Escaping Solitude Page 8

  “Oh, thank Christ.” He leaps forward and rips the envelopes from my hand. He tucks them under his arm as he unwraps his hands, tossing white fabric to the floor before tearing into the first one, his eyes dancing left to right, left to right. “From my company… An inquiry? What the…?” He wipes a drop of sweat from the tip of his nose. “It’s not as if they can blame anyone for what happened. Everyone’s dead.” He shakes his head. “Fucking bureaucrats. Half the men at this bloody trading company have never been on a ship in their lives, yet they hope to pin the blame on some poor sailor simply because the night was dark. Dead sailors, at that.” He drops the letter to the floor as though disgusted by it. “I suppose we’ll have to pay them a visit once we reach London.”

  “I hope I never get in an argument with you.”

  He chuckles and looks at the second letter, but his amusement soon falters, disappears. “This isn’t my mother’s handwriting.” He unfolds the thick paper, and it’s like watching a storm come in from the sea. A deep wrinkle appears between his eyes. “She is ill.”

  “What?” I step up to his side.

  “She’s not in London. They’ve moved her to the Baines country estate. They send for me.” He chews at his bottom lip. “Andrew, we have to go.”

  “Michelle’s ship is due back any—”

  “No, we have to go now. We have to go to England.”

  “England? But the Elder—”

  He puts his hand on my forearm. “Love, I know, but it has to wait.”

  I stare at him, study the furrow of his brow, the unfamiliar downturn of his eyes. For just a second, I see it. He might normally be a full-grown man, but right now, he is a little boy who needs his mother.

  I nod. “All right. You’ll go bathe. I will go back to the house and prepare our things.”

  “What of Felipe and Michelle?”

  Yes, they were supposed to travel with us, but… “Let me speak to them. I fear it’s too late to book passage for today. We will have to leave tomorrow at the earliest anyway.”

  He sighs. “I know. You’re right. Okay. Jesus, I feel like a fair maiden about to have a fainting fit.”

  I put my hand on his sweat-soaked shoulder. “Go. Meet me at the house.”

  He nods and walks away.

  God be praised, as soon as I hurry into the foyer of my coven, Michelle awaits with a note in hand. She waves it in the air, announcing the vampire ship has finally returned to harbor. I think she might even dance a merry jig until I tell her we no longer seek the Elder. First, we must go to England.

  BY THE TIME we board the ship and find our quarters, Edmund is vibrating with nerves. It’s the same room we were given on the trip back from my exile, so it is lush and probably deserving of the ship’s captain, but no matter—it’s ours, and I’m thankful for the sizable bed. Edmund doesn’t seem to notice. He shoves his hands into his hair and struggles to breathe.

  “We need to leave,” he says. “What’s taking so long?”

  I grip his forearms and pull his hands away from his head. “You can’t be this way. You of all people know travel takes time. We have weeks to spend trapped on this ship, and I forbid you to be agitated for all of it.”

  He stretches his neck from side to side. “I know.” He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me until I feel bruised. “I don’t want to be like this, I just… My mother has always seemed… I suppose permanent is the word. And now, she’s ill, and I… You know, I think I believed I would die before her.”

  I pull back enough to look at him and hold his cheeks in my hands. “She’s not dead.”

  “Yet.”

  I kiss his forehead. “Edmund, you are the most joyful person I know. This is not like you.” I notice the way his chest quickly expands and contracts. “Breathe with me. Slowly. In…out.” I sigh a breath, and he does the same. “In…out.”

  We continue breathing in sync until his eyes close and he leans against me. I’m not sure if the scent of salt water is from the open sea or his tears.

  He chuckles. “For someone who doesn’t need to breathe, you do it very well.”

  “Well, you seem to have forgotten how today.”

  He laughs some more before wiping his eyes.

  “Let’s go on deck and wave goodbye to New Orleans.”

  He nods, so I take his hand and lead him up into the sunlight of an early afternoon. Immortal sailors hustle around us—many of them barefoot, as Edmund said. They climb rigging and pull ropes. It’s all a foreign concept to me, but Edmund watches them with fondness. Michelle and Felipe stand toward the back of the ship, but they pay us no mind.

