by Lee Bross
She heard movement—scuffling sounds all around her—but could not see what made the noise. There were no lanterns in the room. She moved until the door was at her back, then slowly sank down until she sat, propped up, facing a room full of who-knows-what.
The walls echoed with tortured moans, and the stench inside the room overwhelmed her. The tears she had been fighting finally broke free and slipped down her cheeks unchecked. This had to be a nightmare. It could not be real.
Even as she repeated that to herself, the cold seeped up from the floor and chilled her to the bone. The one saving grace was that it made her too numb to feel any more pain, and she sat deathly still.
The room was about twice the size of the room Bones had kept her in. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, Arista could make out dozens of bodies sprawled across the floor.
At the far end of the room, a figure detached from the shadows and started toward her. A misshapen figure, walking with an awkward shuffle-thump gait. Arista pushed clumsily to her feet, trying to force the cold from her limbs, at least enough so that she could move if needed. Others were stirring awake now, and several sat up, rubbing their eyes until they saw her.
Arista pressed back against the steel door, but it would not give under the pressure. A scratching sound came from near her and Arista saw a young girl cowering in the corner. There was something so familiar about the look in her eyes. The fear. Arista took a step toward her, but the girl scrambled back until she had wedged herself in the corner. She had the look of a wild animal about her.
It was a look she remembered well.
“Are you a lady, then?” a different woman asked. She had on a dirt-stained shift and her feet were bare and black. Her hair had been nearly all chopped off, and stood out from her head in uneven peaks. “We don’t get many hoity-toities in here. That dress would fetch me a nice hot meal.” A gleam came into the woman’s eyes as she stood.
Arista watched the woman warily. She’d had run-ins with people like her before. They weren’t all there in the head, and that made them more dangerous than if they were in their right mind. Arista slowly wrapped the extra chain around her fingers.
The woman crept closer, licking her cracked lips.
The others would be no help—already they were cowering away from the crazy one. A low whimper came from the girl in the corner. Arista’s stomach rolled. A sour taste coated the back of her tongue. It would not be the first time she had fought for what was hers. She could scream, but her voice would only be one among hundreds. No one would come to her aid here. She gripped the chain tight in her fist and waited. There would only be one chance to take the woman by surprise. The woman outweighed Arista by at least four stone.
“Time to pay up, your ladyship.” The woman lunged at her. Arista waited until the woman’s hand was almost at her neck before she swung her chain-covered fist as hard as she could at her jaw. Her fist connected with a thud, and the woman’s head snapped back. She moaned low in her throat and fell to the ground in a heap. Arista stared down at her, panting for air, but the woman didn’t move.
Everyone in the cell froze, looking at Arista. The girl in the corner pushed herself to her feet, and her gaze kept darting to the woman lying on the floor. Arista didn’t know what to do next. She loosened her grip and the small length of chain unraveled. There was blood on her knuckles, but she wasn’t sure whose it was.
A woman leaned over the body. After a moment, she looked up. “She ain’t dead. Don’t matter much—heard you’ll be swinging from the rope at dawn. Corpses don’t need clothes, so they’ll be hers come morning.”
A loud metallic clink sounded on the door right by her head, and she jumped away as it swung open. “You.” The jailer pointed at Arista. “Outside.”
She looked over her shoulder, then took several hesitant steps out of the cell.
“I warned you, gypsy.” Nic stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.
What the hell was he doing there? Had he come to gloat? Rage filled her, fast and fierce, and she yanked free of the guard with a primal growl. Her fists hit his chest, but it was like striking a stone wall. Nic grabbed her hands and held them with just one of his. He leaned down very close to whisper in her ear.
“What the bloody hell were you thinking, going back to the party? Huntington couldn’t wait to tell Wild what you wanted.”
“I needed something on Wild. Raffer is blackmailing someone I care about, and I have to help them,” she sobbed. “You have to help me, Nic.”
“You should have listened to me, gypsy. There’s only so much I can do to protect you now. The next time I say run, you run,” he hissed low in her ear before spinning her around and shoving her back at the guard. Instead of catching her, the man stepped back and Arista sprawled onto the cold stone floor. A sharp pain shot through her knee.
“I see you’ve met my new right-hand man,” Wild said, stepping from the shadows. “Ah, sorry, you two know each other already—don’t you.” Wild crossed to where she lay and reached down, wrapping his fingers around her neck. There was no sign of mercy in his eyes. He lifted her to her feet. “Did you really think you could double-cross me?” he growled. Arista dug at his fingers, but could not loosen his grip.
“Please.” Her voice came out raspy and faint. She could barely breathe. When she kicked out at his leg, he only laughed.
Blackness crept into her vision, and she struggled against his hold. She could see Nic standing by the door, watching but not moving, not helping her. There was no emotion on his face at all. Tears burned her eyes. He would never have let anyone touch her before.
“You’re a monster,” she spat at him.
He finally looked away.
“Time’s up,” the jailer barked as he came back down the hallway. “You’ll not rob anyone of a good hanging.” He yanked Wild away. As soon as she was free, Arista gulped in a huge lungful of air, almost making herself ill.
