Feeling the pressure on my windpipe, I regretted my rebellion. Hoping he would have mercy, I made a final attempt to plead with him. “Please don’t kill me.” I struggled to talk and even to breathe.
He lightened his pressure just enough to keep me conscious as he snarled, “Once I throw your dead body in the river, I will find myself a new wife, and not a soul will miss you.”
He pressed down harder. My vision began to blur. No. No. It would not be my body sinking in the river tonight. It would be his. I gathered enough strength to reach for the bodice dagger Midnight had given me. Just like she taught me, I stuck it in his neck and tore the blade to the side.
In the dark of night I couldn’t see his blood excrete, but I felt it. Hot and fast, it coated my face. The thick liquid shot up my nose, falling to the back of my throat. As the metallic flavor filled my mouth, I started to choke on it.
The morbid horror of him gasping and gagging on his own blood was short-lived, but the mortifying memory of his dead weight collapsing on top of me would haunt my soul for life.
I had often fantasized about killing Joel Addison, but as I crept out from under his lifeless body, I regretted every second of it. What had I done? Oh, good God, what had I done?
Wanting the taste of blood out of my mouth, I spit a slobbery wad of it on the ground. I knew I had to flee before anyone caught me.
There were so many people living on this damned lot, someone could have heard all the fuss. What would happen if they found me here, covered in their master’s blood? Dead men had no tales to tell, but him dead and my being gone would scream of my guilt. I had to cover my trail. Quickly. Taking my nightgown out of my duffle, I sliced a few strands of fabric, wiped my bloody face with them, and laid the bloodstained shreds around him. I even stuck a piece in his cold, dead hand. Perhaps the world would think I was taken from him. Maybe they would even think he died trying to defend me. Whatever the hell they would think, I would not be around to find out.
Running to the boat, I quickly checked the last few keys on the ring, and was able to unlock the chain and push the boat away from the dock.
Rowing was so much harder than I ever thought it would be! Praying no one would find me as I struggled to get the stupid boat going, I was able to make it around the shrub that would keep me out of sight from the riverbank where Joel’s dead body lie.
Hiding under my hood, I rowed and rowed for what seemed like a million years. I didn’t want to think about the horror I left behind, yet I kept looking back. Every time, I saw the lights burning brightly in the mansion’s windows. Out of spite, I’d left the veranda door of my prison cell open, and I reveled in the rebellion of the once closed curtains now blowing free in the breeze, like me.
Reaching the shore and abandoning my rowboat at a dark and foreboding bank, I held tight to my dagger as I headed for Barlow’s. Feeling sick to my stomach, drifting on a cloud of fear, I crept through the dark and dirty alleyways of town. I had long since known that the streets of London were no place to end up at night—some even said it was worse than Port Royal in the day—and as I dipped in and out of the shadows, I agreed. The ghastly few wandering about made me think I would have been better off at Joel’s house, but with the taste of his blood lingering in my mouth, I knew it was futile to look back.
Entering the front door at Barlow’s, I kept my face low as I barged through the crowd. I had never been here this late, and the drunken festivities were the wildest I had ever seen. The men were dangerously drunk, some of the whores were topless, and the blonde singing on top of the harpsichord was hardly dressed at all. The sounds were fuzzy, the sights were blurry, and with my rush giving out, I was beginning to feel the pain coating my body.
Hearing Shannyn’s silly giggle ringing out like an angel’s song amidst the devilish laughter filling the smoky air, I wandered in her direction.
Grabbing her shoulder, I turned her to look at me.
Instantly she flexed to fight, but before she could swing, I peeked out from beneath my hood. “It’s me, Remi.”
Eyeing my bloodstained face, she gasped. “Remi!”
“I need help, Shannyn. But no one can know what I’ve done. No one can ever know or they will kill me.”
Without bothering to ask who could never know what, Shannyn rushed me up the stairs.
Laying me in her bed, she told me to hold tight and quickly reappeared with her mother, Lula—who began asking a million questions about my condition without ever inquiring about the blood I was covered in.
