Page 16 of Unbroken (Rath & Rune #4)

July the Fourth celebrations began early the next morning.

Ves woke to the sound of the older children setting off firecrackers in the yard, accompanied by the more distant pops of other youngsters doing the same in their own yards or in the street.

The museum was closed for the day, as were most businesses with the exception of bars, which Sebastian said did a roaring trade on the holiday.

After breakfast, Bonnie set about packing an enormous hamper for their picnic. “I’m sorry you can’t come with us, Noct,” she said.

“That’s all right.” He held little Clara, who was fussy because she was teething.

She tried to hurl her teething ring to the floor, but he caught it in a spare tentacle.

“Irene is coming by soon and taking me back to the estate. The Endicotts don’t exactly celebrate—it’s not as if they really wanted to relocate to America.

But I understand we’re to go out to the island in the lake and set off fireworks.

She says it’s an old ritual site, so there’ll be something more to do while we’re there, I’m sure.

At any rate, I’m staying the night, and she’ll bring me to the museum in the morning.

Ves, Sebastian, you’ll have to take the trolley. ”

“Have a wonderful time,” Ves said, though privately he worried. How many other Endicotts secretly agreed with Ambrose?

Noct waved from the door as the rest of them set off.

Ves carried the heavy hamper, Bonnie pushed Clara’s baby carriage, its parasol deployed to shield her tender skin from the sun, and Sebastian kept an eye on the rest of the children to make sure no one wandered or got left behind.

They stopped by Mrs. Adams’s door, as the old woman was joining them for the day.

“I’ve brought dessert!” she said, and drew back the cloth covering a basket to display a pie.

“That’s so lovely,” Bonnie exclaimed. “You didn’t have to bring anything, though.”

Mrs. Adams waved a dismissive hand. “And you didn’t have to invite me along.”

“Your son lives in New York City, you said?” Bonnie asked as they resumed their stroll.

“Yes indeed, but he’s spending the holiday with his wife’s family in Minnesota. And my daughter moved to California, oh, thirty-five years ago now, I’d say. I have four grandchildren through her, and…”

Ves’s attention drifted from the conversation.

The streets were as crowded as he’d seen them, everyone getting outside to enjoy the festivities and the fair weather, which had cooled considerably after the scorching weekend.

Food carts seemed set up on every corner, selling hot dogs, lemonade, dumplings, roasted corn, root beer, and more.

More and more people joined them on the streets, and Ves’s nerves drew tight.

He’d grown up amidst the peaceful countryside, and doubted he’d be fond of crowds even if he’d been entirely human with nothing to hide.

As it was, he flinched every time someone bumped into him.

The babble of voices, interspersed with shouts and crying babies, assaulted his ears.

Widdershins looked like an ant hill, a thousand bodies all moving, changing direction, swirling together and breaking apart in an incomprehensible pattern.

He should have asked Noct if he could go to the estate, too.

Sebastian caught his elbow and grinned down. “I’m so glad the weather is cooperating!” he shouted over the din.

His pale face was flushed with happiness, his eyes bright behind silver-rimmed glasses. Sebastian was far more sociable than Ves; he belonged here amidst his fellow humans, all bumping along together in a great mass that Ves only longed to escape from.

He made himself smile back at Sebastian. “It is lovely. How much farther is our destination?”

“Not far—you’ll see!”

The sound of music reached them from blocks away, beckoning them past the last line of buildings before the beach.

A massive boardwalk ran down the strand, lined with shops selling ice cream, pretzels, parasols and hats, bathing suits, post cards, and souvenirs.

A photographer’s studio seemed to be doing a brisk business with families wanting to commemorate the day.

Interspersed with these were stalls offering games like ring-toss and the wheel of fortune, alongside shooting galleries where players lined up to knock over tin targets.

A large pier stretched off behind the boardwalk, boasting the sort of amusements Ves had only read about: steeplechase, chutes, a Ferris wheel, and a house of mirrors.

A miniature lighthouse stood in the center of the pier, people crowding the rails at the top to get a look out over the city.

