He stepped on the plague eater’s leash, then jerked the creature back under control before reaching for the rope tied between Frankie and Cathy. Tears trailed down her sister’s face, and Frankie could tell from the curve of her shoulders that she was close to giving up.
She wanted to pull Cathy into a hug and whisper into her ear. She was used to being the strong one, but sometimes it was overwhelming to carry everything for the family.
And she’d failed too many times already. Oh so many times.
It took Frankie longer than it should have to realize that the doctor wasn’t dragging them after the departing flock toward the hospital but rather toward narrow alleys weaving along the edge of the docks.
Ever since the quarantine had been enacted, most of the buildings around the port had become abandoned, the warehouses slowly emptying of goods and no ships allowed in to replenish them.
Frankie wondered if the man was taking them somewhere to punish them for acting out and striking him. Horrid images of the doctor tying her to a post in an empty room and just letting the plague eater have its desired meal flickered through her thoughts. She tried not to imagine what the teeth would feel like as the beast gnawed on her skin. She knew the doctors kept them hungry so they’d alert on the ill. How hungry would this creature be? Enough to kill her and her sister quickly?
The doctor stopped them next to a full water barrel in the darkest bowels of a narrow street. The few windows along the building towering over them were dark, several of them broken, and Frankie knew that even if she weren’t gagged, she could scream all she’d want and no one would come to their rescue.
At their feet the plague eater hissed and lunged, and Frankie could tell that the doctor kept it restrained with effort. Slowly he pulled the leash tighter and tighter until the beast was forced to climb up his thick black robes. Once it was within reach, the doctor grabbed it and slammed it into the barrel’s murky depths.
Water sloshed over the edges, splashing against Frankie’s legs. Even as he held the plague eater under, the doctor didn’t shift his attention from the two sisters, his body tensed and ready as if to chase after them if they tried to escape.
Frankie was mesmerized by the sight of the drowning animal. The beast thrashed, and the doctor grunted with effort. Every now and again bits of the creature would break the surface, the long pink tail whipping against the doctor’s arm as it fought for life.
It took a long time. Frankie never realized just how hard something would fight for life. But eventually the water grew still. The doctor continued to keep his hand buried underwater just to make sure. The smoke from his beak began to disperse, and for a moment Frankie thought she could see the edge of his chin. She realized his mouth was open as he panted from the recent struggle.
She’d been easing Cathy along the wall, putting distance between them as she tried to figure out a way to escape. As if he could read her mind, the doctor stepped closer. He reached for her hands. Frankie punched at him, but he deflected the blow. She kept struggling, and the doctor pushed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall so she couldn’t fight him.
When the rush of sensation began stinging her fingers, she realized what he was doing: setting her free. And then he moved and unwound the rope from her sister as well.
Frankie ripped the gag from her mouth and then pulled her sister into her arms, feeling Cathy sob against her. Her relief was short-lived when the doctor put a hand on her shoulder as if to usher them farther down the alley toward the wharf.
Frankie pulled away, keeping her sister tucked safely behind her. She couldn’t see past his goggles, and so she couldn’t meet his eyes. He held his arms by his side, gloved fingers splayed open to show he meant no harm. It didn’t matter. Frankie began to step back from him, putting more distance between them.
“Wait,” the doctor said, his voice muffled by the mask and the billow of smoke that accompanied every exhalation.
Frankie continued to draw away. The doctor fumbled with his robes, finding a slit and then reaching into the pocket of his black pants. When he pulled his hand free, Frankie could only say, “Oh,” as the doctor held out a palm full of rose petals.
Nestled among the damp, wilted petals sat two large, gleaming coins, more money than Frankie’s family had likely ever seen since arriving in Portlay generations ago.
“The last ship leaves soon,” the doctor said as he gestured toward the wharf. “It’s docked out in the harbor.” Frankie glanced over her shoulder, but she saw nothing except water reflecting back the thin gleam of stars.
“She’s running black sails,” the doctor added, and now that she knew what to look for, Frankie saw a spot of sea with no reflections, as though something great and hulking were sucking in all the light. A small boat slipped between it and the shore.
When she turned back to the doctor, he was by her side, and she watched him as he talked, seeking out the familiarity now. “These”—he pressed the coins into Frankie’s hand—“are for the last two spots on board.”
“Charles?” His name felt just as strange on Frankie’s lips tonight as it had the evening before. But she recognized his voice now, and the way he held his shoulders straight and the shape of his mouth and chin.
She couldn’t believe how well she knew these tiny details of him.
“You’re one of them?” She had no claim on him, yet she felt betrayed all the same. That he was someone rounding people up and sending them to their deaths or taking bribes for them to have just one more day with their families disgusted her.
His silence was his answer as he stood wearing the beaked mask and black robes.
“How?” she asked. She didn’t know if she meant how did he become a doctor or how could he stand himself.
“Sometimes you have to do things you don’t like in order to make a change in the world,” he said. “Becoming one of them was the only way I could find to help you.” He curled her fingers around the coins. “The ship will take you past the quarantine, somewhere safe.”
This didn’t make sense to Frankie. “What about
Charles cupped his hand over hers and she felt the warmth of him through the soft leather gloves. “You have it.”
She didn’t realize that he’d been pushing her and Cathy forward until she heard the gentle lap of the sea against the pier, smelled the tangy freshness of salt water. “But you’re coming, right?”
“That boat”—he pointed to the narrow craft halfway between the larger ship and shore—“will only wait one minute when it reaches the dock. If you’re not there, it will leave you.”
Frankie noticed other people hovering in the darkness, tucked into the shadows cast by the empty warehouses. A few were already sneaking toward the pier, dark shawls wrapped tightly over their heads and faces. Cathy watched it all with wide eyes, but Frankie’s attention was focused on Charles.
“Why? Why would you ever give up your chance to escape? Why let us go instead?”
More and more people swelled from the darkness, beginning to race for the tiny boat. She heard a few of them whispering to one another, but one voice began to rise above the rest.
“Charles?” It came out as a hiss, and Frankie recognized Mistress Oglethorpe standing regally thin with her sharp nose. Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching. “Charles?” she called again, a sound laced with the beginnings of panic.
Frankie’s stomach grew heavy. She wanted to leave so desperately, and her sister needed to be somewhere with softer, sweeter air, but she wasn’t sure she could actually take Charles’ place on the ship.
She began to shake her head, her throat tightening as she forced herself to decline his offer. “I can’t. It’s not right.” The panic surrounding the wharf made her heart beat faster, the blood scour through her veins.
Charles gripped her shoulders with both hands. “Your sister’s ill,” he told her. “You can keep her alive if you leave. But she’ll never make it here. The plague’s getting worse—more people are falling sick, and the city’s going to start cracking down hard on anyone who shows the slightest symptoms. This is the only chance she’ll have.”
The boat slid against the dock with a thud that vibrated through the damp wood. Around them the air filled with the tension of so many hopes pulling tight and frayed. People began leaping aboard, all trace of order abandoned with the fear that any moment they’d be caught.
“Charles!” Mistress Oglethorpe wasn’t even bothering to keep her voice quiet as she called for her son. Someone tried to herd her toward the boat, but she broke free. “My son’s supposed to be here,” she said. “He’s not here. Charles!”
