14 The Stream
Chapter Fourteen
The Stream
T he heat the following day had become an unbearable blanket of moisture. Without the slightest warning, spring had ended and summer had taken hold. Trees once brimming with buds had burst to life. And still, they offered little shade. It didn’t matter much that Mae and Locke had left late in the afternoon. Despite the woods that surrounded them, the searing sun still managed to break through as strong as ever.
Once again, Mae had no choice but to ride with him. They rode the same way they had before with her in front and him pressed against her back. Even though his arms still held her, he didn’t feel nearly as close. Maybe it was just the heat. Rather than pull away too, she should have savored this. Who knew when she’d feel this way again? Or if she ever would. Soon, he would be only a memory.
A realization that filled her with dread. She didn’t want to cast him aside—she only needed to. Now she feared she wouldn’t have the strength. The hurt on his face in the theater the night before had been so clear. She didn’t think she could bear it again. She hated even having to remember it. In this new silence between them, she only had her thoughts.
But as the day wore on, she was too tired to think about anything. Despite her well-trained riding habits, she nearly slumped off Gambit. Against the stabbing rays of the sun, she could barely keep her eyes open.
Locke, however, seemed no worse for the wear. Though the tip of his nose was raw and a beard was beginning to take hold, his posture was tall and confident, his eyes piercing and alert.
She envied this side of him so unperturbed by their journey. Constant change, nothing static—that was the life in which he was accustomed and the type of life Mae realized she wanted too. All this time, she had rather hoped for it. For however long their fates were tied together, equally uncertain, she would savor it.
At last, they closed in on the enticing trickle of water. Hidden amongst the trees, they had circled for nearly an hour in search of it. Strewn with rocks baking in the sun, the haven spread wide between the trees. The glasslike water glistened like a mirage.
“What do you think?” Locke pulled back the reins and brought Gambit to a walk. “Does it suit you?”
“Suit me? Whyever not? I’m no dandy.”
Now that they had found it, she was prepared to walk through fire and broken glass to reach it. Before Locke managed to jump down, she had already disappeared into the ravine.
A breeze whipped past, but not even that could cool her. In this heat, she wanted the water to envelop her from her toes to the very tip of her head.
With no regard for her heavy skirts, she splashed into the water. She didn’t care if it stained the dress or knotted her hair. Here in the wilderness, she did not feel the least bit need to be ladylike.
The relief of the water was instant. In its cool embrace, the heat of the sun no longer seemed as potent. She leaned back, gasping as the water inched up her neck. The weightlessness of her long, often-tedious hair felt so freeing. With a deep sigh, she brushed her fingers straight through.
From shore, she heard Locke’s footfalls and sat up. When he pulled his shirt up from over his head and threw it away, the night of the storm returned to her. The dark, menacing lines of his tattoos were exposed again.
“Hell’s Teeth,” she yelled out at him. “What does it mean?” The marking had to signify something other than an obscenity.
“It’s nothing.”
Though terse, they were the first words he had spoken in hours. Ever since the theater he had been so closed off. During the ride, she had grown tired of the silence, of constantly looking behind her to catch a glimpse of Pierce and his men. If they followed, there wasn’t the smallest trace of it.
“It can’t be nothing .”
“Fine.” He looked out at the water rippling around the rocks. “It was the name of my ship.”
“What became of it?”
“Don’t know. Left her rather abruptly…”
“It was my father’s ship too, wasn’t it? You left because he betrayed you somehow…” Mae hated the idea. These were things she thought impossible of her father. To her, he had never been a pirate. To her, he had been a different person entirely.
“Is that how you ended up in Tuscany?”
Locke didn’t answer. He continued to look out into the water as it tumbled unstoppable over the rocks and fallen trees. She didn’t need him to reply to know the answer was yes.
“Looks deep, eh?” He had walked up a large boulder jutting out from shore. “This part is quite still.”
Mae shrugged, leaning her head back into the water again. When a loud splash erupted, she snapped up. He was gone. Several feet away, he bobbed above the water and flung back his hair.
Mae struggled to find the right place for her eyes. She was desperate to fill the silence, to keep him from falling silent again. “We’d have been done for if not for this stream,” she said. “It saved us. ”
“Don’t forget it can drown us too.” Locke swam closer.