Lula stripped me bare, Shannyn washed my body clean, and once they had me in a clean nightgown, Shannyn gave me some water to drink. I threw it all up. While I heaved over the bucket, Billy came barging in.
Both of the women yelled at him to shut the door. While Shannyn held my hair, Lula told Billy what she knew.
“I don’t care who the hell is after her,” Billy firmly stated. “If Bentley’s daughter needs a place to keep his grandchild safe, then not the devil himself will be getting through that door to get to them. And you lassies will be doting over her like she’s carrying the baby Jesus in that womb of hers.”
Through my watery eyes, I saw Shannyn smile. “You’ll be safe here with us, Remi. Everything is going to be fine.”
PART II
Mermaids and Slave Chains
London, England
Winter of 1666
Chapter 6
More Than a Whore
January 27th 1666
Midnight,
One long, interesting year has passed since I escaped my prison cell at Addison Arbors. So much has changed in my heart since then. I spent the first few months of my hideaway fretting over the murder I committed, but those nightmares were brashly overridden when I went into labor far before my child was ready. I only carried him for five short months, and though I was in no place to raise a child on my own, I had grown quite fond of the little creature that was growing in my womb. I am still heartbroken by his untimely passing—especially upon finding that he was indeed Nathan Langley’s baby. His full head of raven hair and the dimple on his right cheek were identical to the features of the father who would never know he existed.
The guilt of leaving Nathan unknowing bothers me as much as the loss itself—especially on the days he came by asking Billy Barlow if he had seen me. Billy always told him no, for no one can know I am here. According to Nathan’s reports, it seems the world I fled believes I was indeed kidnapped, so I have taken up a new identity to shield my whereabouts. As Rainy Hawke, one of Mason Bentley’s illegitimate children, everyone at Barlow’s treats me with the utmost respect. Aye, the same way you hid under his wing all those years ago, I am now taking refuge under the grace of his good name.
Though I am thankful my plan has worked so far, I am also saddened by the thought of how Father must feel about my disappearance. So, I try not to think about it. Nor do I want to think about how Mason has not returned. Without a word from him or about him, I can only assume the worst, but I don’t want to. In fact, I refuse to. Since I have betrayed you and Thomas, Mason is the only remaining parent who may still give a shit about me, and without the money he left for me, I might have ended up no better than the whores I now tend to.
That’s right. Figuring a job would keep my troubled mind busy, and considering the way I need to stay out of the public eye, I’ve spent the passing year bathing, dressing, and styling the hair of the whores at this dirty inn. Mason told me it is a parent’s job to teach their children how to live without them, and though the work itself is far from boast worthy, I am certainly proud of the fact that I have found a way to get by on my own.
-Rainy Hawke-
X
Feeling Holly’s fingernails dig into my cheek, I grabbed her mop of red hair, picked her up off the ground, and threw her skinny body into the bathtub.
“Bugger off, you pompous bitch!” She clawed at my face again, kicking and screaming like a wildcat in the water.
I grabbed her pa
w mid-swing. “You ought to know by now this water is not made of poison. But when you’re in it, I sure wish it was.”
With her free hand she splashed me. “I wish it was so I could die! I hate this life I live. I hate it and I hate you as much as those nasty men you make me fuck!”
Tired of her blaming her life’s woes on me, and exhausted by her violent antics, I laid my hand on her face and pushed her head under water. Naturally, she splashed and flailed wildly until I allowed her to resurface for air.
Choking on the water she’d swallowed, Holly leaned back in the tub and spit, “See, that’s why I call you Rory instead of Rainy. Rainy is such a nice, pretty name, but with those big shoulders and strong hands, you’re too burly and manly for pretty girl things. You look just like your damn father and brother and I hate you just like I hate them.”
