I bite my lip and rush towards him, “You are playing games with us; so, allow me to inform you of this.” I stare straight into his eyes, chest heaving, gown glinting bellicose red in the candlelight and reflecting ominous shadows onto my face. “I will not fall into your game, and neither will the rest. I am not your plaything Sir. I may, in fact, be a danger to you, for I have nothing to lose.”
He observes me dazedly and looks me up and down with a longing that makes my flesh crawl. It is not lustful, it is…a missing, a desire and passion that undoes me. I have never seen a man in such a state.
“I’m a danger to you. You’re a danger to me. It sounds fair,” he speaks stiffly.
He lifts a hand to caress my face and I jerk back before his fingers can skim across my cheek.
“Refrain yourself.”
He pretends as if it has not happened and looks back towards the open doors that lead back into the hall of dancing people.
“Dance with me.”
He wrenches me by the wrist and I try to break free of his hold, “Let me go!”
He drags me back into the hot hall with its blaring music. The smells hit me harder this time. Wine, rum, and smoke. He ignores my pulls to escape his grip and holds firm, keeping us on a straight course. He wants to dance. Why? I cannot fathom what he wants out of me.
My breath comes shallow, and there is thunder between us, a pulsing of wills.
“Now.”
He composes himself as the perfect gentleman. The word is a demand, poised and yet perfectly forceful. There is no other option. He will get what he wants eventually.
We route back to the maze of dancing people, his hand low on my waist, leading me as we enter the throng. We twirl and corkscrew through the people. They are blurs that I cannot differentiate. He watches me silently as we float, mulling something over; deeply in thought.
I’m floating. A floating prisoner dressed up for slaughter. It’s a wretched beast to be entangled by. I hate that it’s difficult not to be aware of his hands on my waist, his nearness, his scent. It is indelible.
Just as we are making a long spin, a man sprints into the hall, his face seared with panic. He jogs to Benjamin.
“There’s been a breach,” he says.
“Shit,” Benjamin mutters, and releases me. “Get them to their rooms.”
He doesn’t have to look for one to do his bidding; they all watch him. Idalgo leads Claire towards us briskly and beckons me with his other arm. I don’t know what they mean, but I sense that this is urgent and worrisome, so I follow without protest. Claire and I exchange looks of questioning. Idalgo draws us out the archway flanked by two others.
I spare myself one glance back at Benjamin, but he has already gone.
We walk at a brisk pace, pressed on by the men behind us.
“Care to inform us about the situation?” Claire says quietly, nudging them to speak.
Idalgo makes a grunt of irritation, and the rest are silent. We walk onward without noise. Below, we hear a near-silent home. It is too much silence after such din. I glance at Claire, wondering if she has any idea or notion as to what is happening. She appears to be just as blind as I.
As we reach our chamber door, Idalgo snaps at two men to take up places on either side of the door. He wants them to guard us. His eyes are hooded and dark, and he lays a hand on Claire’s shoulder as he ushers us in.
“Sit tight, will you?” He gives a wink, horribly dry of charisma, and leaves.
We are once again shut away.
Claire and I exchange looks of beguilement, and she touches the shoulder that Idalgos’ hand had rested upon, tears glittering in her pretty eyes.
“This is our chance,” I say.
My body is shaking all over. I try to hide this, and I grab firmly the bottom edge of the bedpost, watching Claire as she seats herself on the bed. Her drooping shoulders suggest she is morose, and she does not look at me but rather gazes off into the crown moldings on the wall. We are sitting here listening to a far-off crow of men hustling themselves to where something, or someone, has breached their property. I watch them in their succinct rows as they file off into the forest.
“Did you hear me?” I press.
“What are you talking about?” she sighs.
“We should escape. Now,” I urge.
“And go where?”
I look off to the window. I look to the door. Two ways out. Certainly, we’d be able to manage it when the house is in uproar.
“We can steal one of their small boats, Alphonse can man it…” I say, but I trail off.
“And where is Alphonse, did they tell you that? They didn’t tell me,” she drawls, voice testing.
