Susan Dennard - A Darkness Strange and Lovely

Nothing about her expression suggested she wanted me, so I forced a polite smile. “No thank you, Ma’am.”

Her gaze shifted to Laure. “Mademoiselle?”

“Non merci.” Laure bared her teeth in a terrifying grin.

“Found it!” Lizzie trilled, whipping up a lacy parasol. She skipped back to Mrs. Brown’s side and, after giving Laure and me a little curtsy, trotted from the room. Mrs. Brown followed.

Once the door was firmly shut, Laure’s lips twitched up mischievously, and she rubbed her hands together. “Mademoiselle, you ’ave scandalized her.”

“You mean by traveling alone?”

“Oui. C’est magnifique.” She snickered. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I will go to the promenade deck and watch us depart— without the Browns for company.” Then, with a wink, she left.

I fell back onto my bed and draped a hand over my eyes. As much as I also wanted to see our departure, it was safer to stay locked away until the Philadelphia wharf—and I hoped Marcus too—

were long gone. Once we had sailed the hundred miles of Delaware River to reach the ocean, then I would allow myself to roam the ship.

An image of the chestnut-haired young man flashed in my mind. If he could hear those dogs and feel that wind, then perhaps he would know what was happening. Perhaps he could explain. Or—if he was as lost as I—we could try to muddle through it together.

And since he was somewhere on this ship and we were stuck here for well over a week, I had every intention of finding him—and finding out what he knew.

Hours later, I found myself curled into a ball on my bed. After an evening of rocking, I was so queasy, I couldn’t even stand—much less try to explore the ship. When I heard the Brown ladies come in to change into dinner attire, I could only screw my eyes tighter and pray that this nausea would vanish.

“Oh la,” Laure said, hovering over me. She had just finished donning her evening wear. “You are ill?”

I cracked open an eyelid. “The boat . . . it won’t stop moving.”

She laughed. “Oui. That is ’ow it usually works.” She flicked her hand toward the portholes. “It helps to be outside, you know. Watching the ’orizon keeps your digestion calm.”

She dragged me into a sitting position. “And it is best on the first-class promenade deck.”

“But we aren’t first class.”

“Pas de problème. One must simply sneak onto the first-class deck when all its passengers are at dinner.”

She helped me stand. Her eyes briefly settled on my missing hand but then passed on to my undoubtedly green face. “I can take you there and then we can go to dinner.”

“But . . .” I waved helplessly at my gown as we made our way to the door. “This is all I have to wear.” Heat crept up my neck, and at the sympathetic swoop in Laure’s eyebrows, I dropped my gaze.

She sighed. “Then you can stay on the deck, where it is no matter what you wear, and I will go to supper.” She towed me toward the main stairwell I had circled around earlier, and we climbed it three floors up before finally stepping into the first-class saloon.

“This is where all of the first-class passengers will spend most of their day-to-day time,” Laure explained as we walked through. “It is not so different from the second-class saloon.”

I nodded, my eyes flicking around. The room reminded me of my family’s parlor—or as the parlor used to look before I had sold everything. There was a grand piano in one corner, oak and ebony bookcases along the walls, and red velvet armchairs and sofas strategically placed throughout.

Skylights overhead showed an orange sky, and plate glass mirrors shone with reflected light.

We reached a door at the end of the room, and Laure planted her shoulder against it and shoved.

“The wind outside is strong. Nice but strong.”

The instant she got the door open, air blasted into me. My heart flipped, and my ears strained, expecting to hear hounds at any moment.

But no—this was a different wind. A real wind.

Tugging at my sleeves, I followed Laure onto the giant, empty deck. Smokestacks and masts spanned before me with awnings placed strategically between. Chairs and benches were also around, and Laure guided me to one at the ship’s aft.

“Sit ’ere!” She had to shout to be heard over the wind. “It is the best view, and you can watch the sunset. I will ’ave a server bring you something to eat.” She deposited me on a bench facing the western sky. “And if you think you will lose your stomach”—she patted her bodice—“do not do it in our room, oui?”

“Yes.” I gave her a tight smile. “Thank you.”

She swatted my words aside. “See you in the cabin later.” Then she whirled around and strode off.

With a sigh, I slumped back on the bench. I did feel better now.

We were still within sight of the coast, but it was too distant for me to discern much beyond marshland.

A squat waiter soon arrived with sea biscuits and an orange. He declared them the “best foods for a sea-ailed stomach” and then left me to munch on my meal.

I rather liked the biscuits. They were crisp and salty and did much to put my stomach right. I stayed there on the promenade deck until long after the sun had faded. Until swaying electric lights blocked out any starlight, and when I eventually found myself shivering, I decided it was time for bed.