“Of course you know that best of all.” She couldn’t help but tease. “I can hardly imagine all the poor souls you forced to—what do they say? Walk the plank, is it?”
“Nah. They didn’t drown. More often, the sharks got ’em.”
“How horrid.”
“That’s why I never committed the act.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“I swear it. That sort of walk-the-plank business is simply done to amuse. I only ever killed out of necessity.”
“Gold is necessity enough, I suppose.”
“Survival, more often. But if the men had any wisdom, they surrendered at the mere whisper of my name.”
“Or else what?” At his ego, Mae could not suppress the incredulity rising in her voice.
“Death.”
The word brought out a quiet intensity in his gaze.
“No code of honor for pirates, is there?”
“On the high seas, the rules are simple: divide spoils equally and never steal from your own. Beyond that, it’s fight well or die well. That code is half the reason I’m alive… Well, amongst other reasons.” He tapped the serum that hung from his neck.
She could only imagine how important it might be at sea. Her mind filled at once with blades clashing and blood spraying. Whole limbs severed from their sockets.
The gore brought her back to the cellar. The horrible beating she had endured. The man she had killed. She didn’t even know his name. All she could remember was his young, fearless face and that hissing that had yet to cease. She’d heard it that morning when she’d opened her eyes. The worst was she knew his agony. She knew how it felt believing she might die.
“Does it sicken you? ”
Mae jolted out of her thoughts with some relief. “Of course.”
She wanted to hate those London men just as she hated Ellsworth, but part of her wondered if they deserved her pity. What if it wasn’t greed that had driven them to kill? What if it had been desperation? Hadn’t she heard that in London, if one couldn’t find work, they had no choice but to resort to violence to keep from starving? No one should have to live that way.
Rather than dream of more, maybe she should have been grateful for the quiet, easy life that had once been hers. As dull as servitude was, so many had even less.
“With or without honor, my crew and I lived well. Far better than most.”
In that particularly cultured tone, he was getting defensive again. She had not the slightest clue why. He shouldn’t give a whit what she thought. Even if they had almost… Even if she still wanted to.
“Do you think I enjoyed it? All those inevitable deaths?” he asked quietly.
Mae was surprised at his increased asperity. The tenseness she had endured all throughout their ride had returned. She could stand it no longer. He had to know her regard for him had improved. He was not the devil Mrs. Dorris had claimed him to be. The more she thought of it, the more she realized how wrong she had been. Even if it changed nothing, he had to know this.
“Locke, I meant every word in the theater. I don’t—”
“No need to spare my feelings. No need to tell me you think I’m anything other than scum.”
Scum? Mae wanted to laugh at the accusation. “And what, may I ask, is your opinion of me? After what my father did to you, I can only imagine what you must think of me .”
“Your father…” Locke trailed off, struggling against a tumult of emotion. Mae’s heart sank. These past atrocities blackened everything she’d thought her family had stood for. Whatever had happened, those da rk days had bruised him. In the reflection of the water, his jaw clenched.
“I don’t think you’re scum.” Mae thought she should clarify. “I don’t think that in the least.”
“Then divulge me the location of the vault.”
“What? Why?” She looked down at her fidgeting hands. “You wouldn’t need me anymore. Just like you no longer needed Ellsworth.”
“I gave you my word. But still you think I’d—”
“Why not?” It didn’t matter that he had saved her life with that bizarre serum. With his true mission in mind, gold or no gold, it did not make things any clearer. They were entangled in this. She didn’t know how long. Soon, he’d be off again. She would be gone from his life.
“Is not everything to you temporary?” she asked. “Even your promises?”
She did not know what more to say. She wished he hadn’t brought it up at all so that they could go about the day with their troubles left behind.
“Rather, I think it’s you who would abandon me at first chance. If you’d prefer to fend on your own, then perhaps I should oblige…”
A splashing forced her to look up. Locke was stomping through the water. For a moment, it seemed he was coming toward her. Mae floundered back, but he continued past her, toward shore. He found his coat and, fidgeting through the pockets, pulled out the key and left it there, shining atop a flat stone.
“Take it.” He pointed at it then off into the quivering trees. “And go.”
