by J. K. Holt
A shot of anxiety ran up her spine. She’d finally meet the elusive Tulla Reed. What would Mrs. Reed think of her? How would she judge her? Tess was annoyed with herself for caring so much.
Tess and Emmie stood in the silence, as the voices of outside passersby permeated the glass outside. Tess was always shocked by how life went on, swirling and chaotic, when someone else suffered a tragedy. How could they not know? How could the world not pause, in some acknowledgement in the grief of another?
Emmie finally spoke again. “I wish you’d known us before.”
Tess cocked her head, questioning.
“Before all of this,” Emmie said, shaking her head. “Before this horrible mess stained our lives. This place… it was such a safe haven for me, growing up. Dray was always serious, but he laughed and smiled so much more. He used to pick me up on his shoulders and spin me until I was dizzy. The lot of us, we had such fun.” She sniffed, lost in happy memories. “And Ashe. He was our ringleader. He was always playing jokes… he was like a destructive force of joy. Now, he only acts the part. His joy is just put on to mask his sorrow. It’s not as real anymore. I’m not sure when this will end.”
Tess understood too well. There was no comfort to give, aside from the quiet companionship of another who had walked the same melancholy road. She gave that to Emmie freely.
∞ ∞ ∞
The woman who entered the room a few minutes later did not fit Tess’s picture of Dray and Ashe’s mother. Tess had imagined her tall, like her sons, and slightly rotund, as any good baker ought to be to fit the stereotype. In reality, Tulla Reed was short, slender, and certain of herself. Her dark curls had only a few streaks of grey, and she wore them pulled back from her face. She was porcelain skinned, and she moved with the type of grace that some people seem born with, so at contrast with Ashe and his awkward blundering. She had given her sons their deep-set eyes, and Dray his full mouth, but not much else. A clean apron wrapped around her waist was the only hint to her occupation.
A faint smile hinted at her lips as she approached, and she held out both hands to grasp Tess’s own. Her hands were cool and firm. Emmie exited quickly after a nod from Tulla, and Tess found herself alone and slightly intimidated by the woman’s presence.
“So,” Tulla said, her voice like the earth, solid and grounding, “we finally meet, Tess. I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”
“Me too, Mrs. Reed,” Tess replied.
“Tulla is fine.” She gently pulled Tess towards the display cases, filled with all the temptations of sweet and savory. “Pick something. It’s not good to talk of important things on an empty stomach.” She gestured, and noted Tess’s reluctance. “I have a knack for guessing people’s favorites. Would you like me to guess yours?”
“Sure,” Tess said.
Tulla reached behind the low case and retrieved a small apple turnover. At Tulla’s urging, Tess bit into it and sighed appreciatively at the tart delight on her tongue. Tulla quietly reached back into the case and pulled out a second one. “For later,” she said, tucking it into Tess’s other hand. “Did I guess right?”
Truth be told, Tess’s favorite dessert was cannoli, but she couldn’t fault Tulla for not having that available. She nodded, quickly finishing off the first one. She pocketed the other.
Tulla tucked her hands into the pockets of her trousers, a gesture that reminded Tess of Ashe. She gave Tess and appraising look, stopping when she reached Tess’s face, scrutinizing it to the point that Tess began to squirm. This was more like Dray.
“Gowan’s niece, eh?” Tulla finally said. “I don’t see much of him in you. And I didn’t know he had a sister, either, which is odd. We were close once.” Her voice was wistful.
Tess doubted that Tulla missed much with those intelligent eyes of hers. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to ignore the implied question and stick to the truth. “I only arrived in town a few months ago. He was kind enough to give me a place to stay. And to work.”
“Hmm. Well, in any case, it seems we’re fortunate you’re here.”
Tess, guessing the true intent of this conversation, was anxious to cut to the chase. She pushed the stray waves of hair from her face and met Tulla’s eyes, keeping her gaze steady. “Mrs. Reed, I understand your reluctance. I had this same conversation with Ashe, Dray, and the others not long ago. You don’t know me, and you don’t know if you can trust me. I know there’s a lot at stake here. And if you don’t want me to be involved in anything else with you or your family after today, I’ll understand. I only want to tell you all what I saw, because you deserve to have the information.”
