Sea of Darkness

by Isadora Brown

  As if she hadn’t taken the hint, he said, “Go home.” But she had. She just refused to think she risked so much for such little in return.

  She crossed her arms, planting her feet firmly where she stood. “You haven’t told me anything.”

  He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, shifting his eyes to the sea. “Why should I, so soon?” he asked. “First, I need to see if I can trust you.”

  She could not believe what she was hearing. Without thinking, she stomped her foot on the deck, causing Drew to raise his eyebrow. “And how do I show you that?”

  “You don’t,” he snapped. “Your impatience—among other things—makes you a risk rather than an asset.” He continued to study her, and his gaze flickered. Kelia did not know what that meant, but she would persist as long as she must. He seemed to know it as well, because he sighed and waved his hand dismissively. “Fine, if you insist on being given some busy work. Look into your father’s work for The Society. Other than that, I say nothing until I know if you’re as trustworthy as you are emotional.” He paused. “I will be in touch in seventy-two hours. If you do not hear from me, you are not worth even your death at my hands. Go now. I will not tell you again.”

  Kelia had to bite her lip to keep from stomping home. This time, however, she did obey.

  Drew watched her leave. Now that she was finally gone, he allowed an amused smile to touch her face.

  “You didn’t tell her anything,” Emma said, coming in with the fog. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she regarded Drew with a curious expression. “Do you truly not trust her?”

  “She needs to get her temper in check,” he said. “I was not lying about that. But I wanted to see what she would do if left to her own devices.” He paused. “Do you think I gave her too much, with that hint about her father?”

  Emma raised her eyebrows. “I think you didn’t give her enough.”

  Drew scowled out at the sea. “I don’t trust her. Not yet. But there’s something about her…” He shook his head. “If Christopher did, indeed, send her to me, then it is true and he has been captured. It throws a brief but unexpected detour in our plans.”

  “We will find her,” Emma insisted. “She is not lost yet, Drew.”

  “You know all,” he said, glancing over at her. “You knew to expect the girl.”

  “I’m no oracle,” Emma said, refusing to meet his eyes. “But I know you will find Wendy. And that you can trust the girl. I know things that come to pass.”

  “I know,” Drew said with a nod. His eyes went to where he watched Kelia touch land. He could even see her footprints in the sand. “But there are things she needs to work on before I can risk engaging in a true partnership with her.”

  “Perhaps you should tell her that yourself,” Emma quipped before disappearing once again.

  Chapter 8

  A Sea Shadow. Kelia had just aligned herself with the worst Sea Shadow in the Caribbean. Kelia blinked once, not fully able to believe what had just occurred and what it meant. She had survived a meeting with Drew Knight. The Drew Knight. She should return to The Society and let them know who his associate was and where they could find him.

  She should, but she wouldn’t.

  And she hated herself for it.

  She hated that she agreed with Drew Knight’s assessment of The Society. Hated he was as logical as he was beautiful. The pieces of information he shared with her were useful, but they would cost more than she thought she was willing to pay. Then she would think of her father and it did not matter what he required of her. Even this acquaintance with what was supposed to be her hated enemy was bearable.

  She balled her fingers into tight fists and all but stomped home. Tears blurred her vision, which she hated even more, because she could not manage to cry due to her father’s death, but put her with a Shadow—not just any Shadow, but the Shadow—and she was tearing up like a spoiled child.

  In that moment, she hated her father. The feeling came and went as quickly as a blink of an eye, but Kelia felt it and was ashamed. It was not her father’s fault he died. Unless he had gotten involved in something he should not have. Kelia could see him doing such a thing, could see his curiosity win out over his logic. And that damn pride, about how the right thing must always be done.

  It was why he had become a Slayer in the first place. To right a wrong that had happened to his father, a merchant. Kelia did not know much of the story, only that her father had been at boarding school while his family sailed to England from the Caribbean to visit. That was when they had been attacked by a Shadow. The entire crew was killed. Her father inherited everything, but he gave it all up to work for The Society. He was engaged to her mother at the time, and while The Society was no place for a young couple in love, she went with her fiancé because she supported him.

  For Kelia, that story defined love.

  It also defined tragedy.

  Her father had lost everyone in his life because of Shadows. And Kelia had just aligned herself with one.

  The sky was black as Kelia walked the familiar road back to the fortress. Because it was after curfew, she snuck in through the servant’s entrance at the side and managed to make it back to her room without getting caught. Her head was heavy with thoughts—thoughts she couldn’t sort through, thoughts that made no sense, thoughts that brought her shame—so she did not notice someone standing in front of her door until that someone said her name.

  “Kelia?” he asked in a soft voice.

  Kelia’s eyes snapped straight ahead. “Charles?” she asked. He shouldn’t be here. Yet, nonetheless, there he was. “What are you doing here?”

  “I, uh…” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I know tomorrow is not going to be an easy day for you.” He cleared his throat. “If you need someone to accompany you to the docks, while it happens—”

  Kelia felt her cheeks burn red.

