Finding You

  “I slept outside,” I say, and Des gives me a pointed look.

  “So romantic,” he croons.

  “Nothing happened,” I say, but the blush I feel spreading across my face probably doesn’t help my story. Phoebe looks between us and rolls her eyes.

  “Ready?” she asks, skimming my appearance. I’m still wearing Tam’s coat, I realize. I nod, and she calls to the others to join us.

  Half of our trek up the hill is filled by Val berating Des for venturing out without help, while he argues that her fussing is exactly the reason he had to do it. But he seems to be getting slower with every step, fatigued after only ten minutes on his feet, even with his arms around Phoebe’s and my shoulders.

  When we reach Alistair Swain’s office, the secretary looks unhappier than he did yesterday. “You’re early,” he says with exasperation.

  “It’s Marion Colter,” Marion says quickly, and the man nods before disappearing behind the door. “Finally,” she says, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

  When the man reappears, he groans and opens the door for us. “Mister Swain will see you now, but only for a moment.” A little nervously, we shuffle inside.

  The room is vast—a feasting hall or ballroom, no doubt, when this castle was first built. The ceilings rise dozens of feet above us, the walls made up of tall, cobweb-covered windows or hidden by hole-riddled tapestries. A hundred years of mice and negligence.

  Movement across the room draws our attention.

  Two guards are stationed at the back corners of the room, watching us carefully, and between them, a man stands in front of a desk by one of the windows, regarding us coolly. He’s tall, lanky even, but his clothes are well fitted, and his self-assurance makes him imposing. His arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes drifting over our group, falling on each of us one at a time, as if he knows all our secrets and is only waiting to see what we’ll confess on our own. Despite a quizzical, almost crooked mouth, there’s something startlingly attractive about him. I think it’s his eyes, his blue, blue eyes. Their icy confidence makes me nervous. “What’s all this, Miss Colter?” he asks, his voice mellow and careful, his accent lifting the ends of his words.

  “We have valuable information for you,” I say, my voice coming out louder than I meant it to. The man’s mouth turns up in a smirk.

  “School friends of yours?” he asks Marion, but his eyes are on me.

  I hear her take a breath. “Fellow sex slaves, actually.” The man, Alistair Swain, turns to Marion sharply. “All property of Zachariah Curram.”

  twenty-two

  “I know you work with him,” she goes on, “because we found receipts among his things. Isla brought some of his papers and your name was on them. But he works for Nicholas Carr as well.”

  “I know,” Alistair interrupts, nodding. “That’s why he’s been so valuable to our cause. It isn’t just the weapons.”

  There’s silence for a moment. Marion looks confused. “Did you—”

  “Did you know about the girls he was buying?” I demand. “Girls like us?”

  He looks straight at me with his piercing eyes. “I did not,” he says. “Can you tell me anything specific about his practices? Do you know whom he deals with?”

  My chest is tight. “I don’t. They took us from different places, shipped us by train to a warehouse and—and branded us.” I hold out my hand and he takes a step closer. Around me, the other girls hold their hands out, too, and Alistair’s brows come together in what might be anger. “He came and chose a dozen of us. Then that group was brought to Curram’s manor and kept in his cellar.”

  “You weren’t the only ones, then?”

  “At least one of them died,” says Valentina quietly from behind me.

  “We don’t know what happened to the others,” adds Phoebe.

  “But we are the ones who escaped,” I say. The words taste of that first night of victory, of the starry sky, my feet on the lamplit pavement, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “And how did you manage that?”

  “You were there,” Des says suddenly from the back of our group, where Valentina supports him. Alistair Swain seems to notice him for the first time.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Alistair says evenly, his eyes narrowed.

  “You were a guest of Curram’s. I saw you at his house. There was a gala.”

  Recognition comes over Alistair’s face. “You deal cards,” he says slowly.

  “But…,” I start as the implications of this dawn on me. “But Curram gave some of the girls to his guests that night.” I glance at Marion, my anger building, but she just looks stricken.

