Neliem, page 27
The doubt sears through me like the dull blade of a knife.
There is no chair ride to the gazebo, no one singing for me. And there never will be.
People died because of the infection I gave Za-Za.
I swallow the guilt down, hoping my rage will cover these confusing emotions. But sadly, I come up more miserable than before.
The carriage brakes by the outer edge of the main square, the scent of sea too distinct to be missed. Right before us, a paperboy unwraps a newspaper and thrusts it in my face.
Henric tosses him a coin, and the boy rushes to the pavement to collect it, leaving the paper in my hand. The headline blares bold and black: Sugarcane quadruped in value.
A good picture of Ezra opening the factory doors while migrant workers cheer him on.
“Are you going to buy that?” The newsstand owner glares hostilely.
Henric moves me aside. “We already paid for it.”
The newsstand owner grabs the paperboy by the collar and starts thrashing him.
Henric hisses under his breath, “Bastard.” And tosses another coin on the street.
Painstakingly slow, the carriage moves, making little gain toward the docks. Henric raps with his cane on the carriage door for the driver. “Can you get us closer?’
The driver shouts, “There’s traffic.”
Unpersuaded, Henric shouts back, “A pound if you can get us to the docks …”
Henric rubs his leg, and I almost feel sorry for him.
“I can go alone,” I offer, finally making out a bit of the bay.
“Absolutely not. I’m in enough trouble as it is. I should take you back to Aunt Cora’s and be done with you.”
I sit back as the carriage rolls up the sidewalk, people frantically moving to give way. With nothing better to do, I flick through the newspaper to find a small announcement of my betrothal. It lists the date as two weeks ago and that I’m a childhood sweetheart. My first name is listed, but conveniently not my last. Ezra took the trouble to add his prematurely. According to the paper, I’m a student and my father a professor in the island of Gretos, which is nothing short of a lie.
I crumble up the paper and toss it aside. Henric raises an eyebrow. “It seems my father is a professor.”
He just shakes his head. “He is.”
I refuse to say another word. The streets are starting to fill, and I’m not sure which way is faster. Using his whip, the driver’s bent on getting to our destination. But if I were to slip out of the carriage, I could travel much faster.
Henric clears his throat. “Not that it’s any of my business, but who would you choose, if you could?”
Startled that he knows more than he let on, I counter, “You’re right; it’s none of your business.”
Part of me wants to ask Henric about Tristan’s birthmark that resembles a lump of fat. But terrified of the answer, I press my lips together.
He nods stiffly. “You believe Ezra to be in danger and you sneak off to save him.”
I twist my head to glare. “Your point?”
“Just that, Tristan is like the sun and the stars. He’s always shined brighter than the rest of us.”
“And?”
He lets out a sigh of exasperation. “We all reflect in his glory. Even me.”
I remember how the mood in the hallway shifted when Tristan greeted his cousins. How, for Untouchables, they seemed happy and festive. But another memory pierces my gut. The day at the schoolyard when Ezra offered me his hand. That look in his eye. Determined, yes. But something else. Something that’s stayed with me every waking hour since then. A cloak of sorts, warming me, causing me to smile at almost any given moment.
Our eyes lock, and I’m the first to turn away.
I close my eyes, certain of something else—Ezra deserves someone much better than me. Someone who was not responsible for the death of his unborn brother. That debt can never be repaid.
When the carriage rounds the final corner, a commotion filters from the docks. The stench of smoke and rotten fish stinging my nose, I get to my feet and scan the bay.
Dozens of boats are on fire, thick curls of smoke blackening the sky. A crowd of fishmongers has gathered as rescue teams dressed in shocking yellow are assessing the damage. Lines of tiny lifeboats cloud the horizon as victims are being hauled over. Ghosts flutter everywhere.
“What happened?” But even as the words leave my mouth, I have no doubt what has occurred.
My nightmare has come to life.
Without a word, Henric gets out, offering me his hand. He tosses the driver a gold coin and tilts his head. “We’ve come too late.”
