Ahoy!
If you read my other story you know why I was out for a week. Needless to say, I've been pretty out of commission. I am hopefully back up and running on enough power now to get back into the swing of things!
Thank you to Mel, Jill, and Gemma!
TWENTY-ONE
"He smells foul," Jasper complains as we carry the drunkard off the street. We head to the nearest tavern where I assume he'd climbed out of to accost us.
"We'll get him cleaned up," I tell Jasper. "And find out what he knows."
Jasper grunts, but eventually we are able to get him inside the tavern. I set him down on a chair while Jasper goes to barter for clean water.
I take in the man, slumped over in his chair. He is tall, I think perhaps taller than me even, and would be a large man if the drink hadn't thinned him.
His skin is stretched taut over his face, sun-tanned and leathered by weather and age.
At his neck, his shirt has come loose, and I spot a medallion on a thin gold chain. Judging by the state of him, it must mean a great deal to him that he has not yet traded it in for food or lodging, or even drink.
Jasper returns to my side. "The barman wants nothing to do with him." He grunts. "We have to take him down to the water to wash him."
I let out a long breath but nod.
We carry him out, staggering slowly through the streets until we make our way to the pale sandy shore. Jasper and I don't even stop to shed layers as we haul the drunkard into the sea.
The moment he's chest deep in the cold water, he yelps, startling awake.
"Oi!" he shouts, arms flailing. "What's this then?" he demands, his voice less slurred than it was on the street. A wave crashes into our bodies, submerging all three of us as we turn to make our way back to shore.
We are drenched, head to toe, but the water has helped the drunkard sober up and has also lessened the stench of him. "What's this about?" he bellows once we are free of the waves and back upon the sand.
"You spoke of someone I'm associated with," I tell him, not really wanting to admit any connection with Isabella, but seeing no way around it.
He squints at me. "Who are you?"
I let out a frustrated breath.
"Captain Edward Masen," I tell him, tilting my head slightly. I decide to keep my pseudonym a little longer, not knowing if he is the sort of rascal that could damage to my true name.
He scowls.
"Never 'eard of ya," he spits, his head shaking and spraying water around us.
"Nor would I expect you to have," I agree, glancing at Jasper. His eyes are trained on the drunkard. I turn back to the man. "What may we call you?"
He lets out a breath, shaking his wet arms. Seawater splashes across my face.
"My friends call me Aster." He pauses, his head tilting. "Well, they did before that woman ruined me."
I understand his pain.
"And now?" Jasper asks. He looks up at Jasper, his light blue gaze meeting Jasper's ocean stare.
"No one calls me nothin'," he croaks. "I'm not more 'an a ghost with bones."
The hollowness of his voice haunts me.
"What would you do, to the woman who has ruined your life?" I need to know. I need to know the depth of his fury, the extent of his revenge.
He pushes his hair from his eyes. His straw-blond hair sticks up in every which direction.
"Burn the bitch to the ground."