An Immortal Descent (10 page)

He studied his knees for a moment. “It’s most curious,” he said softly.

“What is?” I asked

“There are those who would have left me to suffer as payback for my rude behavior.” He tilted his head to look at me. “But you didn’t.”

“I... I don’t like to see people suffer when I’ve the ability to help.”

“I misjudged you from the beginning, Miss Kilbrid, and for that I am truly sorry.” He exhaled a slow breath, then smacked his tongue in distaste. “My mouth tastes like the dickens.” Sniffing, he glanced at the lower half of his greatcoat and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “And it appears my clothing is worse for the wear. Any chance we’ve fresh water about?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. A lad is supposed to deliver some shortly.”

Footsteps scurried overhead from one of the sailors. James stared at the ceiling for several seconds before pushing to his feet. “There’s plenty of water to be had above. Please excuse me while I go clean up.”

Justine yawned and moved into a more comfortable position. “Master Calhoun has advised us to remain in the cabin for the duration of the voyage as he believes our presence on deck may upset the captain.”

“Bugger that!” James cursed. “I’ll not stay here stinking to high heaven while water showers from the sky up top.”

“Do as you will, Mr. Roth. You’ll get no complaint from me.” Justine closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.

I bit my tongue to keep from protesting. Captain Lynch seemed a dangerous man, one I considered unwise to cross, stink or not. James was obviously of a different mind as he grabbed the latch and yanked the door open.

Julian shot to his feet, defiance darkening his eyes to near black. “I have a sudden thirst as well, Mr. Roth.” They disappeared in a blink, the door shutting behind them.

“Oh, bother,” I muttered darkly. “This is not going to end well.”

While I had come to expect defiance from Julian, it surprised me in James as he tended to be more reserved. Then again, his behavior had been far from usual since Nora’s disappearance four days ago, and I was personally thankful for the boldness that had gotten us aboard this ship and one step closer to Wexford.

Hold on, Nora. We’re coming...

Justine yawned again. “Don’t worry. If the men don’t return within the hour, we’ll form a search party. With our particular gifts, I’m sure we can make short work of the captain and his crew.”

I removed my wet cloak, laying it on the end of the bunk. “What good will that do if the two of them get thrown overboard while we’re sitting down here unaware.” A muddy boot came off next, which I tossed on the floor.

My aunt didn’t even open her eyes from the thought of losing both men. “Trust me, Selah, Captain Lynch would never risk the lives of two well-born passengers unless it proved to his direct advantage.”

The other boot followed. “How can you be so sure? For all we know they could already be bobbing in the sea.” Assuming they could swim, of course. Otherwise they’d be headed straight to the bottom, dressed as they were in so much clothing.

A knowing smile curved Justine’s mouth. “I assure you, Lord Stroud and Mr. Roth are perfectly safe.”

“But how do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen the captain’s type a hundred times before.”

I scooted back against the wall for more room to stretch. My feet dangled over the side of the bunk, waterlogged inside the wet stockings. “And what type is that?”

“Shrewd as a devil and twice as greedy. We’ll need to watch our pockets once we make port, but in the meantime he gains nothing by harming us.” Opening her eyes, she chewed her bottom lip in thought. “It’s that Calhoun I don’t like. I’m not sure what, but he’s got something brewing under that ugly cape of his.”

She was right about the cape, but between the two men, I would have guessed Captain Lynch to be the greater threat. “You seem awfully sure.”

“Live as long as I have, and you learn to trust your instincts.”

I stared at her for a moment, debating the wisdom of my next question. “And just how long have you lived, Miss Rose?”

She rolled her eyes. “We’re family, Selah. Call me Justine, for heaven’s sake.”

It was an easy concession, and not entirely unreasonable. “Very well. How long have you lived, Justine?”

“Not half so long as Cate and Tom,” she said with a sigh. “I was born in Paris during the reign of Charles VI. There was hardly a dull day with that one in charge. Some called him the Beloved, while others considered him the Mad. I guess it all depended if you were around to witness one of his frequent bouts of insanity.”

Charles VI...

