Distraction (3 page)

Mari laughed suddenly. “I thought that boy’s eyes
would pop out of his head when you set his bottom on fire.”

I laughed too. “It was quite a sight, wasn’t it? I
think it’ll be a long while before that bully sits down again.” I
took hold of her arm and we hurried down the road to home.

There was a mound of wash to do, but I was happy to
have something to keep my mind from the morning’s unfortunate
events. The line of petticoats, blouses, and skirts danced in the
warm breeze as I sat on the front stoop to rest. Nonni’s tiny
figure appeared at the top of the road. She looked so petite and
frail it seemed one strong gust of wind could carry her into the
nearest tree, but truthfully, her powers made her anything but
vulnerable. I always felt safer when Nonni was near.

I must have been slightly delusional to convince
myself of the farfetched notion that Nonni would not know something
significant had happened, particularly because magic had been
involved. The grave expression she wore as she opened the small
gate to our yard assured me she knew everything.

She stopped in front of me but looked back at the
line of laundry. “Is that all of it?”

“I washed both baskets. My hands are chapped.”

She nodded but continued to stare calmly out at the
road. “I have some salve for your hands,” she said quietly.

My stomach tightened. Scolding and yelling were not
in my grandmother’s character, but I might have preferred it to
cold silence. She finally turned her gray eyes down to me. “What
were you thinking, Poppy?”

Tears flowed down my cheeks. “He was about to set
fire to a boy, Nonni. He’d lit the kindling and everything.”

“But we never use magic to harm unless necessary. The
boy will suffer from those burns for weeks . . . even if the plump,
little brute deserved it.”

“I’m sorry, Nonni,” I sobbed. “I just couldn’t stand
by and let them torture that little boy.”

She placed her hand on my head. “Of course not, my
dearest. Hopefully nothing more will come of this. I smell bread.
Let’s go inside before your sister burns it.”

The afternoon and supper passed peacefully. Wavering
candlelight added to the warmth of the fire. After the dishes were
cleared, Nonni walked into the small windowless room at the back of
the cottage where she mixed tonics and elixirs. She stayed there
for the remainder of the evening. Unfamiliar fragrances seeped
beneath the doorway. She had not told us what she was working on
and we dared not ask.

Mari sat at the table working on a sampler, and I’d
relaxed enough to pull out some parchment and stick of graphite.
Sketching was my favorite hobby, and I had to admit that I was
quite skilled at it.

I’d been working on a particular drawing for weeks.
The thread I’d wound around the stick of graphite pressed into the
tender tips of my fingers. The laundry had taken a toll on my
hands, but I was determined to finish the sketch this evening. As I
shaded the lines of my drawing, Mari left her sampler to come sit
with me by the fire. We nibbled on leftover gingerbread as I put
the finishing strokes on my picture.

Up until now, I’d not let Mari see the sketch. I held
it up and admired it in the yellow light of the hearth flames. I’d
purposely left the face shield of the knight open so his pale eyes
could gaze back at me from the parchment. He was nearly as handsome
as I’d imagined and in my mind’s eye, I could picture a crooked
smile beneath the chin of his armor.

“Well, you look as pleased as a child who has just
successfully stolen a pie from the windowsill,” Mari quipped. “Can
I please see it now?”

“Yes, I think it is time to unveil him.” I turned the
parchment. “May I present to you, Sir Blade, the
dragon-slayer.”

Mari’s eyes widened and she grabbed the parchment
from my fingers. She stared at the sketch and her blue eyes
sparkled. “Why can’t there be boys like this here in Salem. He’s
wonderful, Poppy. And the dragon beneath his sword looks so real it
frightens me to hold the parchment so closely.” Belying her
previous statement, she brought the sketch closer to her face. “Who
is this?” She lowered the picture and smiled at me over the top of
it. “You’ve drawn yourself in the picture. You are the maiden in
danger.”

I shrugged. “Naturally.” I plucked the picture from
her grasp. “He’s my hero, after all.” I dropped the picture onto my
lap and leaned back on my hands with a sigh. “Somewhere out there
is my hero, and I have every intention of finding him. He’ll have
pale green eyes and a mischievous smile that steals my breath.
He’ll ride a tall horse and never leave home without a sword at his
side. And he’ll be even more in love with me than I am with him,
although that will be difficult because I will love him to
distraction.”

