The Bones of Broken Songs: A Historical Mystery Romance (Mortalsong Trilogy Book 2)

by J. M. Stredwick

  “You thought I’d abandon you?” he kneels down in front of me, reaching down around my waist and cutting my ties. He slips his sword and belt over my head and fastens it at my waist. I hear him twisting leather and then the metal clicking of a matchlock gun as it is holstered at my waist as well. His fingers are hooked in the belt, hesitant to leave.

  In the darkness, through the shadows, I can see his pained face. The solemnity of his soul. His mouth is downturned and he is fierce as he searches me, wishing something. I only wonder what this wishing, longing, means.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him, holding back my anguish. The relief I feel with his closeness.

  “I’m giving you a chance,” he whispers, leaning towards my face. “I would never betray you. Never. No matter what you think…I…I only want you to know that I face my own demons. But I, I think you know what I feel for you, Claire. I always have. Ever since I was a young man trying to woo you in your own home. If it had been different, maybe we’d…”

  It is a struggle for him to get through his thoughts. He has always been a forlorn, sullen man. Someone I could be myself with, because he is quiet, observes, and does not speak often. How many nights had I spilled my mind to him, all for him to be quietly accepting?

  “How did you get away?” I ask him, feeling drugged by the experiences of this night I cannot address anything else.

  “Never mind it,” he utters against my hair. “Just go.”

  My heart trembles in my chest. I am wrought with a terrible sense that he means to not come with me. I glower, attempting to will him to stand on the side of reason.

  I grip his wrists tightly, crushing my nails into his skin. “Why would you stay? There is no reason in any part of this plan that you should not come with me!”

  Alphonse leans against me, tentative as his fingers glide along my neck and inch into the thick locks at the back of my head. He lets out a breath, and I feel that he is battling something within himself. I am frozen in my disbelief.

  “I can do more for us…if I remain here.” He tells me.

  “You can’t, Alphonse! You can do nothing here! He will kill you, and then everything will be done. We will never remember, never be able to find one another again,” I whisper anxiously, hating that suddenly I am blooming, erupting with passion. I do not want it to be done between us. Not yet. Everything that we’ve been through in our lives, always us against the world- one poor decision could exterminate the memories we’ve created.

  “Claire,” he is booming with urgency. “You have to leave, now. I have prepared a boat for you already. You have to leave or else I cannot be sure they won’t catch you both.”

  “You both?” I murmur, searching his eyes for understanding.

  “The Ganayun. Get him off of this island. Somehow. They should not be breeding these creatures. That alone will bring a curse down upon humanity.”

  I grip him still. The realization that he is firm in his decision irritates me. I kiss his lips fiercely, quickly, and draw back. He is a fool. I long for him to come with me, to forego his unrealistic perception that staying, pretending and playing a role beside Vauquelin, will help or assist in anything. I think of the Ganayun, Kriath. The idea of him disturbs me, just as the beings swirling in the sacs disturbed me. It is not natural.

  “Claire,” Alphonse whispers longingly.

  I rise from my crouching position, and walk, as steadily as a shadow into the night of storm, stars, and angry ocean.

  Benjamin

  I’ve assembled my men, and one woman. We have congregated for these small meetings twice now, this being the third time. Collecting my most loyal and communicating to them has never been this organized. I’ve always been a “through the vine” commander, our gatherings always on the ship deck or in passing. It has always worked. Now, I speak to them all more open and concise than I ever have before. I’ve told them of the secrets, revealing my past and who Gia is to me. I told them, “Whoever is upset by what I say, you are free to leave this island. To leave the cover of immortality at any time. I will not stop you. I will not hold it against you in any way.”

  They remained in their seats at the table, these friends of mine, listening to the basic story of how I was young and married, my wife stabbed and murdered. It is easier for them to know, and now that they do, I wonder why it has taken so long to pull back the curtain on my past. These secrets have been like fire in my mind, licking away at my sanity. Maybe that is why I have buried myself in the world I’ve made, attempting to forget. Always forget this. But now it is real, she is real.

