Ring of Roses

by Sara Clancy

  Exhaustion had broken everyone like kindling. One by one, the group had fallen into fitful sleep. They whimpered and twitched like animals in a trap. Even the fury of the storm couldn't force them back to the waking world. Jezebel feared to follow them and turned her face to the spraying water each time she felt her mind drift. The windowsill was a slab of untreated wood, warped by years of rain and rot. It flaked into large splinters each time she moved. Just by sitting there, her arms tightly wrapped around her knees, she had effectively created a dent in the corner of the sill.

  The door burst open. Chunks of it chipped off as it struck the wall. The fire sputtered and flared, making the chimney wail like a feral beast. Both onslaughts covered Jezebel’s startled yelp. It didn’t occur to her to be embarrassed about the sound, not while deep shadows lunged and swirled around the walls like groping hands.

  The effect was somewhat lessened as the open door allowed the glow of the blazing bonfires to cross the threshold. Egil and Henry lumbered inside, shrouded by rain and shoved by the snarling wind. It took both of the men to force the door closed again. The gale howled and thrashed in protest. After a few failed attempts, the door was held closed long enough for Egil to slide the bolt into place. The gust thudded and rattled the door, screeching through the gaps and spewing water through the window with increasing force. As if admitting it had been thwarted, the wind, at last, died down and allowed the driving rain and booms of thunder to regain dominance.

  The battle was almost commonplace at this point and failed to gather too much attention. Those that stirred fell back asleep seconds after the bolt was latched into place. The coats they wore now had been found amongst the other items left scattered around the abandoned doctor’s office. Dark, cracked leather flapped like raven wings when worn, and hung like a skinned animal when replaced on the hooks.

  Egil stripped his coat off with force, uncaring about the spray.

  Suppose it doesn’t matter, Jezebel thought as she watched the firelight glisten over the puddle at their feet. It hadn't had time to dry since they had left. So the addition now spread it out over a good portion of the floor. This, too, was ignored by the most fatigued amongst them.

  Egil was the first to rid himself of the coat, perhaps because it was a few sizes too small for him. He hung it up and stalked across the room to find his sister. His determination didn’t stop him from casting a few emotionless glances towards Annabel. Jezebel couldn’t be sure when he had developed the habit. She had only noticed it while they were first setting up the doctor’s office. He wasn’t the only one to do it. Everyone, at some point or other, sought reassurance that their only medical help was still with them. But he was the only one that set off the warning bells in Jezebel's head. Each time he completed the tradition, she studied it carefully, trying to place just what it was about the glance that unnerved her. None of her attempts had been successful. There was never any kind of emotion on his face. It bothered her even more now that the group had settled into an unofficial pecking order.

  Rocca, as the only tour guide to survive the sinking, had naturally taken a leadership role. Egil’s bravado and strength made people feel safe. Protected. So he made his way effortlessly up the ranks, too. It was hard to tell if Annabel knew that she was the third in the emerging power triad. She didn't concern herself with much beyond the wounded, either to comfort or bond, and it had left her as a necessary outsider. With the growing resentment and blame, Jezebel couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad lingered on the horizon.

  Henry finally succeeded to peel the coat off of his shoulders, and having hung it up, began to toe off his mud-covered shoes. That boy has all the grace of a new-born fawn, she thought with a smirk. Perhaps it was mean of her to find such amusement in his awkwardness, but she wasn’t about to stop. It just felt good to have something to laugh at.

  A blur of color made her flinch. She sucked in a sharp breath, letting it out slowly when she realized it was just Annabel. Her little sister hadn’t seen the need to give her any warning before slumping into the opposite corner of the windowsill. Annoyance flashed through Jezebel, but it sputtered out when she got a decent look at her sibling.

  Annabel’s limbs flopped heavily wherever gravity took them. The harsh planks kept her somewhat upright and not even the sputtering rain was enough to get her to move. Jezebel sniffed. The sound was soft but caught her younger sister’s attention instantly. Annabel rolled her head along the wall rather than take the weight of it and sit up properly. Her hands, rubbed raw with constant washing, scrubbed over her face, muffling her naturally flat voice.

