by Becca Andre
“I’ll leave you two to the breakfast preparations and go get us underway.”
“Tell the boys I’ll be up with the coffee as soon as it’s ready,” Molly said.
“Will do.” Briar snatched up her canal map and notebook, then headed for the hatch. Once they were moving, she would sit down with Eli and plan the trip in finer detail. That ought to distract her, for a while.
They were underway before the sun had fully risen, though it was bright enough to illuminate the towpath and the fog hanging along the canal. The predawn light gave their surroundings a quiet, otherworldly feel.
Briar had unrolled her map on the aft deck. Her notebook lay beside it, a rough timeline sketched out on the open page. They should be able to reach their destination in the allotted time, though it would require long days.
“Appears to be a village coming up.” Eli took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Aren’t we expecting a lock?”
“Lock Six, at Navarre.” Even though she’d spent most of her life on the canal, Briar still found the numbering of the locks odd. The lock numbers began at each summit—and there were two—and increased in either direction. The system created many locks with the same number, which was why most had been given names.
She rose to her feet and studied the area ahead of them, squinting in an effort to see through the fog. She could just make out a few houses and a large building that was perhaps a mill.
“Yes, I see a lock,” Eli continued. “But I can’t see the status of the gates through the fog. We might have to fit the lock.” They would have to close the lower gates and fill the chamber before they could use it.
She was about to comment on how much sharper his eyesight was than hers when movement drew her attention. For a moment, a figure was silhouetted against the fog along what was probably the lock wall, then he was gone.
“Did you see that man?” she asked. “I wonder if there’s a boat in the lock now.”
“I don’t see their animals out on the towpath.” Eli’s brow wrinkled. “You don’t reckon it was a ghost, do you?”
“Eli.” She laughed. “He was solid. Ghosts are see through, right?”
“I hear they can sometimes look real. Herbert Johnson claimed he met a ghost walking down Second Street. Said it tipped its hat at him.”
“And which tavern was Herbert leaving? Come on, Eli. You know he likes strong whiskey and tall tales.” She shook her head. “Your apparition,”—she gestured toward the lock—“was probably some kid hunting up a good fishing spot.”
“Mighty enterprising young man to be out fishing before dawn.”
“Well, we’re not turning back, so if it is a ghost, it’ll have to share the lock with us. I’ll go let the boys know it’s coming up.”
“I was right about Lonesome Lock.”
“Those were thieves,” she reminded him.
He shrugged his large shoulders. “I was still right to be cautious.”
“All right,” she relented. “Warning received.”
“How about a warning about ferromancers?”
“Don’t press your luck.” She winked.
He chuckled as she walked away—which was certainly an improvement over the lecture he usually gave her on the topic. Maybe he was finally starting to come around. Or maybe with the end now in sight, he’d given up arguing. She hoped it was the former.
She found Jimmy sitting in the forward cargo hold. He was using a barrel as a desk, and by the look of the smudged page before him, writing a letter.
“Hey, Jimmy,” she greeted him as she hopped down into the hold. “Lock coming up.”
“Be right there, Captain. Just finishing this.” He signed his name at the bottom with a flourish.
“Writing Mildred?”
“Aye.” He replaced the cork in his ink bottle, adding a few more smudges to his fingers. “I wanted to let her know when I’d be in. She’d talked about baking a cake.”
Briar smiled. “That’s nice.”
“Well, she’s not the cook your Mr. Martel is—don’t tell her I said that—but she wants to celebrate my return.” He shrugged, focusing on tucking his writing supplies into the little wooden box where he stored them.
“You’ve been gone a while. I can see where a celebration would be in order.”
He looked up, then back down again.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. It wasn’t like him to fidget.
“Wrong, no,” he said quickly. “It’s just… Well, we’ve been talking, Mildred and me, and…” He paused to take a breath. “I was thinking about looking for work at the steel mill. It’s nothing against you or anything, but we’re hoping to start a family, so I can’t be going off and leaving her for—”
“Jimmy, it’s all right,” she stopped him. “I get it, and to be honest, I figured it was only a matter of time.”
“You did?”
“Sure. Mildred isn’t a canaller. I knew you were destined to be a townie.” She winked to let him know she wasn’t trying to insult him.
Jimmy laughed. “I guess that was in the cards, huh?”
“Yes.” She studied him. “So, this starting a family thing—is it still just a notion? There’s no announcement you want to share?”
“No, not yet. That’s another issue Mildred has with me being a boatman. She says I’m not around enough to—” He abruptly stopped and his cheeks darkened beneath his tan. “I mean—”
“No need to explain,” Briar stopped him. Her own cheeks heated, but she was laughing.
Jimmy offered a sheepish grin, then cleared his throat. “But I ain’t turning in my resignation. I’ll finish out the season. I won’t leave you with no bowsman.”
“Speaking of, we should probably get topside and do our duties.”
“Aye, Captain.” He tucked away his letter and climbed up onto the bow deck.
Briar followed him. The lock was closer now, and she could see it clearly. She smiled when she noticed that the gates were open on their side and lock chamber filled. They wouldn’t need to stop and fit the lock, saving them a good ten minutes, maybe more.
