The Unbelievable Life of Patrick Uilliam Carter

Chapter twenty-five

   Plink. Plink. Plink. Patrick awoke to the sound of dripping water. His face was pressed against a cold damp wall. Darkness surrounded him. He could hear rats squeaking as they scurried around the room. Their nails scratched against the stone floor.

   He struggled to move. His hands and feet were tied. The course rope rubbed against his skin. The sides of his face hurt where a cloth had been tightly secured in place behind his head.

   A noise coming from what he assumed was a hallway caught his attention. Keys clacked together as metal scraped the lock. Click. The door slowly creaked open. Revealing the dim light of a torch burning in the corridor just out of sight. Rats scattered towards the shadows as the light exposed their whereabouts.

   He jerked his head up to see the outline of a man standing in front of him. The figure crouched down to face Patrick. Callum!

Patrick lunged at him. Nearly knocking Callum over as he jumped to his feet. Causing Patrick to hit the floor hard. He groaned as pain radiated across his shoulder. His cheek pressed against the dirty cold stone floor.

"Easy now. I have no qualms with you. It's that monster you're always with." He chuckled darkly as he knelt down and untied the cloth that was gagging Patrick. "There. See? I'm not the bad guy, Patrick." He lifted his hands up in surrender.

"Where is she? What have you done with her?" Anger coursed through him as he scowled at Callum.

"Why, Patrick! You speak as though you care for that thing! When in reality it is that abomination that actually kills our kind for pleasure!" His voice reverberated off the walls as he yelled. His breathing was ragged.

He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as he smoothed his hair. Trying to regain his composure. "She's obviously bewitched you. Who knows how long you'll be under her control."

Callum turned on his heels and walked toward the door. He took another deep breath and turned to face Patrick. "I've seen it you know. Those creatures that you love so much. I watched them tear apart every man on my father's ship. I can still hear them screaming. They killed my father without hesitation right in front of me. I only survived because the old deaf man on board grabbed me and took me away from that horrific scene. He raised me. Taught me everything I know about those things. I was just six years old, Patrick! Do you have any idea what that does to a child?!" Tears streamed down his indignant face.

Sorrow gripped Patrick as he thought over the life Callum must have endured. He knew the pain of losing a father. He could understand why Callum hated sirens. He had witnessed firsthand their cruelty. "Calli's not like them. She would never, could never hurt anyone!" He desperately wanted Callum to trust him.

Callum sighed heavily. "It's not your fault that she's brainwashed you. I wanted to release you, but I can't have you trying to help her." He sneered.

Patrick tried to focus on what Callum was saying but his attention was on the shadow heading towards them from beyond the doorway.

The bulky figure blocked out most of the light coming from the corridor. Patrick's eyes widened in fear as he watched the beast of a man enter the room. A burlap sack with a body in it was slumped over his broad shoulder.

Callum turned, only to receive a blow to the head. He collapsed to the floor as the man gingerly set the sack down.

"Don't chu be worrying about 'im. 'e'll be fine. Wake up with a bad 'eadache is all." He leaned down and untied Patrick's feet.

Patrick breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the man in front of him. "Tim! You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

He untied his hands and hoisted the bag up onto his shoulder. "Pleasantries can wait." He smiled back at Patrick. "Let's get you out of 'ere first."

Patrick stood and rubbed his wrists. Upon exiting the room, Tim closed the door and locked it.

"Doc's been worried about chu." He turned down the damp corridor. "This way."

He led them through what looked to be an old wine cellar. Barrels were stacked on top of each other and lined the walls. They came to a set of rickety wooden stairs and carefully climbed their way to freedom.

Patrick squinted as he made his way out of the dark cellar and into the bright sunlight. "How long was I down there?"

Without stopping, Tim replied, "Been gone from Doc's 'ouse since yesterday."

"How did you find me?"

Tim laughed. "That boy Callum never could keep 'is mouth shut." He glanced over at Patrick "Suppose that's a good thing." They walked several houses down until they arrived at the street where Taylor lived.

Outside, Taylor was pacing back and forth in front of the walkway. When he spied them coming up the street, he ran to greet them. "I am terribly sorry for all the trouble my cousin has caused you. I had no idea that Isaac would mention your visit to Callum. He has been less than reasonable since we left you on that island." He looked at the bag Tim was carrying. "Is that"

"This the girl," Tim replied as he adjusted the precious cargo.

Taylor glanced around then ushered them inside and locked the door. He led them into the bedroom and shut the curtains. "Place her here." He gestured to the bed.

Then he turned the knob on the hurricane lamp that was on the nightstand, causing the flame to grow. Illuminating the room.

Patrick noticed a leather doctor's bag was on the bedside table.

Tim gently laid the sack down on the bed and untied it. He pulled back on the burlap to reveal Calliope's unconscious face.

Fear gripped Patrick as he stared at her disheveled state. Upon hearing the sound of the lock on the door behind him, Patrick turned his full attention towards Taylor, whose facial expression was stern.

He looked pointedly at Patrick and said, "I think you owe us an explanation."