I flush, remembering all the times I let him use that syringe to help me find oblivion. He sees the blush on my cheeks and smiles to himself.
“I’m going with you.”
Elliott and I both turn. Will is in the doorway.
“No,” Elliott says. He lifts his hand toward the bruise above his eye, and then drops it. “You are not.”
“Are you sure that you can protect Araby?” Will steps closer to Elliott, and though he’s not as muscular, not trained the way Elliot has been, he’s tall and confident. The two of them together would make a potential attacker think twice about approaching us.
April has settled back against the wall, watching the conversation with great interest.
“Who will care for the children?” Elliott asks. “You’d abandon them?”
“Kent. He’s done it before.” Will’s voice is steely.
“This is not your fight,” Elliott says.
“Isn’t the fate of the entire city in our hands?” Will asks. “I couldn’t possibly stand by and do nothing.”
Elliott considers Will with a half sneer on his face. “How do we know you won’t turn us over to your diseased friends?” Elliott asks.
“I’ll take orders from you,” Will says quietly. “You don’t know what you’ll find there. It may be worse than any of us have imagined. Take me with you. I’ll swear my allegiance to your cause. Whatever it takes.”
His words are humble, but his tone and demeanor are not.
I open my mouth to intervene, but I don’t know what to say. I wish, quite desperately, that April was going with us. I look to her. She’s laughing to herself, but she understands my silent plea and bites her lip.
“Take him with you,” she says. “Kent and I will care for the children. You’ll need help, and I’ve heard Will is resourceful.”
Elliott slings his bag over his shoulder. “Fine,” he snaps, and leaves the room.
I’m surprised that he’s agreed, but relieved. The city is dangerous. We need Will.
Will pushes Henry’s hair back and pulls the blanket up to the sleeping child’s chin.
“I’ll take care of Henry.” Elise puts on a brave face, but I can tell she’s about to cry. She clings to me. I wish I could think of a way to tell her that even if Will and I aren’t on the best of terms, I still care about her.
April and Elise follow us out onto the deck. Elise wraps her skinny arms around Will’s neck, holding him so tightly that I don’t think she’ll let him go. He tugs her hands away from his coat, but she presses her cheek against him.
“I have to go with Araby,” Will tells her. “She needs my help.” But still his sister clutches him.
Until Kent comes to the rescue. “Elise, will you help me steer the ship?” Elise sets her jaw and finally lets go.
April takes my arm. The wind blows her blond hair back, and when she tosses her head, you could almost forget she is sick. Except for the sores, oozing and deadly. Before Elliott took me into Prospero’s castle, he asked if I would risk my safety to save her. My answer hasn’t changed; I’ll do whatever I must to help her survive. She won’t die, not like Finn. Later we’ll laugh about how afraid we were, about the weeks when she had the contagion, and how she beat it.
She gives me a quick hug. “Take care of Elliott,” she says. And then, because she’s April and can’t seem to help herself, she adds with a wink, “And Will.”
“The ladder is down,” Kent says. He has one hand on Elise’s shoulder and the other on the wooden wheel, which she is holding steady.
“Keep them safe,” I say to him. “And April, too.”
Elliott is already climbing down the rope ladder, carefully balancing his bag and a musket. His sword and his walking stick—which conceals a second sword—are strung across his back. I sling my bag over my good shoulder.
“Sorry I couldn’t bring the ship down. We’re too close to the city,” Kent says to Will, whose face is a chalky white. He’s terrified of heights. When he took me up in the hot-air balloon, he could barely open his eyes.
I hesitate, wondering if I should let him go first, but he gestures for me to descend.
Kent has the ship just above tree level, and the wind whips the ladder from side to side. It’s all I can do to hold on, but by the time I’m halfway down I realize that I’m enjoying the wind through my hair. The air is cool and smells of pine needles.
I feel for the next rung, and then the one beneath it. When I am close enough, Elliott grabs me and swings me down.
“We’ll camp here,” he says. “And enter the city in the morning.”
Enter the city. It’s what I fought for, but still the prospect leaves me cold with dread. I stand beside Elliott and try to watch Will descend, without drawing Elliott’s attention. Elise froze when she was climbing to the airship as we escaped the city. And her terror masked Will’s fear then.
The ship veers to the right, and Will drops from dangerously high but lands on his feet. He gives a little laugh, but his bravado can’t disguise how pale he is.
The three of us quickly gather firewood, and Elliott hovers near me, as if he’s protecting me. From whatever is out there in the dark, or from Will?
Elliott wears his sword and carries a musket. The sword looks completely natural at his side, but the gun is unwieldy.
Will starts a fire, and Elliott sets about boiling water to brew some sort of bitter tea. “I don’t trust the water out here,” he explains. “Of course, I don’t trust the water in the city either.” I imagine the bloated dead bodies that might be lying upstream.
