Chapter 73
SPIDERS IN THE STAIRWELL, A PRINCESS GOES MISSING, AND ONE LAST HOPE
Bradley removed his boots and walked silently across the sand to where the princess sat with her feet half-swallowed by the shallows.
Her sun-kissed auburn hair fluttered unbound in the evening breeze; she was finally allowing it to dry.
Elbows propped up on her drawn-in knees, she hung her head between them and drew in long, steadying breaths. She was missing the sunset.
“Tula.”
She stirred, lifted a tired face. “Oh, you’re back. How did it go? Master Dirk?”
The Mini Red shook his head. “But I’m hopeful. The books there are just packed with all this fascinating stuff. We go back tomorrow.”
“Renaldo wanted me to give you this.” Bradley handed her the bottle, and new life flickered in her eyes.
“So thoughtful.” She stabbed at the wax with her hairpin, ripped out the cork, and guzzled half of it without once pausing for breath. “I suppose we can check in to The Dreary Pelican now. I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”
She rose and reached for the bags, but Bradley slung each strap over his shoulder and took hold of her suitcase. “Don’t forget your hat,” he growled as he trekked past her for the boardwalk.
Millie retrieved it and hurried to keep up, but the exhaustion of the day had her lagging behind. Dirk flew nearby and discreetly propelled her forward with a tailwind.
Mr. Jameson, hunched on boney elbows over a damp newspaper, greeted them with, “It’s a copper for late check-in.”
“Of course it is,” Millie muttered as she fished about in her reticule.
The innkeeper pocketed the coin and plucked the lantern off the desk. “Come on, before you make me any later for my supper. Doesn’t take long for toast points to go soggy in a sea town.”
The light of the hazy-glass lantern bobbed as he led the way up the rickety set of switchback steps to the third floor.
Millie followed closely on his heels, as his lantern was the only source of light and there was something unsettling about the walls.
Predatory mildew was the phrase that came to mind, and she really didn’t want to find out if her insecurities were realities in actuality.
Something bumped into her foot.
Could’ve been a hermit crab. Could’ve been a roach. Could’ve been a spider the size of a rat.
“Eeek!” She trampled up the remaining stairs and shored up against the innkeeper and his precious light, one foot poised to stomp down on whatever scuttled out of that stairway next.
Bradley emerged from the gloom with his hands raised. “I surrender.”
Mr. Jameson jostled Millie away from him, inserted a brass key into the lock, muscled the door open, and stepped off to the side. “Communal bathroom’s down that hall. I’d wear sandals to the shower if I were you. Enjoy.”
The bedroom was fashioned from the same salt-weathered planks as the clapboard—a gray-green that was surely hiding mold in its fissures and furrows.
It had a high ceiling, so at least Bradley only had to stoop when passing over the threshold.
There was a tiny three-drawer dresser and a single bed with a flat mattress, but at least the comforter looked thick and fluffy, where it wasn’t scorched with cigarette burns.
A nightstand with a half-burned taper candle and a wee box of matches completed the decoration.
Millie forced a swallow. “How cozy.”
“Yeah, for the bedbugs,” Bradley muttered.
“I vote we never eat in this room,” Dirk suggested. “Or touch anything we haven’t sterilized first with copious amounts of alcohol. Or fire.”
“It just needs a few homey touches. Like a vase of tulips right over there. And maybe—” Millie extracted her perfume bottle from her reticule and gave each corner of the room a healthy spritz. “That’s better, right?”
Despite the zhuzhing up, the princess wasn’t in the mood to do anything but lie down and drink the rest of her tonic, so Dirk stayed behind to keep her company and Bradley left to find his supper at Lantern & Hearth.
Nash was there, spooning out bowls of skate chowder thick with potatoes and cream. He topped each with crumbled bacon and a flourish of fresh parsley, and the kindly matron who had recommended The Dreary Pelican to them balanced a thick slice of homemade bread upon the bowl’s rim before serving.
“Where’s that lovely young lady you were with earlier?” she asked, setting the bowl down in front of him.
“Bed.”
When he didn’t elaborate, the matron nodded and tapped the table. “Well, you enjoy that.”
Bradley was starving, and the food smelled amazing, and yet all he could do was push the potatoes and bits of skate about with his spoon.
Despite the catastrophe of the morning, the princess had never given up.
She hadn’t thrown a tantrum, hadn’t misdirected her anger, hadn’t broken down in despair.
She’s just pivoted, one defeat after another until she was completely drained.
Yet come tomorrow morning, she would be attacking this problem from another angle.
Bradley’s cheeks burned with shame. He had done none of those things when the Tianzi Toad Treasure Hunt had blown up in his face.
He ate his food without tasting it, paid for his supper with the coin the princess had given him, and shuffled back to The Dreary Pelican.
In their room, Millie was curled up tight on her side at the edge of the bed and Dirk slept in her open suitcase.
He carefully extracted the amber bottle from where it was nestled in the crook of her arm and set it on the nightstand.
He didn’t trust the communal bathroom for a second, so Bradley forewent brushing his teeth and examined the floor.
His OCD immediately revolted at the thought of sleeping on the planks where hundreds of bare feet infested with trench foot had trod (probably), but he promptly told it to shut the hells up.
Sharing a bed with the princess now didn’t seem right, especially when his emotional pendulum swayed from wanting to throttle her to kissing her senseless.