We do not have very many options but if we don’t try, we may regret it. We don’t know what these men will do to us. We may not ever leave if we don’t take the situation into our own hands. How can she not see this?
“It is the only option we have. Listen, I was en route to marry a very wealthy man. I am sure he’ll be searching for me in the next week or so. He’ll notice that I haven’t arrived and will investigate. He may even assume piracy. It’s common in the warmer waters of the Carib seas, is it not? We will find Alphonse and we will get to the nearest reputable port.”
“And what, risk dying on the open ocean?” she cackles, mocking me. “Get your head out of the clouds. We’d do better to stay put.”
Her despondency riles me. Does she not want to leave?
I glance down over the sill of the window. There is a balcony below, and then another, jutting out like stone-lipped steps for a giant. I feel the weight of my gown pressing on my legs, and tear it away, jumping out of the violently red plumage. I force the window open in only my shift and corset, caring lastly for decorum. The hot night air is sinuous and humid, bathing me as I tremble in my urgency. I’ve no other option.
“Come with me or don’t,” I tell her. “I may or may not come back for you.”
I feel wicked as I say this, but it is truth. If we part ways now, I might never see her again. In this moment I wish we were still aboard their ship. I long to see that radiant spark that she’d held before, the one that had captivated me. If there was a chance to save Alphonse, why would she not take it? I do not think they would have killed him yet. Something about the war between the two of them.
Claire lurches from the bed towards me, eyes saucers of fright.
“No,” she pleads. “Stay! Merci Dieu. You won’t make it Gia!”
I wrench myself from her hold, “Come with me.”
“I will not,” she shakes her head, lips pursed, “I can’t. I have to stay. You have to stay. What’s out there could be worse than what is in here. You are safer in here. I promise you.”
I give her a glare in parting, confused by her words.
“You cannot promise that.”
She watches with distress, knowing that she can do nothing to stop me.
I shuffle so that my legs are hanging off the wall, my hands holding tight to the ledge. I feel my weight now, shifted into the muscles in my arms so that I stretch taut. Fear fills my belly, a sharp slithering cord of it, trilling like a bird, warning my innards that they may soon be smashed. I will have to drop around six feet from here. I let myself loose and drop to the balcony below, my legs snapping to a fold beneath me. I stifle my cry of pain and grit my teeth. My knees have jammed. Regardless, I stand, wrenching myself over the side of the balcony and shimmying my way down. I will have to be far more careful in my management of this drop as there is little room. I breathe raggedly and use my weight to swing at an angle into the balcony below. I feel like an urchin of the streets, swallowing sweet relief when I land.
I do this once more before the sweet soft loam of earth hits my feet, a pleasant cushion of moss and ferns slapping my legs and spiking beneath my shift. I tumble out of the thicket onto a cleaner path, though the darkness limits my knowledge as to where to go. The moon lights the world only in small slits through the canopies disjointed
places. This silver blue light illuminates only a small fraction, and I see mostly shadows and black shapes, unknown entities still and yet swerving.
“Are you all right?” Claire calls softly from the third story, long vines of flaxen hair spilling out overhead.
I nod and wave a little. Her face is distorted by fear.
I am out. I do not think of where I am headed, only that I must be free. That I have to leave this place and not look back. I must distance myself from Benjamin’s merciless eyes, the heady persecution, the secrets living in the walls. I kick up the dirt as I run, body shivering violently.
I enter through a narrow crack in the trees, feeling it best that I take the most disorganized path possible, so they cannot find me. Captain Alphonse will be in the house. Perhaps I can steal something from the village below, a weapon of sorts. No doubt the men and women there would not be prepared for a thief, not always on watch with petulant guards. Not for a wild woman who knows roughly how to wield a rapier.
My lungs heave from the exhaustive physical labor of grappling the balconies and now conquering the sharp grass as it works against me. My mind is in chaos. I chide myself to remain focused, salty with bitterness. I must keep on and not collapse into my anguish. Fury fuels me.