Everything was festooned in red-white-and-blue bunting, blowing in a breeze that smelled heavily of fish.

It mingled with the scents of sweat, cooking sausages, and sauerkraut.

Over the entrance to the boardwalk hung a sign proclaiming it King Tide Park. “Is this it?” Ves asked, though it must be.

“Yes, sorry,” Sebastian said. “Locals just call it ‘the pier.’ It didn’t used to have an official name, but the original pier burned down about a decade ago.

There was a carousel I loved to ride on as a child.

” His face took on a wistful expression for a moment, then cleared.

“At any rate, a new park was built on the site, bigger and better than before. But no one calls it King Tide Park even after all these years.”

They reached the boardwalk, following it along until they came to stairs letting them onto the beach. Someone had set up canopies here and there in the sand, and they found one to settle beneath. Bonnie handed Jossie, Helen, and Willie a few pennies and nickels.

“Be back here by one o’clock for lunch,” she warned.

They ran off, leaving Tommy wailing he wanted to go with them. “You’re too young,” Bonnie said firmly.

“Help me build a sandcastle,” Sebastian said to his nephew, and soon they were occupied digging in the sand.

Ves settled onto the blanket they’d spread, feeling out of place.

Alone, or at least with fewer people, the beach would have been a beautiful place to spend some hours.

But as it was, the noise of a brass band drowned out the lap of waves and cry of gulls.

A steady stream of visitors paused by their blanket to chat with Bonnie, and a few joined them on the sand, until it was crowded beneath the canopy.

He should have brought a book. A newspaper. Something, anything, to occupy his attention.

“Would you help me, Mr. Rune?” Mrs. Adams asked.

Startled, he turned to find the old woman seated beside him, a skein of yarn in her hand. “I need to wind this into a ball, and I don’t have my yarn swift,” she said, holding up the yarn. “Do you know anything about knitting?”

“I’m afraid not.” He seized on the distraction. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just hold your hands out like so…”

He allowed her to position his hands, then put the skein around them, and position them again. “Thank you. So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Rune. I feel we haven’t had the chance to talk properly.”

Sweat slid down his back, whether from the growing heat or anxiety, he didn’t know. “There’s little of interest,” he demurred.

“Oh, I doubt that. You’re being modest.”

He wracked his brain, trying to come up with something so boring she wouldn’t ask any more questions.

“I grew up in a factory town along the Connecticut River,” he settled on.

“I was interested in books, so I moved to Boston, apprenticed as a bookbinder, and worked for a time at the Boston Library before coming here.”

“That must be such a fascinating job!”

“I think so, but there is a certain repetition to it.” He caught himself before going into the intricacies of book repair and conservation. “I’m sure you’d find it quite tedious.”

She smiled, a forest of wrinkles springing up around her mouth, though her eyes remained fixed on her work. “Not at all. I’m very fond of books, and their preservation is a noble effort. So much knowledge has already been lost to the centuries.”

Mrs. Adams worked in silence for a bit, freed Ves when her yarn was in a neat ball, then joined in the chatter of those around them.

In what seemed like no time at all, the older children returned, and Bonnie opened the basket.

After feasting on cold ham sandwiches, bean salad, and blueberry pie, Sebastian stood up and reached for Ves’s hand.

“Let’s go onto the pier. You can win me a prize at the ring toss. ”

Though he’d prefer to be away from the crowds, Ves did have to admit he was curious about the boardwalk and its entertainments. They bought bottles of lemonade, then strolled the boards arm-in-arm, while gulls swooped down to pluck up any dropped crumb of food.

As the day went on, more and more people jammed onto the boardwalk and pier, perhaps hoping to get a better view of the fireworks. Eventually, they found themselves at the end of the pier, the Ferris wheel slowly rotating above them.

“They say the owner of King Tide Park is richer than half the old families combined.” Sebastian turned to look out over the waves.

“He’s got the blood of those who live beneath the sea in his veins, and on dark nights the inhabitants of the city below swim up to frolic in the park and give him piles of gold in exchange.

” He paused, then shrugged. “Or so the gossip goes.”