Tulla stood for a moment, then smiled, a genuine thing that hinted at the beauty she must have once been, before the cruel circumstances of life wore away at her. “I admire your directness. Let’s get through your tale and see where we are at the end of this, shall we? We’ve kept them waiting long enough.”
∞ ∞ ∞
She recounted the happenings of the night before in the same room that she’d sat in only a couple weeks ago and fought with Dray. They’d set out some more chairs, but otherwise the room was unchanged. The brothers flanked their mother in the hastily constructed circle, while Fish and Emmie sat on either side of Tess. Ashe pulled at a piece of twine from his pocket as she spoke, but Dray leaned forward, intent on every word. He interrupted often, seeking clarifications, until Tulla hushed him with a quiet hand upon his knee. Fish and Emmie, for their parts, remained silent observers.
Dray, and then Tulla, had pressed for more information about the men who’d attacked her and Russ, but Tess couldn’t speak in any level of details. She’d not paid much attention to their faces during the attack, she was sorry to admit. Nor did she remember the names or faces of any of the villagers who’d swarmed around her and Russ after the Lampreys had fled.
Other than omitting the information about Russ and his aura, she was as detailed and thorough as possible. The entire recounting took nearly an hour, and Tess was glad to be finished of it. Her part done, she looked to Tulla, out of respect for the Reed matriarch.
Tulla considered. “How do you think they knew where to find you?”
Tess had, of course, wondered the same. “They must have followed us. If I had to guess, they were probably following me first.”
Dray’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. “Why you?”
“Well, it makes the most sense. The whole reason I went looking for you that night was to warn you, right? Because of what Gowan had told me earlier, that Mae Boyner was asking questions. She must have tipped someone off, or maybe even told someone about it without realizing the implications, but regardless, the Lampreys caught on that I was snooping around. It wouldn’t have been hard to find out where I lived and to follow me when I left the Muddy Gull.”
Dray and his mother shared a look, and Tess wondered if they had come to a similar conclusion. She continued. “It also explains why they followed me, and not you, Dray, when we split off from each other. Russ was just unfortunate enough to be with me. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong company.”
The irony was not lost on the group. Russ had been involved in this from the beginning, and yet the Lampreys likely weren’t even after him that night. They might have followed them all the way home, content to hide behind the fog and snoop, had Tess not noticed them.
“They’re getting sloppy,” Fish said, looking to Dray. “For them to slip enough that Tess saw them that night. More desperate, perhaps? And if they start making mistakes, maybe we have a chance at catching them.”
“A happy thought, but likely wishful thinking, dear.” Tulla gave Fish a sympathetic glance. “I fear we’ve lost someone dear to us without a thing to show for it.”
“Wait, though.” Tess said. “You’ve got the log entries now, right? So if you take them, along with what I saw, to the authorities- what?”
Dray’s face was downtrodden, defeated. “The journal wasn’t there.”
Tess recoi
led. Without this, they had next to nothing. “What do you mean? Maybe you just didn’t look in the right place-”
“I found them, Tess,” Dray said. “Arranged by years. The one you’d seen… it wasn’t there. There was a hole, plain as day, where it had sat until recently. I checked Mae Boyner’s desk, all around the front. It’s just gone.”
So, Ms. Boyner had told someone. It was the only explanation, and it aligned with her theory, but didn’t make the loss sting less. Tess felt as though they were grasping at straws that continuously dropped out of reach, like some infuriating game of childhood.
A larger realization was dawning on her, as she looked across at the others, an alternate explanation for all that had befallen the group recently forming in her mind. She, Tess, newcomer to their group, from a place that no one moved here from, had approached and been invited into their circle. She’d happened to be there to find Tom, blurred, that day, and to witness what came after. She’d tipped them off to a journal they’d never thought to check, one that Dray was unable to find when he’d gone after it. And she was the only witness to what had befallen Russ.
