Fateful

  As much as I hate Layton at this moment, I know I ought to warn him, for Irene’s sake if nobody else’s. But how can I? I can’t tell the Lisles the truth about Mikhail without revealing facts that will make me look like a lunatic. Even if I said only that he tried to rob me, they’d think it was absurd. He’s in first class, just like they are; why would he try to rob anyone?

  “It’s a pleasure to make such a congenial acquaintance as yourself aboard ship,” Mikhail says as he strolls around the small room. “So many pompous toads upstairs. I like men about me who are young and vigorous. Who want to drink deeply of the pleasure of life.”

  “Hear, hear,” Layton says with relish. Is he thinking of my sister? Some other girl he ruined just for his pleasure?

  “And to think I knew your dear uncle. Humphrey was a most ingenious man.”

  “We all thought he was a bloody fool, to tell you the truth.” Layton’s honesty is as disarming as his smile; he looks almost handsome again for a moment. He can appear to be a good man when he chooses, but I know now that is nothing but a sham.

  “I shall redeem his memory, then, as we improve our acquaintance. I look forward to spending more time with you and your family while we’re aboard.” Mikhail is standing slightly behind me now, and I can feel his gaze on my back. “And as I said before, your room has lovely . . . accommodations. Tell me, Layton, how accommodating is she?”

  Layton laughs as hard at Mikhail’s joke as he did at his own. I am torn between anger so great that I want to slap him and the horrible, crawling sensation of Mikhail stepping closer to me.

  But I reveal nothing. I stand straight and tall, and my face remains still. I’m stronger than these worthless men will ever know.

  “Excuse me, sir.” Quickly I walk out of Layton’s room, and neither of them bothers to stop me. Maybe I should have grabbed the tin of blacking to cover my tracks, but now that I’ve left Layton’s bedroom, nobody’s likely to ask me why I was in there in the first place.

  “There you are,” Horne says. “Lady Regina sent word that she wants her Italian shawl. She’s up on the boat deck. Take it to her, and look lively about it.”

  I’m eager to get out of here, and as far away from Mikhail as possible. But it strikes me as odd that Horne’s sending me instead of going herself and leaving me to deal with Beatrice for a while. The child’s a terror this morning. I can see that she’s already managed to smear jam over the entire front of her pinafore. One thing you learn in service: Anytime you’re asked to deviate from your expected duties, try to find out why. “Don’t you want to go?”

  That’s Horne’s cue to snap at me as she usually does. Instead she pauses, and her rheumy eyes become distant. “I don’t like being up on deck. Seeing the waves.”

  “Why ever not?” You’d think it would at least make a change from the same old suite of rooms, however elegant they are.

  “It gives me a bad turn, is all. I don’t like the look of it.” She tries to brush it off, but I know what I just saw. Mean old Horne, whom all of us fear, is scared of the ocean.

  Maybe I ought to pity her. Remembering what she said to Daisy, maybe I ought to laugh at her. But mostly I want to get out of this place. I snatch Lady Regina’s shawl from the table and practically run through the door.

  For the next few minutes, I argue it out with myself—partly because I have to know, and partly because, upsetting as it is to think of my sister’s plight, it is a great deal less scary than Count Mikhail Kalashnikov.

  Did Layton force Daisy? He’s no prize, but surely he’s not as nasty as that. And she’d hardly have named their boy after him if he had. All those things she said about having chances to advance ourselves—she was talking about Layton then, I’m sure of it. Daisy can’t have been stupid enough to think he would actually marry her. But maybe he talked about setting her up in an apartment in London. He gave her the pin; probably he gave her some other money as well, because she must have lived on something before I pawned it for her. When she became pregnant, she would have known that was the end of that. Did she ever tell him, face-to-face? Hardly matters—he has to have known, when the family fired her if not before, and he never lifted a finger to help her or my nephew. Probably she named the boy Matthew to shame him into giving her a few more pounds.

  These thoughts weigh me down as I hurry along the boat deck, salty ocean breeze whipping my black uniform dress around me, with the shawl under one arm. I’m so distracted and nervous that I think I could walk by Lady Regina and Irene without even noticing them.