Twice her size, I felt like a brute around her, anyhow, and slamming her around certainly made me feel like a big ol’ man, but I didn’t like hearing her insult my looks. Yet, seeing that the near-death experience had calmed her, I decided not to rekindle the violent fire by balking about the insecurities I’d gained with the weight that baby put on my bones.
After taking a deep breath to calm my angry nerves, I rubbed her freckled cheek with my hand and reminded her that I cared. “Listen here, darling, I understand you hate your job, and I’ll have you know I am no more interested in mine, but there are times we must do undesirable things in order to survive. We’re in this shithouse together, so we might as well get along in the damned washroom.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry.” She crossed her skinny arms over her bare chest.
Thinking back on all the times she had apologized to me, only to attack me again a few days later, I chuckled as I began washing her. While cleaning her boney little body, I took note of the horrible bruises on her thighs. “Who did this to you?”
“That bald old Mister Worthington. He likes some nasty things, I tell you. This time he…” Holly started relaying the horribly offensive things Mister Worthington had done to her that afternoon.
Appalled by the terrible events she casually recounted about the rich old man who wanted to take up a partnership with Billy Barlow, I stopped her. “That’s enough. I’ll talk to Lula about all this and see if we can set some boundaries.”
“Ah, Lula don’t care. None of them do as long as they get their money. I don’t like you one bit, Rory, but I like you better than them because at least you care a little.”
I did care. More than I should have. Throughout the year I’d come to know each of the girls, and though they’d tested my patience with their haughty attitudes—especially this one—I understood their woes and did my best to remind each girl that she was more than a whore. They were women with hearts and feelings, and in some ways, I thought of some of them as friends.
Once I had Holly dressed, I took some time to tame her wild red locks, and we talked like the friends we sometimes were. Just as I finished the final braid, Shannyn came in the washroom, sat on a stool and lit a cigarro. Exhaling her smoke, she purred at Holly like she wanted to be the next patron to visit her room. “Damn, Holly, you’ve never looked so good.”
Hateful as ever, Holly squinted at Shannyn. “Can’t say the same for you, you ugly, gap-toothed bar bitch.”
Ignoring the way Shannyn playfully raised her hand like she was going to backhand her, Holly straightened her skirts and smiled at me. “Thank you, Lady Rainy. I hope you have a lovely afternoon, but Shannyn, I hope you choke on a peanut and die.”
“I hate that bitch.” Shannyn coughed on her smoke as she fanned Holly out of the room. “My mother and I have been trying to get my father to sell her for years. Maybe Mister Worthington will have a better chance at talking sense to him.”
Knowing how terribly that rich old man treated my girls, I began fearing for all of our futures under his partial control. “Can’t we talk your father out of that idea? Mister Worthington is a horrid man. Holly told me about the awful things he did to her this afternoon, and May cried and cried on my shoulder after he left her room this morning.”
“Ah, May cries anytime anyone but Mason leaves her room, and Holly deserves a good beating from time to time.”
There was no sense in defending Holly, but May was my favorite girl of the bunch. “Of course May cries all of the time. She hates her job. Imagine if you had to do those nasty things to make a living.”
Tapping off the ash of her cigarro, Shannyn smirked. “I don’t have to, and with Mister Worthington giving my father the money he needs to stay afloat, I won’t ever have to. So, I reckon that bold ol’ hog can stick whatever he wants wherever he wants to stick it.”
Mortified by her heartless response—as I often was—I shook my head. “You’re a rotten person, Shannyn Barlow.”
“Ah, you’re no better, Rem. You’re making your living off the sweat of those dirty sluts just like the rest o’ us, and you’ll be sucking from the teat of Mister Worthington’s wad of loot just the same.” Done with her cigarro, she rose to her feet and headed for the door. “Speaking of loot, Holly and May are dancing tonight, so I’m heading down to rake in my tips from the crowd they’ll bring in.”
When the door shut behind her, I stared at the dirty wooden divide for a moment. She was right. I was just as bad as the rest of them making my living this way. Perhaps worse, for I knew how frightful it was to be forced into bed, and how awful it felt to be fondled by a man I hated. But unlike the rest of them, I had not gambled away the gold Mason left for me, and I did not need Mister Worthington’s loot to survive.