  “So, the Monsieur Vauquelin,” Idalgo had mentioned. “He is our enemy because of this?”

  “Why did you come back?” Reki questioned flagrantly. He does not disapprove, only wonders how who I was before has changed so greatly.

  “You think I’d allow myself to die, knowing I should live to find her again?” I rounded. “I made my choice for many reasons. All of which will not be explained.”

  “This Giselle, or, Gianna Roswell. From hearing of her I now think that she might be the most important woman in the world. Our own Helen of Troy,” Red says, tone reedy.

  I call her Red for her hair, but her given name is Mary Croy. Looking at her now causes my gut to retract up into my throat. I wonder if she can sense this discomfort. She might play upon this because she makes a point to come near to me, present herself in a way that any man would be willing to take advantage of. She comes from Austria, and the weight of her accent clings to every word she says. I do not want to think of her, especially now. If I did I would buckle under the guilt. I do not need that now. Not when everything is aligning in unexpected harmony.

  Red has given us an advantage in moments where we would not have had one. Dangling a beautiful woman before weak men seems to have its perks. She is also mightily skilled with knives. I’ve never known her to shy from a bit of blood, and this I admire in her. She’s a runaway from a renowned family name, building herself a pirate’s fame.

  This day, it is early, the sky bright and vividly clear after a bit of a storm. The cleanly light illuminates the hall, reminding me that each day we have a choice. All those of importance, Idalgo, Reki, Leurette, Red…the rest of my gathering seat themselves at the table in my study, slowly filtering in through the great doors. They are on edge. Idalgo is standing, his fingers curled around the back of his chair, weight shifted into one leg. Reki is seated, and I see that he makes his attempts to be calm, yet there is a twitch in his mouth, a spasm and then he clears his throat. Red crosses her arms, the maroon of her sleeves puffing out below her breasts. She casts me the odd glance every few seconds.

  “Today is the day, is it not?” Idalgo’s voice spears the silence. “What are we waiting for?”

  “My apologies,” Leurette enters into the hall, wiping his mouth clean of his morning meal, pocketing the handkerchief into the folds of his coat. “I am here.”

  I glance to Idalgo and he gives me a flustered expression, clearly annoyed by Leurette’s lateness.

  “We are now in session,” I smirk, saying it with all severity. “Seat yourselves.”

  Idalgo, in swaggering, sluggish motions, seats himself in the chair. Reki stares at him, clearly unenthused by his display of temper. Idalgo raises his hands to him in silent query. We’ve been to hell and back together, these men of mine. They’re closer than I’ll ever be to them.

  “Today, men…and woman. I would ask you to hear me out. Tonight is the new moon, as we’ve all been waiting for. You know the cost of what we’ve chosen. We’ve endured it many times. This is why we’ve waited, isn’t it?” I refer to the masses of prisoners, the men stolen from jailhouses in nearby settlements. “I know that we were going to set off tomorrow as expected. But, before we continue our contracts, I’d ask that you all allow me time to move Mademoiselle Roswell to a safer residence. You know those who seek her. The game that is in play. She’s been here far too long, as it is.”

  “So, what? We’re
to shove off our previous engagements so you can move your pretty Mistress to a safe house?” Idalgo snaps.

  “I’d prefer if you’d let me finish,” I stare at him. “Unless you’d like to walk out those doors? Go on, then.”

  Idalgo settles himself pompously in his chair, scoffing lightly. We’ve been waiting for the sacrificial ceremony for months. A forced patience created by the heist of stealing prisoners from the nearby ports and the alignment of the moon. Our youth and inability to die have been waning, and I can feel it in the throbbing of my blood, the way my scrapes and cuts do not heal as quickly. The dark blight of humanity creeps upon us, lying in wait to drop us down like flies. That is what humanity is. A damned mortality where your body is your bane and your life is insecure in its foothold. I test my skin often, slicing my arm to know that I am still safe.

  “I’d ask that you all assist me in this endeavor,” I add, casually.

