by J. K. Holt
Villagers appeared, shouting questions, searching for a fire. They largely ignored Tess and Russ as they faced one another on the rough cobbles. Tess searched Russ’s face for several moments more before she pulled him close, wrapped her arms around his unresponsive form, and sobbed until her chest was sore.
∞ ∞ ∞
She was not aware of how much time passed before Dray discovered them. It might have only been minutes, though it felt like hours. Several villagers had attempted to speak to her during the initial flurry of activity, but backed off quickly, likely a combined effect of her hisses in response and the state of her face, smeared in the blood of her attacker. She shielded Russ from the hawking gaze of strangers, holding him as close to her as she could. All she knew was to wait. Someone would find them. She had to hope it was before the lampreys came back to finish the job.
Her decision made, she closed her eyes for a while, breathing, crying, whimpering against the night. The crowd finally dispersed, content that there was no real threat, and they were alone again. Tess whispered to Russ between sobs. “Russ. Your name is Russ. You work at the Spilling Inn with your parents. Your twin is Rosie. You love her very much. Your name is Russ. Please, Russ, remember.”
She pled with the universe as much as with him, with any higher power that might be. Or perhaps just with whatever force was responsible for bringing her here, to this place. She’d wondered once or twice in the recent weeks if maybe it was for some reason, some purpose, that she’d come here. But what could that purpose be? Just to witness more suffering? It felt a cruel jab at her expense.
Eventually, Dray and Fish found them. She wasn’t certain how they’d known where to look for them, nor was she interested in asking. She allowed them to gently pry her from Russ, their own anguish plain on their faces. Tess withdrew further into herself. She knew things, things she should share with them, about what happened. But her mind felt disconnected from her, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how any of it mattered, truly. She just shook her head at the questions until Dray gave up. He pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped her face, clinical but not uncaring in his movement.
“You need to get her out of here, before Rosie comes,” Dray said to Fish, throwing the bloody rag across the street.
“Where to?” Fish said, crouching beside Russ. “Where’s safe?”
Dray moaned. “I don’t even know anymore, Fish. I don’t… know anything.”
Tess found herself standing. She pulled her ragged hair from her face, and removed the doublet Russ had given her. Dray tried to intervene but stopped at the look in her eyes. Tess moved to Russ and placed the jacket tenderly across his shoulders. “Thank you for letting me borrow this, Russ,” she whispered.
She stood, straightened her back, and took a pause to tune in to the slow and steady fountain of strength deep within herself, rooted there from years with a mother who taught her her own strength. She faced Dray, her jaw set. “I’m going back to the Muddy Gull now. And I’m going alone.”
“Absolutely not-” Dray started.
“You,” she interjected, “Are not my father. You’re not my brother, and you’re not my keeper. You don’t get to choose. I let you choose once for me tonight, and look what happened.”
She knew how unfair the words were- they reached their target immediately, Dray’s face morphing from concerned to incredulous at her barbs. She hated her own callousness, even though she intended it to shield he and Fish from harm. She tried to maintain her resolve. “I’m not going to let that happen to anyone else. I just can’t. I’d rather be blurred myself.”
“Let her go, Dray.” Fish stood, sizing her up. “Straight home, right away. They’re long gone by now. Once you’re inside, you’re safe. Just get inside. Right?”
Dray’s glance skidded past her, unable to meet her eyes. Instead, he followed the street with his gaze. “Go then,” he said. “Before Rosie arrives.”
There was no time for amends, and Tess had no energy left to undergo the process even if there were. Still, his anger tore an even larger hole in her heavy heart tonight. He might not forgive her for her words, and they could not be erased.
She left them there and trusted her feet to find their way. Dray’s gaze had acted as a guide, and she used the sound of the ocean to do the rest, until soon enough she found herself on the doorstep of the Muddy Gull.
