The Fallow Read online

  Maybe a tiny, tiny, tiny, part of him hoped for better, but the brush of warmth on his lips still caught him off guard. The reflex reaction shook him away from her kiss. And perhaps that gave her the wrong impression.

  She dropped her hands from his eyes, stepping back. Her face was an adorable jumble of nerves and distress.

  This urged him to his feet. He gathered his courage. Maybe this was his only chance to give her more of the truth. He reached for her face. Caressed her cheeks. His hands were cold and bare, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was more caught up in his eyes.

  He then took a shot at making things right by kissing her. And he didn’t startle. He didn’t miss. The kiss began firmly and continued to progress softly.

  Her lips were delicate and cool. Decorated with lipstick and snowflakes, they tasted so sweet. And they soon parted, welcoming him inside.

  It was the beginning. And the end of his sanity.

  His descent to madness was steep and thorough, and yet it slipped further away from him when. . .

  “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Virtue removed herself from Herald’s lips and hold. Her gasp was audible. There was fear in her shudder. “Father.”

  “It’s time to go.” Dr. Alexander put his arm out to summon her, but his glare was fixed upon Herald.

  Not sure what to do, Virtue drifted toward her father while she cast a sad gaze back in Herald’s direction. Ultimately, Herald lost her to him at this time. Her eyes dropped, as if in shame, and they never perked back up.

  Then, with Virtue tucked beneath his arm, he walked away with her, leaving Herald there to dwell upon his final words: “I should have turned you in a long time ago.”

  ***

  Maybe Law was right. Herald should have some faith . . . in Virtue . . . in humanity. She came back to him once. She’d come back to him again.

  But time dulled that sentiment. The sun was beginning to set. And it wasn’t as if he was counting, but he was sure the revolving lighthouse lamp had passed over his shadow at least a hundred-thousand times before Captain and Virtue were visible on the rocks again, the “tour of the island” finally over.

  Virtue entered the lighthouse quickly, slipping from view. But Captain strutted on to greener pastures, a smug grin plastered on his freshly shaven face. His skin was even moisturized to a nauseating gleam, Herald noticed, when he passed through a ray of sunshine, a shade of gold that was practically his birthright.

  And it was after dark by the time Herald began his heavy plod down the stairs.

  “Virtue,” he managed to say through clenched teeth. “Can I have a word with you . . . upstairs?”

  Painfully aware glances shot around the room. No one had ever asked him, but they all knew. How could they not?

  It was no coincidence that after dark, Virtue’s blanket found its way next to his. Even that first night. It had been ten very long months since the night of their first—and only—kiss. So when she shivered and allowed herself to slip beneath the piece of blanket he offered . . . and then his arm . . . he was thoroughly surprised.

  When she had left The Chronicles for a few months after the kiss, she didn’t say why exactly, but he had a feeling it was her father’s doing. And Herald was disappointed—heartbroken, really—but he wished her well and meant it. And though she eventually returned with new stories to share, their relationship remained strictly professional. He had no way of knowing if she still harbored any feelings for him, if she ever had in the first place. There was only that one liquor-infused event to suggest the affirmative, and that was hardly enough to convince him that his unabated love for her was in any way reciprocated.

  Then during their first night together in the lighthouse, she scooted closer and closer, until her body was against his. He couldn’t get his racing heart—or thoughts—under control. Before long, she rolled over, to face him, to nuzzle into his neck. Her hands slipped beneath his nightshirt.

  And they kissed until the sun rose.

  For over a week, he kept her warm and held her close. They explored each other for hours on end, around long-johns, skirt layers, stockings, sweaters, every inch of skin they could get away with, legally, and in the close company of others.

  And then there was that one glorious episode on the beach. . . .

  His desire to have her completely was a constant dull ache . . . everywhere. But he would never do that to her . . . doom her to a Fallow life. He’d give her his blasted Letter of Intent! And marry her first—make her his only wife in a heartbeat—if he could wipe his record clean somehow, absolutely necessary in order for him to even qualify for a Marriage Bond, and also assuming he could afford one. In no way were either of these things likely to occur in the next four years, however, the point where she’d be past Bearing Age and therefore Fallow by decree.

  “I’m sorry.” Virtue reached for him, but he slipped away. He leaned on the handrail by the glass, captured by the turbulent sea once more. “I know how that must have looked.”

  “And? So?”

  The revolving lamp crossed over his back about ten more times before she answered. “He asked me to marry him and—”

  “And what did you say?”