Silence stretched on for a moment. He was bluffing. If she so much as grabbed it, he was certain to stop her. Mae bundled her sopping skirts in one hand and inched forward nonetheless.
“This partnership will never work,” he said .
She felt his eyes as she took up the key. Her heart pounded. The air between them intense. Cautious, Mae looked up at him. Water still beaded down his face, his hair dripping at the ends. A sharp wind blew past. In her soaked clothing, she shivered.
She had every reason to walk away. She might be able to elude Ellsworth and those other men, but she could never leave Locke to suffer them. She wouldn’t. Not even close.
The part of her that had always been suspicious had begun to yield.
She took the heavy warmth of his hand and felt the slightest of tremors. It seemed to slip into her skin, rattling down into her core. The need to reassure him overwhelming.
This wasn’t about his word. It was about hers.
Turning over his hand, she slapped the key onto his palm.
Around the key, Locke closed his grip, but instead of seeming pleased like she’d expected, he gave a grunt and broke away.
*
Locke stilled his brush over Gambit, the rustle of Mae’s skirts unsettling him. He tried to prepare himself. All this time between supper and sleep, he had failed to find a worthy explanation for his rash behavior. The mere possibility of her departure had unnerved him. A terrible feeling he didn’t care to dwell on.
He turned his mind instead to more practical thoughts: any deals he might be able to negotiate with Pierce and the Silver Order. First, he needed to uncover any weaknesses they had—anything he might be able to overcome. He didn’t even know Pierce’s full name. But they knew his and seemingly so much more. He hated that they were still out there, watching his every step. Perhaps listening to his every word.
“Night’s closing in.” Mae approached. “Suppose Ellsworth, too, is following… ”
Locke had no doubt of that. He had sensed it as soon as they had left town and returned to the main road. The only question was when he might strike. It would likely be yet another sleepless night.
She retreated and Gambit snorted. Locke frowned at him. He could not face Mae. Not yet.
He still hadn’t come to grips with what he had risked earlier. It had been one of his more reckless acts. He had been panicked with self-doubt. If she left, he could do nothing about it. Thoughts of the sapphire had not even occurred to him. He could only think of what might happen to her. All the danger that might suddenly close in. In the end, all he wanted was to protect her. Didn’t she see that?
And yet, stay or go, it didn’t matter. He could not protect her from the Silver Order, no more than he could give back the time he had stolen. A fact that stabbed into him, robbing him of relief. Her disinclinations toward him had not been far from the mark. Since the day he’d stolen that cursed sapphire, he had been chained to Pierce. For years, he had been willing to do anything to break free. All that he had done and said had been aimed toward that end. He was ashamed of his lies, his selfishness, the fact that Mae would have to suffer the same fate as he.
Her steps closed in again.
Locke braced himself for anger, but no, everything in her tone signaled hurt. “I simply want to know why . I’ve seen this all before. Something is eating at you. I know it’s none of my affair, but—”
“Leave it alone.” Locke brushed more furiously. Gambit snorted again and shifted away.
“Did you truly expect I’d take that key? Did you truly think I’d leave?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Was it not obvious enough? he wanted to demand. He didn’t deserve her trust.
“I’ve given you false hope,” he finally said. “You are immersed in this now. It doesn’t matter if I give over the stone—those men might still kill us both. Even if you manage to take your share and escape…even if you run now. If they mean to find you, they will… I can’t stop them. There’d be no use trying. Pierce and his men, they’re too powerful.”
“But—But…how can you know that?”
“I just do. The secrets they hold…there’s too much at stake.”
And they were no one. Two nobodies no one would ever miss.
Mae clenched at her throat, fear gripping her, like it had in the theater. In an apparent daze, she moved toward the shore. Locke steadied her, helping her settle atop a large, flat stone.
“Here.” Locke retrieved the canteen near their makeshift picnic area. She swallowed a gulp. After some collective breaths, she composed herself.
“Tell me all you know. I’ll not wait a moment longer.”
Locke cleared his throat, the words as difficult to get out as they were to face. “I know nothing. I can’t even be sure they’re mortal.” And there was no predicting what they might do to ensure the stone’s secrecy. He could not even endure thinking of it. The possibilities came near to driving him mad.