Though Shannyn had said time and time again that she wanted something else out of life, she hadn’t done a damned thing to make a difference in her future. But as for me, I refused to settle. In fact, staring out the little window of the washroom—eyeing the view of the dirty stone wall, smelling the stench rising up from the alley below, and listening to the sound of the headboard bashing against the wall in the room above—assured me that I could wait no longer. Tonight was as good a night as any. My heart was still enchanted by the song of the sea, and I was finally brave enough to answer her call.
Chapter 7
High above the World
February 5th 1666
Midnight,
Wherever you are, and no matter how you feel about me now, I am certainly thankful for the things you taught me. Last week I made another graceful escape into the night. No one at Barlow’s had any idea I was leaving, and I didn’t want to tell them why. I did, however, write a simple Thank You note and left a hefty tip in order to keep the door open, in case I ever need to return. Once that was done, I dressed in the set of men’s clothing I bought with the money I earned from the sweat of those sluts, and donned my black cloak. With Holly and May doing their half-naked dancing, the bar was as busy as could be, making it easy for me to slip out of the door without being noticed. And with the stealth you taught me to harness, I once again fled through the dark and fearful alleyways of eastern London. Blending into the shadows, stepping as lightly as the fog bouncing off the darkened city streets, I traveled through the night to the far end of the channel where I got myself a room at an inn overlooking the harbor. Knowing better than to go anywhere near anyone who might have heard of my father, I’ve spent my days seeking out a ship and a captain who I am sure has nothing to do with WG Shipping. And my nights have been spent here in this very room gazing upon the moonlit waterway—dreaming of the places it will soon take me.
-Remington Rain-
X
Sleeping in like a fat old bear, I didn’t make it out to the docks until later in the day, and while walking the wooden planks I admired the warm light of afternoon sun. Being near the ships again reminds me of what it was like to be a carefree child. Back before I had ever been cheated on, long before I was raped and abused, and well before I had murdered anyone. Though I was certain those dreadful moments would haunt me for all of my days to come, the bright and promising future
I was now making for myself easily overrode the worries of my troublesome past.
Strolling along, I thought about my plans. Once I find the right ship, I will sail to Jamaica. There I will find a way to make a life of my own. Maybe I will be able to find out what happened to Mason and Sterling, and I certainly want to visit with Torrence, but will I go see Jackson? Oh, my stupid heart surely wants to, but my mind still feels the need to hold off on the notion. I will wait until I get my life together. Yes. Once I become an established individual, I will stop by and see how he is doing.
Then it struck me. What if he remarried! All this time I had been daydreaming of him waiting for me—holding on to that ring he forged for me like I held tight to his memory and his dagger all these years—but I never once imagined him moving on. Horribly unnerved by the annoying thought, I lost track of where I was headed and ended up bumping in to someone.
Though I was dressed like a man, the sight of the young man I had crashed into ignited a fire of dangerously powerful female emotions in my being. I struggled to keep a masculine tone as I said, “Excuse me, sir.”
“Ah, it’s all right. It was probably my fault. I wasn’t paying no mind to where I was going.” The tall, lean, fair-skinned fellow ran his hand through his short red hair.
“Me either,” I chuckled, no longer bothered by my thoughts about Jackson Hawke. “What are the odds of two senseless dolts wandering the same dock at the same time?”
Stroking his long, fire-colored goatee, he laughed, “I reckon there’s more of our kind out here than I’d like to imagine.”
Humored by his silly expression, enticed by his Irish accent, and enamored by the way his pale green eyes lit up as he smiled, I wanted to keep talking to him. “What’s your name?”
He stuck his long, lean, but muscular arm out to shake my hand. “The name’s Leeland Buckley. Some call me Lee, and some call me Buckley. What can I call you?”
Never Surrender (Uncharted Secrets, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 6