But of course, just as my luck would have it, I heaved back the saloon door to find the room completely full. Worse, at least fifty pairs of eyes immediately turned to me.

With a gulp, I slipped my stump into the folds of my skirt and walked inside with as much poise as

I could muster.

But the wind grabbed hold of the door and slammed it shut with a loud bang! , shooting me forward like a drunken rocket.

All at once, hundreds of pairs of eyes shot to me. All the women in their beautiful pastel gowns—

gowns such as those I’d once worn and loved myself—and the men in their black suits, so crisp and handsome, watched me. To think this life had almost been mine . . . to think I’d been reduced to picking pockets to get on board . . .

Someone nearby giggled. Then came a chortle, a whisper. In less time than it took for me to gather up my breath and resume my steps, the room erupted with twittering.

My face ignited. Sweat popped out on my brow. With my gaze cast to the floor, I strode through as fast as I could. It wasn’t until my stateroom was in sight that I slowed to a normal pace and sucked in air. I paused at my door and chided myself for being so daunted by a bunch of silly people. After facing an army of Dead, one would think a saloon full of rich folk would be as easy as pie.

Jie would have found it all hilarious—nothing scared her.

Joseph would have given me a knowing smile, his back straight and his demeanor a thousand times more elegant than any of those people.

And Daniel . . .

I leaned against the door, my legs suddenly too wobbly to stand.

I always tried so hard to not think of Daniel. To avoid remembering how his lips twisted up mischievously when he laughed. How he glowered when I got too close to his inventions. How he doffed his gray flat cap or flicked my chin with his thumb.

Or how he’d tasted when we’d kissed . . .

I huffed a breath and fumbled for my room key. You are strong and independent, I told myself as I unlocked the door. Capable and clever. No males needed.

I turned my cabin door handle and pushed in. You are powerful and—

My thoughts broke off. I screamed. Crouched beside my bunk was a slight young man with chestnut hair and a charcoal suit. He turned his head toward me. “Eleanor—you’re here! It’s about time.”

My breath froze in my lungs, but not because he knew my name. I couldn’t breathe because staring out from his handsome, round face was a pair of gleaming yellow eyes.

I screamed again, but this time I scrambled back to run. Marcus—it had to be he!

But Mama saw him in Elijah’s body . The thought flashed but was instantly swallowed up by another. Yellow eyes! Run!

“Eleanor, wait!” the young man shouted.

I sprinted down the hall toward the middle of the ship, but then the boat swayed, throwing off my balance. I tangled in my petticoats and slammed into the wall.

Footsteps pounded behind, so with a shove I lurched on, charging my legs to go faster. The main stairwell was just ahead. Those steps would lead me to the first-class saloon—to people and safety.

But stairs would be too hard to climb.

“Wait!” the young man shouted again.

I reached the mermaid balustrade, and, without thinking, I grabbed her tail and slung myself around, behind the stairs. I flew into the next hall. Far ahead was a bright doorway. The dining room?

Somewhere that had people, at least.

I surged on, and the hammering feet rounded the stairwell behind me.

“Please, El!” he shouted. “Wait!”

El? That was my brother’s name for me.

I faltered. My skirts flew around my legs. Then the boat listed sharply right. I toppled forward.

Instinctively, I threw my hands out to catch myself, but I had only one hand to stop my fall.

Agony ripped through my stump as a shriek boiled up my throat and out my mouth.

Tears sprang to my eyes, but I made myself draw in my legs—I had to keep going. I was too slow, though. Too winded and hurt. The footsteps were upon me.

“El, are you all right?” The young man’s cheeks were flushed scarlet.

“Stay away!” I scuttled against the wall.

His hands flew up. “I won’t hurt you. I swear, El.” He lifted a foot as if to approach.

“Get back!” I screeched.

He froze, his gaze snapping toward the door ahead and then back to me. Clearly he thought as I did: surely all this noise would draw someone into the hall.

I tried to blink back the tears blurring my vision. Pain screamed in my wrist, but it was from the fall—not from spiritual energy. There were no dogs howling or winds roaring.

Still, the young man had yellow eyes. That told me I was in danger.

I drew in a shaky breath, ready to scream.

“No, please!” he blurted. “Just talk to me.”

“Get away from me,” I growled. “I vowed to kill you—or did you forget that?”

He recoiled. “Kill me?” He shook his head. “I don’t mean you any harm.”

“Go to hell, Marcus.” I spat the name.

“Marcus?” The young man’s forehead wrinkled. “My name isn’t Marcus. I’m Oliver.”

“Whoever you are, I will kill you . ” I slid my legs slowly sideways, hoping to stand and make a run for it. “Now get out of my way.”