Finding You, Page 21

  “I forgot something at the common fire,” I tell Gilbert, and ask him to stop. He tells me we’re in a hurry, and I promise to be quick. The girls are already awake, but Des is nowhere to be found. Probably for the best, I think, but my heart aches at the thought of leaving him to worry.

  “Where’d you sleep last night?” Marion asks, her tone a little teasing.

  Of course—the last they saw of me, I was running after Tam to explain. We were all wrong about how that would turn out. “I fell asleep reading, would you believe it?” I say, forcing a smile.

  Valentina laughs lightly. “In that library of yours? Phoebe told us. I’m a little jealous you found a place to hide away like that.”

  “I was lucky.” I shrug, trying to swallow away the tightness in my throat.

  Phoebe watches me carefully, seeing through me, no doubt.

  “You hungry?” Marion asks, gesturing to a pot over the fire’s embers.

  “Actually, I’ve got to go and see Des,” I say. “We didn’t leave things in the best way. I’ll find you all later.” I almost embrace Valentina, but she’d be suspicious, so I hold back. I try to memorize each of their faces before I turn and walk back toward the waiting cart. Just in case, I tell myself. Anything could happen.

  “Ready?” Caffrey asks when I climb back into the wagon.

  “Ready,” I say.

  But we’ve barely started moving when I hear a shout and Phoebe appears behind us, running to catch up. “Nice try back there,” she gasps, jumping onto the back of the wagon next to me and trying to catch her breath. Alistair’s men shoot her questioning looks.

  “I’ll only be gone a few days.”

  “And you could use some backup.” I open my mouth to protest, but she waves my words away. “You’re not going to cut me out of the action now,” she insists. “There’s too much chance that things could go wrong. You need me, Isla Powe.”

  I roll my eyes, but it’s comforting, having her beside me. Strange, considering that the first time I saw her we were also on our way to Zachariah Curram. Only then we seemed destined to be more enemies than friends.

  “So,” she announces loudly, “who’s doing the castrating? I’ll take a shot at it if any of you are uncomfortable.”

  “Have you forgotten about the killing part?” I say, nudging her.

  “But that doesn’t need to happen right away,” she presses, grinning at me. “What did Tam think about you driving off for a week with two strange men?”

  I can feel my expression fall. “I didn’t tell him I was leaving.”

  Phoebe sits up straighter. “Why not? He’ll probably go mad, looking for you.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Isla.” I meet her eyes, reluctantly. “Don’t be an idiot.”

  I don’t answer her. I watch the ground instead, sliding beneath us, and try to forget that Tam lost his key and didn’t care. Finally I feel Phoebe’s eyes leave me, but the hollow feeling doesn’t leave my stomach.

  Caffrey’s eyes are closed, but I can’t tell whether he’s sleeping, and Gilbert is quiet at his post on the wagon’s seat. I’d like to ask what the crimes were that put them in prison in the first place, but the long, winding dragon inked into Caffrey’s skin makes me too nervous to speak. My eyes wander along the tattoo, hypnotized by the way the dragon weaves together with its own flames, from Caffrey’s neck, down his arms, and coiling around his wrists. For all I know, they were mass murderers and I’ll be adding to the list of crimes on their records by helping them.

  We drive late into the night, only stopping to let the horses rest after the air turns cool. Phoebe falls asleep quickly, and I’m left to lie awake and wish for real walls to keep the wind out, and weak tea in chipped mugs to warm my hands as I sit across the table from Pa, and the certainty of seeing Tam the next morning as we walk to school.

  The next day, Phoebe takes a turn driving, following directions that the men give her when necessary. A few times I jog beside the wagon to stretch my legs, until Caffrey asks if I want to drive.

  “I’ve very little experience,” I say in warning, but I join him on the bench. As he tells me what to do—which isn’t much—he lays their map out on his lap and traces our approximate route with his broad fingers, showing me where he hopes we are and then what signals the horses respond best to for direction.

  “I have a question,” he announces eventually, giving me a sidelong glance. “How come Swain picked you for this? We coulda gone in and taken care of everything ourselves, but he said it was important to make this trade, and that you were the only one it would work with. What’s all that about?” Phoebe turns slightly to listen.