  But perhaps that’s wrong, because I recognize the next familiar face I see instantly.

  Alec.

  He looks as impeccably put together as he did yesterday, in a charcoal gray suit cut perfectly to his body; the transformation from animal to gentleman is complete. The only elements of his appearance that are out of place are his wild chestnut curls and the sadness in his green eyes. It’s almost startling, how alone he seems. How did I miss it yesterday? How did the glamour of his handsomeness and charm disguise the pain he’s in? Now that I know it’s there, it seems to surround him, a kind of halo in reverse.

  But a man in pain is more dangerous, not less. I must never forget that.

  Alec’s gaze meets mine. In that first instant, warmth spreads through my chest, like a flower blossoming into fire.

  But he looks away almost instantly and begins walking in the opposite direction. Of course—he said we had to remain apart, for my own good.

  When he said that, though, Alec didn’t know what I know now.

  I decide to call to him, and I nearly shout Alecbefore I think better of it. “Mr. Marlowe!”

  He stops at once. As I hasten to his side, he whispers, “Tess, I told you—”

  “Forget what you told me. Mikhail’s made friends with Layton. He’s in the Lisle family cabins now.”

  “Has he threatened you?” Alec’s eyes narrow, and there’s the wolf again. My breath catches in my throat.

  “Not yet.”

  “He will.”

  “He’s going to get whatever is in that box,” I say. “He’s determined to get it no matter what, and he’s willing to go through me to do it. Eager, I think. Are you so sure he’s on this ship to initiate you? Perhaps he’s been after the Lisles the whole time.”

  A few people are glancing in our general direction, and Alec notices at almost the same time I do. “Follow me,” he says.

  We walk a few steps along the deck—me slightly behind so it won’t look as though we’re together—and I follow him through the next door. This turns out to lead to a very peculiar sort of room with odd machines all about. And strange metal weights are on the floor; I remember that the strong man at the county fair lifted them. Barbells, I think they’re called.

  My confusion must show on my face, because Alec says, “The ship’s gymnasium. The men come here to practice rowing, or box. You know, to build their muscles.”

  Only gentlemen leading a life of leisure would need to go someplace special to build muscles. After spending four years toting buckets of water up multiple flights of stairs, I bet I could successfully arm-wrestle most of the first-class male passengers on this ship.

  Thinking of the gap between gentility and servants reminds me of Daisy, and what’s become of her due to Layton’s irresponsibility. It must show on my face, because Alec’s expression softens. “Are you all right? You look as though something’s troubling you. Something besides Mikhail, I mean.”

  His concern touches me more than it should. “You’re very perceptive.”

  “You’re pale.” I can tell that Alec doesn’t want to be worried for me, and yet he can’t stop himself from asking, “Can I get you—water, or a glass of sherry, maybe? We should find someplace more comfortable for you to sit.”

  He thinks I’m weaker than I am, and it ought to irritate me. Instead, I stare at him almost in shock, because—he’s treating me like a lady. Not like a servant. Alec wants to take care of me, I who have a
lways had to see to the needs of others. As small a gesture as it is, I never expected even that much from a wealthy man. From anyone, perhaps. And in this moment, I realize how good it would feel to have someone take care of me once in a while.

  But Daisy’s secrets are hers, not mine, and there are more pressing matters at hand. “I’m all right, truly. Mikhail—he says he’s a Count Kalashnikov. Is that true?”

  “Entirely true. He’s one of the wealthiest men in Russia, a friend to the tsar.”

  “So he says.”

  “I believe it. The Brotherhood’s influence stretches to the highest rungs of society, Tess. There’s no one too high or too low for him to reach.”

  “We’ve got to figure out what Mikhail’s after, then. If they’re as mighty as you claim, and they’re sending someone that influential after a dusty old box of the Lisles—then there’s something enormously important in there. And who knows? Maybe it’s something you could use.”

  Alec looks at me with new respect. “I like the way you think, Tess. But I told you before; I have no idea what he’s after. Who knows what’s in that mysterious box?”