I spurn myself on, keeping my pacing quick. The night becomes quiet, padded by the jungle denseness. I feel an insect or two tickle my skin and wipe myself viciously. Adrenaline peals in my chest, and I shiver, though the air is hot. It’s as warm as a bath. My skin is sheened with sweat. I walk for what feels like miles. I do not know where I am going, in fact, I feel quite ridiculous. I will find myself a safe place to sleep, in a knoll of trees or something, and regroup in the morning.
There in the thick black forestry, I feel fear creeping. I can hear animals moving, insects buzzing in my ears. I slap my arms when I feel the tingle of crawling on them. I should have just gone out to the ships, to the town. But I’d been so frenzied that I had run into the damn jungle. My heart is thudding, a maelstrom of beats in my chest. I hear branches snapping and put my hand over my mouth so that I don’t scream.
Through the narrow tree trunks, I see a small light. I catch the thudding of footsteps, crunching the leaves and grass beneath them. I must keep walking, slowly. There is no possibility of my being seen in such a darkness. I will continue on.
Just as I start another step, I feel a rough, calloused hand clamp over my mouth. I am frozen.
“Don’t scream. Don’t move,” he says.
I recognize his voice instantly. Benjamin. His lips are near to my ear, so near that his tone resonates in my skull. He draws me back further into the shadows of the trees so that we are further concealed.
I see the small orb of light still, and the footsteps, I guess a few men at least, halt themselves.
“You ignore our treaty,” a man says. His voice is far off, hollow, and I have to strain to hear it.
Suddenly there is an outlandish shriek, something alien and echoing. It is loud, fizzling with energy and power. It arcs and rounds off into maniacal laughter. I realize that this may have been a screech of some sort of glee. A person laughing crazily. My skin prickles with goose flesh.
“Where is he? I shall speak with him,” she, it is a she with a deep archaic tone, speaks above them all. She sounds as if she exists on a different plane, and it disorients me, hearing this odd echoic voice.
“You’ll do your dealings with us, witch,” a man growls. “And you are trespassing. Go back to your place. He’ll come when he has your portion.”
There is a flash of movement between the trees, and then a burring, sucking noise. The men all grapple and yell, ripping out their weapons. I hear a sour groan bellow out from the man who’d been speaking, and then nothing. All we can hear is a traumatic silence and small trills of insects.
“Bring him to me,” the woman says casually. “Or the same fate will befall you all.”
I hear Benjamin’s breath hitch, and he turns me around. I can see the whites of his eyes, the shadows of his face tense and filled with determination. He lifts a lone finger to his lips, and he shuts his eyes and releases me. I watch him in horror as he backtracks to where he’d entered the trees, rerouting himself onto the dirt cut path I’d not noticed before. He is going to this woman. I have a sick sense that she somehow murdered the man that had been speaking to her.
I don’t dare speak or even move. I stay still as a stone, listening for his voice.
“Fall back men,” he says as he reaches the impasse.
“Ah, my lovely. You always come when I call.”
The men are stationary, and Benjamin walks through them at an even pace. He does not impress fear upon her, but rather, a coolness that none can dispute.
“Why are you here?” he asks her.
“I’ve come to collect…” she tells him vaguely.
“When I have yours, I’ll bring it. This is what has always been. What’s changed for you now?”
The woman walks closer to him, and I feel my nausea rise, slick in my throat. It burns there, as burning as her tone.
“You underestimate.” she chortles cruelly. “I can smell them. Sweet and delicious. Why do you keep them from me?”
“I’ve done so before. These ones I need. I would not keep them from you if it weren’t necessary,” he is diplomatic, but turns darker, “And now you’ve stolen one of my men, there’s more reason for me to keep these that I have.”
“You’re foolish. I’ve been to your establishment. You’ve enough bodies to fuel me for years,” she grows closer to him, leeching forth like a parasitic creature as if she feels an intense urge to wrap her body around his. All I can make out is her shadowy, spindly figure, and I do not long to see more. The image of her haunts me, inciting my heart to race destructively in my chest. Is this real? Am I dreaming? My throat tightens, and I think maybe it will close from the mind-numbing horror I feel.
