Imogen Myers

Effie knew she needed to move, knew that his slow footsteps were a lie. Lucas could close the distance between them in a heartbeat. He would if she lingered long enough for Charles to arrive. If she was caught it would ruin everything. She could get Dixon killed.

‘I thought you were dead,’ Lucas breathed, his footsteps stopping a little behind her. She felt the chill of him, saw the shadow cast across her, signs that he was already too close. ‘That he’d –’

‘Don’t,’ she said, the simple word shattering on her lips as she rounded on him. He looked exhausted, and yet she refused to feel any pity for him. He’d sat idly by too many times to count. ‘I’m never going back to him.’

Something like hurt flashed across his face. Lucas went to take a step closer, but thought better of it and stayed where he was. ‘I would never do that to you.’

A bitter scoff spilled out Effie before she could catch it. ‘We both know that’s not true. He’s your father.’

For once, Lucas physically recoiled at the title of his sire. If Dixon wasn’t somewhere in the darkness, needing her to get rid of the vampire, she might have questioned him on that reaction.

‘I didn’t see you tonight,’ Lucas offered softly, turning his back on her. ‘But…’ He lapsed into silence, his back to her and yet he hadn’t made a move to walk away just yet. ‘Good luck.’

‘Careful, Princess, you might fall overboard.’

Chelle chuckled softly, but she didn’t turn around to face Smokes. His footsteps were even, walking easily despite the gentle bobbing of the boat as they sailed. He made the whole thing seem effortless, as if he wasn’t balancing with every step. He was one of the few who made it seem as innate as breathing; some of the others made it seem simple, but none of them like he did. She was still certain he’d been born on a boat, even if Smokes refused to talk about his life before the ship at all. 

‘Luckily, I know how important I am. You’d never let a good hostage fall,’ she teased, a smirk pulling at her lips. She glanced briefly at Smokes as he lent on the railing beside her, but there was no amusement behind his eyes. His expression was somewhat sour as he looked out across the ocean surrounding them. ‘Smokes?’

‘You’re more than a hostage, Chelle,’ he murmured roughly, before clearing his throat. ‘But if you tell anyone I said that, and I will deny it.’

She tried to ignore the fact her heart picked up at those words. Whatever they’d been dancing around the past few weeks finally settled between them. It was now or never.

‘Smokes –’

‘Captain,’ came a shrill voice, pulling both of their attention towards the deck. One of the cabin boys was glancing around frantically, his hands slick with pink water.

‘What happened?’ Smokes demanded, already striding off towards the boy. It certainly couldn’t have been good news, but dealing with an injured member of the crew still seemed easier than addressing the thing between them.

The biscuits she’d had for breakfast that morning threatened to escape her, but Chelle swallowed the bile. She sucked in as deep a breath as she could without getting gauze in her mouth. There had to be a way out. Expecting kidnap was one of the many lessons she’d been taught, one of the only ones interesting enough for her to have remembered. It felt, however, as though every idea had evaporated from her mind. No training came back to her in a rush of inspiration; one of the things a tutor had once assured her would happen.

A yell from the upper deck made her jump. Her breathing became sharp, stuttering inhalations and shaky exhalations, but she tried to remain silent, listening desperately to what might be happening. The far off clashing of swords; words spat like curses.

Mutiny? Attack? Rescue?

Chelle dare not get her hopes up that it might be good news. There were far more terrible outcomes than positive ones that came immediately to mind.

Something creaked. The noises of fights grew louder before someone screamed. A body seemed to hit every step, a voice crying out in pain with each thunk on the stairs. 

A soft tutting cut through all other noise before deliberate footsteps made their way down the stairs.

‘We didn’t – agh!’ someone wheezed before being cut off by a yell of pain.

‘How many times,’ said a smooth, low voice, ‘do we have to remind you? I don’t give a shit which sea you’re on, this venture stops.’

‘Y – yes,’ cried the pained voice.

‘I don’t believe you,’ the other voice whispered, full of menace.

The sharp ting of a sword being swung and Chelle forced herself to block out everything else. Death breathed over her shoulder. Tears prickled her eyes and yet refused to fall. It didn’t matter the voice annoyed her, something about it familiar, fear had drowned out rational thought.