  Charles was being sweet. He was reaching out to offer her support through this difficult time, the way friends were supposed to. But Charles was the last person she wanted to see right now, especially after the intense meeting she just had with Drew Knight. She needed to think about all he told her. She needed to wrap her head around the fact that she was still breathing, without any sort of injury on her person. There simply wasn’t time for Charles and his sad eyes.

  “Thank you, Charles,” she said. She was certain her voice came out curt, possibly even rude, but she couldn’t control it. She had done hours of attempting to control her emotions the past couple of days, to hide her retorts and control her breathing so she wouldn’t be too loud, so Ashton Rycroft wouldn’t suspect she knew he was lying to her.

  She was exhausted.

  “But I find I’m tired—”

  “Why were you out, Kelia?” he asked. His voice was innocent enough, but there was a threatening curiosity there that didn’t sit well with Kelia—one that instantly put her on her guard. “It’s past curfew.”

  “I needed to take a walk, Charles,” Kelia said, thinking fast. She hoped it wasn’t obvious that she was lying; she had never been good at such a talent. “I needed to be alone. As you said, tomorrow is a very…” She forced her voice to tremble. “A very difficult day for me. And my room felt too suffocating. I needed some fresh air. And if you are true to your word and want to assist me, I ask that you keep this information to yourself.” She made her eyes wide, locking them with Charles’s own. “Please, Charles?”

  Charles cleared his throat. “Yes, of course, Kelia,” he said, taking a step back. As though her big, wide eyes were too much for him to take. “Of course. I just…” He raked his hand through his hair. “I just worry about you, Kelia. I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

  Kelia forced herself to smile, but it didn’t feel real. “I appreciate it,” she got out. The words were stilted. She was almost certain Charles could sense that, but he turned away and headed down the hall, back to his dormitory without another word.

  Thank goodne
ss.

  She let out a breath and turned the knob of the door before pushing herself inside. She was ready to put on her night shift and sleep for as long as she could before she forced herself to wake up for her father’s burning. However, what she saw in her room instantly made those plans disappear.

  Jennifer stood on her toes, hanging out the open window of the room, throwing up. The candles were all out, save for a few that remained unscented.

  “Jennifer?” Kelia murmured, taking a step toward her friend. “What happened?”

  She nearly asked her if she was all right, then realized how ridiculous that sounded. Of course Jennifer was not all right. She was throwing up her guts out of their bedroom window.

  “Jennifer?” Kelia said again, not certain her friend had heard her.

  Her first instinct was to lock their door just in case someone decided to barge in without asking. It had never happened to them before, but she had heard it happened to a few of the other girls, and Kelia was aware Jennifer would not want to be seen in such a compromising position. From there, Kelia walked over to the window to make sure no one outside could see what was happening, either.

  “Key,” she managed to get out when she was done heaving.

  Her voice was hoarse, and her body trembled. As she turned toward Kelia, she nearly fell over.

  Kelia caught her at the elbow. If she had not been standing next to Jennifer, her friend probably would have collapsed. Instead, Jennifer pushed all of her weight onto Kelia, who slowly led her to her bed. To be honest, Kelia had not realized just how heavy Jennifer really was.

  “What happened?” Kelia got out through a variety of grunts and groaning. She tried to mask it because she did not want Jennifer to take offense to it. After managing to get her to the bed, she nearly dropped her on the mattress. She let out a sigh of relief, stretching out her muscles as she did so.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  Kelia went to the nightstand and grabbed a clean glass. There was a pitcher of water on the commode, next to clean towels and a basin of water. The Sightless changed it every evening during supper.

  Kelia felt sorry for them when she allowed her mind to think about those who were not seen. Having seen Drew Knight in person, she could understand how easy it was to fall under their spell and think they were in love when it was just the chemicals in their body. She was glad The Society had such a program that showed compassion and forgiveness, that allowed these people to redeem themselves through a strict education program and daily chores that structured their lives so they had no idle time. No time to think about Shadows. No time to think about anything else.

  A lot of the time, though, Kelia tried not to think of them. She was afraid that, one day, she would turn into one of them. Not that she ever expected to break the rules or befriend a Shadow, but—

  Shit. She had met with a Sea Shadow herself. A dangerous Sea Shadow. A Sea Shadow who had been hunted nearly a century. She should tell The Society. That was what any other Slayer would do in her position.

  So why was she hesitating? Why did she stop herself from doing so?

  Was it wrong that she wasn’t going to tell The Society?

  Of course it was.

  And most likely, a lot of the relationships that developed between the Sightless and the Shadows probably started out like her and Drew Knight’s had.

  Not that there was a relationship between her and Drew Knight.

  They met. He gave her pieces of information, then agreed to help her find out about her father. She hated she agreed with Drew Knight’s assessment of things. Hated even more that whenever she thought about him, she blushed. She hated she felt like a young, stupid child around him. Like he made her nervous, but not because she was afraid of him. More like she was afraid of herself when she was around him. And what she felt.

  Attraction.

  Stupid. She was so stupid.

  How could she be so stupid?

  As she headed over to the basin of water to wash up, she spotted an envelope placed neatly on the tableside with her name spelled out in loopy handwriting. Kelia narrowed her eyes, grabbed the envelope, and opened it.

