Page 12 of Song of the Hell Witch

Seven

Close your mouth, Prudence. Close. Your. Mouth.

Prudence’s mind reeled, flitting from surprise to disbelief to something else, something heavy enough to crash down into her lungs and try to suffocate her.

She wanted to know how old the girl was, how quickly Puck had moved on.

Maybe, if she knew that, she could finally stop beating herself up for how she’d treated him. How she’d left him.

Except knowing that answer would spell out exactly how little she’d mattered to him. And she wasn’t sure she could handle that either.

“Hi, Beatrice.” It was the only answer she could find.

“Bea’s fine.” Puck kept his hands resting on his daughter’s shoulders.

“I like Beatrice ,” she said. Bea felt too friendly. “How old are you, Beatrice?” She had to know. Now.

“She’s eight,” Puck said, and the embarrassment burned in Prudence’s cheeks. Three seconds and already she’d forgotten the girl was mute.

Beatrice peered up at her father, and she looked so tired, so sad, her blinks slow and heavy.

Puck guided her over to one of the chairs and sat her down. “Do you wanna go back to bed? I’ll take you up, tuck you in.”

“Puck …” Prudence started, preparing to remind him of the urgency, but he wasn’t listening.

Eight years old. She’d gone nearly an entire decade not knowing Puck Reed was a father. But she knew now, and she couldn’t ask him to blow up his life, not when she knew how much he had to lose.

The urge to fly away pulled at her, but fear held her in place.

She tried to counter it with logic, prove to herself she could make it without him.

After all, she’d survived for eleven years on her own before she’d met Frederick; she could do it again.

Maybe the Watchmen would have their crossbows ready, but maybe not.

Maybe she could use the darkness and cloud cover to slip past.

Paris probably told them to search the skies, the harbor, everywhere. He wanted you to burn before this. He’ll want you flayed alive now.

“Look, Bumblebee, Pru and I have a few things to sort out, okay?” Puck glanced at her, and her breath hitched. For the first time all night, she saw the boy she used to know, the boy who taught her how to pick pockets, how to find a good mark in a crowd. “And we don’t have a lot of time.”

Beatrice made a noise, a half word that caught in her throat. Puck squeezed her hand.

“Come on, you can do it. What’re you trying to tell me?”

The girl’s mouth opened, and the pieces came together in Prudence’s mind. She wasn’t born mute. It was clear, in how Puck asked questions, in how he waited, that she used to speak.

And Puck was obviously terrified she’d never speak again.

“Mouth it if you want,” he said, though it sounded to Prudence like he’d asked her to do that before and she’d resisted. “I can read lips; it’ll be easy.”

It was true. They used to signal to each other that way, mouthing code words and even arguing without making a sound. It had made it easier to track marks and communicate at the same time. Prudence was out of practice, though. She didn’t know if she’d be able to make out much at all.

Bea’s cheeks flushed pink. She bowed her head, hands balling into fists on top of her knees.

“It’s okay.” Puck’s voice was tight, strained. “We’ll try again tomorrow, yeah?”

She nodded and gave him a tired smile.

“Want me to take you up?”

Shaking her head, she leapt down from the chair, kissed him on the cheek, and, with a final, scrutinizing look at Prudence, shuffled back to the bookcase, shutting the secret door behind her.

The silence thickened the air as Prudence waited for him to say something, anything. She couldn’t speak first. She wouldn’t.

“Surprised?” he finally asked.

That’s one word for it. “I just never imagined you with a … I mean, it just feels a bit …” It was impossible to say the right thing. Too much time had gone by. She didn’t know him like she used to, and it wasn’t like she had the energy or the time to talk about any of this anyway.

Swallowing hard, she grabbed the whiskey bottle by the neck and tugged out the cork.

The heady scent of smoked wood chips and burnt cinnamon was comforting, and she poured the liquor into one of the brass teacups atop the coffee table.

Hooking her finger through the handle, she knocked the drink back, relishing the burn in her throat. “How long’s she been mute?”

“Let’s not do this.”

“Do what?”

He walked over and poured his own cup of whiskey, which he downed in one gulp.

“You’re here ’cause you need me for something.

For a second there, I thought maybe I could help, but then she came walking down the stairs and reminded me why I can’t, so …

” He gestured to the window. “I think it’s best you go. ”

“Oh, what a gentleman you’ve become.” She took another sip as her anger rose, her patience and compassion extinguished for the night.

“Look, I didn’t mean I could never see you as a father.

It’s just, for nine years, all I ever heard you say was die young, die free.

And now here you are with a kid. It doesn’t make sense to me, that’s what I’m saying. ”

“People change.”

“Or a boy gets a girl pregnant, and because he’s not an ass, he doesn’t cut and run.”