Movement drew her eye, and she looked up. She could make out a boat moving through the fog beyond the lock. It must have been tied up there and was just now casting off. If that boat had come through the lock, the gates would be open on the downstream side and the chamber empty. Unless the mysterious figure she had seen had been fitting the lock for them.
There were still lock tenders on the Ohio and Erie, but those were maintenance positions. Unlike some canals, there wasn’t a keeper at each lock who prepared it for approaching boats. If someone had fitted this lock for them, he was simply a good Samaritan. Whatever the case, Eli would be relieved that the man they had seen wasn’t a ghost.
“I’ll get the towline.” Briar moved over to where the towline was attached to the deadeye, the bolt along the forward edge of the bow deck. It stretched out through the fog ahead of them, bobbing with the motion of the mules.
Jimmy uncoiled the bow line, the rope used to stop the boat, and stepped up to the front of the boat, ready to jump ashore as soon as they entered the lock.
Judging their distance and speed, Briar took a breath and shouted, “Headway!”
Benji’s call to the mules echoed across the water as he commanded them to stop. At the same time, she dropped to a knee and unhooked the towline, letting it fall into the canal where Benji would haul it in and toss it back to the boat after they’d locked through.
The boat’s momentum carried it forward into the lock, while Eli’s expertise at the tiller kept them off the stone walls.
Jimmy jumped ashore, trailing the bow line behind him as he hurried toward the snubbing post on the downstream end of the lock. He looped the bow line around the scarred post and stepped back to pull it snug.
Briar turned away
to watch the closed gate they were approaching grow closer and closer. It made her a little nervous to stand in the bow while locking through, but she trusted her crew.
“Captain!” Jimmy shouted.
His panicked tone filled her with instant alarm. Fearing that he’d gotten his hand caught in the tightening line, she turned toward him. The oddest sight met her gaze, and it took her puzzled mind a moment to sort it out. The snubbing post lay on its side, the bow line still snugged in place. It looked as if the line had cut through the post, but that wasn’t—
“Captain!” This time, it was Eli who shouted. He sprang up onto the aft deck and sprinted toward the catwalk.
Then she understood. Jimmy had failed to secure the bow line. They weren’t stopping.
She spun toward the front of the boat. The miter gates were inches away. She didn’t even get to gasp as the bow of the Briar Rose slammed into the gates.
Chapter 5
The lock gates didn’t stop the Briar Rose, but the collision slowed their speed so abruptly that Briar was thrown forward.
Off balance and unable to catch herself, she tumbled off the bow of the boat. For one surreal moment, she was aware of her fall toward the canal below, as she was aware of the boat continuing forward through the broken gates. The water in the full lock now had an outlet, and she would be landing in its path.
Briar hit the water and dove beneath the surface, swimming toward the bottom. If the canal was deep enough maybe—
She didn’t get a chance to reach the bottom before a roiling torrent of water swept into her. The surge tossed her around so violently that she lost all notion of which way was up. In the next instant, something smacked into the back of her head, shoving her deeper down.
Tumbling like a rag doll through the muffled darkness, she wondered if this might be the end.
No! A burst of anxiety, fear, and determination filled her. Grayson. He knew her plight. Reassurance filled her, as did a command to hang on. Help was coming.
But she was still moving, the swell of water from the ruptured lock carrying her down the canal. How would he ever find her? She needed to reach the surface, both to relieve her burning lungs and to offer a target for rescue.
Lock stirred against her throat. She wanted to reach up and grip the necklace, but something slammed into the back of her shoulder, and she was once more tumbling through the darkness.
Her awareness fading, she tried to reach out to Grayson one last time. She wanted to—
A hand seized her collar as her air ran out.
Voices. Someone was shouting. Perhaps arguing. Briar hoped it wasn’t Eli and Grayson. Certainly Eli couldn’t blame a broken snubbing post on Grayson. The shouting faded, or perhaps she drifted off.
The next thing she noticed was the brush of cool dampness across her forehead, then her cheeks. A wet cloth?
“Hmm?” She failed to form any words, but at least the sound had left her throat.
“Briar?” Molly asked and the cloth left her cheeks.
“See, she’s coming around,” Grayson said from close by. “I knew I felt her.” Anxiety colored his words as he moved closer.
“You’re not going to toss me across the cabin, are you?” Molly sounded more annoyed than worried.
“What’s he done now?” Briar whispered.
“You are awake,” Molly sounded delighted.
Briar tried to open her eyes to gauge her expression, but the sunlight streaming through the cabin window made her close them with a groan. She did see enough to know she rested on Molly’s bunk.
“I’ll pour some tea,” Grayson said. A moment later, a clatter came from the direction of the stove.
“Molly?” Briar said. “I thought I heard shouting, earlier.”
“There was a lot of shouting earlier.” Molly carefully brushed her forehead, seeming to know that Briar had a headache to end all headaches.
“Eli?” Briar asked, voicing her fear.
“No. He remained surprisingly reasonable. It was Mr. Martel and Mr. Perseus who had something of a debate.”