  * * *

  Ms. Starling,

  Unfortunately, your father’s body is too mutilated. It cannot be repaired for a woman of your countenance. We apologize for any inconvenience this has caused.

  Best,

  Ashton Rycroft

  * * *

  She crumpled the paper and the envelope, then discarded it in a trash bin underneath her commode. She should not have been surprised.

  Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she grabbed the rag, dunked it into the basin, and wrung it out. She went back over to her friend, whose face seemed carved in a permanent groan. After mumbling a soft warning, she began to gently dab Jennifer’s face with the rag.

  “Does that feel better?” Kelia murmured. She did not need to ask the question, but she needed to hear her own voice to help distract her from her thoughts.

  Jennifer grunted and nodded in affirmation.

  “Jennifer,” Kelia said gently. “What did you eat?”

  “I haven’t yet,” Jennifer rasped. “I was getting ready for supper,” she managed to get out, though each word was tight, strained, and filled with groaning. She still was not able to open her eyes, even though Kelia had finished dabbing cool water on her face. “I wanted to impress because someone told me Gerard would be attending this evening.”

  “Gerard is your intended, is he not?” Kelia clarified, glancing at Jennifer.

  Jennifer nodded, wincing. “I had my prettiest gown ready,” she said, smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed on the skirt. “Now it’s ruined, all because my stomach betrayed me. I had just finished reapplying my makeup as well.”

  Kelia nearly rolled her eyes but stopped herself. This was not the time to make a sarcastic comment about the troubles of makeup and how it was not worth it, even if men of proper society preferred their women all done up.

  “And you missed supper because you started to—”

  “Throw up,” Jennifer finished, her tone flat. “I’m just glad I made it to the window in time. I would not be able to stomach the lingering scent of vomit in my room. No amount of candles can drown that out.”

  Once more, Kelia had to bite her bottom lip to refrain from smiling in amusement, even though she knew Jennifer was trying to get her to smile on purpose.

  “I heard you speaking with Charles,” Jennifer murmured. She placed the cool wash rag over her face, and Kelia watched as her shoulders eased. Her speaking came out clearer, but it was still strained. “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to accompany me tomorrow,” Kelia said with a roll of her eyes.

  “That’s sweet, Key,” Jennifer said, but it lacked the enthusiasm it usually possessed. “He really likes you, you know. I bet…” She cleared her throat. “I bet if you gave him any hint you were interested in him as more than just an acquaintance, he would give up this life as a Slayer in a heartbeat. You do know that, right?”

  Kelia pressed her lips together, loosing a sigh through her nose. She did know that. She just didn’t know what to do about it.

  Charles had been an awkward, gangly kid until he grew into a man. At that point, he filled out, developed a lower voice, and transformed into what Kelia might even consider handsome: a strong man with stormy grey eyes and black hair he kept pulled back into a ponytail. He was still thin, though no longer scrawny, and he could wield a blade as if it was an extension of his arm.

  Yes, Charles was handsome indeed. But when he was dueling an opponent, that was when he shined. It was difficult to look away from him at that point. Kelia knew he had a handful of admirers who would trade their time here to be with Charles, but for some reason, he had his sights on her.

  And it was tragic, because she had no intention of being in a relationship with him. He was not worth giving up this life for.

  “Are you going to be all right, Jennifer?�
� Kelia asked.

  When Jennifer nodded, Kelia allowed herself to head behind the divider to pull off her dress and slip on a shift. Her entire body screamed for sleep. She had yet to recover from her mission, and ever since touching land in Port George upon her return, she hadn’t had any time to rest.

  She needed sleep. Desperately.

  She came back into the main area of the room, dressed for the evening. Jennifer had fallen asleep.

  “Goodnight, my friend,” she whispered. “Get well.”

  But as Kelia climbed into bed, her concern for her friend was replaced with the concerns that had been plaguing her for days. Concerns about her father. About what happened to him. About Drew and her accord with him. About the Infant currently rotting away in The Society’s prison.

  She had never thought she would question her decision to remain a Slayer unless she truly fell in love with someone. However, as she stared at Jennifer’s currently sleeping form, she wondered if her continued participation was a good idea.

  Her eyes shifted to the commode, to Jennifer’s barely used makeup. Perhaps she had been wrong about this whole thing. Perhaps there was some sense to withdraw from The Society, if it meant protecting the people she loved.

  Chapter 9

  Kelia awoke the next morning knowing her father’s body would be turned to ash, and any evidence it held would drown in the sea. She clenched her jaw and tried not to think about it.

  She decided that when she dressed, she would dress with purpose. No one else was wearing black to mourn him due to the fact The Society insisted he committed suicide. She would wear black to honor him.

  Under normal circumstances, she would care about sticking out when she had made it her mission to blend in.

  But not today.

  Today, she picked out her plainest black dress. She had not worn it in a while, not since one of the handlers had passed due to old age and they celebrated his life in the dining hall, with a proper funeral and a hearty feast afterward. They would not be doing that with Kelia’s father. Even though they should.