Steeling himself, he rolled his sleeves down past his hands and knelt carefully to find a spot where the mold wasn’t actively growing.
Despite its shady appearance, the floor truly was clean and dry.
Thank Caelus’s stars for that. He employed his knapsack as a pillow, and after a moment of fussing, he opened it to discover what kept digging into his neck.
It was a vial. Three of them, actually.
His bath oils.
Bradley sat cross-legged in the light of the single taper candle and upended the knapsack into his lap.
The princess had packed him an extra robe, plenty of fresh socks and boxer briefs, plus two changes of his sleeveless undershirts.
He had toiletries, including the bath oils and bubbles, and a little med-kit filled with dried kelp, gauze, antiseptic, and the seaweed ointment.
He was astounded at the thoroughness and thoughtfulness. The only thing he was missing was—
A piece of paper crunched beneath his elbow. Unfolding it, he held it up to the candlelight.
She had sketched a drawing of his sailboat, the little carving his father had made for him. She knew what a comfort it was to him, and of course how risky it would’ve been to bring it on the journey.
Something cracked in his chest then, heat pricking the backs of his eyes. Rising onto his knees, he dabbed the tiniest bit of seaweed ointment onto the sleeping princess’s sunburned cheeks and the red tips of her ears. Then he replaced everything in his knapsack and blew out the candle.
He traced the lines of the sailboat sketch by moonlight over and over until his eyelids grew heavy, then he fell asleep with the paper pressed over his heart.
In the morning, the princess was nowhere to be found.
Yesterday’s clothes were draped across the bed, so she hadn’t been kidnapped.
That didn’t stop Bradley and Dirk from thundering down the three flights of rickety steps and spilling out onto the boardwalk.
She’d almost drowned yesterday, after all.
Not many stirred at this early hour—those on holiday preferred to sleep in—but they questioned all they could on the princess’s whereabouts.
“She’s about this tall with threads of gold in her auburn hair,” Bradley said, tamping down on his panic. “Chocolate-brown eyes, a smile that can light up a room. She’s probably wearing a cutlass, and she’s really pretty—”
“Pretty?” Dirk interrupted. “Since when did you think Millie was pretty?”
“Oh, that young woman’s down there at ol’ Midge’s place.” The clam digger pointed halfway down the boardwalk. “See that place with all the greenery? That’s Midge’s.”
“Thank you!”
The two rushed down the boardwalk, scattering the gulls, and halted outside a building that looked like it had grown straight out of a swamp.
Moss dripped from the eaves and clotted on the roof.
The walls were woven from many tiny branches, most of them alive and sprouting leaves.
A yellow lantern hung above the door, creaking eerily in the breeze.
“Swamp witch,” Dirk whispered. “It has to be.”
Bradley scoffed, but his senses still tingled. Just as they mustered the courage to enter, Millie exited.
“Oh, hello,” she said brightly. “C’mon, you’re just in time.”
“In time for what?” Bradley barked. “We woke up to find you gone. We’d thought you’d drowned!”
“Only Bradley thought that,” Dirk said. “I have the utmost confidence in you, Millie.”
“Thank you, Master Dirk.” She marched off the boardwalk and dropped into the powdery sand. Up ahead, Jerry waited for her beside his beached rowboat.
“You’re trying that again?” Bradley asked. “Didn’t you retch enough yesterday?”
“Yes, I’m trying again, and yesterday, I didn’t have these.
” She held up her hands, revealing two tight leather cuffs upon her wrists.
Sewn into the leather were pieces of scrimshaw with arcane symbols for calm, peace, and endurance.
“See? Anti-seasickness charms! I got the deluxe package that included an acupuncture session—it’s where they stick you full of tiny needles along your pressure points.
That Midge is a magician with those needles, I must say. ”
“So you’ve resorted to voodoo?” Bradley rolled his eyes.
“Would you keep your voice down? It was difficult enough convincing Jerry he misheard the word ‘pirate’ yesterday. I don’t want him thinking I’m a witch now, too.”
“No, you’re just girl who visits witches.”
“Shush.” She flung up a hand. “Good-morning, Jerry! Thank you for being so accommodating. Shall we?”
The princess stepped into the boat, and the two men shoved it into the water. Millie beamed from the center of her bench until Jerry leaned back with his first sweep of the oars. The hull shot into a wave, and the princess practically threw herself overboard trying not to vomit inside the boat.
“Again, miss?” Jerry commiserated. “That’s rotten luck. Midge’s charms aren’t cheap.”
“Take me back,” she gasped, shaking. “Take me back.”
The moment the hull rasped against the sand, Millie scrambled out of the boat. She rinsed off her mouth with seawater and sat back on her heels as the surf swirled around her. “Maybe these cuffs aren’t tight enough. They’re supposed to really press into that Nei-Kuan pressure point—”
“Just give it up, Tula,” Bradley cried, exasperated. “You don’t belong on a boat, and you’ll never become a pirate! Every time you hurl your guts out into the sea, you drop five pounds, and you’re forcing the rest of us to watch you slowly kill yourself. Just stop already!”
Millie shoved herself upright, staggered, and caught her balance. “No.”
“Tula—”
She thrust a finger into his chest. “This won’t beat me. It might look stupid to you, but I still have hope. And yes, I know it hurts to hope. But it hurts more to fail because you didn’t even try.”