  “You need to sleep, Jez.”

  Her unwavering monotone generally put people off. It took a while to learn the slight shifts in her face that betrayed her inner thoughts. But Jezebel knew her sister’s mannerisms well and could clearly see the terror burning in Annabel’s eyes. Unable to work a comforting smile onto her face, Jezebel reached out instead and captured her sister’s hand.

  Annabel looked down at their joined hands. “You’re cold.”

  “I didn't want her to die,” Jezebel blurted out. The words had been pressing against her teeth for the past hour. They tumbled out the second she parted her lips and brought all the emotion she had been fighting back with them. Hot tears burned the corner of her mind and her body began to rock with her sobs. “I didn’t want her to die, I swear.”

  Annabel shifted closer, nestling as close as Jezebel’s pulled up knees would allow.

  “Who?”

  “The woman. The one that made that awful raspy noise.” She clutched Annabel’s hand in a bone-crushing grip while she clawed her other through her tangled platinum hair. “I just wanted her to stop making that sound. It was driving me nuts. That gasping whistle. I just wanted it to stop.”

  “Jez,” Annabel soothed.

  Leaning forward, Jezebel softened her voice so no one but her sister would hear her, “I didn’t want her to die.”

  Annabel cupped Jezebel’s neck with her free hand. The point of contact worked like an anchor, turning her little sister into the sole focus of her attention.

  “Listen to me. That woman received a blunt force trauma. It broke her fourth and fifth ribs, punctured her lungs, and caused internal bleeding. That’s what killed her.”

  “But I willed it,” Jezebel whimpered.

  “Your will can’t even get you the last slice of pizza.”

  The spontaneous joke shattered the bubble of hysteria that had been welling inside Jezebel’s chest. A burst of air forced the remains of it out in a breathy chuckle.

  “You’re horrible, Anna,” she said with a broken smile.

  She managed to hold it for a moment before she dropped her head, pressing her forehead hard against her knees. Annabel patted her back with no small sense of accomplishment, coaxing a few more giggles to mix through the broken sobs. Don’t laugh. She could obey the command for as long as it took to straighten her spine and meet her sister’s gaze. Bursts of laughter caught her off guard and they hardly managed to stifle it. Egil scowled at them both. Reluctantly, their giggling died off and ended with Jezebel heaving a sigh. Annabel turned to peek out through the thin gaps between the boards.

  Despite the storm, the bonfires still burned brightly. A crackling, hissing blaze that seemed utterly immune to the monsoon. It had been a struggle for Jezebel to keep from thinking too hard about that. Superstitious by nature, she feared that questioning this bit of luck would be the end of it. The flames would be snuffed out, leaving them to the mercy of the shadows. Like a gift snatched out of the hands of an ungrateful child.

  It wasn’t hard for the world outside to cover the low moans and stifled whispers of the others. Rasps and broken rattles. Every so often, a breath of wind would slip through the cracks between the boards to attack the candles. They flickered wildly, causing the light and shadows to battle each other on the walls. Glancing over the room once more, ensuring herself that there was no one nearby to eavesdrop, Jezebel squee
zed her little sister’s hand, drawing her attention.

  “Promise me something?”

  Annabel nodded but remained silent.

  There was no easy way to approach the subject, so she just surged on. “Watch your back around Egil.”

  Confusion crossed Annabel’s face. Absently, the fingertips of her free hands started to tack the bruises blooming across her neck.

  “What did he do?” she asked.

  It was a request for information, not a challenge. That was the way it had always been between the Lee sisters. Annabel had a startling ability to focus her attention. To fixate completely on whatever she had set herself to do. From learning to tie her shoelaces to earning a scholarship to the university of her choice. Her relentless tenacity was responsible for a lot of positive things in her life.

  Unfortunately, it also left her vulnerable. The world didn’t disappear just because she forgot about it. So it had fallen on her big sister to keep an eye on all the other things, drawing her attention to what she deemed important.