  “Not to me,” Alistair insists, catching my gaze and holding it. “I had no part in that. I give you my word.”

  “You just said,” Phoebe starts, standing next to me with her fists clenched tight at her sides, “that you didn’t know what was going on. Why should we believe anything you say now?”

  Alistair sighs, and I can see the gears turning in his head. “I did know, to an extent. Perhaps I shouldn’t have pretended otherwise. But I never accepted Curram’s … generosity in that regard. The simple answer is that Zachariah Curram and his excessive habits are a symptom of the very corruption we’re trying to put an end to. As long as Nicholas Carr remains in control, and Curram proves himself useful to Carr, there is nothing I, or anyone else, can do to stop him. With his money and connections, Curram will always be in a position to use others. The best I can do is to use him to get to Carr. Once he’s out of the way, we can put an end to Zachariah Curram’s atrocious ways. Unfortunately, we need him for now.”

  The room feels like it has doubled in size. “So you won’t do anything to stop him from buying and raping and killing more girls like us.” My words echo off the ceiling and come back to cloud around me, putting me once more in the moment when I thought I was truly helpless.

  “You were very brave to escape the way you did,” Alistair says. I open my mouth to argue and hear the others do the same, but he goes on. “I promise that as soon as it is possible, I will find for Curram the justice he deserves. I wish that moment were now.”

  There’s silence for what feels like a long time, and I can hear my heartbeat.

  “You have to do something,” Marion chokes, finally speaking up. “We think Curram may be looking for us, and this was the only place I knew to come. We thought you would help.…” She trails off, and Alistair rocks back on his heels, watching us.

  “You’ve put me in a difficult position,” he says sternly, staring Marion down, “with a man who has it in his power to ruin everything we’ve built here.” Marion’s hands tremble slightly, but she doesn’t cower. “If Zachariah Curram believes that I’ve betrayed him by hiding you all, he can say a word to Carr and the entire army will surround us in moments.”

  Silence again. “Are you asking us to leave?” Phoebe says sharply.

  Alistair looks at us long and hard, contemplating. “No,” he says finally. “But I will expect your cooperation if I ask for it. We can discuss this further at another time. In the meantime, I can assure you of my protection while you remain here at Eisendrath.”

  It’s clear we’re being dismissed, but Des doesn’t budge. “You don’t know anything about a girl Curram keeps, then, separate from his manor? Or of a place he might hold someone?”

  Alistair shakes his head. “I do not,” he says, rounding his desk and taking a seat.

  “Your deals with him are funding the capture of girls like us,” I say, shaking.

  Alistair kneads his brow. “I understand,” he sighs. “But my job is to think of the greater good.” He looks between us once more. “If you’ll excuse me, I have business to see to.”

  I storm out the door and the others follow.

  “That can’t be it,” I say, pacing back and forth. “He can’t just let Curram go on as before. People are dying.”

  “I thought he’d want to help,” Marion whispers, looking like
she might cry. Then she looks angry as well. “He must have other ways of getting to Carr. He can’t just ignore what we told him. So many times he’s talked about justice and the oppressed, and—and—”

  “If he won’t help us, we’ll have to do something on our own,” I say, barely thinking about the words. Everyone stares at me.

  “Like what? What could we do?” Val’s eyes are wide.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ll have to think about it. And Des has to heal. But we can’t rely on Alistair Swain when clearly we’re not his priority.”

  We make our way down the hill without speaking. My mind wanders and I’m only vaguely aware of where we’re going. How can we bring Curram to justice? I think. I need to start by finding out what he does with the girls he’s finished with. The ones who still need saving. And what about the people he bought us from? No matter what we do to Curram, they’ll still be taking girls off the streets and selling them to people like him.

  More than anger, disappointment seeps in. We shouldn’t have assumed Alistair Swain would help. As soon as we saw his name on those receipts, we should have known that our problems wouldn’t be the priority of a man leading a revolution.