  Our vampire captain looks out over it all in his navy-blue jacket made of velvet. We met fleetingly on the trip from my island, home to New Orleans. I don’t know his name because everyone calls him “Captain,” but he has short, black hair with streaks of white, a wide jaw, and blue eyes that seem to always be watching.

  He watches Edmund and I as we walk across the deck toward the rail. What different creatures we must be to him this voyage. No longer am I a blood-soaked murderer. No longer is Edmund an underfed, filthy, exhausted mess with the beginnings of a beard. We’ve been reborn.

  As our ship leaves the harbor, I stand behind Edmund and wrap him in my embrace—just as I did when we watched our island of exile disappear into the distance.

  He leans against me and sighs before pressing his forehead to the side of my chin. “I’m going to teach you how to be a sailor.”

  “You’re going to find that’s impossible.”

  He twists his fingers between mine. “We have plenty of time.”

  On a cross-continental voyage: yes, don’t I know it?

  Chapter Eleven

  EDMUND IS VERY good at monotony when on a ship, which is contrary to every behavior he has ever exhibited on land. Imagine my surprise. He claims routine keeps him sane on long ocean voyages, so every morning, he wakes early, goes on deck, and does strange stretches that he learned from a Chinese monk. From what I have observed, the crew enjoys this sensual performance almost as much as me—as if they don’t have their share of devoted blood slaves below deck.

  Some nights, Edmund volunteers to take watch. Other nights, he wrestles me into bed and takes me apart one kiss, nibble, and lick at a time. He never wears shoes. He climbs so high into the rigging that my dead heart skips a beat. Although he gives up on me, he does teach Michelle and Felipe all about life at sea—and they seem legitimately interested, especially Felipe, who sometimes climbs the rigging too. The idiot almost fell off deck one afternoon when a spectacular wave hit. Edmund had to grab onto his lacey frock coat and lurch him backward.

  Edmund spends time with the captain often. They talk about places they’ve been. They discuss our route. Our eventual hunt for an Elder is of particular interest to him.

  A human sailor—one of the few on board—tries to teach me something called “fancy work” to dull my ennui. It’s an art form what these men can weave with small pieces of string when not working, working. It seems they’re always working, while we, the passengers, fester in boredom.

  One afternoon, I tumble into the common room where the humans aboard take their meals. Seated at the table, Edmund laughs. “How have you not earned your sea legs yet?”

  I huff and watch him use his magic fingers on a deck of cards. He makes them move in waves across the wooden table.

  I fall forward when someone runs into me. Felipe groans and shoves me out of the way, followed closely by Michelle. She smiles up at me, luminous as though she’s just left her New Orleans washroom, as opposed to having been cooped up for ages on a ship rife with stinking men.

  Across from Edmund, Felipe falls into a chair. “Thank Christ. Something to do.”

  Edmund, in nothing but shirtsleeves and breeches, suddenly looks like a hungry predator. “You play?”

  “Anything. Yes.” Felipe wears his long hair free around his shoulders but now pulls a band from his coat and ties it back in a bow.


  “Poker? I understand it’s popular in America, but we’ll need more players.”

  Michelle and I know nothing of the game, so we are tasked with finding additional men to fill chairs. It’s an easy business, and soon, four of them await Edmund’s deal. The game begins, as does the smoking and drinking. I could almost pretend I’m back in New Orleans, if not for the slight rocking to and fro.

  Edmund wins and loses and wins some more. I stand behind him sometimes and watch his hand. I stand across from him sometimes and try to read his tells—but he outwardly has none. A master at schooling his face, it’s no wonder he championed over a man like Jimmy Fitz. He looks like he’s about to champion over everyone on the ship, too, as three men fold.

  It’s just Edmund and Felipe now.

  “I have an idea,” Felipe says. “Let’s make a bet.”

  Edmund clears his throat. “A bet?”

  “Yes.” Felipe moves the cards around in his hand. “If I win, I get to kiss you—and not just a momentary caress. A long, wet kiss.”