“Hmm.” Ves put his elbows on the rail and stared out at the water. It stretched on and on, past the big cargo ships going in and out of the harbor, past fishing trawlers, beyond the curve of the world until crashing on distant shores.

A man who smelled strongly of beer bumped into him, breaking him out of his thoughts. Sebastian must have caught the look on his face, because he said, “You’re not enjoying yourself.”

Curse it—he’d hoped to hide his discomfort. “It’s just a bit crowded.”

“True.” Sebastian caught his hand. “Let’s go walk on the beach, down past the bulk of the crowd. Then, as soon as the sun begins to set, we’ll go to the bonfire.”

Ves smiled up at him. “That sounds wonderful.”

* * *

“Gods of the wood,” Ves said, staring up. “When you said bonfire…well, ours were never so large.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but feel a bit of civic pride at that.

The bonfire was built on the cliffs that rose to the north of the Cranch River Valley, offering a glorious view of the sunset and ocean.

The bonfire itself rose sixty feet from a base of perhaps forty feet across, a mammoth construction of railroad ties, boxes, wooden pallets, barrels, and spare lumber.

It was also terrifying. So many people, so close to such a blaze…

But no—this wasn’t an uncontrolled house fire, like what had taken his mother’s life. He’d stayed far away from the bonfire in previous years, his nerves unable to bear it. This year was going to be different. He was going to force himself to remain, both for his own sake and Ves’s.

The crowd here was much smaller, perhaps a hundred people; hopefully Ves would feel more at ease away from the press of bodies.

Though Sebastian had enjoyed the day immensely, he was aware Ves hadn’t had as good a time.

And no wonder: after being raised in the woods away from other people, any gathering must seem overwhelming.

He could only imagine how poor Ves had fared in Boston.

“Tell me about your bonfires,” Sebastian said.

“We built them atop Caprine Hill on Walpurgisnacht and Halloween. We’d all chant and dance around the flames.

Noct and I would listen to the voices from the woods, sometimes ask them questions at Mother or Grandfather’s prompting.

We could feel the presence of our progenitor, the All-Mother, so clearly on those nights, though we weren’t summoning him.

” His voice took on a wistful tone. “I don’t miss the rest of it, but I’d like to go back someday and talk to the voices again. ”

“As soon as we can be sure your wretched family won’t follow us there, we will,” Sebastian said. “If you’d like my company.”

“Of course I would.”

A cheer went up around them. A man in a badly made papier-maché mask, which might have been meant to represent either George Washington or an ax-murderer, carried a torch through the crowd. As the last rays of sun dipped below the horizon, he plunged the torch into the mountainous stack of wood.

It caught fast, and soon the flames crept up the massive pile, licking eagerly at the sky.

Smoke that reeked of burning creosote rose to the stars.

Sebastian’s chest tightened at the sounds and smells, but he looped his arm around Ves’s.

Grounding himself in the present, using his lover’s strength and presence to fight against the memories that threatened to bubble up.

Why he was determined to do this, he wasn’t even sure himself. Maybe confronting the Books had left him wanting to confront the other things that scared him. Or maybe it was just that he finally felt strong enough, so long as he had Ves at his side.

God, he was a lucky man.

Ves watched the fire, the dancing flames reflected in his dark eyes. Sebastian accepted the jug being passed around and took a swig without inquiring what was in it. Bad whiskey stung his throat—but anything to help calm his nerves was welcome.

Ves refused a drink, so he passed it on to the next person.

More people in papier-maché masks had gathered, and Sebastian tried to guess which illustrious figures they represented.

Thomas Jefferson was probably one, and there was a definite Ben Franklin.

A couple might have been John and Abigail Adams, but the quality of the handmade masks made it hard to be certain.

About an hour after full dark, when the bonfire had become a roaring tower of flame, the first fireworks arced into the sky from the boats set up in the harbor.

The booms echoed across the water, as flowers of red, white, and blue blossomed in the sky.

An answering barrage went up behind them, no doubt from the Endicott estate.

The scars on Sebastian’s forearm tugged hard.

Someone was using the power of the Book of Blood. And they were close.