“This sapphire. The day I found it… I cannot erase it. I cannot change what will happen because of it.” He was powerless. More than he had been against any enemy. He might not care. He might even find Pierce’s plans—in the end—quite freeing. But not anymore. He had other priorities. New things that he had never wanted before, he wanted now.
“There’s a chance that they might still show us mercy,” Mae said. “What would they want of me? After we surrender the stone, what would they want of you?”
“Nothing, I hope.” But he did not like leaving their fates to mere chance. Anything he had ever achieved, he had fought for and won.
“Then we’ll have to hope.” Mae sounded heartened. “And have faith. Trust, too. ”
“I’m not one to trust. Not any more than I can be trusted. I lie,” he exemplified. “I’ve lied to you.”
“Yes. I imagine you’ve lied to me about many things.” Mae stared down at her jittery hands. She clasped them tightly to keep them still.
He was glad she didn’t demand more explanation. She wasn’t trying to leave, either. Though perhaps she should.
“I have killed more people than I can count.” He was a monster, hardly even a human being. Didn’t she see that? “There’s only one I truly regret. Only one that I can never let myself forget.” And soon there might be another. He clenched his teeth, hating himself once more.
After some silence, Mae touched his arm. “Tell me.”
Locke stilled at this request. There was so much more to say. Details he had told no one. And Mae could sense it. Though he wasn’t so sure she would understand, he didn’t want her asking other questions, either.
What if she started asking about his other promises and lies? He didn’t have the courage to tell her what Ellsworth expected him to do. It was more likely he never would.
“I took no pleasure in killing.” He thought he should explain once more. “It was the strategy I liked. The game of it. The challenge of capturing a ship without a simple drop of blood split. Death, however—”
“—was necessary. I believe you. You don’t have to—”
“I’m no farmer, Mae. I’ve done more than kill a chicken or two…though feed us, it did.” He turned to her, a sudden flash of grief hit, but as quickly as it came, he steeled himself.
“We only ever battled the able-bodied. It was the high seas. A dangerous place as it was. So we rarely faced the weak and unabled. Least of all women.”
His eyes focused back on her wavering reflection in the water, expecting some sort of outrage at that last damning word. He watched as she gathered her skirts and shifted closer. The steady humming of his heart was louder than the buzzing cicadas.
If she was wise, she would tell him to stop. A large part of him hoped she would. He had warned her about his past for a reason. There were dark things she would not want to know. Particularly this story. When it was over, any trust he had garnered would vanish. A man was only as good as his company. She would see that he was a criminal, nothing more.
“We infiltrated a whole fleet,” he continued—toward his downfall. “With skill. Catching them off the coast of Veracruz, we blended in like one of their own. Then we waited for the proper moment. It was flawless, really. Perfect planning. Taking the first ship, we raised no alarms.” He gripped a loose stone and tossed it skipping over the stream.
“But once we’d secured the survivors, I knew something was wrong. Just a sense, a sort of hunch. So I had my men search the ship. I remember hearing shouts.
“Her name was Mary. She was a captive, being held for god-knows-what depravities. I could see blisters along the skin of her wrists and all over, she was shaking. Of course I demanded her release. Gave her food, set her to rights. She wouldn’t tell me much at first. But I wagered with her. After she had calmed a bit, I brought her on deck and turned her to the fleet, their great sails billowing in the calm. I told her if she could tell me the ship bearing the most cargo, the most wealth, I’d give her freedom and even some money to live off.”
“But how could she know?”
“She’d sailed with them for months, she said. Was once a personal…” He hesitated, searching for a discreet word. “ Servant to the captain. I simply asked her which ship he seemed to talk of most…and captured it.”
Mae’s eyes widened. They had indeed made off with a great deal of gold that day and yet it had never felt like a victory. What had happened had prevented that.
“We were miles away from the galleon…”
Locke trembled in the still, warm air. The sky had turned a blackish blue, the trees before them fuzzy around the edges. The stream had long ago faded into the darkness. Its presence marked only by a steady gurgling.
“What happened?”
“She died… and at the hands of my men… Lord knows how she suffered. I had to force myself to look. One glance. That’s all it took.” His voice hardened.