  “Felipe,” Michelle chides.

  The thought of Felipe even touching Edmund makes me sick, but I don’t think my darling would appreciate me dragging him from the room.

  Edmund gazes at Felipe as though working out a puzzle. “Fine.”

  He must have the cards to win, because Edmund would never accept such a bet unless he knew he would be victorious. I’ve forbidden him from physical contact with other vampires, and he made it clear he no longer wants to touch anyone but me—and definitely not Felipe, who has made his attraction evident from the start.

  “And what if Edmund wins?” I ask.

  “If I win, Felipe has to wear one of Michelle’s dresses for two days. Corset included.”

  The men at the table guffaw, and Felipe sneers before agreeing to the bet.

  I walk around the table and get a glance at Edmund’s cards: two pairs, queens and sixes. I know enough to know two pairs is not the best hand he could have, but maybe he saw something in Felipe’s movements that I did not.

  I look up when Felipe shows his cards, and now, I do want to drag Edmund from the room because Felipe has a straight—all hearts—a smiling Jack down to a red seven. A straight beats two pairs.

  “Well?” he says, smiling. “Let’s see your cards then, Edmund.”

  My beloved sailor lays down four queens, and I let out an undignified squeak. Everyone laughs, except dear Felipe who grimaces so hard, his teeth might break.

  Edmund leans back in his chair. “I think Michelle’s green gown would go very well with your eyes.”

  Felipe’s chair falls over when he stands and stomps from the room, Michelle right on his heels. Once the amusement dies down, Edmund announces his own exit, and I am quick to follow. We end up back in our quarters, where Edmund falls on the bed, laughing. I fall at his side.

  “You cheat at cards.”

  “Obviously,” he says, folding his hands under his head.

  “And you’re good at it.”

  “Very.”

  I run my hand across his flat stomach, covered in fabric not as soft as the shirts he wore in New Orleans. “Have you ever been caught?”

  “I’d probably be dead by now if I’d been caught.”

  I sigh. “So reckless.”

  “You love it. You always have. You adore my fascination with things that could kill me.” He rolls onto his side and touches my mouth. “Things like you.”

  I kiss his fingertips. “Why do we rush to England when we could go straight to the Elder? Why do you care so much about a mother who would have you committed?”

  He rolls again onto his back and stares at the ceiling as the ship rocks back and forth. “She thinks she’s doing what’s best for me. She’s never taken action against me with ill intent. She believes it all to be for my benefit.”

  “Making you something you’re not?”

  “My father, the sixth Duke of Wilshire, he died when I was very young, so Mother took it upon herself to…” He smiles. “Turn me into a proper gentleman. She’d be loath to admit that many of my idiosyncrasies are actually her fault.”

  “For instance?”

  “Well, she was the one who insisted I learn fencing, boxing. I even raced horses before I shot up six inches.”

  I push an unruly curl from his forehead. “I can’t picture you on a horse.”

  “Strange, considering I ride you so often.”

  I laugh so loud I’m sure the mermaids hear.

  “My mother made me reckless, fearless. She also gave me books and taught me everything she knew. I started university when I was eighteen and left after six months when I realized I knew more than my professors. Then, I boarded a ship.” His eyes close. “Of course, that was after she…”

  I trace the curve of his jaw with my thumb. “What?”

  “I tried courting women. Society girls.” His eyes open when he smiles, but it’s not a happy smile. “It was awful. It wasn’t that I didn’t like women. On the contrary, I find them fascinating. I just didn’t like those women. I made love to a female equestrian when I was seventeen. She was…” He grins. “Scandalous. Wore her hair short. Rode like the devil chased her. It was a wonderful night, but afterward, we both admitted to our predilections. She preferred women; I preferred men. Of course, I’d been with men before that night, but I’d never admitted it to anyone else. Talking to her opened a floodgate. I was much more brash with my affections after that, so Mother threatened sending me away. To be cured.” He runs both his hands through his hair, and I try not to smother him in kisses. “She thought she was doing her duty. So I set sail.”

  “And now you would return to her?”