A careful hand above the shackle on her wrist caused her to gulp; a squeal spilled from her lips.

‘It’s OK,’ a panicked voice soothed, the contact gone and instead the sack was carefully rolled up. ‘Close your eyes, Xærte.’

Chelle closed her eyes, despite the fear. She felt the sack pulled fully clear before gentle hands took her wrist and began unlocking the shackles.

After a deep breath she opened her eyes.

‘Smokes?’ Her voice came out in a weak sob.

A tentative hand cupped her cheek. ‘I told you once, none of us gets left behind,’ he said, voice rough as he freed her other arm.

He opened his mouth to call for his Master, but impossibly the man reached him first. A clammy hand clamped down across his mouth, another firmly at the back of his head to keep him still.

‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ the man growled, lips close to Darling’s ear. ‘I’d hate to hurt one of our own.’

‘Maybe for once they learnt something. Maybe he was too clever,’ Gabriel suggested simply, causing Celia to pause in doing her lipstick.

‘Too clever?’ she asked, languidly turning her gaze to her own head of security. In all her years she had never heard him say a positive thing about Charles. Not even something that skirted around that possibility.

‘Odd for him,’ Gabriel said, and it suddenly felt like the world had righted itself once more. Equilibrium had been re-established and Celia turned her attention back to the mirror. ‘But if he tried something because he thought they were weak enough, he might have given them the tools they needed.’

‘And Lucas just sat idly by?’

A soft sneer curled its way onto Gabriel’s lips. ‘The boy was always too soft.’

‘Talk to them,’ Celia ordered, waving her fingers dismissively at him. ‘See what Charlie has to say for himself.’

‘Careful,’ Hannah whispered, taking a step closer.

Layla froze. The sensible part of her brain screamed at her to move. Told her that getting involved with anybody not part of the mission was ridiculous. And yet Hannah made herself impossible to ignore.

Hannah quirked a finger, beckoning Layla to bow her head. A conspiratorial gesture she felt obliged to follow without hesitation.

‘Somebody might think you were flirting with me,’ Hannah purred, before placing a quick kiss against her lips. ‘See you later.’

‘Please,’ she mewled, despite her better instincts screaming at her not to give the monster the satisfaction of her fear. But exhaustion had won the battle this time.

‘I’m going to remove the blindfold,’ Lucas whispered.

Something tiny loosened in Effie’s chest. Charles only sent his son when things were over.

The cold disappeared, and Effie almost begged for his hand once more. She bit her tongue, her desire for freedom winning out.

Where Charles used softness to accentuate violence, Lucas did it as an apology. She felt his fingers brush across her forehead as he slipped the blindfold around to access the knot. It fell away quickly, but the steel of the ceiling that filled her view almost had Effie begging to have it replaced.

Next, Lucas unlocked her collar from the table. Then her legs, and finally her wrists. The whole thing barely lasted a few seconds, efficiency, routine and vampire speed making it far shorter a process than the dragged out performance of Charles’s show.

‘Do you think you can walk?’ Lucas asked, his voice gentle.

The tone sparked an unusual flame of anger, resentment, in Effie’s chest. She swallowed the emotions though, knowing that alienating the one vaguely sympathetic vampire in the house was a stupid thing.

‘No,’ she admitted, shame settling like a stone in her stomach.

Lucas visibly swallowed before carefully shifting his arms beneath her. He waited a moment before lifting her, allowing her to adjust slightly. The cold radiating from him was like a balm on her sore muscles, but she refused to like it, to be grateful for the small mercies.

Exhaustion willed her to close her eyes, but after hours in the darkness of a blindfold, Effie refused to give in to it.

‘Where am I going?’ she asked, voice rough from the screams she hadn’t been able to bite back. The ones he’d carefully pulled from her as if it was all he’d truly wanted.

Lucas wetted his lips. This close she could see the slight dusting of stubble that shadowed his jaw. A remnant of his life as a human that he hadn’t had the heart to fully rid himself of. ‘He said the crate.’