  Back at the common fire, we find berries and gruel in a giant pot hanging above last night’s embers. Valentina passes a bowl to each of us, but I don’t have much of an appetite. I force mouthful after mouthful down my throat, but I’m sick with uncertainty. What if Alistair changes his mind and decides to give us up to save his camp? What if Curram finds us here? What if he never pays for what he did, and buys more girls and ruins more lives?

  Phoebe slides closer to me on one of the logs that surround the fire. “Don’t be discouraged,” she says, frowning. In the firelight, her hair and skin glow like gold. “We’ll make him pay. We’ll avenge the girls who didn’t make it.” But the longer I think of Eugenia, of Cecily, of the nameless girls and their screams, the harder it is to feel the same hope that she does.

  “Isla,” she says firmly, “you’re doing everything you can.”

  “I’ll be back,” I say, getting to my feet and heading toward the barracks.

  All the way there, I finger the sleeves of Tam’s coat, pretending it’s his arms around me instead. I pass the smithy, and pause. It takes the farrier only a moment to solder my chain back together where Curram broke it. Standing so close to the fire pit, watching the blacksmith take hot metal rods out of the coals and hammer them into line pulls me back to the day in the warehouse, my hand held flat, the red brand searing my skin. I leave the moment the chain is ready, tucking it into my pocket until it cools.

  When I finally reach the pavilions, someone directs me to Tam and I find him sitting on a cot, buttoning the collar on his uniform shirt.

  “Isla,” he says, standing when sees me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk,” I say, realizing as I do that he’s probably busy.

  He glances around. “I’m expected for drills in just a few minutes. Can I walk you back somewhere?” I nod, trying to be grateful for even a few minutes.

  As we walk, he looks above him into the dense branches of the trees. “Have you climbed any of these?” He gestures around us. “They can’t be that hard. No harder than your gutters and railings, huh?”

  I shake my head. “Easier than that, I’ll bet.”

  His grin splits his face. “Oh yeah?” he says.

  “I’m wearing a dress, Tam. I can’t climb if you’re standing underneath me.”

  He blushes furiously. “Sorry, right! I could go first, if you like?”

  I nod. “Sounds perfect.” It takes Tam a minute to find what he deems to be the best tree, with low, thick branches that bow outward before growing upward and a rough trunk that’s good for gripping. He grabs hold of the first branch, which is shoulder height for him, and hoists himself up until he’s perched like a monkey on the most level section. When he starts to climb to the next branch, I see him wince; his leg, no doubt.

  The branch is level with my head, so I have more trouble getting a grip and pulling myself up. It takes me a less-than-graceful moment to straddle the branch and catch my breath before I mount the next bough and settle beside Tam, trying to disguise my heavy breathing. “Not so hard,” I say.

  There isn’t much space between us, so our legs and shoulders knock together, but I don’t mind. “Who taught you to climb trees?” Tam asks. “Not that fellow you ran off with this morning, right?”

  “What, is Tam Lidwell jealous?” I nudge him, but the movement unbalances me. Tam throws an arm out behind me so I don’t fall, but my heart is racing. “You should meet Des, actually. I’ll bet you’d like him.” We’re both quiet for a moment, and I realize his time is ticking by.

  “We should go,” Tam says, shifting slightly. “I really should get back. After you?”

  I climb unceremoniously out of the tree, my legs shaking like reeds by the time I reach the ground. Tam is beside me in a moment.

  “You know what you still haven’t told me,” he says, leaning in almost conspiratorially as I lead the way back toward the common fire, “and I keep asking, why’d you come here? How did you even know about the rebellion? I hadn’t heard of it until I joined the army. Nobody ever talked about it at home.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I say, my mind racing to find the right words for my story. “The cities are controlled by the rich men who benefit from Nicholas Carr’s partiality.”

  “So now you’re a politician?”

  My face feels warm. “I’ve seen cruel people, rich and powerful men who are dishonest and wicked.”