He would never know the full extent of his men’s crimes. Didn’t want to. “I left her in her own private quarters, locked the door. Told her she’d be safe.”
“You can hardly blame yourself for their actions,” Mae whispered, her hand hovering over his but not quite making contact. “You’d promised her freedom. You had a deal…”
“It proved not to hold much merit.” He imagined again the flash of metal against the dead woman’s throat. He knew that much had happened. If only he had done something at the first sign of abuse, come up with an agreement, an excuse to keep her to himself. “I would have been able to set her free at the first port.”
“How could your men—”
“‘You had no use of her,’ they said, the three of them all in agreement. Your father was not among them.”
Mae looked down.
“I was too angry to think. I punished them right then and there with my pistol. At times, I still think that was too merciful.”
“They got what they deserved,” Mae said grimly.
“Didn’t change what had happened.”
“Still. That wasn’t your doing.”
“But I had been one of them. For years.” He went rigid as more pain pitched in his chest. New this time. Despite his best efforts, the past had repeated itself. With Ellsworth, he had been on the side of evil again.
Not a thousand virtuous acts could undo that mistake. He knew how Mae had perceived him. She thought he was purely after his own gains. But that wasn’t true. At least not entirely. Keeping Ellsworth at bay had been a sort of comfort, a reminder they weren’t truly the same. Perhaps he had always been soft beneath his steel exterior—which had been the mask he could no longer tell.
“If only I had abandoned smuggling after that Spanish fleet,” he thought aloud. “Damn it, I wish I had.” The sapphire would still have been in Pierce’s possession. At least then Mae might have been safe. He would have lived his life already. If he’d lived long enough to see sixty, Mae wouldn’t even have given him a second glance.
“But—why didn’t you?”
“Greed.” He sniffed. “Hardly clears my name, does it? At least not amongst decent society.”
Mae shook her head. “Everyone, even those in high society, carries something dark and regrettable in their past. My family did for nearly two centuries.”
Locke could not allow the statement to give him hope. He threw another stone, this one plunking straight down.
“You can’t just take the sapphire, you know. You need money. If you do survive those men, how will you live?”
“Men like me don’t live so long. It’s not right.”
He could never find the peaceful life he had craved for so long—not with all he’d done and what might still happen. If Mae’s death was all the world had left for him…the best he could hope for was a peaceful end. That had been all he’d wanted since the start: to die not as a criminal or outlaw on the run, but as a free man.
The wound to his heart she’d given him in the theater would be his last, he decided. It certainly ranked painful enough. He’d wanted no more like it. He’d fulfill his promises to the Silver Order and be done with it. At least die with some honor. Perhaps even convince them to do the job.
He had always wanted impossible things. Death, for once, was easy. There wasn’t much chance Pierce would let him live, anyway. Those men would be more than happy to do the honors. He was sure of that.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” It seemed to take Mae a moment to fully see the truth in his words. When she did, she grasped his arm, the color draining from her face. “You wouldn’t…” Any other words seemed lost on her.
He swallowed a lump like acid, relieved that at least one person found no joy in it. So relieved, he wanted to pull her into him, just as he had in the theater…
At a sound, Mae turned away.
“We’re quite safe here.” He tried to reassure her. “In a forest littered with leaves, I’d hear anyone from afar.” An attack that was more likely to happen at night than day.
She wasn’t listening. “What if there’s something you can do to stop Pierce? What if—”
“Then I’ll do it. No matter what the price.” Touching her arm, he brought her gaze back to him. “I won’t go back on my word. I will return the stone and from the vault, I’ll take nothing else. I swear to you.”
*
Mae rose early beneath another searing sun. Locke was already gone from his adjacent yet distant spot next to her. All the blankets had been gathered in a pile between them. That warm night, a barrier had been their only purpose.
Shielding the sun from her eyes, she looked out. The water glistened brightly in the morning sun. A flock of ducks down the shore didn’t seem to notice them, even when Mae had slipped into the stream.
