Sea Of Treason, Pirate's Bluff #1

The Wrong Alley

Whitley

A shiver of excitement rushes through my body, enough to overcome the fear of what's happening behind the closed doors of the Harrison's manor. Will the pirate crew kill someone? Will they kill Jeb?

I push the thought from my mind because I don't want to feel those things.

I want to feel Bluff's hand in mine. I want to revel in the moment, in the realization that I haven't lost him, or the freedom I so crave.

The streets are dark, filled with lines of empty carriages. A few lanterns glow along the lane but merely serve to cast shadows, making the in-between appear even more haunting. We pause, each with heavy breaths, as we consider the path in front of us.

One mile. That's how far the harbor is.

That's a one-mile trek through the pitch-black streets of New York city. This city is just as full of slums and criminals as it is of entrepreneurs and high society. When the sun goes down, these streets are anything but safe.

A figure appears from behind a nearby coach. I can't see his face or how he's dressed, but the hunch in his back is enough to make me wary. Bluff steps in front of me.

"Who are you?" Bluff asks as the figure approaches slowly. "Sir?" he says. There's still a possibility it's simply an older man arriving late to the party or a driver awaiting his master.

Then I notice the knife, dripping some liquid I can't quite see but can certainly guess.

I let out a small gasp, and the man charges. In two quick leaps, he is on Bluff, knife glinting in the splotches of candle light.

Bluff grabs his arm just before it contacts his chest and pushes it upward with a massive grunt. At the same instant, he uses a knee to the chest and his other arm to push the man back violently, twisting so he flips onto his back. The smack of his head on the stone pavement reverberates through the streets.

So fast. It's over so fast, and I don't even know if the man is still alive. Can someone die from such a simple move? And yet it's hard to imagine him living after a sound that revolting.

I don't look too closely at his face as Bluff rips the blade from the man's fingers, then pulls me roughly into the darkness, towards the harbor.

Over five thousand feet to our destination. And even then, will there be a ship waiting?

My mind still reels from the quick altercation, the wet crunch replaying over and over. But my feet continue to move as Bluff directs me.

A few moments later, a smear of red against a brick wall catches my attention, and suddenly my whole body is at alert. Ice fills my veins as my mind is pulled back to the present and I recognize the alley we're in.

I shove my feet into the rocky dirt, pulling Bluff to a stop as violently as I can manage.

"What are you doing?" he hisses as he stops and turns back towards me.

The expression on his face is one of pure rage, and it stops me for a moment. Why is he so angry?

"We can't go this way," I say, with a quieter voice than I meant to use. "We have to go back..." I begin to point back the way we came, but he interrupts me.

"What are you talking about?" He rips his hand from mine.

His eyes. That's what strikes me the most. I can't even describe the look there, like storm clouds building within his grey eyes. The worst part is the pain.

He won't meet my gaze.

"What's wrong?" I ask him, suddenly forgetting the panic I'd felt at finding us smack in the middle of mob territory.

"What do you mean what's wrong? Stede is here, and we have to get to the harbor as quickly as possible or we're dead." He spits as he finishes his line. "We can't go back."

"Yes, I understand that," I say, defensiveness creeping up my chest at his tone. I'm not a moron. "But—"

"Look, I don't want to hear about Jeb or the perfect life I ripped you from. I'm sorry, but I don't care about your happiness. You go back and you're dead. Understand?"

I flinch. "You think I want to go back to Jeb?"

"I mean that you can't go back—ever."

I narrow my eyes, realizing—of course he thinks that's what I want. This was always my destination. New York. Jeb. It's the only place I'd ever expressed a desire to go—because I didn't know another option.

So he thinks I ran to save my skin for the moment, but plan on seeking out that same life once the coast clears. He doesn't know I was planning to leave with or without him.

"I don't want to go back... ever," I say quietly.

His expression shifts, confusion softening his anger. But before he can respond, the shattering of glass just down the dark alley causes us both to freeze.

"Also," I say in a whisper, "I forgot to mention, we're currently in Five Points. One block from the bar where the mob meets."