“Then why are you here? You know what we’ve bargained. I’ll get you yours. In turn, you won’t touch those I keep, not one more.”
“Come with me,” her voice is breathy and raspy. “It’s been so long.”
His countenance stiffens. His men glance at him in small pivots on jerky necks. I see wide eyes and uneasy countenances. I feel that the night will last forever. I shake with unease, my limbs stiff from staying so tight with fear.
“Begone with you,” he utters.
“I can sense her…she is near,” she slides herself closer, nearer still.
Her slim body is less than a foot away from him, and she leans carefully to speak in his ear. I cannot hear what she says, but something about the penitent vibrato of her voice chills me. I am cold in a humid, hot midnight darkness, my pits, under-breasts, and spine damp with sweat. I feel small beads of it forming on my forehead, and yet, my insides are now ice.
When she’s finished implanting her foul words he staggers back as if she’d a hold upon him and suddenly he’s been released. I do not breathe. The woman has backed away, and only when the darkness has swallowed her and we’ve sat there in breathless silence for a while does Benjamin remember me. He cocks himself straight again and lopes towards the forestry where I am hidden.
He breathes with relief when he finds me.
I am shaking, my limbs spasming and my teeth clattering. He comes near and draws my hand into his. His hands are warm and calloused; they pull me. He speaks no words, simply leads me through the trees. His men have already gone per his request. We stumble in the darkness.
“What was that?” I bristle.
He makes a move to silence me and shakes his head with narrowed eyes. His eyes are so dark and deep. The stars cause them to exude the same far off twinkling. He is a mystery to me, that this entire situation is madness, and that I have just witnessed something damning. Perhaps the woman has something to do with the warnings Alphonse had spoken of. This expression tells me that we will speak, but not here.
Claire
I stare off the balcony for
a long time. I am frozen. Frozen in the cruel way fate loves to taunt me. I should know this, but still, I never thought she’d swing like a monkey from the balconies to greet the earth. I cannot tear my eyes away from the jungle. My eyes are dry from not blinking.
Did I try hard enough to keep her here? Should I have tackled her to the ground? Tied her to the bed? I lift a hand to my mouth, allowing my fingers to press against my lips. This Island is heavy with energies, as the cabal would put it. When I studied, learned bits and pieces of the different languages and translated them into French, I read about different places purportedly hosts for creatures of magic. I wonder what the qualifications are. I wonder as I always have, why did the Bone Woman come here of all places?
Hatred for Benjamin curries up in my gut. I look down distractedly at the gown I wear, its intricate details, and nausea coils up in my throat. Then I see Gia’s, torn from her body as if it were a red phoenix’s plumage, she the startling dead thing coming out of it when reborn. It makes me smile for so many reasons, but also cripple under the anger that I feel.
She is no Giselle. She has experienced all different things. Giselle would have never hopped off of a balcony to escape. This girl knows no bounds or stops. I wonder why Benjamin’s first actions were not to take us to the desecrated creature that he lives to please, why he did not take Gia there immediately to sacrifice her and gain the key to eternity. That is what he wanted, wasn’t it? It is what Vauquelin, Alexandre, and the lot of them were working towards. The fixing of the human design. A thousand accounts, journals, and experiments I have read on the topic and still, it chills me to the bone.
I give up my watch and retreat to the room. If she is gone, what good am I in here? I should try to find Alphonse. I pace, hands on my hips as I walk. I wrestle with my gown, ripping and wrenching it off my body, tearing it in places. I unlace the corset as quickly as I can and then go to the trunks allotted to us.
The metal clasp unbuckles and squawks as I flip it wide, revealing our old clothes refreshed and laundered, as well as numerous other options. I roll my eyes about and grab my previous ensemble: my worn travelling shoes, and the gray-blue linen gown. The threads are loose in some spaces, and the train is creased and has holes where it kisses the floors.
The Bones of Broken Songs: A Historical Mystery Romance (Mortalsong Trilogy Book 2) Page 5
