by L G Rollins
This pipe was half the size of the last one, only big enough for Tressa to crawl through. She backed away from the intersection and paused to listen. If she stayed completely silent, her assailants just might pass her by.
Echoing shouts reverberated around her. It was too hard to tell exactly where they came from, but they didn’t sound close. That was a good thing, right?
Oh, how she hoped Jasper and Brox had gotten away. She closed her eyes momentarily and prayed that they’d had the good sense to run away instead of trying to chase after her with all the vampires.
The shouts seemed to be congregating from one general direction, the cries mixed with the sounds of metal bagging against metal. Hang those two men. If they chose to stay and fight after she purposely led the vampires away she would personally strangle them both.
The pipe around her shuttered. Tressa pressed a hand on the metal. It vibrated again, and this time it didn’t stop. A roar, far too deep and loud to be made by man or vampire, drowned out all other noises. The deafening sound filled the space around Tressa until she could hear nothing else.
Freezing water rushed in, enveloping her. Within moments, Tressa was submerged and swept down the pipe.
She kicked against the bottom of the pipe and felt herself rising even as she was dragged with the rushing current. The back of her head smacked against the top of the pipe. Tressa clawed at it. She couldn’t grab anything.
Worse yet, there was no air. The pipe was filled to bursting with the rolling tidal wave. Spreading her hands wide, Tressa felt for anything she might hold on to.
Gears above, the pipe walls were corrugated, but none of the small ridges provided ample purchase. Her lungs burned. Something smacked against her palm and she wrapped her hand around it.
Tressa focused all her remaining energy on keeping a tight hold. The water dragged at her, like lifeless claws bent on seeing her escorted to the devil himself. Tressa reached out with her second hand, fighting against the current’s pull, and wrapped it around the same metal pole.
The tide felt like it was lessening. Either that, or she was losing consciousness again. She couldn’t lose consciousness now. If she did, she’d drown for sure.
Tressa pulled on the pipe and felt herself shift toward it. At least it was strong enough to withstand her weight. She shimmied one hand further up and felt it bump against a rung.
A ladder then?
The rush of water eased just slightly, enough that Tressa’s feet dragged against the bottom of the pipe. Tressa took a risk, let go with one hand, and threw her weight toward the pole, reaching for a higher grip.
Her hand broke through the surface of the water, the cool air tickling her skin.
Reinvigorated by sheer survival instinct, Tressa kicked off from the bottom and angled her head back. Her mouth and nose nearly froze at the sudden rush of air and she breathed in deeply. Water got in her mouth and Tressa gagged. But at least now she was taking in air with the water.
She wrapped her body fully around the ladder and clung tight as the last of the water moved out of the pipe.
Oh, blessed air.
Tressa breathed. And breathed. And breathed.
Her head sagged backward, her whole body twice as heavy as usual. She shook her head slowly back and forth; she couldn’t stop now. She couldn’t just let herself sag into a heap and pray not to be found. Ladders usually went somewhere. That was their purpose. And down in sewers, that somewhere was usually the surface above.
Tressa repositioned herself in front of the ladder and began climbing. Her movement was muddled and uncoordinated and her grip was loose, but she made it up and finally pushed open the manhole that had been above her head.
She was in the middle of a deserted street. At first glance, she didn’t recognize the place. There was an old, dilapidated building to her left and the fence of a factory to her right.
Tressa pulled herself halfway out, laid down on the gravel road, and then rolled the rest of the way. Laying on her back, she continued to breathe deeply and peered up at the starless sky.
Were Jasper and Brox all right? Had they survived the rush of water? If Brox had still been strapped down when it hit . . . She didn’t want to think about that. Jasper had been cutting him loose. She’d waited long enough to be sure.
Had they created the flood? If anyone was going to come up with some random, off-beat solution to being surrounded by vampires it would be her younger brother. Either way, she needed to find them.
There was always the sewers. She could head back down, retrace her steps, and see if they were still down there. But the vampires were likely down there too.
Tressa rolled onto her stomach and forced herself to stand. She teetered a bit to one side and then straightened. A glance down into the sewers told her which direction she had come from. Staying above ground she hurried toward the area where they had been held captive.
While she was strapped down, she had noticed a grate above her head. She was certain she’d seen one. That would be the best place to start.
It seemed the pipe lead directly under the dilapidated old building. She’d have to go around and do her best to guess where to go next. Come to think of it, she had no idea how far she’d been washed down the pipe. At what point should she turn and try to follow the bigger pipes she’d been in before? Tressa hurried down a wide road and then a side alley.
Voices made her pull up short.
“That was wild!”
Jasper. Tressa felt her whole form relax and she had to stretch a hand out and rest it against the nearby building to keep from toppling over.
Another voice responded to Jasper. It was too quiet for her to understand the words, but she knew Brox’s timbre.