  “I do. I got a look inside this morning. Miss Irene turns out to have the key.”

  “Good,” he says, almost fiercely. He wants to know Mikhail’s secrets even more avidly than I do. Perhaps we are both only speaking together to save our own necks, but that’s reason enough to cooperate. “All right then, what did you see?”

  “Nothing that looked extraordinary, honestly.” I need to think about this very carefully, and truth be told, I am feeling a bit shaky. I sit down on the nearest machine, which is the closest thing the gymnasium has to a chair. The seat slides, jerking me to one side.

  “That’s a rowing machine,” Alec says. Now that he says it, I can see how a man could sit in this contraption and work the handles, going back and forth to row as if he were in a boat. For now I simply steady my feet on the floor.

  “Let me think,” I say. I close my eyes and imagine the box as it looked when Irene went through it. “Some candlesticks, valuable but awfully plain. Probably a hundred years old at least.”

  “I doubt Mikhail’s after candlesticks.”

  I peek at him long enough to glare. “Shhh, let me go through it, would you?” I’ve never fussed at a gentleman in my life—and while Alec might be an American millionaire instead of a member of the nobility, he certainly counts as a gentleman. He doesn’t rebuke me, though, just accepts it as his due with a small smile. I close my eyes once more. “Some old coins, Spanish maybe. A few pieces of jewelry: sapphire earrings, a pearl choker, the tiara with the opals, and . . . and a golden pin.” I swallow hard. “One in a pair, but missing its mate. And then there was a very old sort of knife, maybe a dagger—I wouldn’t know.”

  “A dagger?” The tone of Alec’s voice opens my eyes. His entire body is tense, and as he stands above me, I again sense the presence of the wolf. “Describe it. In every detail.”

  “About so long.” I hold my fingers perhaps nine inches apart. “A long, thin, triangular point. The hilt might’ve been made of gold, but it was so old it was half gray. The scabbard had some etchings on it, illuminated with gilt. The etchings looked sort of like letters, but not proper English letters. And there was something else on the hilt, this weird scratched shape. Nothing I could read.”

  I hold up my hand to trace the shape, but as I do, I realize I’ve seen it before: It’s that peculiar asymmetrical Y—the one I first saw on Mikhail’s watch.

  “That’s the symbol of the Brotherhood.” Alec slams one hand against the wall so hard I jump. He doesn’t seem to notice as he paces the length of the gymnasium. “It’s an Initiation Blade.”

  “A what?” The word “initiation” resonates, reminding me of what Alec and I spoke about this morning. “You mean—for the Brotherhood initiation?”

  “Exactly.” Alec leans against the wall next to me, letting his head fall back. I can see his Adam’s apple work as he swallows hard. “You don’t know all the family secrets, Tess. Somebody among the Lisles, maybe generations back, was connected to the Brotherhood.”

  Who could it have been? Of course—Uncle Humphrey, supposedly Mikhail’s old friend. The Viscount has never liked to discuss Uncle Humphrey; he lived far out in the country, on a much humbler estate than his station in life would have demanded. The Viscount called him a crackpot, and perhaps that’s as much as he knew about it. Now I wonder if he was a werewolf too. Or did he fight against them?

  I abandon those questions; they’ll get us nowhere. “What’s an Initiation Blade? Why does Mikhail need it?”

  “They were forged long ago, so long that the date is lost to memory.” Alec looks down at me, sadder even than he was before. “And nobody remembers how precisely they were made, which is why they are so rare and valuable now. The core of the dagger is silver.” He pauses. “Silver has the power to kill a werewolf. Remember that.”

  Is he telling me this so I can defend myself against Mikhail, or so I can defend myself against him?

  He continues, “Within an Initiation Blade, the silver dagger is then plated with gold, which allows werewolves to touch it. When one of our kind is cut with the Blade, and the old magic is called on, the supernatural energy that rises from a werewolf’s nearness to silver creates a change—something no one fully understands. But it’s the change that allows us to transform into a wolf if and when we will, except on the night of the full moon. The Brotherhood controls all the Initiation Blades and has done for centuries. This one must have been lost until now.”