Gowan had long since gone to bed, and no lights burned for her. Tess groped in the darkness until she found her small cot, and lay down. Though she was exhausted in all senses of the word, sleep evaded her, just out of reach, its comforting tendrils of numbness creeping close only to be replaced by Russ’s expression as all soul left him.
She curled into herself and spent the rest of the night trying to remember to breathe.
Chapter Ten
Tess didn’t get up the next morning. Her eyes were heavy and sticky from lack of sleep, and her body ached from her clenched muscles. She pulled the thin blankets over herself and pretended to be asleep when Gowan lumbered back to check on her, well after the time that she would normally have risen. He didn’t try to wake her. Some time, Tinker found a soft spot between her back and the wall and cuddled up, content to stay for the long haul. He kneaded the small of her back, his claws blessedly retracted. He didn’t purr, or pretend that all was well, and when she cried quietly he was polite enough not to comment.
She wondered if Russ had found a short drop off a pier yet. Would his loved ones have the strength to do it? The brothers had told her that they’d all made the promise to each other, but when it came down to it, she wasn’t certain that Dray would have it in him. She thought of his face when he talked about his father, how alone and fragile he was in his indecision.
Her heart burned with shame from what she’d said to Dray. He’d tried to help her, moments after finding a close friend blurred, and in her pain, she’d stung him. She wondered if he felt that he was failing over and over again, unable to recover fully before another loss hit him. The disequilibrium could be so utterly unfair.
And Rosie. Her world had just been shattered. Would she allow her friends to comfort her, or would she, like Tess, lash out, full of poison and pain? She’d disliked Tess before. What would she feel when she found out that her twin was blurred while protecting her?
Midday, Gowan brought her a scone in a brown paper bag, dropping it at her feet. “Compliments of the bakery,” he muttered. “You could do to eat.”
The bakery. Emmie, maybe? It smelled delicious but her stomach cramped at the idea of food.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she mumbled.
Gowan stood awkwardly nearby until she pulled her hand from her eyes and glared blurrily up at him. “What is it?”
“I’ve some news, though given your current state I think it’s likely you’ve already heard. It’s about Russ Turner.”
“You mean, that he’s no longer him? Yes.” She closed her eyes again and rolled over, her chest constricting with the words.
“It happened last night, I’m assuming?”
“Yep.” She couldn’t contain the bite in her voice, some of the vitriol that had been building in her spirit since last night leaking out.
She could hear Gowan sigh. The cot shifted violently as he sat on the edge, towards her feet. Tinker meowed pitifully, his slumber disrupted.
“What happened, girl?”
He seemed resigned to wait her out. The knowledge forced her to sit up, fully disrupting Tinker as she pulled her legs to her chest and glared at Gowan. “I don’t think you want to know. Not after our conversation yesterday.”
“Give me a chance, then, eh?” He raised an eyebrow, and reached out a hand. She let him rest it upon her knee, briefly, before he pulled it back. His eyes were weary. “I’ll do my best to hear you. You have my word.”
Her nostrils flared as she attempted to suppress a sob. “I can’t tell you. Even if I wanted to, most of it isn’t my secret to tell. And if I did tell you, even if it was
only what I saw last night… well, I have the feeling it might be putting you in danger.”
He fixed her with a frown. “I’m a grown man, and I can take care of myself. Come now, it can’t be that bad.”
“Russ thought that too, I bet. Deep down I’m not sure he really believed the same thing as the others. And then I watched as…. Gowan, it isn’t the fish making people sick.” Her stomach turned at the words.
She wasn’t sure what she would tell him until after it had tumbled out. She thought he might scoff, or warn her off again. Or worse. She braced for the pain of it. Would he make her leave? Find another job? Where would she go?
He was silent for a long stretch of time. Then, quietly- “You’re certain?”
“Yes.” How she wished she wasn’t.
It had been a wild theory, fun and thrilling, until last night. She’d been play-acting at scary things, whistling at monsters in the dark. So brave, when she didn’t believe there was anything truly to fear. So brave, until they whistled back.
