Passenger (Passenger #1) - Alexandra Bracken Page 0,59

Hemlocks, and brought the survivors into line,” Nicholas explained. “But he isn’t as you and I are; he’s what we call a ‘guardian.’ They cannot travel, and are stationary in their natural times. But they watch the entrances to the passages to ensure the safety of the travelers, and take note of all comings and goings. They also do other work for the family—see to their financial interests and property in various eras, relay messages between the centuries.”

Etta’s eyes widened. “How in the world do they do that?”

“If they precede us, they leave letters in various family vaults which are checked by other guardians. If they follow this era, the letters are brought back by a designated traveler. Hall himself was required to oversee the transportation and sale of sugar from one of their plantations in the Caribbean from 1750 until just recently.”

She was missing a piece of this. “Had you met Hall before you went to live with him?”

He shook his head. “Ironwood decided to have the old family house on Queen Street sold, along with its possessions. My mother was purchased outright with another house slave, and claimed I ran away. She left me hiding in a cupboard, and hoped I’d be able to escape and live a life of freedom. I would never have agreed if I’d known what was truly happening.”

Etta was about to ask what had become of his mother, but he barreled on quickly.

“Hall found me when they came to inspect the house before the purchasers arrived. I was half-dead from hunger, filthy as a stray pup—my mother had told me to stay put and keep silent, and I was much better at following orders then.” Nicholas gave her a wry smile. “He carried me out. Made sure my freedom was legal. It was years before Ironwood came back to that era and learned of me. I trained and traveled for a time on Ironwood’s behalf, but no more. I’ll not leave the sea or my true family again.”

Etta forced herself to move past the thought of him as a young boy, hiding in the dark for days. “What will you do after you finish your business with Ironwood?”

He shifted, absently reaching up to rub at his shoulder. “I need to meet Chase and the others to see to my responsibilities as prize master. Captain Hall will be back in port before the month’s end, and we’ll sail again soon after.”

Of course he had responsibilities. That was his life—it had just so happened to overlap with hers for a few days. Why did Etta feel so anxious at the thought of him walking away? “Is it safe to travel? Will you be all right?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about me, Miss Spencer,” he said as they bumped up against the other ferry landing. “I always manage.”

“You could call me Etta,” she said, smiling. “I’d like that.”

There was a crack in that calm mask—a flash. Etta’s eyes read it as anger, but instinct registered something worse: a painful kind of shock, as if she’d knocked him off the ferry and into the cold river.

“You—” he began, his gaze shifting up to the sky, a small, pained smile on his face. Etta couldn’t look away, not at Sophia, who was calling her name, not at the sails cutting through the blooming dark. He let out a quiet laugh, sounding almost dismayed, his hands pressed hard against his sides. “There are times, Miss Spencer, you defeat me utterly.”

Before she could process those words, he’d moved to the front of the ferry, to assist the other men in securing it. And when it came time to disembark, only Sophia was waiting for her.

“Was he bothering you? Thank God he’ll be gone soon enough,” she said, loud enough for all of the city to hear.

“No!” Etta said quickly. “Not at all.”

Still, Sophia eyed Nicholas as he strode in front of them, blowing past a cluster of women with bright eyes and rouged cheeks. They were nearly spilling out of their low-cut dresses.

“Looking for a place to sleep, love?” one asked, trailing after him. “’Ope the fire didn’t get your pretty house. I’ve got a spot that’s warm—”

“I’m spoken for,” he said, gently removing her hand from his shoulder. “Have a nice night, ladies.”

Spoken for? Etta watched his back, the stretch and bunch of the muscles as he moved.

Sophia then let out a strangled gasp and swore a blue streak as she stepped directly into a pile of fresh horse droppings.