( Volume: 1 Chapter: 9 )
Chapter 9: the village
It was a gray, bleak day, almost dark, when Laura and Julian finally made their way into the town. The village seemed quite still; they could hear doors creaking in the
breeze. Darley's hooves echoed in the silence. There was smoke emanating from the chimneys, though, indicating there were still people inside the buildings.
Laura dismounted in front of one building that looked like an inn and indicated that Julian was to do the same.
Inside, the innkeeper looked at them suspiciously. Laura withdrew a coin pouch from a pocket in her wrap, fished in it with her fingers, and then dropped several coins onto the table.
The old man leaned over and examined them carefully.
"Ye be wantin' rooming for both?" he asked after a moment.
Laura nodded.
"Aye," the man said. "Yer the Kinney girl, ain'tcha? Oi've heard talk, but I didn' believe it much. Aye, well, you're money's real. Mind you cause no trouble. He yer husband?"
He looked at Julian, who didn't know how to respond.
"Yes," he said after a moment. He didn't want to cause the Kinneys extra money by saying something stupid. The old man looked surprised, but reached under the desk, opened a drawer, and produced a key.
"Aye. Third room on th' right. Meals downstairs at daybreak and sundown. Ye've rent here for two days. Oi've no stableboy t' help, so yer t' take care of yer own horse. Stable's out back."
Laura nodded, then pointed upstairs to Julian. She turned and exited the building, presumably to take care of the horse.
…
Julian stretched out in the bed, almost crying in relief. His back was killing him in an age where Tylenol and aspirin and Advil and all the other good pain relievers didn't exist. He wasn't
built for this kind of life, he was ready to admit.
The door opened and Laura stomped in. She was covered in muddy spots, her hair was messy, and she had both the saddles in her hands.
"What happened?" he asked, sitting up.
She shook her head, her eyes strained. She had no way to explain to him the way people reacted to her. Three young boys had spotted her and had thrown mud pies, calling vicious names
at her; 'whore' and 'idiot' amongst them. When she'd heard one whisper witch, she'd hurried.
Julian swung his legs over the edge, stood, and took her load from her while she struggled to hold back tears. There were just children…but she knew it was their parents that had taught
them to react in such a manner. "Don't cry," Julian said, putting his arms around her and patting her back soothingly. "Whatever it was, it's not worth you worrying about, beautiful."
She jerked away from him and stared. So there. He didn't think she was ugly then. What was his reasoning?
"Sorry…slipped out." He grinned at her, and she smiled, too. Although it confused her even more—taking away the only good reason she could think of for him not to want her that way—it
still made her feel good for some reason. She hesitated, then closed her eyes—she was nervous—and kissed him, like they'd done before his reluctance had come back for whatever reason.
Light and exploring. He tensed but didn't pull away; she heard his breathing grow heavier, and then his arms came around her waist , scooping her closer. She tilted her head, running her
hands down the sides of his face, like she had earlier, then down to his throat. She was fascinated by his throat. Throats played such a vital part in her life—and he had a particularly nice
one. She inclined her head and pressed her lips against it, right above the small cartilage rise in the center. She didn't know the word for it, but she'd touched him there, once, when he
was speaking, and had felt his words in her hand.
"No." He gripped her by her shoulders again and pushed her away, like he had in the stable before. "I told you, no. What happened—it was a mistake. I can't be with you that way.
It'll be hard enough already."
Why? Laura asked silently, her eyes burning with question at him.
"To leave," Julian answered. Her eyes widened—Laura was intelligent, but somehow, this had never occurred to her. The idea that Julian would be leaving, at some point. She shook
her head fiercely, then put her hand on his shoulder, too, her eyes big. Why would he have to leave? Everything he needed was here.
"Laura, I have to go home. I have responsibilities…I have friends I care about…I have someone I—"
Laura held up her left ring finger and tapped it viciously, her question obvious.
"No," he grinned despite himself. "But I love someone. Very much. And I miss her, and…that's another reason I can't do this, with you. It's not right. If you…if you were some other
girl…but I don't want to hurt you when I go, Laura." He tried to smile at her. "I don't have a choice about it."
Laura looked down. Of course, her luck…why couldn't anything in her life be normal? Even this was all wrong. She sniffled and turned away.
Julian didn't comfort her, aware that it would happen all over again. Instead he dug his sleeping gear out of the saddle and laid it on the floor. He'd been asshole enough for the night
without rubbing it in, he figured.