Tressa stumbled further down the alley as quickly as she could. Turning down the side of the building she saw the two unmistakable forms of Jasper and Brox. They were both dripping wet and bent over from exhaustion. Jasper’s dreadlocks had broken free of their strip of fabric and hung about his face. Brox slapped Jasper on the back and muttered something Tressa still couldn’t hear.
From the shadows, between her and them, Mrs. Clark floated forward. Tressa stopped and held her breath before the vampire noticed her presence.
“Come, men, do you really think I could be washed away so easily?” she said, her tone far less playful than before.
Tressa’s hand silently moved behind her, wrapping around the large wrench, still stuck firmly in her pocket.
The vampire continued to inch up closer to Jasper and Brox. “Sacrificing your friend to secure your own escape? I had not thought either of you so heartless.”
Tressa pulled her wrench out and stalked up toward the vampire, not bothering to keep her steps silent. “If I’m dead, then consider this your greeting from beyond.”
The vampire turned, her eyes flashing with surprise, seconds before Tressa’s trusty wrench struck Mrs. Clark square across the forehead. The ring echoed down the street. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed.
“There,” Tressa said with a nod. “That should do the trick.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tressa paid for the broadsheet—no less than a full pound as Jasper was wont to do—and looked down at the headlines.
A picture of a room full of children, working the night away until their fingers bled, filled the top. It was one of the images Jasper had snapped. Both the cameras that Tressa and Brox had carried into Westwood had been crushed. But Jasper had somehow managed to hide his during the attack, later getting word to Christina about where she might find it.
Now, two weeks later, the papers were still posting different photographs almost daily. Mr. Clark wouldn’t stand trial for another month, but the papers didn’t seem to care. They were broadcasting the news of his arrest, his wife’s true nature, and all the affairs regarding Westwood far and wide. Not only was the whole of London abuzz with the news, but this time, due to Jasper’s well framed photos, they could see what had been happ
ening.
Jasper walked up beside her. “I thought I’d find you here today.”
She angled the paper toward him. “Your pictures are wonderful. I told you the broadsheets would eat them up.”
He only shrugged. “I liked some of my other ones better.”
She folded the paper. “Does this mean you’re ready to start being a professional photographer?”
His lips turned up in a sheepish smile. “I do like seeing them in print.”
She looped her arm through his. “I always said you should. You did a grand job saving those children.”
Jasper pulled up short, stopping her as well. His smile was gone, his brow creased.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He let out a long, slow breath. “I see those children, night after night. Sometimes I see them whenever I close my eyes.”
Tressa could relate. She did, too. “But we’ve stopped Mr. Clark, and his monstrous wife.”
He nodded. “Yes. But . . . Tressa, that night, I was so focused on getting good pictures—pictures that would stir this city’s heart and move them to action—I told you not to stand up and protect the children. I held you back.”
“But you were right. I could have saved those children right then and there, but your images have saved them for years to come.”
“I’m still not sure it was the right thing to do.” His gaze floated upward, bouncing from the people around them, to the buildings that lined the street, to the perfectly staggered, ornamental trees. “Is it truly better to remain aloof and accurately capture life as is? Or to step in and change it?”
“You did cause change.”
“That little boy still got hurt. I was close enough to intervene but didn’t.” He slipped her arm out from his and gave her hand a squeeze. “I don’t know the answer yet. Maybe I never will.” His small smile came back. “The broadsheets are giving me the opportunity to find out, though. They’ve offered me a full-time job as a news correspondent.”
“Brilliant.” Oh, this would be perfect for Jasper. “Hopefully this doesn’t turn into another adventure in a career that’s not for you.”
“There’s no way to know, but I have a good feeling about this one.”
Pride for her brother swelled up in Tressa. “You’ve worked hard. You deserve this opportunity.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know about that. But I wouldn’t worry too much. After all, it was because of a two-week stint as a sewer maintenance worker that I learned how to flood the pipes.”
“Your flightiness has saved us all,” Tressa said in mock solemnity.
“You’re the one with the killer swing.” He tipped his hat and turned to leave, but then paused, looking over his shoulder. “I never did say thank you for saving me.”
“I wasn’t about to let that demon vampire eat my only family.”
“I’m not talking about that. I mean, thank you for dragging me to Westwood. It wasn’t a great place to grow up. Gears above knows it’ll probably haunt us both for life. But at least we got to grow up. And I always knew you had my back.”
Turning toward her fully, he wrapped her in a bear hug. “Thanks for that.”
Tressa couldn’t think of anything to say so she hugged him back, hoping the strength of her arms around him let him know just exactly how she felt.
“For the record,” he whispered, “I think it’s about time I wasn’t your only family.”
She pulled back abruptly. What was that supposed to mean?
He only winked at her and strode away.
Great. It looked very much like he was making plans again. So long as his plans didn’t include a deluge of water—in buckets or in pipes—Tressa figured she could handle it.