  “All since I left? I thought mine was the surprising story.” I glance up at Tam, who’s still waiting for my explanation.

  I change my approach, my words tentative. “Do you remember that girl at school, Eugenia Rigney, who everyone said looked just like me?”

  “I don’t think she looks like you,” Tam says matter-of-factly. “You’re much prettier than Eugenia Rigney.”

  I blush, trying not to be deterred. I don’t mention that he’s probably the only person who thinks so. “Well,” I continue, “after you left, something, um, happened to Eugenia. She … somebody took her.”

  “‘Took’?” He stands straighter. “What do you mean, ‘took’?”

  “Kidnappers. They took her and several other girls from the city, and they sold them to rich, filthy men, and to brothels, I think.” I’m shaking. “Nobody can tell me what happens to the girls after they’re disposed of, except that I know some of them are killed. There were dozens of them taken … I think it happens all the time, on a schedule.”

  I look down when Tam’s hand finds mine: the right one, free of scars.

  “Is that why you’re here?” The words I need to say are stubbornly refusing to be loosed. I try to cough them up, convincing myself that this is the moment to tell him. But then he goes on. “You want to find justice for Eugenia and others like her?”

  And I find that I’m nodding, because, I tell myself, it’s the truth. But really, it’s because it’s the easy answer, to agree to the far simpler scenario Tam is supplying for me.

  “You finally found the right adventure,” he says, with a hint of a sad smile. “I’m so proud of you, Isla.” I don’t know what to say, but his focus shifts to something over my shoulder. “Isn’t that your friend?”

  I look up, and Des is slowly making his way toward us. “You should probably be getting back,” I say, still worried that Des will make a casual remark that will ruin everything.

  “I should introduce myself at least,” Tam insists as Des reaches us.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Des says, looking pale. He glances between Tam and me, his eyes suspicious. “But I need to speak with you, Isla.”

  “This is Tam. Tam, this is Des. He and I were … he’s … he’s my friend.” I can feel Tam sizing Des up as he moves a little closer to me.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Tam says, a little
standoffishly. And then, “I’m glad Isla has made friends here already”—Des gives me a funny look—“since she’s never been good at interacting with other human beings.” I elbow Tam, and he laughs, but it’s tense.

  “Isla’s mentioned you,” Des says, narrowing his eyes. “I look forward to seeing what sort of man you are.” Des leans in toward me. “Can we speak in private?” He watches Tam out of the corner of his eye.

  “You should go on, Isla. You know I have to get back.” Tam smiles, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it. He lifts his hand like he’s going to touch my shoulder, but drops it awkwardly instead. Finally, with a somewhat less-than-friendly glance at Des, he slips past us, leaving me with a lurch in my stomach.

  As soon as he’s gone, I whirl on Des. “You could have been nicer! What was that? Did you hobble all the way over here just to make things awkward?”

  “I take issue with the term ‘hobble,’” he says, unfazed by my frustration.

  “No, Des, no. Answer my question. Why weren’t you nice to him? You scared him away!”

  “I hope he doesn’t scare that easy,” Des groans, rolling his eyes. “I just want you to know that I’m here to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

  “It’s Tam, Des. I’ve known him all my life, I told you. He’d never hurt me.” I take his arm and we start walking. I can feel that he’s grateful for the support, even though he tries to hide it.

  “I take it back, by the way,” he says. I look at him sharply. “I did hobble.” He watches me sideways, the grin that mocked the soldiers and first made me like him creeping slowly onto his face.

  “You’re an ass,” I say, but I can’t help but return the grin. “Did you … well, what did you think of Tam? Don’t say you hated him, please?”

  Des pretends to search for an answer. “He’s kind of a pretty boy, isn’t he?” I punch his shoulder and he doesn’t even flinch.

  “That was supposed to teach you a lesson,” I moan, wringing my hand.

  “Oh, sorry. Hit me again; I’ll pretend it hurts. No, really”—he starts laughing—“really, I will. Go for it. Try again.”