There came a knock on the door. “Mr. Young?” called a muffled voice. “The ship is ready.”
Oliver released me and stepped back. “I’ll be right there,” he called. Then he turned back to me. “I have matters to attend to. I’ll take revenge for us both, whether you wish it or not. Until then, I think you should remain here. Consider everything I’ve told you.”
He left, and I heard the key turn in the lock once again. A part of me wanted nothing better than to slump down on the couch and weep. I wasn’t even certain whom my tears burned for: Papa, or Persephone, or all of us together.
All of my memories of Papa seemed to come rushing back. His strong voice, singing of mermaids and shipwrecks. The warm glow of his pipe as he drew on it. Lifting me up when I was little, tossing me in the air and laughing.
Why hadn’t he listened to Martinez? Why hadn’t he taken the lesson of the ballads and returned the “mermaid” to the sea? Mr. Young’s diary had spoken of greed, of dreams of fame and fortune beyond what an ordinary whaler might hope for.
“Why, Papa?” I whispered. “Why couldn’t you have just let her go?”
The tears broke free, spilling down my cheeks. Oliver had accused me of betrayal, but I couldn’t help but feel they’d betrayed me: Papa by killing the ketoi and setting events in motion, Oliver by shooting Persephone…
Oh God, Persephone. Why hadn’t I just taken the initiative once in my life and told her how I felt? That I’d fallen in love with her.
And maybe she would have laughed, but at least I wouldn’t be sitting here with regret like a stone in my chest, crushing the breath out of me.
I dashed the tears impatiently away. Now wasn’t the time to crumble. If the worst had happened, if Persephone hadn’t made it, then the ketoi would have no idea of the plot against them. Which meant I had to get out of here and find help.
I forced myself to my feet and crossed the room. Pressing my ear to the door, I listened intently for any sound of voices or movement.
Nothing. The other man had mentioned a ship. And Oliver meant to destroy the ketoi.
Whatever they were going to do, it would happen tonight. Ayers had said as much last night. Depending on how long I’d been kept here, there might not be much time left.
I gathered up the rags of my courage and pulled a pin from my hair. Crouching down on the floor, I set myself to picking the lock.
*
I made my way to the Ladysmith, because I didn’t know what else to do.
Twilight had swept its purple cloak over Widdershins by the time I let myself out the side door of the Undertow, shaking with fear of discovery. If any guard had been left behind, though, I hadn’t encountered him. Clearly Oliver believed me contained.
I briefly considered returning to the boardinghouse for a change of clothing. But I wasn’t certain Mrs. Yagoda would let me in. Vanishing for a night without explanation wasn’t the sort of behavior she expected from young ladies, and there was a good chance I’d find all of my possessions either sold off or thrown out. Either way, I didn’t have time to argue with her.
Had Dr. Whyborne not left town with his friend, I would have gone straight to Mr. Flaherty. He would have known what to do. But if that had been the case, I wouldn’t be in this situation to start with—they would have been with Persephone last night, not me.
Persephone wouldn’t have been hurt. She wouldn’t possibly be dead.
Curse Oliver for taking my summoning stone. I might go to the shore, but I had no way of calling the ketoi to me without it.
As it was, Mr. Quinn was the only ally I could count on now. I’d go to him, and together we’d find some way to warn the ketoi, which hopefully didn’t include the blood of any junior librarians. Find Persephone…
A sob threatened to choke me. I tried so hard to lock away the memory of her blood, her still form, but it kept intruding no matter what I did.
An empty space opened in my heart such as I’d never known. It wasn’t right; it wasn’t fair, that someone like her—beautiful and sweet and strong—should be taken out of the world. I loved the way she laughed, the way she tugged on my hair with hers, the way she grinned when she made sly comments about my manner of dress.
I lacked the funds for a cab, and unfortunately my disreputable appearance—dress torn at the knees, hair in complete disarray—meant the omnibus conductor took one look and ordered me off. As a result, I had no choice but to walk the entire distance to the Ladysmith. I could only hope not to encounter Dr. Hart once I reached the staff areas. If he saw me like this, I’d be fired on the spot.