  “I … have a history with Zachariah Curram,” I say slowly. “He’s the reason I ended up in Eisendrath. I came with Marion Colter. Do you know her?”

  “Couldn’t say,” he mumbles. “So you used to work for Curram, then?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “She’s one of the girls who escaped from his manor,” interrupts Gilbert from behind us. I jump; I had thought he was sleeping. “You know, the ones he buys all hush-hush.” How many people know? Could Tam find out through gossip?

  Caffrey’s face shows understanding, and a little color. “Of course! Right.”

  There’s silence for a moment. “Did you come with one of the prison groups?” I ask. “From one of the breakouts?”

  “I did.” Caffrey doesn’t give me anything beyond this, and when I steal a glance at him, I see that he’s watching me with amusement. “And you’re wanting to know what I did to be there in the first place?” I blush, nodding reluctantly. “What’s the worst you’d believe of me?” he says, and I know he’s teasing, but it doesn’t help.

  I wait to see if he’ll give in, but he is silent. “Did you kill someone?”

  He waggles his eyebrows but shakes his head. “Guess again.”

  “Steal something?”

  “Oh, worse than that, sweetheart! Come on, guess again.”

  I’m not sure whether I’m nervous or amused. “I—”

  “He got drunk and assaulted a lawman,” says Gilbert drolly.

  “You didn’t have to spoil it!” laughs Caffrey, reaching around and trying to knock his friend, but nearly toppling into the wagon bed instead.

  Apparently resigned to not sleeping, Gilbert sits up. “Are you curious what my crime was, then, Miss Isla?” I nod, trusting that he won’t put me through a guessing game to find out. His is a more serious air, refined and straitlaced. He’s the opposite of Caffrey, with all his muscle and tattoos. Gilbert has a carefully shaved chin, neat clothes; still, both have an edge to them that I assume comes from prison.

  “I was too political for the likes of our nation’s great leader. I spoke a little too loudly and a little too freely, and so they took me from my home and beat me and told me that I’d been caught stealing money from some company or other, and they sent me to prison. I had another five years to go when the rebellion freed me.”

  “Then why did Swain—”

  “Assign us to an assassin’s mission?” I nod. Gilbert smiles mirthlessly. “In prison, you can become a different person. I killed one of the guards with a shiv I made from a bedpost splinter. They didn’t even notice until they searched my room the next day. Caffrey took three out by himself.” I shudder, and they probably notice. “That was before the rebellion. That was when we were on our own.”

  Day passes slowly into night, and we drive late again. “Are you really all right?” asks Phoebe, her face close to mine as we curl up under our one blanket in the darkness. “Going back to Curram’s, I mean.”

  Too late to pretend I’m asleep, I decide. “I’ll be fine,” I whisper. But I’m scared. “This is the best chance we’ll get. The fact that he came to us—”

  “That’s what worries me. What if it’s a trap?”

  “It is. He thinks I’ve already been caught by Alistair.” Then, more for myself than for Phoebe, I add, “It’s different this time.” But wha
t if he has a dozen men guarding Lillian and demands that they hand me over first? What if he never lets Gilbert and Caffrey inside? No, it will be fine. We’ll save Lillian, we’ll kill Curram, we’ll get whatever we need from Boyne to find the other girls and learn who he bought us from in the first place.

  “I won’t let him keep you,” Phoebe whispers.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, and roll over, pretending to fall asleep. But my thoughts persist. Maybe this was a mistake, they say. And I can’t help it, I start to believe them.

  * * *

  I wake to a pale pink sky and help Gilbert feed the horses. The day passes slowly; I try to be engaged in the book I brought, but it’s about land ownership laws and the sentences are as dry as dust. Has Tam noticed I’m gone? I keep wondering, trying to convince myself that he’s not worth worrying over.

  Finally, we begin to pass farmhouses, half-hidden among the trees. I haven’t seen the town where Jewel and Caddy stole the food, which leads me to assume we’ve taken a different route. It isn’t until evening that we leave the cover of the trees and finally see the city in front of us, stretching far to the left and the right, walled in and powerful. When we reach the gates, Gilbert produces the papers from Swain and the sentries let us pass.