Puck scoffed and paced the room. “Is it really so hard for you to believe I could love someone after you? That I met someone who actually wanted to build a life with me instead of throwing everything I was back in my face?”

“I didn’t …” Careful, Prudence. “I didn’t mean—”

“Or did you think I took a vow of celibacy the day you got on that ship? Vowed to never love again? Did you think my world stopped spinning all ’cause you left? Love’s not some finite thing, you know. Those of us with beating hearts tend to feel it fairly frequently.”

It all hurt more than it should have. Perhaps she’d loved him once, but even then, she’d known it could never work. The life of a thief was too wild, too uncertain, too short for her.

Except you know that together, you could’ve survived. That you could have had a life with him.

“Beatrice, she’s …” Prudence breathed until the spear dissolved. “Pretty.”

Wounded as she was, she knew he liked being flattered, and she still needed his help.

There was a beat, and then he softened, the fury falling out of his face, replaced by the smooth, charming lines she’d traced a thousand times. “The pretty she gets from her mother.” He nearly cracked a smile.

“Obviously,” she teased, taking one last sip of whiskey. “You won’t help me, fine. But I need another plan. Another way out.”

He stopped his pacing and stared out the window. “I’m all she’s got, Pru.”

“And you’re all I’ve got.”

“And what happens if I get caught, hmm? She goes to the Whitefire workhouse with all the war orphans and ends up like Emmaline?”

Her sister’s name was silverhornet venom under her skin. “That’s not—”

A bang sounded from the shop’s front door, and Prudence’s heart leapt into her throat. Puck dropped into a defensive crouch and slammed a finger to his lips.

No shit, she wanted to whisper to him, surprised by how comfortable she already was, how quickly her language had hardened.

Another loud, violent knock rumbled through the Curiosity Shop. “City Watch! By order of the Republic, Puck, open this door!”

Puck’s arm spasmed so aggressively, Prudence was sure he was having a fit—until she realized it wasn’t a spasm but a gesture toward the bookcase, still slightly ajar from where Bea had slipped inside.

Trembling, she snatched the bloody nightgown from the corner where she’d flung it.

Then she rose up on tiptoe, and somehow her legs supported her as she grabbed her cloak and her boots and made for the passageway.

She peeked over her shoulder to find him brushing his hair back, pulling his collar straight.

“They’re probably just checking every house,” he whispered to her. “I’ll get rid of them. Go.”

It was a promise to keep her safe, not because of anything lingering between them but because once she had been a Talonsbury River Rat.

And River Rats protected their own. Always.

Thank you, she mouthed.

He waved her on, then shouted as he moved into the shop. “Teddy? That you out there?”

Teddy? Teddy Dickens?

She eased the bookcase closed, and the darkness became a solid, living thing. The walls in the passage pushed in, and her wings, craving freedom again, shifted in her back. She focused on her breathing, grounded herself in her surroundings.

The scent of mildew caked the back of her throat. Wooden planks were cold under her bare feet. She could hear the river licking the base of the shop, flowing faster with the rain. Maybe she could swim it, follow the Whip’s serpentine path out to the sea.

Except the current was unpredictable. Grown men with lungs the size of melons drowned every year, even on days when the water was calm.

Up the other set of stairs, a sliver of golden light shone under the apartment’s crooked door. Her teeth crackled at the thought of sitting in a room with that sullen, quiet girl, seeing in her face the combination of Puck and a ghost.

Boots. Murmured voices. In the parlor room, Puck was performing a show for the ages.

“Don’t mind the mess; Marigold and I cracked into this Wild Fang whiskey before she went home for the night.” He laughed. Actually laughed. “Teddy, you sure you don’t want any, mate?”

“Really can’t be drinking on duty, Puck. Especially not tonight.”

It was Teddy Dickens. He’d been part of Standish’s little troupe too. Ran with them, stole with them, played up his slight limp to gain the public’s sympathy so they’d put more money in his beggar’s cup. But like her, he’d always dreamed of a life beyond the Podge.

“You went up to the duke’s house tonight, right?” Teddy asked on the other side of the door.

“Yeah. Trying to get you lot pushed to a prettier part of the city. Figured you’d enjoy a new view.”

A few stray chuckles. Perfect. Teddy wasn’t alone.

“So you saw Prudence Merriweather, then.”

“It’s her house, so yeah, she was there.”

“Did you two talk? Make a plan to kill her husband maybe, make off with some of the family jewels?”

Puck spit out a laugh. “What in the Lightbringer’s name would Prudence Merriweather and I have to talk about?”

He’s trying to save you, you dunderhead. Don’t go getting upset about that.

“It’s a question, Puck,” Teddy said. “That’s all.”

“And that’s my answer, Teddy.”

Finding the stealth from all those years ago, Prudence scurried up the stairs, clutching her cloak and her boots to her chest, realizing suddenly they were all she had left in the world.