One man, donning a large apron smeared in blood answers, “Early this morning, the ferry capsized. There were several fatalities.”
A shiver runs down my spine. “No.”
Desperate to learn more, I press against the spectators to get a better view just as the lifeless body of a girl floats to shore, crashing against the waves. All the air escapes my lungs as I recognize a familiar pink skirt.
Hiking up my own skirts, I push closer, delving into the icy water, just in case it’s a trick of the morning light and I’m imagining things.
But this is no mirage. My eyesight clouds as I recognize the dress, the unmistakable blond hair now tangled in filthy mats. The betrothal image of the burnt incense on the wall of her house showed a boat with ribbons floating, spinning out of control.
Everyone thought it a sign of a happy life.
But now I see it for what it was. The deep gash to her skull has stopped bleeding, only one smear of blood seeping down her mouth and nose. Her body is shockingly white, with the exception of a web of blue veins.
A large woman smelling of sweet bread weeps, her shoulder touching mine as she reaches down and lugs Cassia to the shore. “Poor darling, she mustn’t have known how to swim.”
I close my eyes, as someone behind me gasps.
When I look up, Henric hunches over, clutching a handkerchief to his mouth.
“My god …” He blinks, then steps forward, his gaze in the waters. “Tanya was on the boat.”
Panic fills me. “Ezra …”
Ezra left before the crack of dawn on pressing matters.
Kicking off my boots and grabbing my dagger, I race faster into the waters, pushing past the crowd to find a familiar shape, a tousle of blond hair and feet that move like a panther. My pulse in my throat, my heart hammering hard, I race. Like Neliem himself, I quicken my pace, biting back the pain of sharp pebbles stabbing into my feet. I gain in momentum, turning one lifeless body after another but still, I don’t see him.
Henric, still standing next to Cassia’s lifeless body, shouts, “He isn’t here … come back …”
My body shivers from cold, my dagger burning hot, guiding me toward the harbor.
Moving deeper into the water, Henric braces on his bad leg and grabs me. “You are no use to him dead.”
I’m about to argue when I recognize a flash of white blond hair on a small boat about to leave the harbor. Brown dust covers the deck, glistening like diamonds in the sun.
“Za-Za!” I scream and push off Henric, who tumbles into the water. I climb back onto the dock praying that I’m not too late.
Because of the commotion, the pier’s jammed with stalled vendor wagons and crowds of curious spectators, some still in their nightshirts. Someone steps on my foot as I fight to maneuver the best way I can against an upstream of people, getting jabbed in the ribs more than once. Perching up on a crate, I see that it’s pointless. It will take hours to cut across the traffic and get to him. And I’m barefoot, making it all the more difficult.
Frantic, I jump over one crate, then another, scaling them as I did the jagged rocks of Madera. I land near the port and unbalance a man who holds on to me for support, his fingers digging into my flesh. I tug away, barely escaping as my bodice rips. Two men tumble, falling into the water. Their heads bob like apples as more lifeless bodies float into the harbor.
Tucking my dagger into my pocket, I gasp, digesting the enormity of the disaster.
Countless bodies mar the harbor, washing to shore on both sides of the bay. Spirits leave the departed, adding to the number of restless ghosts clouding the sky. But Ezra’s helpless on some small boat heading out to sea if I don’t save him.
Squeezing my eyes shut, all I see is Cassia dead. I detested her, but the sight of her lifeless body nauseates me. I retch into a trash bin, vomiting until nothing is left but the burning acid in my throat. When I right myself, a whirlwind of bodies presses too close, the stench of smoke and fish and death. Glaring, their glimmering blue eyes drinking me in. One arm grabs my shoulder and tightens like a vise.
I try to pull away, but the hold intensifies to the point of hurting.
“Let go of me …” My feet kick out, breaking the hold and I move forward, struggling to get to the boat and following the scent of cinnamon. Gaining traction, I leap and land on the vessel.
Like a pile of rags, he’s face-down on deck, soaking wet. His chest heaves, and I don’t think, I act. Using every ounce of strength, I heave his body into the small life preserve and toss him into the water.