  Once inside, we drive quietly in the fading light, trying not to attract attention, and I manage to calm my anxious heart. But when the sky gets dark and Gilbert stops the cart at the gates to Curram’s manor, I realize I’m shaking. Why did I agree to come back?

  Lillian, I think. I can do this, for Des.

  Caffrey climbs to the ground and calls through the gates. I hold my breath as pale, bodiless faces appear on the other side of the bars, talking quietly before the gates swing open. “You’d better hide, Phoebe,” Caffrey mutters as he climbs back onto the driver’s bench. “They want to check that we’ve brought Isla and they’ll be suspicious if there are two girls.”

  She slips under the blankets as a sentry comes around to the back of the cart. I sit perfectly still, my hands crossed in my lap where Gilbert tied them loosely so I could slip out easily as soon as the need for pretense has passed. The man, whose face I can’t see well, leers at me from different angles before looking satisfied. “Wait inside the gate,” he says, motioning us into the courtyard.

  While we wait, my thoughts turn around and around. How different was I from all the others that Curram wants me back so badly? Was I the first girl to really give him hell? And to escape? I feel as if I’ve fallen into a recurring dream, one with an ending that keeps changing. Will I win this time? Will I escape again? Caffrey makes a show of hauling me to the ground, but my legs are shaking, so I lean against the cart as casually as I can to hide it.

  While the sentry goes to the manor to announce our arrival, Phoebe slips past me, touching my shoulder. “We don’t belong to them anymore,” she whispers. “You can do this.”

  “Wait until we’re inside and find a way into the cellar,” I tell her. “If there are more girls locked up, get them out.”

  She nods, patting one of the pockets of her dress. “I’ve still got the knife,” she says. “In case…”

  “Robbie.” I nod. She disappears into the shadows of the courtyard.

  “Ready?” Caffrey asks as the door to the manor opens.

  No, I try to say, but I can’t make any sound. I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here, I don’t what to be here. The knife from Alistair is tucked safely in my boot, the pistol in one of my pockets, concealed by my bound hands. My escorts stand on either side of me and take hold of my arms, leading me toward the front of the house. A man stands in the doorway, a man in a round hat, a man I know. Boyne.

  I can’t do this.

  It’s too real. Too recent.

  I try to breathe as we reach the steps, and I can see him smiling. “Welcome,” he says, looking between the two men before letting his eyes fall on me. “Mister Curram is expecting you.” There’s a glint in his eyes before he turns to lead us into the house. “If you’ll just follow me this way.”

  Gilbert glances at me when Boyne’s back is turned, nodding as if I’m supposed to know what he means. That everything is going according to plan? That he’s sorry he’s gripping my arm so tightly? I don’t know. My throat is tight with fear; every footstep is a struggle.

  We pause in the foyer, where two new sentries step toward us, glancing at Alistair’s men. “Oh, and you’ll need to leave any weapons here,” Boyne says, clearly enjoying everything about this. No wonder Alistair was so irritated. Caffrey argues that they came here in good faith, and Gilbert says it isn’t fair, both playing their parts as offended emissaries well. Eventually they acquiesce and leave their personal weapons with the sentries, and we’re led onward.

  I know this corridor, I think as we get closer and closer, and then, I’m going to be sick on the carpet. Then we turn and we’re in the library of all places. And he’s there.

  He looks even taller than I remember, but thinner, too, and older. His beard has grown in, showing flecks of gray that I hadn’t noticed before, and there’s a pale line across part of his face that I know is the scar I gave him. But he’s smiling, condescendingly, and for a second that’s what I hate most about him. His eyes tell me that I’m helpless and pathetic, and I believe them. I have to believe them.

  I try to breathe, but I can only manage short gasps.

  “I hardly dared believe I’d see you again,” he purrs, as I hang like a fish between Gilbert and Caffrey. “You know I only received Alistair’s response a matter of hours ago. Hardly enough time to prepare myself for this pleasure.”