  “I only question why Lady Sidra has not come and found her already,” Leurette mutters, lips pinching upwards. “If she is so powerful.”

  “She does not want to lose the alliance we have, and she does not know if she is here for sure. I’ve been made aware that she senses her closeness, but nothing more. I also think she is hungry, and this aggravates her more. That is why she stole one of our men and attempted to breach the line,” I tell him.

  “This she told you?” Reki asks.

  “Yes,” I confirm. “As I said before, the others search for Gia. We do not know where the sea-dog Vauquelin is. Sidra told me that she has not been in communication with him, that he’s abandoned her. If I am going to keep Gia safe from him, we have to move now before Vauquelin catches wind that his plans went awry.”

  “Plans?” Red asks curiously.

  “My best guess is that he’d discovered Gianna and sent out his spies. When the opportunity arose, he had planned to have her brought to him. My brother intercepted, and then we intercepted my brother.”

  “This girl knows nothing of this?” she is bewildered. Patting a hand along the burgundy swoop of her hair.

  “Not yet,” I say. “I hope to discover a way to help her remember. Though, that will come in time. When we do not have duties so close at hand.”

  Red nods swiftly as if this is an obvious answer. Her reaction reminds me of a woman who desperately is trying to pretend as if the feelings she has had for me do not exist. That we’ve never experienced one another during many drunken nights, imbalanced and indelicate, rough and possessive in our ways. The flashbacks of our interactions are not good, and only make the hatred I feel for my choices stronger. She is not the only woman I have indulged in, but she is the closest I have gotten to any sort of meaning in the relation.

  “I have a place in Senegal. Africa. In the settlement. We will drop her off there, get her settled, and then greet our Dutch friends in the Mediterranean.”

  “Well,” Idalgo smarts. “It seems you’ve figured this out. To the degree, as always.”

  “As leaders are supposed to do,” I smirk grimly. “We make our sacrifices, reset our immortal time, and then do as I said. Are you with me?”

  They stare at me, passing glances between one another. This is the question. Are they loyal to me as a person, or loyal to me for what I can give them? If I cannot give them what they want, would they leave? If our wants no longer align, would they disband? I clench my teeth. It would anger me, but I could not hold it against them. Men and women of this kind are self-serving. Cutthroats with a thirst for life and sordid delights.

  “I am with you,” Reki smiles confidently. “As always Brother Death.”

  “Count me in,” Leurette nods firmly.

  The rest of the men chime in with sounds of agreement. I look to Idalgo and Red.

  “We are always with you,” Red says, and I feel the heat and meaning of her words like a gust of wind.

  “You are my leader and friend,” Idalgo gives in to the pressure. “Let’s protect this pretty princess and be on our way.”

  A smile curves on my mouth, and I incline my head.

  I find her in the courtyard, leaned up against the lattice. Her hand is cupped, holding dry crusts to offer to the birds that amass here. Her dark hair streams down her back, shining like raven’s feathers in the sunlight. The sun has kissed her skin, darkening it in places. Where her gown moves at her shoulders, I can see the cream white line of her original coloring. She does not notice me, and I am content to watch her here, feeding the birds. She is in a bubble of solitude. In this moment, I wish that I could keep her here. That this was not a place of death. That she could stay with me in this place of exotic plants with its surrounding chaotic ocean. I want her to belong to me once again.

  Our lovemaking had been the things that histories might speak of. It always has been. Glorious. Like the joining of star matter and exploding suns. Everything that was before her is dust to me, gravelly groaning dust. Still, I know that she is not mine. Her reservations are strong.

  “Enjoying yourself?” I ask her. She flinches slightly, not having noticed my arrival.

  “In so many words,” she tells me, the ghost of a smile teasing her lips.

  “You must be glad to be out of my chambers, if anything?” I cross my arms and eye her, amusement clinging to me. Just being around her brings me those spasms of happiness. I’d never admit how much being with her now consumes me, the way it clears everything else away from my mind. She’s intoxicating.

