He never showed.
Sometimes I found it hard to sleep at night. I was so used to later hours working as a clipper that when I didn’t have to work—or like tonight, when I’d made a mistake and driven Les away—the still quiet of the night wasn’t the lullaby I sought.
Especially in my little safe house, where my bed was a saddle blanket on the hard floor, and the old, rotting walls creaked and groaned with every breeze.
I rolled over, trying to cover my ears, to give me some peace from the noise. But the groaning grew louder.
A white glow seeped in, past the gaps in the boards, followed by a slow, soft moan.
It hadn’t been the wind or the wood making the noise.
A ghost hovered outside my window, and though it couldn’t see me, didn’t know I was inside, I still tucked my knees against my chest.
The ghost moaned again, and my stomach tightened. Ghosts were terrifying. And malevolent. And this one would rip me from my body if it could catch me.
But they were also heartbreakingly sad. Who knew what this one mourned? The loss of its body, of course, but maybe it, too, mourned the loss of something more. A mother or father. A husband or wife. A child. Maybe just the sun, or the light, or something I couldn’t even understand, being alive.
“Ohhhhh,” it moaned again, like the women who wept and wailed at the cribs of the infants I had released during the plague. Like Rafeo when his wife had taken her last breath.
I shut my eyes and covered my ears, but no matter how hard I tried to hide myself from the ghost, that sound crept into me, filling me up, until I knew I would never be free of it.
I had to make things right.
As the morning sun slipped past the slats of the walls of my safe house, I pulled on one of the new dresses, then thought better of it and slipped back into my stained one.
I would return to Marcello’s home, and though I couldn’t repay the money I’d spent, I could at least return what I had left. And then I would beg for their forgiveness. No matter how I tried to rationalize my actions, Les was right—it was thievery, plain and simple. I’d already lost so much, and I refused to lose any more of myself. I wouldn’t be a thief.
I climbed out the window. The day had dawned cool, and a soft mist floated above the canals, drifting into the alleys and streets.
I’d have to wait for Les to come out. I couldn’t just barge into their home or let myself in.
I walked through a square, and even though it was early enough that the market hadn’t fully opened, the common of Yvain were already about their errands and plans for the day.
I cut through the crowd, ignoring the bakers with their iced buns and sweet rolls for breakfast. Ignoring the looks my stained dress garnered from the better dressed women. None of that mattered. Only one thing mattered, and that was killing the Da Vias.
The crowd thinned around me and I slipped into a side street, following it along the canal that led to Les and Marcello’s alley. I turned down the dead end and stopped, prepared to wait all morning if I had to.
The grate above the ground squeaked. Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait long after all.
“Miss Lea,” a voice called to me.
I spun. Lefevre waited at the entrance to the alley.
“Captain Lefevre.” I glanced at the grate, but if it had been about to open, it was now still. Lefevre seemed to be everywhere I went, always present, always spying on me. It made the back of my neck crawl.
“I thought it was you.” He stepped into the alley, walking closer. “I could tell by your dress. It has a stain on it, by the way.”
I blushed, wanting to cover the stain with my hand. “An unfortunate accident.”
He nodded. “It’s early in the morning to find yourself lost in an alley.”
I smiled. “I just get turned around easily,” I said. “I can hear the market but I can’t seem to find it.”
“Ah. Then let me escort you.” He held his arm out for me.
I would have done almost anything to avoid taking his arm, but I had to keep playing this role of innocence, even if he didn’t believe me. And I had to lead him away from the entrance to Les and Marcello’s tunnel. If he found them, it would put an end to all my plans.
I clutched his arm and he led me from the alley.
“You were really quite near.” He leaned close to me. His warm breath brushed against my neck. “Just a few streets off.”
I was sure he could hear my teeth grinding. “I would have stumbled my way there eventually.”
“And I don’t know that you should be walking about on your own. There’s a serial murderer on the loose.”
“Is there?” I played dumb. It was clear Lefevre suspected I was the clipper he’d seen my first night here. But I wasn’t sure if he suspected me of also being their serial murderer.
“I only arrived a few days ago,” I said, “so I hadn’t heard anything about it.” That should clear me of any suspicion.