  “And that’s what Mikhail is after.”

  “I can’t believe I was fool enough to think he booked passage on this ship only to come after me. They’ll want that Blade more than anything, Tess. They must have learned of it recently; if they’d known about it before, they’d have stolen it from the Lisles. Burned their house down, if they had to. There’s nothing Mikhail won’t do to get his hands on it.” He slides down the wall, forearms on his knees, so that we’re eye to eye again. “You realize that Mikhail now knows he can do this without killing you. And he won’t care.”

  It’s not like I wasn’t scared before, but it’s a hundred times worse now. Before I thought that maybe I was just a toy for Mikhail to bat around, in danger from him but perhaps able to buy safety with my silence. Now I know that killing me isn’t something he would have to do to accomplish his task; it’s something he wants. Something he’ll seize any excuse to do.

  I don’t have to say anything; Alec can see what I’m feeling, or sense it somehow. “Mikhail’s anything but stupid,” he says. “He won’t attack you in front of witnesses. He only went after you in front of me that first day onboard because he thought he could coerce me into joining him, and now he knows that won’t work. You’ve simply got to avoid being alone as much as possible.”

  “Won’t be hard to stay near the family, with Lady Regina wanting something every five minutes,” I try to joke. The Italian shawl is still draped over one of my arms; when I reach her, she’ll be furious. Let her shout at me forever, so long as I don’t have to be alone. But then I gasp. “Oh, no! Tomorrow!”

  “What’s tomorrow?”

  “My afternoon off.”

  I’d been so looking forward to it. Horne, Ned, and I would each get one afternoon off during the trip to America—Ned’s is today. Lady Regina told us as though she were doing us a special favor. What she really wanted to do was make us use our free afternoon for the month while the family is still onboard and has ship’s stewards to do their bidding. That way she could work us harder once we reached the United States. Her motives didn’t matter to me when I thought I’d have an afternoon to lounge about on deck and feel the sunshine on my face—especially given my plans to quit shortly thereafter. Now all those hours away from the Lisles feel like a death sentence. “He’s close to Layton now. He’ll realize I’m not with them, and come after me.”

  Alec weighs the problem, then nods. “You’ll simpl
y have to spend the day with me. Given the people I’ve . . . endangered, by being what I am, I ought to protect someone at least once. So we’ll stay together.”

  There’s a fluttering in my belly when he says that, but I don’t trust it. I might have more faith in Alec than I do in Mikhail, but he, too, is a monster. “You said I was to stay away from you. For my own good.”

  “The situation has changed now.” He tries to sound practical about it, but I realize he feels it too—that illogical, powerful need for us to be together. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’ll stay in the public areas of first class. People will be around us the whole time.” His voice grows softer. “Safe as houses.”

  “Safe as houses,” I repeat. “But—sir, you can’t be seen socializing with a servant. It isn’t done.”

  “I don’t really care what people think of it. Nobody will have the courage to confront us directly. So we’ll snub them right back, pretend they’re not even there.” Can he really not see the divide between us? I must be gaping at Alec, because he shrugs and adds, “After you become a werewolf, you give up on the idea of fitting in.”

  I notice that he didn’t suggest going down to third class, but if I were him, I wouldn’t want to trade down either. The Lisles might see me up there, which would be awful—but then again, this is a large ship. It’s not as if I was able to find Lady Regina with her shawl even when I was looking for her. “I could wear something nice. So it wouldn’t be too obvious I’m a servant.”

  “When will the Lisles let you go?”

  “Just before luncheon.”

  “Then I’ll meet you at the grand staircase just before luncheon.”

  “I haven’t said yes yet. We’ve got to think this through. Isn’t the first-class dining room opposite the staircase? What if Mikhail sees me?”

  “What if he does? It might be better, actually, if he knows I’m guarding you. Then perhaps he’ll back off for a while.” Alec rises once more to his feet, and this time I stand with him. It’s nice that he’s taller than I am; so few men are. He becomes more formal now. “Will you accept my invitation?”