A splash, a moan. Then our eyes connect. It isn’t Ezra’s face. It’s Landis. The deck under my feet pushes into the harbor. My head spins, unsure what to do.
Landis, his eyes rolling, gasps, “Get off the boat, Oriana.”
I look back, turning in all directions. “Where’s Ezra?”
Pushing back to the bay, the current takes him farther so that I can’t make out what he’s trying to say. Blood pours out of his mouth. “Tanya …”
I strain my ears to catch what he’s saying. “Trap … Get off …”
In my pocket, my dagger burns blistery hot. Pressing my slippery feet to the edge to dive off, the tremor of footsteps pounce hard on the deck. I hold my breath to dive in, when a sharp pain jars my head, and everything turns black.
But still, I fight. I fight and fight and fight.
I wake to a boat swaying. At least, I imagine it to be a boat and not the hammock my mother sometimes set in our small backyard to rest and catch some sunshine. My head throbs from the blow to the back of my skull, my eyes seeing double. Forcing myself to move, I manage to lift my face.
The motion of the boat turns everything upside down, making me gag. I still my nerves and breathe. The air tastes of salt and blood and sand.
I stare down at my torn dress coated in blood. My blood, I think. When I reach down, I don’t find a wound. I lay back, somewhat relieved I’m covered in someone else’s blood.
Neliem stirs and prods. My hand reaches and retracts the dagger that’s gone ice cold and wait.
By the full moon, it’s nearly midnight. And it’s the first welcome sign since forever. Neliem strikes his enemies by the light of a full moon. The stars have once again aligned in my favor.
I know this moon; it’s the same one that lit my way to the apple orchard when I awoke with hunger stabbing my gut. Where I found my eagle egg and rescued my beautiful bird. It delivered me there and will deliver me now.
Voices echo outside and my dagger jolts into life. Za-Za’s close by. I inhale sharply and force myself to sit up, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head. I close my eyes and try to sense Za-Za. There’s an unexpected chill in the air. Not of the sea, but of something else.
The hair on my arms stiffens, and I peer out the window. Something is amiss. I try to feel for Tristan, wondering if he really got on that train. I could sense it if he were close, I tell myself. My heart reacts just thinking about him. Perhaps Henric was lying just to gauge my reaction.
My hand trembles. I cower down and check my pulse. It’s weak but steady. I look around and face the inevitable. I will need to kill to survive.
Heavy footsteps precede a gentle clicking on the floorboards. Expensive boots.
I collapse to the floor before the door opens.
Pink patent boots approach, then falter before my face. For a split second, I think she’ll kick me in the head, and my hand tightens around my concealed dagger.
Instead, she sighs, and I squeeze open half an eyelid.
It’s Tanya, crouched over me, very much alive. Carefully, she runs her gloved hand over my face. “I told them not to hurt you.”
Every nerve in my body wants nothing more than to lunge and strike. But I force a pathetic moan to escape my mouth as if I’m weak and afraid.
“To think I used to envy you, Oriana.” She says my name like it’s a disease.
I shoot up with my dagger, pinning her in one fluid motion against the wall. Stunned, she drops her handbag, her mouth hanging open.
“Scream, and I’ll slit your throat. Where are we headed?’
“Waria.”
The hot dagger almost slips from my hand. Waria, birthplace of Neliem.
Suddenly, the boat rattles and a gust of wind howls like a demon. But I hold tight and stare into those sad brown-green eyes.
“Where is Ezra?”
The boat quivers, this time the image of a smoky ghoul crossing the room. As it goes through the wall, he takes a huge bite of the plaster, and the entire boat shakes violently. These are not normal spirits, but something else. My hands tingle in dread as I push her in front of me, the dagger digging into her neck.
“They’ve already started; you see them, don’t you?”
I shake my head, forcing myself to remain calm even though the boat is filling with deadly ghouls and demons. Or perhaps the devil himself.