‘Dal –’

‘You said you had a joke,’ she said, forcing her tone to be far more cheerful than she felt, ‘I didn’t realise you meant your face.’

She heard somebody scoff behind her, but kept her attention locked firmly on Leon. On the slight narrowing of his eyes, the assurance that he was trying to read the truth of her emotions.

‘This isn’t on you,’ he assured her softly.

Dalia forced herself to swallow against the rising irritation of her throat. ‘It happened on my watch,’ she reminded him simply, before turning on her heel. ‘I’m getting medical.’

‘It’s not,’ he assured her, waving to somebody. ‘But I think the adult dance will be interesting.’

‘The what?’ she asked, but her brother was already walking away.

‘He just told you then?’ Ethan greeted, taking her brother’s spot beside the wall.

‘Adult dance?’ He nodded. ‘I swear, it’s the only reason he wanted more chaperons.’

‘So he wouldn’t have to?’

‘Exactly,’ she agreed, just as Reggie jumped onto the stage. The kids around them squealed at the sight, and Sienna felt a tender smile curve onto her lips.

‘Now, I’d like to invite Sienna and Ethan to the dance floor.’

Her smile dropped, but she forced herself not to swear at her brother.

‘Shall we?’ Ethan asked, and she spotted the panic behind his eyes. Still, he held out a hand for her.

Sienna forced an exaggerated coy smile and curtseyed before taking his hand.

The music slowed, and Sienna was tempted to complain at her brother. But she kept moving with Ethan, allowed him to lead even though she had no idea what he was doing.

‘You can dance,’ she noted softly, matching his steps as a few more people joined them on the dance floor.

‘You sound surprised by that,’ he noted, a soft smile on his face.

‘Just a little,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s nice.’

‘You’re not too bad yourself,’ he noted, shifting to spin her beneath his arm.

‘They obviously don’t teach sneaking at the palace,’ Musket mused, causing Ross to spin. He unbalanced himself and grabbed for the railing. There was no ignoring the smirk on Musket’s face, the light behind his eyes that Ross could see when looking at him properly. ‘What are you up to?’

‘I just – I wanted…’ Ross heaved a deep inhale, slowly let the breath go. ‘Can you teach me?’

Musket’s brow furrowed, confusion etched into every angle of his face. ‘Teach you what, Guar?’ The sneer behind his title was enough to make Ross flinch, and yet he tried not to show it, even as Musket stalked closer. ‘How to fight properly? How to –?’

‘How to be like you guys,’ Ross explained hastily.

If the news shocked Musket he did well to hide it; there was the barest softening of his sneer. His lips untwisted ever so slightly.

‘I can’t keep being here and acting like a guard,’ Ross said, needing to make Musket understand why this was necessary. Two weeks he’d been on the ship and so far the only person who spoke to him, besides Chelle, was the young sailor in front of him. None of the conversations were exactly positive, but they were better than the undermining comments murmured under breaths. Words spoken in a language he didn’t understand that were usually followed by laughter very much at his expense.

‘But you are a guard,’ Musket said simply, using his dagger to clean out beneath his nails. There was something so blasé about the action that made it feel like a promise of violence to come if he made one wrong move.

‘Not anymore.’ Ross knew there was no coming back from this choice. If he headed back to the palace, especially without Chelle, people would question him. They’d think he was hiding something. His reputation was ruined either way, and he couldn’t bear the possibility of betraying Chelle by accident.

Musket hummed a reply before flipping the knife over in his hand. There was a speculative look on his face before he offered the handle towards Ross. ‘I’ll teach you,’ he said, still holding the knife tightly between his fingers even as Ross moved to take the handle. ‘But it won’t be easy to get the rod out of your arse.’

‘Scared of what?’ Layla asked, attention nervously skimming the crowd.

‘Having a good time,’ Hannah said, grabbing Layla’s hand.

‘What’re you doing?’

Hannah didn’t explain, merely tugged Layla to the dance floor. Somewhere in the crowd, she knew Blaine was probably wondering why she wasn’t already dancing with him, but this was one thing she had to do first.

‘Oh no,’ Layla said, stopping and tugging Hannah to pause too.