She gave Gowan the space to think, as he sat next to her. She wondered if he would choose to believe her. She hadn’t believed the Reed brothers. Not at first. And though she knew Gowan had grown fond of her over the last few months, she wondered how far that affection could take her into his trust.
Gowan continued to frown, his eyes full of sorrow as they turned inward. Almost to himself, he said, “I told Tulla she was crazy.”
“Who?” Tess asked, confused.
He shook his head at the memory. “Tulla Reed. She came to me, just after Silas took ill, with this far-fetched idea. Said she thought Silas saw something, something that worried him, or… I think ‘unsettled’ him is the word she used, out near the dimple, while he was fishing. But he wouldn’t give her details and less than a week later, he was blurred. She thought someone had done it to him, to keep him quiet. I thought it was her grief talking. I comforted her, but told her I wouldn’t help, that she was just looking for someone to blame.”
“You were friends?” Tess probed cautiously, surprised by his candor.
“Aye. Similar beasts, we were. But after that… she turned away from me. I had to let her go. And, until recently, I always thought I had it right.” His face was pinched, and he removed his glasses to rub them absently on his shirt as he spoke. “Of course, I let Ashe borrow whatever maps he wanted, even though I didn’t think it was healthy for them to continue on their fool’s quest, but I thought it was the least I could do for Tulla. I figured they’d eventually move on, accept the loss and begin anew. Oh, how I must have disappointed her.”
He stood abruptly, as though to put distance between himself and the confession. Tinker, who’d had enough of being jostled, rumbled his irritation and jumped down, stalking towards the front. Gowan looked down at her. “I’ll help you if I can. But you must get up. You’re no good to anyone lying around like this. And you’re costing me customers, as well.”
“How?” Tess asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? I haven’t opened the shop yet. Can’t have them wandering back and finding you moping in a corner.” He’d hastily reassembled the façade of the grumpy shopkeeper, but now that Tess knew what to look for, she saw through it. He’d kept the shop closed to give her privacy, and likely to give himself time to suss out what was wrong with her. His outings this morning had a purpose.
Tess sat, his affection for her renewing her own sense of purpose. “Who gave you the scone for me?” she asked.
“Ashe,” he said. “Tulla’s never in the front anymore. She hides herself from others as much as she can. Or, were you wondering about her eldest son, instead?” He gave her a knowing look, and she blushed.
“No,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t think it was from him.”
“Can’t have been,” Gowan agreed. “Hard to be in two places at once, isn’t it?”
She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
“He’s been skulking in the street outside the Muddy Gull all morning.” Gowan chuckled at Tess’s bewildered expression. “Best put him out of his misery.”
So certain was she that Gowan was wrong that she walked outside barefoot, just to check. She didn’t notice Dray at first, but then movement in the shadows one street down caught her eye.
She padded down the street and turned the corner to find Dray. He was wearing the same clothes from last night (as was Tess, come to think of it), and shadows had begun to form under his gray eyes. He had a haunted look in his eyes, and his aura seemed dimmed, as though worn out from too much wear. He was attempting to suppress an embarrassed expression on his face. The feeling was mutual, and she looked around for a reason that might explain his presence here, other than her. Before she could think to ask, he broke the silence.
“I’m sorry. I know you wanted to be left alone.” He crossed his arms, as if to ward off any hostility she might throw his way. As he stepped closer, into the light, Tess could make out an ugly purple bruise that was beginning to form under his left eye. His lower lip had also been split. She thought it wise not to comment in the present moment.
“Why are you here? Are you… guarding the place?” Tess asked.
Dray shrugged. “More or less.”
She paused. “Did you follow me back here last night?”
He began to shake his head in denial, then looked away. “Fish did.”
“And then you came back. I thought you said I’d be safe if I was inside,” she replied.
“And so you were. But if you’d gone out, for anything…”
“You were going to follow me?”
He met her eyes. “Yes.”
“To protect me.” She said softly.
