled at her sleeves with frustration. All those weeks, when her test subjects were willingly helping the crew, they had also been learning all they needed to commandeer the vessel. The Gearhound had a new, but competent crew it seemed.
Lenton was slower to deliver the bread. He finally approached Elise with only a single loaf left in his hands. Instead of dropping it onto the floor, as he had been doing, Lenton walked to the far side of her cell and held the bread out.
Elise took a couple stiff steps toward him and paused, unsure if this was a trick. The irony was that she was now locked in the same cell Lenton had occupied the previous nights, and he stood near her table. Was he pleased with himself for being able to scoff at another behind bars?