‘Come on,’ Hannah purred, turning and shifting so her arms were draped lazily over Layla’s shoulders. ‘One dance won’t kill you.’

‘It might,’ Layla said with a scowl, hands gently taking Hannah’s waist so neither of them stumbled in the crowd.

He shook his head and gave Kimmie’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘This place is rubbish,’ he noted, trying to ease his own nerves as well as hers. The castle might not have been as grand as the one they’d just left, but it was far more intimidating. The stonework was dark and it looked as though every window had some kind of bearing on it.

‘What if this was all an act of war?’ Kimmie said, her voice tiny.

Ross flinched slightly. Not just at the thought of a possible war, but the hopelessness behind her voice. Kimmie was usually able to find some hope, to think about the better side of things.

'Hey,’ he said softly, speaking to her as though calming a terrified animal, ’I’m with you, you know that.’

Kimmie shot him a grateful smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

‘It’s fine if you can’t,’ the teacher said, a soft smile on his face even as Robin complained about the whole affair. ‘I just thought, as I’d caught you, I’d ask.’

‘The sixteenth?’ Ethan clarified, part of him screaming that this was a huge mistake.

‘Yeah.’

Ethan took a deep breath before admitting the two words he really hoped he wouldn’t regret: ‘I’m free.’

If he’d shocked the teacher, he gave no indication. Robin, however, hugged him tightly.

‘You’re really gonna come?’

‘Yeah, I’ll chaperone the trip.’

‘Thank you, Sir,’ the man said, a smile dancing on his lips. ‘I’ll just go grab the paperwork for you.’

‘Now there’s a dangerous look,’ teased Travis, earning Dalia’s full attention.

He didn’t balk under the look like so many others. Instead, he offered her little more than a dismissive shrug. The look was of little consequence to him; he’d come under fire from it way too many times before.

‘This is all bullshit,’ she said in little more than a whisper. ‘How is anybody buying any of this crap when the world is literally on fire?’

‘People that we begrudgingly call optimists, but that you’d oh so kindly call “fucking idiots”,’ he reminded her, making quote marks with his fingers.

Dalia’s scowl deepened. Travis leant back against the table, shifting enough for a harsh static to cut the prince’s announcement short.

‘It was all rubbish anyway,’ he said.

With a groan of frustration, Dalia stalked away from him. Part of her agreed with him; a larger part of her wanted to hit him. She knew that was more because of what she’d been listening to rather than Travis himself, but that didn’t make it any easier to cope with.

‘Do you enjoy torturing yourself with this stuff or something? Should I be telling Doc to talk to you or something?’

‘Andi already has too much on her plate,’ she dismissed, waving a hand at him over her shoulder. ‘And whatever happened to the power of “know they enemy”?’

‘I know that,’ he said, and she heard him jogging to catch up to her. ‘But I thought you were more a kind of “just go for it” kind of person.’

Dalia laughed at him sarcastically before showing an overnight pack into his chest. ‘Are you gonna be helpful today, or just cause issues?’

‘Helpful, always,’ he assured her with a smirk and a wink.

Something came down hard on her shoulder. Instinct screamed at her to pull away, but she couldn’t. She was back in Charles’s room. Trapped. 

A hand snapped in front of her, a moment before Dixon’s face swam in her vision. 

And then she was being moved. Guided from the meeting room. She was only vaguely aware of the door closing behind them. The pressure of the wall behind her. Hands on her shoulders. Dixon’s face filling her vision. 

‘Didn’t have you pegged as a coward,’ he said softly. 

Effie batted his hands away from her, one straying to her throat. It had taken weeks to remove her collar. Months for the mottled wounds to finally heal. She forced herself to drop her hand, to glare at Dixon, who had at least taken a step away from her. 

‘It’s not cowardice, Dixon,’ she spat, hurling his name like a curse. Her chest still felt too tight, but the terror receded enough for her to notice the slight pinching of his brows. The concern hidden in the depths of his dark brown eyes. 

‘I know,’ he offered, straightening to his full height. 