My brows knotted together. I could name the English kings back to Alfred the Great, but knew only a handful of French monarchs. Another Louis held the title at present, the XV if I had it right. And the Sun King before that—

Justine laughed at my apparent consternation. “Charles VI ascended the throne in 1380 and ruled for more than forty years.”

I blinked at her, my mind switching from names to basic sums. “Three hundred and fifty years,” I breathed.

“Three hundred and eighteen, to be precise. I was born in 1412, the same year as Joan of Arc.”

“Did you ever meet her?” Awe filled my voice as I stared unabashedly.

“We met a time or two before the English got ahold of her. It’s a pity what happened, as she had more mettle in her than most seasoned soldiers.”

The lantern flickered, throwing wild shapes on the floor and walls. “I imagine you’ve met all kinds of interesting people.”

“Everyone’s interesting in one way or another. You just have to look in the right place.”

The flame flickered again, and I watched the shadows move across her face. Whether a trick of the light, her expression appeared pensive, and she slowly twisted something in her hands. Looking closer, I saw it to be the linen kerchief.

To be sure, she had plenty of folks to consider, being three hundred years my senior—nearly five lifetimes for most people. On the heels of this thought, another question formed on my tongue. “What is it like to live so long?”

Despite my curiosity, I regretted asking the moment the words had left my mouth. Justine’s expression turned from pensive to achingly sad, and I dropped my gaze, embarrassed by the lapse of judgment. “Never mind,” I muttered to my knees. “I’ve no right to ask something so personal.”

She replied at once, her voice somber. “You’ve more right to ask than anyone else.”

My head popped up in surprise.

“And more reason,” she added. “Do you really want to know?”

I nodded. More footsteps thudded overhead, but they seemed a world away as I watched Justine, waiting for a clue to my possible future.

Smoothing the kerchief in her lap, she drew a deep breath. “It’s lonely.”

The simple answer hit me with the force of a blow. Three hundred years—five full lifetimes, and Justine was alone. “Did you...” The words stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard, needing to ask this last question. “Did you love Henry?”

The proceeding silence thickened to the consistency of clotted cream, and in a matter of seconds the room seemed to have grown smaller, with significantly less air. Had I finally crossed one line too many? I held my ground, refusing to retrace the offending steps.

A full minute passed. Four bells clanged above deck, and a multitude of sailors padded across the ceiling. The silence deepened in the cabin. I wanted her to yell or laugh, or say something bitingly sarcastic. Anything would have been better than nothing.

Justine adjusted her seat on the mattress. I peeked through my lashes to see that she had tucked her legs beneath the folds of her skirts. Setting my shoulders, I braced myself for the inevitable.

“That’s an interesting question,” she said, more matter-of-factly than I ever expected. “And one I’ve spent many hours trying to answer since Henry first disappeared from England.” She paused for a moment, her eyes glazed in thought.

I reminded myself to breathe.

“Lord Fitzalan caught my fancy more than any other man in the past three hundred years. I felt his absence immensely this past spring, and when he returned to London in the fall, I had hoped to resume our relationship where it had so abruptly left off.” She laughed, though the sound held no mirth. “He is a rarity amongst humans, and I know a score of ladies who would poison your cup if they thought it would give them half a chance to secure him.” Scooping up the kerchief, she started to weave it through her fingers. “By every account, I should have lost my heart in its entirety. But no, I don’t believe I truly loved him. Not yet anyway.”

“Oh, thank heavens!” I said, making no effort to conceal my relief. “I thought this might stand as a permanent wedge between us.”

By her serious expression, the relief was entirely one-sided. “There’s no denying that I was angry and hurt by the loss of his affections. But make no mistake, Selah, in the end your pain will be infinitely greater because you do love him.” Her gaze turned thoughtful, and maybe a bit mischievous. “Is there any chance you could transfer your feelings to Lord Stroud? He’s quite madly in love with you, and the similar bloodline would simplify everything.”

Absolutely...if I had never met Henry
.

My stare turned stern. “No, I can’t, so you might as well explain what you mean about my pain being greater.”