Westwood appeared far less intimidating as she marched up the steps than when she had first returned home. She didn’t hesitate to open the door, nor did striding down the halls and through the rooms leave her feeling on edge.
Today was the day she was signing away all her savings to support and further continue the work of saving children at Westwood Orphanage. Furthermore, she had—after constant harassing from both Brox and Jasper—agreed to step into Mr. Clark’s position as head of the board.
It would mean a whole new life for her. No more trips across the world. No more crew to order about. No more engines to repair, unless the boiler started acting up or Brox’s motorcar sputtered out.
It was a huge change, and yet, as the gears above would have it, the change happened all in only a matter of moments.
She entered the board room, where everyone was already gathered, and without pomp or deliberation, signed a few papers. Everyone congratulated her, though she could tell several were still reeling from the change.
And that was that.
A couple of hours later, Tressa found herself standing atop a bridge watching water course beneath her. Diving below the ocean had always been her life. A huge wave had saved her life. Now, this little stream not far from Westwood promised to be one of her favorite spots for contemplation.
It was intimidating, all the changes that were taking place, but also thrilling. She was ready for this next phase of life, ready to help protect and safeguard the children brought to Westwood. If a couple of them showed an aptitude for mechanics, so much the better.
“Long day?” Brox leaned against the bridge railing next to her.
“If you would have told me when I first stepped onto land two months ago how much my life was about to change, I would have said you were up in the night.”
He chuckled. “Has it only been two months? It feels far longer than that.”
She could agree with that. It felt like a lifetime ago since they’d first met in the boiler room and she’d been handed a note informing her of the small fortune she was to receive.
Brox took a half-step closer to her. “Are you too tired to help me with something?”
“No, not at all.” She had a feeling Westwood was going to require many a long day from her. But she wasn’t one to shy away from hard work.
“Good. First, though, I need you to practice something for me.”
Tressa listed her head. What on earth was this all about?
Brox continued, “Repeat after me. Yes.”
Seriously? He wanted her to say one single word?
“Like this. Yu-ess.” Brox watched her for a moment. “Come on, Tressa, I know words aren’t your strong suit but even you can say one little word.”
“Uh, yes?”
His smile grew. “Good. Say it again.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re practicing. That’s how one practices; by doing something over and over again.”
“You’d better not be trying to make a fool out of me.”
He held both his hands up. “No, that would be Jasper’s specialty. I’m just preparing you.”
“By making me practice saying yes?” What was this all about?
He nodded.
“All right.” She looked up at the sky. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” If anyone was watching they would do well to keep their mouths shut. If she found out that someone had blabbed all over London that Seawoman Wimple was a mindless idiot, she’d tan their hide. “Is that good enough?”
“Perfect.”
“Brox, what is this about?”
“It’s this.” He took hold of both of her hands and drew her in close. “Tressa, my love, since the moment I first met you I was overwhelmed with your beauty, grace, and strength.”
Since the first time they’d met? She was covered in grease then. Her skepticism must have showed for he laughed.
“I’m serious. Even covered in grime, you’re lovely.” His thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. He was nervous. Though, surprisingly, Tressa found she was not.
Brox glanced down for a moment. “I know I speak well before a large group, but the truth is, I struggle when speaking to people one-on-one. Especially when that one is an intelligent woman. I think I made quite a fool of myself more than
once those first few days. A man certainly should not refer to another man’s underclothing in front of a lady.”
Her mind jumped back to the day Brox had asked her what had gotten Jasper’s ‘knickers in a twist’. Tressa laughed. She’d just assumed he’d seen her as a pal and friend and nothing more. Tressa never guessed Brox was struggling to find the right words to say.
“But then,” he continued, “I found I could just be myself around you. And now, I don’t ever want to be without you.”
She gazed back at him.
Brox dropped to one knee and pulled out a small, black box. He flipped the lid open. “Seawoman Tressa Wimple, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? You are my all and everything. I have waited my entire life for a woman as wondrous as you.”
The sunset glistened off a golden ring tucked inside the black velvet box. It was a simple, unadorned band—and absolutely lovely.
Brox leaned over her hand and whispered. “This is the moment we practiced for.”
Tressa laughed. Her inability to speak last time he’d asked her an important question had nearly ended their relationship. So the silly, besotted fool had thought it best he prepare her.
In truth, this time she hadn’t needed the practice. She had waited her whole life, too, for someone as wondrous has Brox.
“Yes. Absolutely, yes!”
He slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. She held it up and watched the sunlight reflect and sparkle off the ring’s surface.
Brox stood and wrapped her in his arms. “I love you, dearest.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered as he pulled her closer.
Brox leaned in and kissed her. Holding him close, Tressa kissed him back.
And they stayed that way, kissing one another, until well after the sun had set.
The End
When it comes to defending her family,
Adaleigh Dubois backs down from no one.
Not a competitor caught cheating—
Not from fear while stranded in a barn during a full moon—