Anyone, Lampreys included, who was keeping tabs on the town probably could have pieced together what the group was, and had been, after for some time. Hell, Gowan referenced Ashe’s interest in the Sea Dimple the first time they’d met. And they’d suspected that Loren, Gowan’s last assistant, had been working for the Lampreys. If it worked once, why not try again?
She felt doomed to relive the past in this room. She was so tired of being judged by others, waiting to see if she’d be found worthy. It felt like a merry-go-round of pain. And if anything, the evidence was more stacked against her than it had been last time. She knew from their faces that they’d considered this possibility, that they were even now uncertain of any truth it might hold.
Ashe had cleared his throat, as if bracing himself to speak. “We were wrong about Loren. I know that now.” He looked to Emmie, apologetic in his gaze. “Emmie knew it- she told me he was slippery, but we were desperate, and grasping at straws, and I ignored her. I should have seen it, too. But… that’s not Tess.”
He gave Tess a wide grin, illuminating the darkness in her heart. “Tess is with us.”
Tess felt like a thousand suns were warming her at once, so relieved she was to hear the words from her friend, affirming her as one of them.
“I agree,” Emmie said. “If she’s a spy, I’m a monkey’s uncle. She’s done everything she can to help us.”
“Aye,” Fish said, nodding assent.
She was humbled and touched. No matter what comes next, I can take that with me.
Tess saw, for the first time, that they were all, aside from Dray, looking to Tulla. But it wasn’t, as Tess had done, out of respect for their elder, and she drew in a harsh breath as the truth found her- it was respect for their leader. Tulla Reed, matriarch, widow, and so much more. She’d hidden in the background as protection, to avoid any vulnerability, allowing Dray to be the figurehead, while she pulled the strings.
It made sense, in a way, but Tess felt a stab of anger towards the woman just now, for the burden she’d placed on Dray, to wear the mantle of leader, to carry the group with his undaunting determination. Tess knew it wasn’t without a price. His quiet sobs last night had attested to that. Did Tulla see the erosion of Dray’s spirit? Did she see how brittle Ashe’s brightness had become? Or had she become blinded to everything beyond her own vendetta?
Tess shifted her gaze and met Dray’s fierce gray eyes. He’d not spoken up for her, as the others had, but nor had he spoken against her. What she wouldn’t give to know what he was thinking, or feeling, towards her. She hated that she cared as much as she did, but somewhere in this short space of time, she realized she’d begun to feel something for him. She cared for all of them now, even fiery Rosie, and her heart mourned for the loss of Russ, but her feelings toward Dray were different. She’d not had the time to properly make sense of them, but she hoped she might be granted it soon. She held his gaze, her face open, vulnerable. A flicker of something unreadable passed behind his eyes, but they darted away from her as Tulla shifted positions beside him.
This is the wrong time to make harsh decisions, and I know the urge to find a scapegoat when tragedy befalls is strong, so the fact that you all still believe in Tess speaks strongly in her favor,” Tulla said. “Let’s take some time, let the events of the past twenty-four hours sink in for a bit. Then we’ll decide.”
Tess gave a wry chuckle, and Tulla afforded her a quizzical glance. “Tess?”
Tess knew what Tulla was up to, and she wondered if the others had grasped her meaning as well. “You’ll wait me out, is what you mean. Now that I know all that you do, about your intentions, there’s no more reason for me to stay if I’m a spy. If I’m working for the lampreys, I’m probably thinking your plans are pretty well thwarted at this point. So if I disappear in the next day or two, you’ll have your answer. And if I’m still around… well, then you’ll be forced to decide what to do about me.”
Several of the others squirmed under Tess’s observations, but Tulla afforded her the respect of not lying. “Just so,” she murmured in response.
“Well, then.” Tess stood, less close to tears than she’d been the last time she was leaving this room, and grateful for the afforded dignity. “I’ll see you all in a few days.” She squeezed Emmie’s shoulder and shot Fish and Ashe quick smiles, attempting to convey her gratitude with the brief gesture. She looked to Dray, but his gaze was rooted to the floor. Feeling slightly deflated, she took her leave.