“He wished to heal you,” Perseus’s accented voice carried from the table, surprising her with his presence. “I did not think it in your best interest—or his.”
“Healing is a good thing, Perseus,” she muttered, longing for some healing right now.
“Forgive me, my lady, but I did not feel your injuries severe enough to warrant the risk.”
She frowned at that. “Risk?”
“Molly, would you hold the mug?” Grayson cut in. “I’ll help her sit up.”
“I’ll do it,” Perseus moved closer.
“No you won’t.” A coolness entered Grayson’s tone. “She’s conscious, so I’m under her control once more. You can back off with the overprotective bullshit.”
“She has no experience in such matters,” Perseus answered, his voice level and calm. “And neither do you.”
“If anyone knows, it’s me,” Grayson replied.
“Enough,” Briar cut in. “And I can sit up on my own.” Gritting her teeth, she did just that, though she had to grip the edge of the bunk as a wave of nausea washed over her.
“Easy.” Molly sat down beside her and gripped her shoulder. “You’re white as a sheet.”
Briar grunted, trying to master the pain and the nausea.
“Briar?” Molly prompted.
“Headache,” Briar muttered.
“You took a hard blow to the head,” Grayson said. “I hope it didn’t fracture your skull—not that I’m allowed to fix it.”
Perseus sighed, but didn’t take the bait.
“I’ll try that tea,” Briar said, now more confident that she wasn’t going to vomit. “And while I drink it, Perseus can explain why he’s so adamant that you don’t heal me.”
Molly handed her the mug, and Briar took a tentative sip of the bitter brew. She hoped Grayson had mixed it extra strong again.
“To put it bluntly,” Perseus began, “his devolvement is accelerating, and I feared that he might slip up and go too far while healing you.”
“You feared he’d make me soulless,” she clarified, then took another sip.
“Yes.” Perseus didn’t sugarcoat it.
“I’m not that far gone,” Grayson cut in. “And even if I was, I would never hurt her.”
Briar lowered her mug and, squinting, watched the two men.
“Are you truly willing to risk it?” Perseus asked. “She’s got to feel as human to you as she does to me.”
Grayson frowned. “I’m stronger than that.”
Perseus said nothing, he just held Grayson’s gaze.
Annoyed, Briar handed Molly the mug and pushed herself to her feet.
Grayson caught her arm as she swayed. “Easy,” he advised, gripping her elbow.
She looked up, meeting his blue-gray eyes. Yes, she was in pain and would love to be healed, but this went deeper than that. If she went along with Perseus, she was agreeing that Grayson was too devolved to be trusted, and she truly did not believe that.
“I trust you,” she told Grayson, her eyes holding his. “Heal me.”
Perseus sighed, but said nothing.
A faint frown wrinkled Grayson’s brow, and for a moment, she thought he might take Perseus’s advice and refuse, then he reached up to cup the back of her head. His touch was gentle, but it still sent a bolt of pain arcing through her skull. She tried to muffle her gasp, but didn’t quite succeed.
“Sorry,” Grayson whispered.
“Not your fault. I think the boat hit me in the back of the head.”
He released a breath that shook. “That could have killed you.”
“I’m stronger than that,” she echoed his earlier words. The pain was fading, and she slumped against him. He kept his hand on the back of her head but wrapped his o
ther arm around her.
She closed her eyes and listened to the thump of his heart beneath her ear. His soul-iron heart. Would he really get to the point where he couldn’t resist making soul-iron organs in others?
“Better?” he asked a moment later.
“Mm-hmm.” She remained slumped against him.
Grayson laughed and gave her a squeeze.
“You’re well, Briar?” Molly asked, rising from her seat on the bunk.
“I’m fine.” Briar smiled, though she continued to lean against Grayson.
“Then I’ll go tell the others. They’ll be so relieved.” She didn’t wait for a response before hurrying from the cabin.
“See?” Grayson’s words turned cool as he addressed Perseus. “I told you I could heal her.”
“Did you expect me to be disappointed?” Perseus asked. “I am very pleased that you still possess so much control, but I also suspect, that if you were honest, you would agree that I’m not wrong.”
“You’re not wrong that the temptation exists. You’re wrong to imply that I can’t resist it.”
“What about the couple on that farm?” Perseus referred to the old man and woman Grayson had healed, just after meeting Perseus and Kali.
“That wasn’t temptation; that was need. And they benefited as much from the exchange as I did.”
Briar leaned back to look up at him.
“Don’t give me that,” Grayson said. “They would have lived long healthy lives if Farran hadn’t killed them.”
“True,” Briar relented. She turned to face Perseus, but he spoke before she could.
“I’m only looking out for your welfare, my lady, and his.”
She glanced at Grayson, though she addressed Perseus. “You’re looking out for Grayson?”
“Do you think I like to watch those I’ve come to know devolve? I’ve already told you that I hope you succeed, and I’m willing to help in any way you need.”
“Thank you.” She still didn’t know what to make of him. Wasn’t he supposed to hunt ferromancers, not help them?