  “That much I am thankful for,” she murmurs, lifting her hand to a large colored bird, perched closely nearby on a lower branch. She coaxes him forward.

  “Nothing else?” I ask her, shifting in my stance.

  “What we did was reckless,” she says, voice soft. “I’ve no trust in you. Not in anyone. I’ve learned long ago that the only trust one can have is in themselves, and even then the trust should be tested often.”

  I laugh, coming to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her close. Her words are truth.

  “Benjamin, don’t,” she utters. “I cannot be near you.”

  She pulls against me, but I keep her near. I want to breathe in the scent of her.

  “What, you don’t feel this?” I take her hand and place it on my heart. My hand finds her chest and we stand, with our hands on each other. It is as if our hearts beat in unison, the connection of our bodies so strong and virulent as if there is a fishing line between us, hooked into each of our skins, in our organs, in our souls. I stare at her, waiting to see the flash of recognition. She shuts her eyes, lulled by the magic. Her lips part, and her chest quivers as she breathes in shakily.

  “What is it?” she whispers.

  I wish I could explain it, but I do not know. Imagining what we were before, even before Giselle’s life, makes me wonder. All I have to truly know, is that we are together now. That is enough.

  She takes her hand back and pushes mine away, eyes fluttering as she turns on her heel, putting space between us. She claps her hands together, wiping away the dust of the crumbs.

  “You are a killer,” she says, strong again. “I could never stay. Be a part of this. Take me home.”

  Take her home? I swallow, a dry lump in my throat. If only she knew who I was before. Before she died and came back like this. I was once one of the nobler sort of men. I can’t call myself that now, can I?

  “You know I can’t do that,” I tell her. She whips around to assess me.

  “You said…”

  “I told you I would keep you safe. Find a way for you to remember,” I round.

  “Remember what?” she balks, hands fisting at her sides. “What does that even mean?”

  “You know, I was once good. Never did a wrong,” I explain stiffly. “I soon found out that all good people do bad things. All bad people do good things. It is natural.”

  “It is natural to kill hundreds of prisoners…offer them like some sacrifice to that demoness? How can you think yourself blameless?” she scoffs. Her dark hair hangs in tendril
s, swaying in the subtle breeze, dark eyes furious in their fervor.

  There’s a clinking at the doorway that leads to the courtyard. The door swings wide, groaning as it opens.

  “Oh,” her voice feigns innocence. “I did not know there were people out here.”

  Red drops down the steps into the courtyard, giving me a stray smile. She seems to be more interested in Gia than me, but the image of them in the same pocket of air has me reeling. I blow out a breath and work a hand against my neck.

  “Ah, but you look a vision, young Miss!” Red preens over Gia, holding out a hand to her. “I’ve seen you around in passing but I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance. Now how is that?”

  Gia is hesitant and burning from our argument, but somehow transmits a terse smile.

  “Gianna Roswell, my Lady,” she dips down a bit, the slightest of curtsies.

  “Mary Croy. You may call me Mary,” Red says lovingly as if she is a motherly figure holding all young girls close to her bosom. “Or Red, as the men always do.”

  Gia raises her brows at this and sends me a laconic glance.

  “I would not like to call you something only men call you,” Gia forces a saccharine sweetness. “You’ll be Mary to me.”

  “Perfect, if that is what you want,” Red agrees, and takes in a deep, languorous breath. “What a lovely day it is.”

  “The birds are…like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Gia comments.

  Should I back away now? Slowly? Pretend that I am not the top of the triangle in this small space? I want to tell Gia to come with me, but I doubt that she will follow. I need to tell her that I am taking her to Africa. That is what I came to do.

  “Yes,” Red nods, inspired. “The birds, the flowers…the sand and sea. You never quite get used to it. It is a place of romance.”

  Gia’s face lowers and I wonder if she is thinking of when our bodies joined, the supple way we fused.

  “How long have you been here?” she asks Red.

  “Hm,” she places a finger at her lips. “I suppose its been almost five years.”