…
Laura peered over the edge of the bed. Her companion was twitching in his sleep, like a wolf having hunting dreams. His fingers arched on the wad of clothing under his head
(he'd removed his shirt); she watched, fascinated. Small traces of green were whisping around his digit. Green, like the day he'd arrived. He made a fist, and she scrambled back,
alarmed; the silver candle bra on the table was floating in midair, surrounded by the same green hue.
Curious, she slipped off of the bed and padded over to the table to examine this phenomena. And curiosity always led to touching, for she who could ask no questions. She poked her
fingers tentatively into the green glow. It was warm; her skin tingled, buzzed with energy. Julian suddenly rolled over and sat up on the mat; the candle bra dropped, and Laura caught
it in reflex before it could crash on the tabletop.
"Did I…" he stared at her. "Did that just move on its own?"
She nodded, examining her fingers. The skin was pink, like it had been massaged vigorously.
"Did you touch it?" he asked in suspicion. She blushed slightly; he made it sound wrong, like she had been nosing into private matters. She nodded, a brief jerk of her head.
He stretched out his hand and tried to pick up the candle bra again, but it did not respond. He shrugged. "Weird. I felt your hand on it. Jean said this might happen but…" he trailed off.
Laura had no idea what he was talking about. She wanted to ask him many, many questions now. How had he lifted the candle bra? She knew it had to do with the green light—but what
was it? Was he a warlock? She also wished, very desperately, that she could warn him to never use it in public.
This was not the time or the place to be different.
…
"Morning," Julian yawned from the floor, opening his eyes to see Laura peering at him again. "God, it's such a nice change not to be woken up by your fuckin' rooster."
Laura gave him a disapproving look. Again, he'd used the Lord's name in vain.
"Sorry." Julian rubbed his face blearily. He had not at all enjoyed his night on the floor. His back, not having set back into place after injuring it, was killing him again—worse than last night.
She watched him get up and walk to the window. He pulled the curtain aside slightly, staring at the people in the street below. "Shit."
Laura knew what that word meant, and she smiled slightly. Her father had explained it to her when she was small. Her mother had been angry with him for not watching his language around
'the child', but she was secretly glad that he had enlightened her.
On Julian's part, he'd just realized he really was in colonial times. He'd known this of course—but living with one Quaker and her unconventional daughter was an entirely different matter than
seeing an entire street full of people wearing big, puffy dresses and wigs. He rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed.
…
After breakfast, Julian followed Laura around from place to place, playing the part of the boyfriend holding the shopping bags—except he distinctly wasn't, and he was carrying brown paper-wrapped
parcels tied with twine string. Laura was a good bargainer, even without her voice; it was apparent that these people had met her before, as they did not comment on her lack of words. Some were
mean; most were afraid of her; and a few—mostly older women—were kind, and gave her small gifts with a smile and a pat for her hand.
They passed the town hall, and Laura watched Julian out of the corner of her eye. How was she to bring him to the conclusion her mother wanted, when he was adamantly against it? How could she
convince him to stay? She didn't believe him when he said he did not have a choice. Everyone had a choice. It was the consequences they had no choice about. Her mother could have stayed in
Salem—but she had chosen not to, for the consequences. What would the consequences of his staying be?
"What have we here?" A pretty, tall, red-headed girl was eyeing Julian. She and her friend—a shorter, pudgier girl with brunette hair—were standing outside the door of the building next to the hall.
Laura frowned—she would have avoided them if she hadn't been so distracted by her thoughts. They were dressed in the latest from Paris—they weren't Quakers, and they were daughters of
wealthy merchants from Boston.
"It looks like th' Kinney girl, don't it? Wot's that she's got wi' heah?" The shorter girl had a thick Boston accent, much heavier in contrast to the redhead.
"Mmm." The other girl was studying Julian, and smiling slightly. "You could do much better than a Kinney, you know. Her and her crazy bat of a mother are considered vagrants in these parts."
Laura's eyes flashed.
"Mercy Austin," the girl added, holding out her hand to Julian. "My companion is Elisa Frost. Our father are the Boston merchants, of the same name."
"Funny, I wouldn't associate you with mercy," he answered, staring at her without taking the offered appendage. He'd spared them a glance as they were walking past; the redhead was pretty,
but it was quite obvious that she had a rotten personality. Somewhat like his, in his own time. It came with having a lot of money.
"Well, I never!" the girl looked outraged for a moment, then smiled again at him. "You look new to these parts. You'd do well to associate with the right kind of people, if you understand me."
"I'm doing good, thanks though." Julian took Laura's hand. "Come on."
They walked away, leaving Mercy and Elisa to stare, their eyes like daggers.
"You'll be sorry!" Mercy called after him.
"Whatever," Julian said.