“Seems rather farfetched,” Mari said. “Perhaps you
should have Nonni conjure a hero up for you.”

“You have no imagination, Mari.”

“And you, dear sister, have too much.”

The door to the back room opened and a dense, bitter
smelling steam followed Nonni as she walked out. My stomach
tightened. I was not an expert in magic but I knew that the clammy
moisture swirling around our small house was not the residue of
white magic.

Nonni looked weary. Without a word she walked over
and blew on the embers beneath the kettle on the hearth. They went
out immediately. She touched one candle and the rest extinguished.
The only light that remained was the starlight through the window
and the flames in the fireplace.

My grandmother’s tiny figure cast a long shadow on
the wall of the cottage as she stood over us. We’d had a pleasant
supper and the evening had been perfectly uneventful, but Nonni’s
lips were still pulled tightly. “Off to bed with the both of you,”
she said with a waver in her voice. The sound of it blackened my
mood again.

I climbed beneath the quilt and curled up next to my
sister for warmth. Nonni’s powers allowed her to sense impending
doom, but in this case, I truly hoped she’d lost her talent for
predicting the future.

Several hard knocks on the door rattled the walls of
the cottage. Mari and I sat up from a restless sleep. It could not
have been long past midnight. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears
as I stepped into my slippers and yanked my wool shawl around my
shoulders. Nonni was already at the door with a candle when I
stepped into the front room. I walked up behind her and peered over
her shoulder.

“Widow Seabrooke?” a deep voice asked from the
lightless stoop.

Nonni’s fingers trembled as she lifted the candle
higher to see who had addressed her. The man’s face was barely
visible beneath the black hat. The collar of his black overcoat was
pulled up high around his chin, yet I could still sense that it was
not a face we’d seen before.

“Yes, I’m Widow Seabrooke,” Nonni answered after a
cautious pause. “What is it you want at this hour?”

The man’s gaze was not unkind, but there was a
distinct look of purpose in his expression. He looked at me for a
moment and then lifted a piece of parchment. “I am Captain
Smitherton from Salem Town. I have here a mittimus for Miss Poppy
Seabrooke. I am to transport her to Salem Town prison where she
will await trial for setting a boy on fire.”

Mari cried out and Nonni flashed her an admonishing
glance. My head spun and I grabbed Nonni’s arm to keep from falling
over.

“I see,” Nonni said calmly. “You will wait here until
she gets dressed.”

He stepped inside and Nonni’s arm went rigid beneath
my grasp.

“If you don’t mind, I will wait inside. It is cold
and—”

“Fine,” Nonni cut him off rudely.

Half-dazed, I followed Nonni and Mari into my
bedroom. “Dress in your warmest skirt and blouse, my dear, it is
cold in those prison cells.” She spoke as if she was telling me how
to fry an egg.

I broke into sobs, and she firmly grabbed hold of my
shoulders. “Look at me, Poppy.”

I lifted my eyes but could barely see through the
onslaught of tears. Her gray eyes were clear and confident. “Do
nothing. Behave and cooperate. I will see you soon.” She winked and
released me. “Now get dressed, and I will see that our visitor does
not nose around the cottage.”

Getting dressed was an arduous task with trembling
hands. Mari had collapsed onto the bed in sobs and was no help. My
knees wobbled and I was certain my legs would collapse beneath me
as I shuffled back into the front room. Nonni held up the candle to
inspect my attire.

Captain Smitherton stared open-mouthed at me for a
moment. He gained his composure and fished in his pocket for a pair
of shackles.

“There is no need for restraints, Captain. My
granddaughter will cooperate fully. Those are far too big for her
anyhow.” She peered up at him coldly. “Unless of course you’re
afraid of your obviously dangerous prisoner.”

The man looked properly embarrassed. He returned the
shackles to his pocket. Nonni hugged me tightly and whispered into
my ear. “Soon, my dearest.”