  “Nothing. Yet,” Jezebel said. “But grief makes people do strange things. And I have the feeling that he turns to rage to get him through.”

  Annabel accepted that with a nod. After turning back to stare at the bonfire for a while, she spoke in a hiss. “I should have let the ocean take Egil’s father.”

  “Anna,” Jezebel whispered, tightly squeezing her hand.

  Annabel winced and clenched her teeth. It was a small gesture but enough to remind Jezebel just how damaged her sister's hands were. Instantly, she loosened her hold and muttered an apology. Annabel rubbed her thumb over Jezebel’s knuckles by way of accepting it. This exchange did nothing to chase away the deep sorrow that had filled her dark eyes.

  “It was a mistake,” Annabel said with more gentleness. “He wasn’t going to survive. I wasted so much time.”

  “No, Anna, you did the right thing. There was a chance with CPR.”

  She snorted, bitter and cold. “CPR has a low success rate, Jez. Essentially, it’s about buying time. Keep the heart pumping until help arrives.”

  Annabel scrubbed her face, the motion quickly turning into something more akin to clawing, and leaned heavily against Jezebel’s knees. Her eyes, as dark and polished as black pearls, fixed on the limited view the window offered.

  “I wasted time bringing him in. I left two able-bodied people working on a lost cause.”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  Finally, she turned to meet Jezebel’s eyes. “How many people do you think died because of the decisions I made today?”

  Jezebel shushed her the same way their mother used to do and wrapped her free arm around her in a lopsided hug. “Nothing good can come from thinking like that.”

  “You know, my professor likes to say that choosing who lives and who dies is the easy part. It’s living with the decision that’s hard.”

  Jezebel shifted, having to move fast to catch Annabel before she tumbled off the ledge. They ended up huddled together, propping each other up and twisted as much as they could to face the window. Annabel found her big sister’s hand again and squeezed it harder than she had before. Time shifted and drifted while they sat like that. Both girls were too tired to move. And, while neither was comfortable, they began to doze off. The steady crackle of the fire worked as a strange lullaby. Uneven but comforting nonetheless.

  It was in this state, hovering between dreams and reality, that she first heard it. A voice. Drifting into the doctor’s office on the moistened wind. It came and went on the breeze, allowing her to dismiss the first few encounters as a trick of her sleep-deprived mind. Nothing more than an illusion. Then Annabel jerked and the truth slammed into Jezebel. It’s real. She hears it, too. After sharing a confused glance, the sisters pressed closer to the window. Smoke and rain obscured their view from between the planks. It reduced the bonfires to little more than swaying blotches of color on an otherwise dark, drab world. Jezebel curled the fingers of her free hand against the damp wood. She had intended to slide them through the gaps, but lost her nerve at the last moment. Holding their breath, they strained to hear anything over the storm. The wind fooled her a few times. But when the tiny voice came again, weaving through the wailing gale, there was no mistaking it. A child was singing from somewhere unseen.

  “Is that …” Jezebel let the question trail off in favor of listening harder, trying to track the sound to its source.

  Her brow furrowed when she realized that Henry was now beside them. It wasn’t as if he had randomly popped up. More like he had faded in so gradually that it was impossible to pinpoint exactly how long he had been standing there.

  “Please tell me that I'm not crazy,” he whispered, curling his long torso around Annabel's shoulder so he could press closer to the window. “You both hear a kid singing, too, right?”

  Annabel hummed her agreement, completely unfazed by Henry’s sudden appearance. As near as Jezebel could figure, her little sister had grown so accustomed to having him on hand that she now just assumed he would show up sooner or later. He was the perfect assistant. No matter what Annabel asked him to do, he never complained. Jezebel had a sneaking suspicion that he was desperate to keep under everyone’s radar and stay too busy to think. Aside from some knowing glances, neither of them had tried to discuss what they had seen on the ship.

  Twisting his long torso, he was able to survey the room behind them without having to move his hips. “We're not missing any of our kids,” he said.

  “Another survivor?” Annabel kept her voice as a whisper.