Wild straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, my dear. I’ll be in the front row at your hanging come dawn. You’ve made me quite popular, now that I’ve caught such an infamous blackmailer. I should thank you.” He bowed to her, an elaborate mocking gesture that made her feel even sicker. Then he turned and walked away.
Nic watched her for a few seconds longer, then turned and followed Wild out the door.
She screamed and lunged after him, reaching for her missing knife out of habit. The jailer grabbed her around the waist before she made it more than a few steps. Wild’s contemptuous laughter echoed down the hall. Arista screamed again. The inhuman sound echoed off the stones.
She kicked and twisted and pounded her fists against the thick man’s arms, but he only walked over and dumped her back into the cell. She lay where she fell and curled into a tight ball. Her shoulders shook as she tried to hold in the sobs that built inside. Nic. Nic had betrayed her for Wild. Agony clawed its way up her throat and choked off her air.
“I’m sorry,” a small voice whispered.
There was a soft touch on her shoulder and Arista looked up into the eyes of the young girl from the corner. In her expression, Arista saw the truth.
She was going to die.
Hours later, the keys jingled again and Arista scooted backward until she came up sharply against the stone wall. What now? Had Wild decided to come back and torture her even more?
Two of the quieter girls in the back of the cell detached from the shadows and sauntered forward. They were both rough-looking, but one had cuts along her arm that looked like they needed a doctor’s attention.
“What do we have tonight?” the older one asked the jailer.
“There’s a new one with some coins wanting a little female company.”
The girls nudged each other and the jailor laughed as they walked out of the cell. “Here’s your extra bread. You can eat it while we walk. He’s a mite impatient. For the rest of you lot—” he said to the room, and threw sev
eral smaller loaves onto the middle of the floor.
The door slammed shut and the other women dove at the bread, pushing and biting to get to it. Arista watched with distaste. Bones used to do things like that when they were children. He said it helped them develop a fighting edge. Arista refused to fight for her food. She would never use her body, either.
“I got you a piece. It ain’t much, but we don’t get much.” The young girl handed her a piece of bread the size of her thumb.
Arista shook her head. “You eat it. I’m not hungry.” The thin girl shoved it into her mouth without argument. Neither mentioned the truth that hung in the air between them. Arista would hang very soon. No use wasting bread on the dead.
“So, why are you here? I like the colors in your skirt—is it yours? I’m Grace, by the way.” The girl smiled rather shyly. “It’s okay, I don’t mean to pry.”
“I didn’t steal it, it’s mine. They think I killed someone, but I didn’t.” Grace’s eyes went round and she moved away just a bit. “I promise I didn’t,” Arista said. The girl’s nervousness made her uncomfortable, and she tried to put the girl at ease. “Why are you here, Grace?” she asked.
“My father owed a debt he couldn’t pay. He gave me in exchange.” Her gaze lowered to the floor.
A knot formed in Arista’s stomach. “How long have you been here?”
“Two days.” She raised her head and tears glistened in her eyes. “I thought he would come back for me by now.”
It was a surprise that Grace had been here that long and had not been harmed—or worse, been led out of the cell to service the inmates who could barter or pay for female companionship. It wouldn’t be much longer before that happened, though. The girl was too pretty to go untouched if no one came to claim her.
There wasn’t anything she could do to help her. Arista looked around. How many of the women were here because of something frivolous? How many here were innocent?
In the cell, the women sat in groups of two or three. Some played games with bits of stone and straw, others chatted quietly. The one Arista had knocked out earlier lay on the ground, unmoving. They sat in silence, groans echoing in the stone walls all around them. One might go crazy from listening to that for too long.
The sudden sound of keys turning in the lock caught Arista’s attention. All the women stopped what they were doing and looked up.
“You—come with me.” The man pointed at Arista.
She stayed where she was. Grace gripped her arm tight with both her hands. “Why? I won’t whore myself out for a piece of bread.”
The jailer growled and stepped into the cell. “You’re needed for other purposes. It’s time to go. Now, I can drag you, or you can walk—it don’t much matter to me, girl.”
She glanced at Grace, who stood trembling with fear. While the girl watched with wide eyes, Arista reached under the collar of her dress and pulled the silk scarf free. The one she wore always for strength.
“It’s okay,” Arista whispered, even though it wasn’t. She wrapped the scarf around the girl’s shoulders and tied it under her chin. “Don’t give up. There is a big world out there, just waiting for you. Someone very special gave this to me and now I’m giving it to you.”
Tears fell down Grace’s cheeks. “Thank you, miss.”
Arista fought back her own tears. This had all happened much faster than she’d expected. Was it dawn already? Arista lifted her chin and glared at their jailer.
“I can walk on my own.”
The guard muttered something and slammed the door shut behind her. He started down a different hallway than Wild had exited from.
Arista’s throat tightened as she followed the jailer. The hallway grew darker, and the lantern the guard held threw little light. Arista used the wall to steady her balance, and cringed at the slimy feel of the stone. The air in the tunnel grew chillier, and still they walked on. The moans and screams faded behind them, and the stale air took on an earthier quality.