The black carriage careened wildly over the uneven
roadway, and I clutched the cold bars on the window to keep from
being thrown from the wooden bench. I pulled my hood up over my
head and braced against the cold. The tears had stopped and now all
I could do was wait and see where fate would take me. I had no idea
what my grandmother was up to, but I had every confidence that she
would free me from this horrid situation.

It was hard to tell how long we’d traveled for, but I
recognized the salty sea air of Salem Port and knew we were close
to our destination. The horses’ hooves pounded a cobblestone road.
I scooted forward and glanced through the bars. The shops and
houses were dark, and a peaceful stillness blanketed the usually
crowded and boisterous town of Salem.

Captain Smitherton halted the horses and they snorted
in exhaustion. I peered out. We had stopped in front of a plain
brick building with tiny windows set high in the walls. The captain
seemed to have a hard time looking at me as he ushered me out of
the carriage and into the dark building.

He removed a set of keys from his pocket and the
jangling sound echoed through the long, empty hallway. We reached a
small door with a barred window. He struggled with the lock and
then the heavy door swung open. The smell of urine and mold
assaulted me the moment we stepped into the small chamber.

“I’m sorry it is cold and foul smelling inside, but I
am required to lock you in.” His regretful tone was genuine. “We
don’t usually have young women inside.”

“Captain Smitherton, you have nothing to reproach
yourself for. You are only doing your job.”

“Yes, Miss. Someone will be ’round in the morning
with breakfast.” He paused. “I’m afraid it will only be cold
oats.”

I forced a weak smile. “So I shan’t expect eggs and
ham?”

“Good night, Miss.”

The door swung shut and the key rattled in the lock a
moment. His footsteps echoed back down the hallway. I hugged myself
against the cold darkness. The sliver of a window up high in the
wall let in no light. The blackness surrounding me was
suffocating.

I shuffled over what moved and smelled like damp
straw. I had no way of knowing for certain. I might as well have
been blindfolded. I placed my hands out in front of me and took
small steps across the floor until my fingers bent back painfully
on a wall of bricks. The wall was damp and slick with what I hoped
was mold. A shudder ran through me as I considered what else it
might be.

With the wall behind me, I turned and crouched down
to my feet and then exhausted and terrified, I collapsed to my
bottom. My eyes had had time to adjust to the lack of light and yet
all I could see was blackness. Even shadows seemed to have escaped
this wretched place. I hugged my knees to my chest trying to make
myself as small as possible and trying to keep my imagination in
check. I feared that if I let the darkness seep into my mind, I
would surely crumble into hysteria. I had no idea how large the
room was or if I was completely alone. I closed my eyes searching
for light of some kind but even my mind’s images had vanished in
the black hole.

I was bone tired and yearned for the relief of sleep
but it wouldn’t come. The silence was nearly as suffocating as the
darkness. I hummed a tune, the same tune Nonni used to hum to me
when I had trouble sleeping. I hummed for several minutes and
concluded that it only worked as a lullaby when someone hummed it
to you. I decided to move my thoughts to Nonni and my eventual
release. No doubt I would be free by morning, perhaps even before
the bowl of oats was tossed my way. Images of Nonni, Mari, and our
cozy cabin helped me from being overwhelmed by melancholy.

I snuggled deeply into my wool cloak and pulled the
hood down over my face. I’d begun to relax some in my self-made
cocoon when I had the sudden and alarming feeling that someone was
standing in the cell with me. There was no light or sound and I’d
heard no keys or door, but I could sense a presence. I scooted back
and my head smacked the brick wall behind me. My heart pounded and
a scream caught deep in my throat.

A tiny light no larger than a firefly flickered in
the blackness. The light brightened and a tall figure stood in the
center of the narrow room.

Angus stared down at me with his glacial gaze. He
looked no more than twenty-five years old but his harsh glare
resembled that of a man much older. “I had to come see for myself
it the rumors were true. I shall set this entire town ablaze for
daring to put you in this squalid cell.”

I stood and brushed the litter from the back of my
skirt and cloak. “Do not trouble yourself, Angus. My grandmother
will see to my release.”