∞ ∞ ∞
A weak breeze blew in from the south, bringing the smell of salt and seaweed. The sun, setting earlier now, had begun to dip, teasing the horizon. Seagulls, fighting over fish chum in the market, took to the sky in an angry cacophony of caws as a group of children ran past. They were still scrapping as Tess meandered by and sat beneath Peggy.
One wee girl, not more than three years old by the looks of it, was trying to catch a ball that the others kept tossing to one another, casually but intentionally out of her reach. She shouted, tripping and stumbling after the ball as the children engaged in their cruel form of monkey in the middle. No matter the location, they end up playing the same types of games, Tess thought.
Something about the little girl, her desperate attempts to engage with the others, threw Tess’s mind back to a memory of sweet Cara Hogan, so eager for the love and attention of her emotionally neglectful mother. Tess had only been at the foster home for a brief time, but Cara… she’d live in that sterile prison until adulthood. Sure, she’d be sent to the best schools, wear the best clothes, and want for nothing, in the material sense. But Tess wouldn’t have traded her life for Cara’s for all the money in the world. And for nine years, Tess had the most amazing mother. She could carry that with her, even when everything else went dark.
Tess wondered if time was still passing the same way back home. She realized it must have been at least a week since she’d even considered the odd reality of her circumstance, how with each passing day it became less odd to her to be here, in this place, so far removed from everything she’d known.
Would it help the others to know what she knew, about their auras, and how that was what was being taken from them? Clearly, this was information they were unaware of- she reviewed the evidence: no one had commented on her lack of an aura, no one seemed to notice the auras of others (which was how she’d spotted the Lampreys hiding in the fog while Russ couldn’t), and no one noticed the absence of auras in others, like poor Tom, blurred and lost in the street. She knew something that they didn’t, that might help in some small way explain what was happening with the Lampreys, with the blurrings. Yet how, she had no idea.
No matter how she phrased it, though, it came out sounding absurd. No one would believe her. Not Fish, or Emmie, or even Ashe. And she wouldn’t blame them for it. Nothing she’d learned about Alitura indicated that it was normal for people to ju
st warp here from other worlds. She was an oddity. It had happened, she was certain. No one could maintain such a grand and elaborate delusion as this for as long as she had, she had to believe that. And because it had happened, it followed that there must be some logical explanation for how. Maybe, if she had more time, she could begin to understand it. Where before, the how of it seemed inessential, more and more she began to suspect that the answer to that question was also the key to so many others, including the curious happenings in this town. Thus, it was deserving of a bit more study.
In a way, she had all the time in the world- she worked in a shop with books and all sorts of ancient bric-a-brac, and she answered to no one. She had free reign of a town, and the people there, and she could always follow her nose to other places in Alitura. Turand, where the blurrings had all begun, might be the locus point of it all. And if the others agreed that it was worth following the information in another direction, she might even get some company. Or perhaps there was some yet undiscovered way to investigate the Sea Dimple, to discern the reason the Lampreys were preoccupied with the place.
At the same time, Tess had begun to feel the strain, as if an invisible noose was ever tightening, around both herself and the others. Time felt as though it was running out, somehow. Like the ever shortening days leading to an inevitable winter, the trail seemed tenuous, able to dry up at any moment.
She wondered about all of the information she was missing, like huge gaps in a jigsaw puzzle that prevented you from ever understanding the image. Because she didn’t understand the Lampreys, their needs, or their motivations, she had no way of assessing the level of threat they still might present for both herself and the others. She would have to lie low, as a precaution, much as she loathed the idea of restricting her freedom. It was the only smart choice, at least for now.
With that in mind, she noticed the market had begun to clear. The children had dispersed, all but the littlest one, who sat on the ground with the ball, sniffling quietly to herself. She must have a parent around somewhere, perhaps one of the men coming in from the pier. Tess approached her hesitantly, crouching down in front of her and pulling the leftover apple turnover from her pocket.