  I hear a whimper that must be my own; Curram moves toward me, and I’m vaguely aware of Boyne leaving the way we came in. Kill him, I think, wondering when Alistair’s men will make their move. He’ll touch me if you don’t do it soon.

  He’s right in front of me suddenly. “Not much to hold her,” he says to Caffrey, his eyes roving over my hands.

  “She didn’t put up much of a fuss,” Caffrey says, shrugging.

  Zachariah Curram smiles knowingly. “She likes to surprise you,” he says. He steps back, clasping his hands together. “As a matter of fact, I seem to remember regretting the last time I underestimated this one.” He steps toward me again, pulling at one end of the rope and unraveling it easily. “Strange. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that wasn’t really meant to be much help.” I can feel Gilbert and Caffrey shift uneasily, and my heart races faster. Before I can lunge at him to cover for them, Curram seizes a handful of my dress, his hand closing around the gun before he pulls it out of my pocket.

  “Guards!” he shouts, and a dozen armed men stream in, as if they had been waiting. “Get them out of here,” their master says casually, gesturing at my friends. I look between them wildly as they struggle against his men.

  “Look, I don’t know what you think—” Gilbert says, but Curram cuts him off.

  “Either you’re very stupid yourselves and never searched her, or you take me for a fool,” he says coolly. “I am not a fool.” Gilbert’s eyes dart to my face, and Curram smiles. “I thought as much. Please escort these men to the cellar until I’m ready to send them on their way.”

  No, no, no.

  The soldiers haul my friends, shouting and struggling for all they’re worth, toward the door. But their efforts are for nothing. I try to make a break for it, but Boyne’s meaty hands grab hold of me. His arms wrap around my stomach, holding me fast while I kick and try to tear myself away. “Not this time,” he hisses in my ear, sending a chill through me. I bite and thrash until I’m worn out, but it’s useless; the door closes behind me and the sounds of Gilbert’s and Caffrey’s struggles fade.

  Suddenly Curram is right before me again, running his hands along my dress, between my legs, never breaking eye contact and smiling as I start to cry despite myself. “At least you keep things interesting,” he purrs. Ignore my boots, I think frantically. But his too-thorough hands reach them next and he finds
the knife almost instantly.

  In a blur, he tosses it across the room, where it clatters to the floor. “So you thought you’d get away again, hmm?” he asks, straightening up and stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers. “You didn’t just miss me?”

  I spit in his face, and he wipes it away, chuckling.

  Once again I try to lunge out of Boyne’s grasp. He’s not expecting it this time, and I break free. But before I can get far, new hands grab hold of me and Zachariah Curram draws me up in front of his face.

  “No matter the reason, I’m so pleased you came back,” he says through clenched teeth. His hands hold my arms tightly to my sides, while his eyes undress me. When he looks at me, I’m covered in shame again, heavy, ugly shame that I don’t deserve. “We have unfinished business, my dear. I don’t even know your name.”

  “And you never will,” I say as calmly as I can. “Pig.”

  For just an instant, Curram lets go of my arms, stunning me with a smack across my cheek that leaves my ears ringing and my eyes filling with tears. My vision is blurry as he pulls me close to his face again, and he’s laughing. “You’re unarmed now,” he sneers, his smile increasing. I hear Boyne chuckling, and my throat tightens as I try to swallow. “So I think this time we’re really going to have some fun. I never did get my money’s worth from you.”

  twenty-six

  Think your way out instead. Breathe. Think.

  I tell myself that I’ll survive this as I have everything else.

  That I will be fine.

  That there will be a tomorrow for me.

  But I can’t do this, can’t be here, can’t see his face so close to mine. Can’t let him touch me one more time.

  Curram looks at Boyne and jerks his head, and Boyne slides forward, the rope from before in his hands. No, no. I try to kick Curram, but he only holds me more tightly, turning my back to him and wrapping his arms around my body. I can’t reach his arm to bite him, can’t even spit at him again with my back against him. Not for the first time, I feel small and helpless in his hands. And my strength is fading. I try to scream, but he slams his hand under my chin, holding my mouth closed and leaving me dizzy from the force. My struggle becomes pitiful.