Elliott has taken charge, which leaves me and Will with nothing to do, but somehow it’s comforting that he’s his old irritatingly confident self. It helps me believe that he may be able to take control of the city as well.
The forest is so different from the swamp. For one thing, the ground beneath us is reassuringly solid. The crackle of the fire can’t mask the sound of the stream, or the wind whispering through the leaves. The scent of pine needles is sharp but fresh.
It was humid in the swamp, but now that the sun is going down, the chill is setting in. Tonight seems likely to be unseasonably cold, and I start to shiver and can’t seem to stop.
Elliott sets a cup of tea near Will’s feet, then settles down and pulls me into his arms. I should move away, but he’s so warm. So I give in and rest against his chest. His legs stretch on either side of me, and after I appropriate a blanket from the stack, my shivering stops. After a few moments, when he does nothing improper, I relax as much as I can in the wilderness at night.
Our fire casts only a small circle of light, and the moon overhead doesn’t penetrate the shadows beyond it. I’ve never slept outside. It’s more frightening than sleeping alone with Finn, in the basement. Elliott senses my nervousness and pulls me closer.
“We need to keep watches through the night,” he tells Will. “I’ll take the first.” He tosses Will a blanket.
As I turn my head slightly to watch the flight of the blanket, Elliott’s lips graze my cheek. So much for propriety.
“Wake me when it’s my turn.” Will wraps himself in his blanket, lying with his back to us.
Elliott and I sit in silence for what seems like a very long time.
Finally he says, “You should get some sleep.” His voice is intimate and low, but not a whisper. A whisper would be bereft of the actual timbre of his voice, and in the darkness, with my back pressing against him, the sound of it thrills me, despite myself.
“I’ve had plenty of rest, thanks to your drugs,” I say, more sharply than I meant to. I’m trembling again, even though I’m no longer cold.
“You’re scared,” he says. “Of returning to the city? It is what you wanted.”
Just because you know something is right doesn’t mean it isn’t terrifying. But I don’t say anything. After a moment, I nod. Though it’s dark, surely he can feel the movement.
“Is it your father?” he asks, but I’m not ready for that discussion.
“Can we not talk?” My voice is also low, and somehow much more intimate than I meant it to be.
“I’m not complaining,” he says. “It’s nice, sitting here with you. Much warmer.” I shift to see if his expression is as sincere as his voice sounds, and our faces are so close. I should turn away, but I don’t.
I kiss him.
An owl hoots somewhere in the trees above us. Elliott twists so that we’re lying on the ground. For a brief moment, all I can think is that it’s different than it’s been with him before. He raises my chin with his hand, and he’s frustratingly gentle, as if he wants this moment to go on and on. And it does. It’s a very long time before I pull back to take a ragged breath.
“We have to find a way to get some privacy,” he whispers. “Soon.”
I rest my face against his chest, to keep myself from inviting more. Is privacy with Elliott what I want? How can I even think about this when my father is missing and his sister is dying? I told Kent that I wasn’t interested in romance. Elliott isn’t the only liar in our midst.
“Go to sleep, Araby. Tomorrow will be here before you know it.”
He sits up, and I remember that he is supposed to be on first watch, protecting us from . . . whatever is out there in the night. Not kissing me.
“I can take a turn,” I offer, since I’m certain I’ll never fall asleep.
“It seems fairly quiet out here, and no one will be expecting our return,” Elliott says, looking out into the darkness. “I’m not tired. I’m not sure I’ll even need to wake Will.”
“I’m awake,” Will says.
CHAPTER SIX
IN THE FRIGID DARKNESS, MY FACE HEATS UP, MY entire body flushes. Will is awake. Lying there with his back to us, but awake. The whole time.
“Well then, you can take the watch for a few hours,” Elliott says. He prods the fire once, then lies down close to me. I stay very still, trying to make myself small, unnoticed.
After what seems like forever, Elliott’s breathing evens out.
Will doesn’t say anything. He just sits and stares into the fire. I listen to the sounds of the forest, wishing he would speak. He must know that I’m awake. The night is interminable. At dawn, Will puts more wood on the fire and begins making fresh tea.
I sit up and pull a twig from my hair, and then another.
Will holds out a cup without looking at me. “Would you like some of this . . . ?”
I take it, frowning at the contents. “Elliott has some audacity, calling this stuff tea.”
“Elliott isn’t lacking in audacity,” Will replies.
Elliott’s lips quirk just a bit. I prod him lightly with my foot. “You can open your eyes, I know you’re listening.”
“Of course I’m listening,” he says, stretching. “It’s what audacious people do.” He pours himself a cup of steaming tea. “You two will have to hope we reach the city quickly. This is all the breakfast we have.”