Locke too had been drawn to the water. Out in the stillness, he floated with arms stretched over his head. At the sight of him, any fear she had felt the night before seemed to dissipate. No matter how invincible Pierce and his men were, Mae didn’t care. She was confident Locke could overcome them. She didn’t know why, only that they had gotten this far. So how could they fail now? Perhaps it was na?ve, but she believed in him, in all his pirate strength and strategy. Even if he didn’t believe in himself, someone had to.
She glided out farther from shore, her toes sinking deeper into the warm, muddy sand. A cool breeze cut through the thick curtain of heat. The trees swayed restlessly behind her, reflected in the glasslike water.
The stillness reminded her of a nightmare she had had. The man in the cellar had been there; so had the blows she could only recall in bits and pieces.
“What might we have for breakfast?” she called out to Locke. She hoped that if she could ignore the memories long enough, she might forget them too. This morning, it seemed slightly easier to do.
“Should be some bread left.”
“Not again,” Mae grumbled. They had eaten nothing but bread and cheese for two days now. Luckily, she hadn’t much of an appetite. More than eating, she wanted to enjoy the calm she knew couldn’t last.
Used to the water now, Mae tilted her head back, trying not to notice how it made her neck tighten with pain. She jolted when Locke’s shadow crossed over her.
“Try floating on your back.”
Mae snapped up. “How do you mean?”
“Float in the water face-up,” he said. “I find it much more comfortable. ”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Straighten out your legs and lean back.” He demonstrated.
“What? No.”
They exchanged unyielding glances. Though some distance had remained, the tenseness from the day before had gone entirely.
“Oh, come now.” He righted himself. “Trust me. It’s most comfortable.”
The word trust hovered between them. Locke had almost flinched at the word. Of course I trust you , she wanted to say. Despite all that had happened, how he had used her and made it possible for Ellsworth to near-kill her, she had stayed. If any good had come from Pierce and his men, they had at least opened her eyes to the things he really wanted, transforming him in every way.
And she was determined to prove to him that he was a new man. Maybe then, he could be persuaded into taking some of the fortune. They had to survive those men. Just had to. He deserved to live a free and peaceful life. They both did.
“Fine.” She lifted her chin in challenge. “I’m not afraid.”
His crossed arms suggested he would not concede until she obeyed, anyway. So against the calm expanse, she lowered her shoulders backward and straightened out her legs. A breath of reluctance caught in her chest.
“Just relax.” He stretched his arms out beneath her. Mae breathed out, still feeling some nervousness burn in the pit of her stomach.
She felt as if he were a magician ready to make her levitate in front of a crowd of onlookers. When he pulled his hands away, she struggled not to flinch. With her head half-submerged in water, she held perfectly still. For a moment, she didn’t breathe.
To her astonishment, nothing happened. She was like a feather, floating weightless in the water’s easy embrace. She took in the bright-blue sky and the tips of trees arching and shuddering against the wind.
It was all so beautiful. She had seen the same sky and trees, yes. But from that perspective, the sight was different somehow.
Locke’s sudden grip brought her back to reality. She stared as if to see him for the first time. From that angle, he had not the look of a villain. Covered in moisture, he was iridescent in the sunlight—not entirely the pirate he was supposed to be, nor the rigid gentleman society had planted in her mind.
Suddenly, the prospect of never seeing him again made her ache. How could she even consider it? The thought evoked a feeling that seemed to freeze her up so she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Locke and his way of life had intrigued her from the first. Since then, they had grown close, she felt, closer than she had allowed anyone to get to her in years. And yet, he was more lost to her than the stream that slipped between her fingers and continued toward the sea.
Did he sense it too?
Gathering her balance along his shoulders, she studied him. For a moment, they were frozen in time, the stream passing carelessly between them, until, quite suddenly, he found her lips. It was familiar, like something they had done for centuries. The feel of him as natural and soothing as the water around her. She was blissfully weightless again, a leaf caught in the current. His grip all that held her in place.
But this wasn’t like the theater. The truth of him had been such a revelation then, the road before them so open.
Rather, this kiss was subdued, a goodbye of sorts. Anything more would have been a lie. And that would have been too cruel.
Pulling away, they met each other’s eyes in silence. A most heart-wrenching silence that left her despondent and continuing forward on their journey only because they must. She would have much rather stayed there at that stream. If not for the men following, she might have lived there with him forever.