  He nods. “She loves me in her way, and my youth truly was a joy. I owe her much.”

  I tug open the collar of his shirt and plant an openmouthed kiss on his neck. “What will she think of me?”

  His hands press against the back of my skull—an inquiry for more as he tips his head back. “You’re handsome, so she’ll adore you.”

  This pleases me. For some unknown reason, I want Edmund’s mother to approve of me, perhaps to prove his so-called madness has brought him love and joy. I want her to see how happy he is and realize her self-appointed duty was wrong all along.

  Heavy footsteps arrive outside our door before someone shoves the flimsy thing open. Felipe is revealed, decked out in Michelle’s light-blue gown. His chest hair pokes out the top like an animal pelt, but more prevalent is the angry pout of his lower lip. “The blue is better than the green, don’t you think?”

  Edmund giggles, and I cannot properly judge the color coordination as my eyes fill with delighted tears.

  Chapter Twelve

  FOR WEEKS, WE’VE had nothing but sun, so a small storm comes as a relief—except, based on the captain’s worried frown, this storm will not be small. I stand on deck next to Edmund and watch it creep ever closer: a wall of black clouds and bolts of yellow light.

  “Jesus,” he mutters.

  “It doesn’t bode well that you’re worried.”

  He glances at me. “No, it… I’m sure we’ll be fine, but they’ll certainly need my help on deck.”

  My fingers curl into the fabric at his shoulder. “You will be safely below deck with me for the duration, wrapped in my arms.”

  “Andrew. I’ve assisted on deck during storms a million times. Nothing has ever happened, beyond me getting very wet.”

  Felipe steps up beside us, back in men’s clothing, although he did indeed wear Michelle’s dress for the agreed upon two days. “I’ll help too.”

  Edmund smacks him on the shoulder. “Good man,” he says, and it’s true, Felipe might as well be a sailor with all he’s learned from my darling over the course of our trip. I think learning from Edmund has been the only thing keeping Felipe sane—that and the occasional human-vampire orgy in the captain’s quarters.

  “You’re both idiots.” I glare at the ever-moving black clouds. “I guess that means I
’m staying up here too.”

  Edmund playfully elbows me in the ribs. “Just don’t fall overboard. We’ll never find you in the storm. You’ll end up at the bottom of the sea like our Elder.” He looks around, searching the deck for something, and apparently finds it because he starts walking. “Let me get us knives. The last thing we need is a broken sail tearing the mast down.”

  I watch him go. “What the hell am I supposed to do with a knife?”

  Felipe shoves his shoulder against mine. “Nothing. Leave it to the professionals.”

  “Oh, and are you a professional now?”

  “Edmund is a good teacher. I’m sure he’s taught you all sorts of things.”

  I roll my eyes at the innuendo.

  Someone puts a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to find Michelle, her slim body wrapped in a long, thin blanket. She speaks to Felipe. “Are you coming below deck? I do believe our devoted humans could use a distraction.”

  “I’m going to stay up here with Edmund and the crew,” he says with the gravitas of an ancient Roman war hero.

  “Well, be careful.” She walks back to the stairs, fabric dragging silently behind her. I watch her head disappear below deck and wish I could join—wish Edmund would join, too—but, by now, he’s gotten Felipe and me knives to attach to our person as the storm hovers ever closer.

  When it hits, it’s a deluge. At times, I can’t tell if I’m above water or below, but I keep my eye on Edmund always. He moves as though he’s done it all before, and I suppose he has. He climbs rigging barefooted, no matter the bruising winds. He carries his knife between his teeth like a mad pirate. Felipe tries to follow close behind, but his shoes slip across the deck. For my part, I never let go of something sturdy, and I never stop watching Edmund.

  A flash of lightning illuminates the deck and makes the scurrying sailors resemble panicked insects. I almost fall over at the force of the thunder, especially when the ship lurches right, but I catch myself on the railing before knocking myself out cold. The day is black as night.

  Then, I hear it: something screams.

  A moment later, while my eyes search the deck for a wounded, dying animal, I realize the sound was a sail ripping in two.