“Where are we going?” she asked his back, but the man only grunted. “Am I to be hanged before dawn? With no say to my own innocence? That is not justice.”
She might as well have been speaking to the stone walls for all the reaction she got from him. Finally he stopped and pulled the keys from his belt. The door opened soundlessly, and the jailer lifted the lantern high over his head. “Go.” His one-word command propelled her forward, but she came up short outside the prison.
A hooded figure stepped from the shadows and handed the man a bag of coins. The jailer grabbed it and slammed the door closed behind her.
“Come quickly,” the figure said. “They are not the most trustworthy sort.”
Arista looked back. Whoever this was, they were saving her from Newgate, but for what? Had Wild concocted an even worse punishment for her? “Who are you?”
“You will see in a moment, miss, but we have to hurry.” The figure started across the yard. After a moment’s hesitation, she followed. Wherever he was leading her, it was away from the prison.
A carriage awaited on the next corner, and when the hooded figure rapped twice on the door, it swung open. She slowed to a stop. Had Wild bought her freedom, just so he could kill her himself? Or did he plan to torture her first? She prepared herself to run.
“Where is she?” a familiar voice asked. The figure pointed at her and then lifted the hood from his head. Tomas.
And there, leaning from the carriage window, was Grae.
Arista sat in the cabin of Grae’s ship, fighting the rolling in her stomach that was not caused by the ship, but by the cold fury in Grae’s eyes. She sat on his bed, arms wrapped around her middle. For twenty minutes, she’d been trying not to spill the contents of her stomach onto the polished wood floor. They had sat in silence for so long that she was ready to crawl out of her own skin. It didn’t help that Grae had not stopped pacing back and forth in the small cabin since they’d arrived.
“How did you find me?” she finally asked.
He dragged his fingers through his hair and sat down next to her on the bunk.
“My mother sent for me when she found Father in his study. He was…not in a good place, but he told me what had happened. I went to your room but you were gone. I found the note you left your maid, and when I confronted her, she begged me to find you. Said that something went wrong. It wasn’t until a note came to the house, addressed to Becky, that we knew where you were.” He glanced at her face but didn’t look her in the eye. “I couldn’t leave you there. But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you.”
His words felt like a dagger in her heart. “I promise, Grae—I didn’t know, not until tonight. I tried to fix everything…but nothing’s changed. Everything is still so messed up. I’m so sorry.” She dropped her face into her hands.
“So you didn’t know my father would be asked to transport human cargo?” His voice was raw with emotion.
“No! I promise I didn’t know what Wild planned to do.” It was time to tell him the truth. “I knew your father owed Wild a debt, because otherwise I would never have been admitted to your home. I was supposed to go out, collect money and secrets like I did before, only this time, Wild promised me half the cut. That was my ticket to freedom. I’ve never had the chance to earn enough money to get Becky and myself away from London. I accepted his offer because I had nowhere else to go. I didn’t know his plans, or that Lord Raffer planned to blackmail your father. He used me as well. If I had known…”
Wild had made sure that she remained in the dark about her role in the extortion plan. Every move he made had been calculated—from reeling Nic in, to saving her life, to setting her up in the Sinclair household. He’d played the game with the precision of a chess master.
Arista had paid with her freedom, and Grae’s family was still under Wild’s thumb.
“It was all for nothing. I’m so sorry.” Her shoulders shook and tears dripped out from between her fingers.
“What were you trying to do tonight?” he ask
ed.
“I was offering to give someone control over their own secret, in return for a Parliamentary investigation of Raffer. To bring his activities to light and discredit him so he couldn’t make accusations against your father.”
Grae sighed. He sounded so tired. “So, now what?”
“I failed. I couldn’t save your family.” She might as well go back to Newgate. She was as much a prisoner now as she had been then.
“There has to be something we can do. Is there anyone else you can contact?” His warm hand rested on her shoulder, and that tiny bit of comfort gave her the clarity she needed. Arista stopped and lifted her head.
“The note that said I was in Newgate—do you have it?”
Grae released her hand and reached into his pocket. The note was a crumpled-up ball of paper now. Arista pried it from his fingers and smoothed it open. She only had to glance at the writing to know who’d sent it. Nic.
“Do you recognize it?” Grae asked.
She immediately shook her head. The vile taste of guilt sat on her tongue. Why didn’t she tell him about Nic?
Because then she would have to tell him everything—and somehow she knew that if he found out Nic had set her up for murder, he would be less than understanding.
She still didn’t quite understand. Nic had vowed that he would never let anyone hurt her, yet he’d let Wild manhandle her. But all the while he’d known that Grae was on his way to save her. Was he just keeping up an act for Wild? Or was all of this just an act to trick her?
“We could leave London. All of us. My father is willing to move the family someplace safe,” Grae said. “The ship is bound for India. Mother and Sophia have always wanted to go there.”
“And what would happen to his business? To his ships? He built this for you and Sophia. So that you would have a future. There is no life in hiding, in looking over your shoulder every single day. Trust me, I know it all too well.”