Cold steel glinted behind his eyes, jolting her. “I know you didn’t feel you needed it. But you have information we need. We couldn’t risk you doing something stupid and getting blurred. Not while we still don’t know what happened last night.”
So that was it. Not so much a fear for her safety, as much as a fear for lost intel. He was hurting her back- she saw that. He’d not forgiven her for the words she’d said in anger last night. And to think, before that he’d allowed her to comfort him over the pain of his father. It seemed a lifetime ago. She wondered if he’d ever let her back in after this.
But he was right- they deserved to know what had happened to their friend. As much as she wanted to keep them from harm, shielding people from the truth was not the way. Ignorance never helped. And they’d be more likely to get themselves in trouble if they didn’t have all the information.
“Alright. Let me get some shoes on, and I’ll tell you everything. Then you won’t have to worry about keeping me safe.” Her words were tinged with bitterness, and Dray’s lips tugged downward at the suggestion, but he remained silent, nodding in agreement.
A question popped into her mind, and she looked at him inquiringly. “What if I’d sneaked out the back, into the alley?”
He paused, and she sighed. “Who’s back there?”
“Fish.”
“Well, go get him. You can both escort me to wherever we’re going.”
∞ ∞ ∞
She walked between them like a prisoner being escorted to the courtroom to face judgment. Fish stuck to her like glue, and Tess wondered if he’d been given orders to grab her if she tried to bolt. At one point, she asked them if they’d feel better if she was bound and gagged. Fish gave her a bit more space after that.
Dray kept his head on a pivot, scanning as best he could for dangers, though Tess doubted they’d run into trouble. It was early afternoon, and the sun was bright. Townsfolk bustled along the streets, filling it with noise and movement. This wasn’t the lamprey’s scene. They’d wait until it was quiet. Or dark.
Tess’s stomach rumbled, and she wished she’d thought to bring along the scone. The effects of a long and sleepless night were beginning to wear on her. She stumbled once or twice, tripping on her own feet, only to be hastily righted by Dray or Fish. Dray did not touch her for long
er than absolutely necessary, but Fish put a hand on her elbow now and then. It was a small kindness.
They took a direct route to their destination this time. Tess supposed that they realized the futility of attempting to evade anyone, or perhaps they just had more pressing concerns.
The closed sign was hung on the glass of the bakery door, and they went in through the front. Emmie met them immediately, and Tess could see from her face the toll the last twelve hours had taken. Once convinced that the door was locked, Dray disappeared towards the back. Tess gave Fish a desperate look and he read her face, immediately understanding. He left her with Emmie and departed after Dray.
Tess turned to Emmie, grasping her hands. She had to see for herself what truth lay beneath Emmie’s sweet and placid features. Emmie looked at her sadly, but without blame.
“I’m sorry about Russ.” Tess said, the words feeling so inadequate.
“Me too.” Emmie said, squeezing Tess’s hands gently. She leaned closer and hugged Tess, her acceptance lifting a heavy weight from Tess’s shoulders. So they didn’t all blame her then, as she blamed herself. This was something small she could hold onto.
“Is Rosie here?” Tess asked, hating the tremor in her voice. She wasn’t sure if she could face her.
“No. She’s with her family. She… needs some time.” Emmie’s face indicated that there was more she wasn’t saying. Tess shuddered to think of Rosie’s reaction last night. Then she thought of Dray’s black eye and cut lip, and realized how it must have happened.
There was one more question, one she couldn’t bring herself to ask with Dray present. “Is Russ…”
Emmie read her meaning, and shook her head. “He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re asking. They’ve taken him back to the Inn. I’m not sure if Rosie… I’m not sure if anyone has the strength just now, to… deal with it.”
Tess wasn’t certain why, but the knowledge alleviated some measure of pain. She felt ready to face whatever came next now, and she turned towards the back. Emmie tugged her hand, stopping her. “Wait a moment. Dray’s gone to fetch Ashe and his mum. I think she’d like to meet you without all of us present. I’ll stay with you until she comes.”