  “One who decided to sing in the middle of a tropical storm instead of seeking shelter?”

  Annabel shrugged one shoulder helplessly. “Kids are weird. They have little kid brains.”

  She fell silent after receiving glares from both Jezebel and Henry. But none of them knew what to say, so they pressed closer to the boarded-up window again, squinting through the sheeting rain. There was no sign of a wandering child. It wasn’t even possible to determine which direction the sound was coming from. The sing-song words twisted. Rose and fell. Became clearer even while it didn’t appear to grow louder. It sounded like a girl, but Jezebel couldn’t be sure. All the while, it was impossible to understand a word of it. There was only one thing Jezebel could tell for sure.

  “It’s moving,” she whispered.

  Annabel hummed again. The noncommittal sound went up a few octaves when Egil suddenly stalked up behind them, getting closer and demanding to know what they were looking at. They didn’t have to respond. The moment he was close enough, he heard it, too; the discovery clear by the slight hesitation in his stride. His spine straightened, his hands curled, and he gave them each a narrowed glare.

  “What is wrong with you people?” he hissed through his teeth.

  Jezebel’s retort died on her lips as she noticed he was heading towards the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find the damn kid.” It was clear he wanted to yell and only just managed to keep his voice low. “What do you think?”

  She gestured sharply to the window. “This doesn’t strike you as a little bit odd?”

  “That a kid could suffer a head injury during a shipwreck and be a little bit disorientated?” His words were laced with both disgusted fury and bitter mockery.

  The intended insult didn’t bother her for long. She trusted her instincts far more than his judgment. Twisting around, she searched for Henry’s gaze. She found that he was already looking at her, eyes wide and pleading. Nothing needed to be said for her to be sure that they were both thinking about the same thing. The ship. The ghosts.

  The words still sounded strange, even in her own head. But she wasn’t about to start second-guessing herself or stretching for some convoluted explanation. She had seen ghosts in the hull of the Wilhelmina. Henry had seen them, too. That was the reality she had to deal with. And she didn’t know where to begin.

  Annabel slipped from the windowsi
ll. Jezebel was so consumed with her thoughts that she didn’t notice until her little sister released her grip on her hand. Scrambling up as quick as her half numb legs would allow, she managed to latch onto Annabel’s arm before she got too far.

  “What are you doing?” Jezebel whispered harshly.

  Annabel’s face remained a placid mask as she looked between Egil and her. “I was going to help look for the kid. He’s right, she could be hurt. Do you want to come with me?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “That’s probably for the best. You really do need some sleep.”

  Jezebel stammered in her shock. “Are you kidding me? Anna, something is very wrong about all of this. The town, the bonfires, the storm–” She cut herself off as the first traces of hysteria started to enter her voice. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

  “Me too.” Anna dismissed.

  Jezebel’s annoyance flared. “Then why go?”

  “A child is in danger.” Egil said each word like it was a complete sentence.

  Jezebel locked eyes with the blonde man. “Well, why don’t you go and find the kid, Egil? Anna will be here when you get back to help. She doesn’t have to go. There’s no reason for her to risk getting injured.”

  “But you don’t mind if I get hurt?” he asked.

  “Honestly, it doesn’t really bother me,” Jezebel said.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a class act.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Henry said.

  It was obvious that the comment was directed at Jezebel, and it just so happened that everyone else could hear. Everything about Henry’s body language screamed that he didn’t want to set a foot beyond the threshold. So why offer? The question popped into her head a split second before the answer. Because of what we saw on the ship. It struck her then that not only had they avoided discussing the ghosts between themselves, they hadn’t told anyone else. For better or worse, it was a secret only the two of them shared. They were the only ones who knew what else was lurking in the shadows. Henry wasn’t authoritative enough to conquer anyone else’s will, but he wasn’t enough of a coward to leave them to the spirits. Either tell them about the encounter or go with them to help. Jezebel reasoned those were their only two options. She wanted to scream when she found herself agreeing with him. But still, she’d be damned if she left Annabel alone with Egil. Even with Henry hanging around.