Justine sighed, and the kerchief disappeared into the center of her palm. “I feared Cate hadn’t told you yet. For the life of me, I don’t understand why she strings you along like some fragile child who may wilt in the sun.” The kerchief reappeared. Disappeared again. “But truth is power, and you’ve the right to know, no matter how difficult that knowledge may be to bear.”

A warning rang in my head. I needed to plead a headache, or sudden fatigue—any excuse to keep her from voicing what I already suspected. In a heartbeat, the bridge I had so diligently ignored spanned the dark chasm of ignorance, beckoning me over. I could turn away, continue to ignore it, but for how much longer?

Justine watched me closely, as though in search of a sign that I was indeed ready for the truth.

My chin crept up. “The right to know what?”

“The reason Sophie’s husband died when our family has been given Brigid’s second gift.” Ominous undertones laced her soft voice.

Each of Brigid’s descendants received their first gift, or unique skill, at birth. The second gift—a gift of longevity—came much later and only to a select few. Cate had been the first in our line to have mortality’s hold loosened, yet still being part human, she would have continued to age and eventually die if not for her rare healing abilities. This blessing extended to her direct descendants and their families, which had left me puzzled when I’d learned of my aunt Sophie’s recent widowhood after forty years in a loving marriage.

“I asked Cate about his death, but she never answered.”

“Of course she didn’t,” Justine scoffed. “Because then you would have known that Sophie’s husband was fully human and therefore lacked the Tuatha Dé blood needed to extend life.”

Fully human...like Henry.

An odd tingling sensation prickled my scalp, seeped into the tips of my fingers and toes. Converging in my chest, it seemed to pull every bit of warmth from my body. Cold didn’t replace it, nor anything else for that matter. I felt nothing, turned numb throughout.

“His death broke my sister’s heart in two, and she intended to die as well when her body surrendered to old age. It took me a year to convince her to let Cate restore her once more. In the end, she agreed for the sake of her son, though I fear this is the last time.”

Sadness weighed on Justine’s voice, turning it husky. Even in the diminished light, I saw that her eyes glistened brighter than usual. She sniffed, and used the kerchief to dab at the moisture. “Can you believe it?” she asked, more to herself than me. “After five centuries in the human world, Sophie finally found someone she can’t live without. I’ve yet to know that sort of love, and last I heard, my brother Ronan is still searching for a companion. Two years ago he followed a young woman to Ireland, though I don’t think anything came of it. He’s not the best correspondent, and I’ve received nothing from him in several months. If we’re lucky our paths may cross while we’re there.”

Justine fell silent and watched me, waiting for some kind of response. I had none to give. She had told me the truth for the second time in our short acquaintance, and I silently thanked her for the gift. Now it was up to me to decide just what to do with it. Would I curse my luck, or Henry’s human blood? Or be thankful that I had found love—a love that would endure from this world to the next.

“It’s a lot to consider,” she continued. “But like my sister, you’ll have to choose once Henry passes on. Perhaps by then you’ll have other reasons to stay.”

The bridge split into two distinct pathways as images appeared unbidden in my head. One after another, I glimpsed the various tethers that could tie me to the mortal world over the course of my lifetime.

Children. Love for my new family. Passion for humanity.

A flood of emotions, both good and bad, overwhelmed the numbness. I belonged to two worlds, and no matter which I chose there would be much to gain, and much to lose. Even during my short life, I had learned firsthand the pain of separation when my mother, father and brother had passed forever into the Otherworld. But my eighteen years were a drop in the bucket compared to the centuries of my two aunts. Or Cate’s millennia. If life was as lonely as Justine claimed, what had allowed Cate to stay for so long to serve the humans she loved and admired? The answer came in a name.

Tom.

I knew it as clearly as I knew the sun would set tonight and rise again in the morning. Tom was her strength, and she would stay in the human world so long as he remained with her.

Another truth followed close behind. Henry was a part of me, a part of my soul. To be without him would leave a gaping wound more severe than a severed limb. When he passed, I could survive and endure each day, incomplete and stuck in a sort of half-life. But why would I ever choose such a meager existence when so much more awaited?