She rolled her eyes, shifted away from him because she knew she needed to talk. But that didn’t mean she had to look at him while she did it. 

‘It’s awful out there,’ she told him in little more than a whisper, wrapping her arms around herself. ‘Collars are only the tip of the iceberg. But -’

‘They won’t be permanent.’

Effie closed her eyes, took a shaky breath before turning back to him. There was still that concern there, but she thought she caught something else in the tension across his shoulders. Something that resembled fear too closely not to make her chest ache. For all her cutting remarks about his sheltered life, he really had no experience with the horror of it all outside for humans. 

‘And we’re in pairs, so there’ll always be someone to get them off,’ he persisted.

‘It’s not that simple.’

Dixon took a step closer, forcing her to look up at him. ‘Trust me?’

‘For two seconds can you keep your mouth shut, Captain?’ she countered irritably. She just needed to try grabbing the knife hidden under the ruffs of her skirt, the material their captors hadn’t bothered to check. The fools.

‘I should’ve ransomed you off when I had the chance,’ Smokes said in his native tongue, all rolling vowels with one bitterly spat final word.

‘Should’ve but you didn’t,’ she said, using his own language and causing him to still. ‘Thank you.’

‘You speak the old tongue?’ The mild confusion behind his voice was almost amusing, endearing even. In any other circumstance Chelle might just have told him so, might just have flirted playfully with him just to try earning a small blush, or to see how cocky he was when flirting back. But right now, there were far more pressing matters at hand.

‘Do you really think there were holes in my education?’ she asked, slipping the thin knife free and beginning to saw at the bonds holding them in place; occasionally she felt the nick of it against her skin, but it was better than the alternative. Better than sitting around waiting to find out what these new pirates – or where they privateers out looking for her? – really wanted. 

‘So you meant to say –’

‘That every time you and Musket schemed to throw me overboard I understood you? That your grumbled comments in regards to how irritating I was being by questioning or acting like I knew what I was doing were not fully crew secrets? Precisely. Now, can we focus?’

‘But –’

‘Smokes, now really isn’t the moment to grow morals and start apologising for any insult caused.’

‘Good,’ he said, voice laced with his familiar arrogant confidence, ‘because I wasn’t going to.’

‘It’s just a bit of leather,’ he muttered.

Effie rounded on him, the fire of irritation in her dark eyes. For once, he didn’t think the look was levelled solely on him. 

‘Oh yeah,’ she sneered, though there was part of her normal bite missing. The fear had stolen something from her and Dixon didn’t want to examine his own feelings about that. ‘Just a bit of leather.’ She scoffed bitterly, took a step closer to him. It didn’t matter that she barely reached his shoulder, he felt the threat in her movements. ‘What happens if a vamp decides to lock them? To leash us because it’s well within their rights, Moler?’ The sneer in her voice almost hid the way her voice stuttered over certain words, but Dixon had spent too long with her not to notice it. 

‘Good thing we’re doing it in daylight then,’ he reminded her softly. He forced himself to swallow the initial irritation that her words had ignited in him. 

Effie glanced away from him, and Dixon could have sworn there was a dark blush growing on her cheeks.

‘Effie -’ he started, reaching a hand to her shoulder. 

She stepped away from him, hugged her arms around herself. Effie was making herself smaller, trying to hide away from the fear. It was the only reason he didn’t let the rebuff hurt as much as it could have done.

‘I can’t do this, Dixon,’ she whispered. ‘He never took them off.’

The words chilled Dixon to the core. He didn’t need to ask who she was talking about. Effie very seldom spoke about her life before she was brought to the Tunnels. The horrors were hurled at Molers to remind them that they had no idea what it was like on the surface, a hint of something almost like dark humour in her voice. Never did she say anything that seemed close to an admittance of the hell she’d been through.

‘What about -?’

‘I can’t!’ Her voice broke in anguish as she rounded on him. Tears glistened in tracks down her cheeks, fresh ones following the path she hadn’t bothered to dash away. 

Dixon wetted his lips, raised his hands peaceably and forced himself to maintain the distance between the two of them. ‘OK,’ he soothed. ‘We’ll figure something else out, Effie.’