Chapter 11 #2
He shook his head. His hair, brushed back when wet and now partially dried, fell forward across his brow. The longer style suited him. “All the mercenaries have a military background. They’ll either recognize me or recognize what I am. They will not hesitate to collect a bounty.”
“The conscription bounty,” she said. A vile practice.
“Your thoughts on that are perfectly clear. Does it please you to see me humbled at every turn?”
“Yes, it warms the depths of my cold spinster heart.”
He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back. It refused to stay. “I never said you were cold, or a spinster.”
“A hunter then,” she said, ready to find an acceptable solution that did not involve her. “My cousin Mira undertakes such assignments. She’s frequently in town. You shouldn’t have to wait long for her, or you can try your luck with an itinerant hunter. Several pass through town on a regular basis.”
“No, I would prefer you.”
“Pearson—”
“Anthony, please.”
“Pearson,” she repeated, “I cannot be your companion. We’ll bicker, words will get heated, and I’ll push you off the train.”
“That is rather specific.”
Nina tightened her grip on the cup. His words implied levity, like he was trying to charm her, but his tone was serious. Pearson wasn’t the kind of person to jest. She said, “I’m happy to find you a qualified nursemaid.”
“No.” His hand slammed against the table. “It must be you.”
“Calm yourself or I’ll add wolfsbane to the next pot of tea,” she said, her voice cold.
“That. That is the reason it must be you, Sheriff Navarre.” He pointed a finger at her. “Anyone else may be swayed by my rank or my family’s wealth. They may find a scrap of compassion for my sorry state but I refuse to exist as a feral creature. You dislike me?—”
“Loathe is more accurate,” she said.
“You loathe me and you will not hesitate to do what is necessary,” he said, pausing to catch his breath. “You are the only one I trust to put a dagger through my heart.”
Nina sipped her tea. Despite the bleakness of the future he envisioned for himself, his words were oddly complimentary.
He respected her profession and trusted that she would not be swayed by unexpected sentimentality.
It was nothing more. What had she wanted him to say? That his heart needed her close?
No. Such preposterous fancies. He felt unmoored and required someone cold enough to kill a monster. It was as simple as that.
Could she go? She had struggled to keep herself occupied with her time away from work.
This fit the bill. She mentally planned the route and did calculations.
A train to Founding, and then a riverboat north would be faster than carriage or horse.
Three days there, four to be generous, and four days back.
That left four days for Pearson’s family to find a cure.
She’d leave him there and return alone if he weren’t ready by the deadline.
Logistically, it was possible, but why should she? Pearson wasn’t a friend—far from it—and she wasn’t inclined to do him any favors.
“My father will happily murder you if you get out of hand, and he’d appreciate the opportunity to study your condition,” Nina offered. She nodded to the door, half-expecting him to burst through and offer his services.
His eyes blinked twice. First a translucent layer that dulled his eyes, and a second that closed them completely. It was disturbing.
“No,” he said. “It must be you.”
“Why must it be me ?”
“Only you!”
Nina leaned back, arms folded over her chest. “That sounds like anchor talk.”
“No, of course not—” He turned his head, looking away.
“We just discussed this. The bond has to be mutual, and it’d be a cold day in hell before it’s mutual on my part.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” He slammed a hand on the table. “Don’t you think it vexes me that some part of me, this creature inside me, craves you and only you?”
“Drink more tea.”
“I don’t want more tea.”
“Drink. More. Tea.” Nina refilled his mug. The brew should have taken the bite out of the monster, so to speak, but either the tea’s potency had faded with age or Pearson’s emotions were too strong. Likely both.
He drank, resentment rolling off him all the while.
“What happens if the, ah, attachment is not mutual?” she asked, despite knowing the answer.
“Are you testing my general monster knowledge, or do you want to know what happens in the military?”
“Both.”
He sighed, as if much aggrieved. “I’m unsure. A creature’s lifespan in the NPF is, for lack of a better word, short. It’s a problem that I’ve never encountered.”
“Such a timid way to say that the military treats its monsters as disposable,” Nina said. “It’s barbaric. For the record, the bond withers and the monster is left to seek a new anchor.”
An anchor bond was often romantic but it did not have to be.
It could be familial love. It could be friendship.
She could imagine none of those conditions flourishing between them.
A month ago? Perhaps. Pearson took his duty seriously and executed it with an even hand.
While she disagreed with NPF policy, she admired Pearson’s integrity.
But not now. Not knowing how he kept Jollett’s survival hidden.
“Good news then,” he said. “You’re not stuck with me.”
“No, indeed not.” He was only in her house now because abandoning him put the community at large in danger. Her sense of duty would not allow that, which he knew.
“I know you have every reason to loathe me?—”
“Oh, stop talking,” she snapped. “If I do this, you do something for me.”
“If it’s money, I have some funds. Nothing extravagant.”
“Stop interfering with the soldiers I arrest.”
He was silent for a moment. “I cannot.”
“You can and you will.”
“Disciplinary issues have a strict protocol?—”
“Enough with your strict protocol,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If you cared about protocol, you wouldn’t be hiding in my house, would you?”
Another moment of silence. “Fair enough.”
“All I ask is that when your soldiers behave in a manner that is contrary to the town’s regulations and ordinances, they face the outcome. They act a fool in civilian spaces, they face civilian consequences.”
“Impossible,” Pearson said, shaking his head.
“Your soldiers come into my town with their forty-eight hours of leave and pockets full of coins, eager to spend it on drink, dance, and companionship,” Nina said.
“After a few drinks, they start throwing punches, do some property damage, and they spend the rest of their leave sobering up in my holding cells. Before they have a chance to see a judge in the morning, your military police whisk them away. I’m sick of it.
Every business owner in town is sick of it. ”
“They are disciplined. There are consequences.”
“Scrubbing latrines with a toothbrush? What good does that do when we see them again in a fortnight? Not a lick of good.” She stood up, planting a hand on the table. “Real consequences, Pearson. Judges, fines, and time spent locked up if need be.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “If I do this, will you come with me to Saltwick?”
“What I’m asking is for you to do nothing. Don’t interfere. Simple.”
Another long pause. Eventually, he said, “All right. Yes.”
“Deal.” She stuck out a hand to shake.
A shiver ran through her when their hands touched. His skin… wasn’t. She expected rough but found it smooth, almost silky. What would those silky hands feel like on her?
She jerked her hand away, banishing the thought.
“Thank you,” he said. “We can travel overland to avoid?—”
“No,” she said in a firm tone. “We go direct. I’m not wasting time on this journey. We leave tomorrow on the train to Founding. You’ll have four days, possibly less, with your family, before I return. You may stay if you wish. It is of no concern to me.”