“They’ve started the blood curse … summoning the destroyers … it’s just a matter of time now.” She shivers as if having a dagger to the throat is of no consequence. The fear pulsating from her eyes is directed at the ceilings and floors, everywhere except for me. “You weren’t part of the plan. It was Ezra, not you. He’s the one they wanted.”
My mind flashes to the carriage door lock. The cats convulsing in the alley.
I push her harder against the wall. “I know it was you. They got you to poison Za-Za.”
Before she can form a lie, I press my blade tighter against her throat so that a trickle of blood drips down her neck.
“Why? He was good to you!” I spit out.
Her shoulders sag, her lips trembling. “My uncle made me accept Landis’s proposal. Even though I wanted Tristan, I couldn’t say no.”
Another phantom stops right before us, lingering until I lift my dagger and it vanishes.
Released from my grip, she explains, “The disease he brought back from Madera. That’s what started this. It killed my aunt, lady-in-waiting to Ezra’s mother. They’ve waited for years for this revenge.”
Exhausted, I step away, angling toward the door. “You were here last summer; why not then?”
“I had to earn their trust. They had to believe that I was one of them.” She touches her neck compulsively, the look of dismay covering her pretty face. “We didn’t count on you.”
“It had nothing to do with the embargo or the strike.”
Tanya stumbles against the wall. “Everything went wrong; you were never where you were supposed to be. It was maddening. We had people trying to get you last week, but they failed. Then he started posting guards …”
The memory of the two men chasing me through the market the day I met Tristan flashes before my eyes. It all makes sense.
“We tried to kill him a dozen times, but he just wouldn’t die.” She stares at me in complete bewilderment.
Another phantom crosses the room, dissolving into the wall as the lanterns flicker, the wind howling.
“So, we had to do the spell to get the spirits to come and finish it.”
Rage bubbles up in my chest. Grabbing her by her hair, I yank her out of the room and cross the small corridor toward the deck. Losing my footing, I nearly stumble over the bodies of three men, all cut up with precision. I don’t have time to waste to figure out who did it as two phantoms hover over the bodies, gnawing on their flesh. I don’t as much as blink. When Tanya tries to speak, I press my dagger harder against her throat, when she points to the wall.
A lump lays covered in the corner. A tangle of blond hair peeking through a blood-soaked mat. His hand dangling out. That torn nail, that ring.
Za-Za.
I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Za-Za.
A wail rips out of my lungs. Part animal, part anguish as I reach down and grab him.
In answer, Za-Za’s heartbeat pulses. His forehead creases, a hint of blue eye blinking.
He’s been beaten almost to the point of death, blood oozing out of his side, too weak to move.
Tanya bats her eyes, her face contorting. “It’s too late! They’re coming for him.”
A phantom with blood dripping from its mouth moves between us, and she screams.
Hysterically, she tries to push Ezra off me, but I slap her so hard that her head spins. Her necklace breaks, tiny beads popping everywhere as she flails like a wild animal caught in a snare. A door to my right vibrates, its hinges creaking open. I turn just in time to see Tanya rushing down the corridor as two ghouls make chase after her.
I don’t think, I act. Lifting him, I brace Za-Za against the wall and scan the deck and pray. In answer, a small boat knocks against the hull.
Using every ounce of strength, I carry Za-Za on my back, my dagger warding off the evil seeping over every inch of the ship.
Throwing Za-Za into the rowboat, I use my dagger to cut the ropes, and the boat plunges down, splashing into the raging waters.
The impact of the boat hitting water makes every bone in my body shatter. Za-Za, coming to, lifts his head. “Oriana …”
His shirt in shreds, I finally see it. What I should have known was there all along. The heart that materialized on the wall the day of our betrothal is on his shoulder. It shines against the moonlight large and perfect and bright.
The lump in my throat throbs as tears sting my eyes.
Our heart. Unmistakable.
Staring into his sleepy eyes, I tighten my grip on the oars and push. But it’s as if we’re trapped in quicksand. The boat isn’t moving. Something in my peripheral vision makes me stop. A ghostly arm claws one of the ropes, preventing us from escaping.