  He whirled around, furious, and catching the startled shudder in her eyes, he realized he shouldn’t have interrupted her. And he was wrong to shout. It wasn’t her fault she was enchanting in innumerable ways. Even with her modest upbringing, she would never have any trouble finding a husband.

  “I said I was exploring other options, but that I would keep him in mind.”

  It was as if all hope had been kicked out of him.

  And she must have read that on his face. “To be polite. And out of appreciation for all he’s done for us,” she quickly added.

  Then, hesitantly, she approached him. Herald was too upset to do anything more than stand there. She was able to slip her hands around his waist. She pressed her ear to his chest. After that, he could no longer resist. He had to hold her in return. And only then could he begin breathing again.

  “Please forgive me.”

  He placed a kiss on top of her head. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “I’ll wait for you. I promise.”

  And he laughed despite the tears he had in his eyes. “I don’t understand. Why would you pick me?”

  “Hold on to the truth within yourself as to the only truth.” It was something Gautama Buddha had said in the Dark Times. When Herald made the discovery in the Library of the Ancients, he began using it as The Chronicles tagline. “Because I love you and could never love another.”

  “I love you too. Always have. Always will.”

  And then he could feel it. She was trembling. Soon, she was sobbing against his chest. She had never cried in front of him before, so this was . . . serious. “What is it?”

  He tried to ease her away from his body so he could see her face. But she shook her head and clung to him tightly.

  “I’d rather know than wonder.”

  His mind began jumping to horrible conclusions.

  Finally, her head lifted, and despite the tears, she put on her bravest face. “It was so humiliating. What they wanted me to do . . . right then and there. And after saying ‘no,’ the way he looked at me. The way he made me feel. . .”

  And now he was upset and so beyond angry, at himself more than anyone. All along, it should have been his responsibility to beg for forgiveness. Because he let her walk away with the high and mighty Captain. And Herald said nothing. He did nothing to protect her. “I was such a fool! It should have never come to that. I don’t know how to make it up to you. I—”

  “Please, Herald. I’m so afraid. We should. . .” She lowered herself by bending her knees and when she sprang to her tiptoes, her kiss was brief but intense. “Run away together! Leave this all behind. We’ll have each other. We’ll figure it out! I know this cause is important to you. It is to me, too, but. . .”

  Her words trailed off. Her te
ars did too. But her conviction did not.

  He thought about “the cause” and what would happen if they truly followed through with it. They’d witness firsthand the hunger, poverty, bloodshed, destruction, small gains, and horrific losses that would inevitably accompany “revolution.”

  And then he pictured himself running away with Virtue. They’d escape past the Lifeline and take their chances in the wilderness. They’d have to learn to hunt and build shelter. That was what books were for! And eventually they’d farm their land and raise their children.

  The choice was a simple one: “All right. Name the day.”

  Chapter 7

  Law

  What is taking him so long?

  When Law was at the bottom of the stairs, he was determined to climb all the way up to find out. But about halfway to the lantern room, he changed his mind. He didn’t want to interrupt anything. He knew Herald and Virtue fairly well, but he had no desire to get to know them that well.

  He came to a stop and leaned on the banister. “Did you two kiss and make up yet?” he hollered up the remaining stairs. “We have matters to discuss!”

  The absence of any reply other than the drone of the revolving lamp made him chuckle. But it did little to ease the tension. It was so robust and rancid, he could practically taste it. “Honestly, Herald. You’ve been up there for almost an hour!”

  He waited for a reply. Drone. Drone. Drone. . .

  “No man lasts that long!” he added.

  Especially since Herald’s longing for her practically came out as a whimper any time they were within ten feet of each other.

  Maybe in another time and place he would envy them, but then, there, he took pity on them.

  That was Law’s final attempt. He dismissed them with a wave and went back down the stairs.

  In the watch room, the scent of shellfish guts and rotting fruit was striking. But it was warmer, nonetheless. The fire in the fireplace was finally roaring. He hoped they had enough wood to keep it going like that for a while. The evening’s weather was shifting to be the coldest they’d yet experienced on the island. There would undoubtedly be frost on the old pumpkin by morning. If they happened to make it until morning. Their departure for Portsmith, early the morning after, was starting to feel like a goal beyond their reach.

  After being accosted with question after question since dawn, essentially, Law was ready to settle down in his personal space—the length and width of one blanket. He collapsed with a low groan. He then acknowledged that he hadn’t eaten anything all day. His hunger was almost too painful to ignore. But the thought of getting back up to scavenge for something edible was equally unpleasant.

  For being dark and slightly past suppertime, it felt odd that the watch room was only about half full. Herald and Virtue were upstairs. The Fallow were accounted for. Hearsay was present too. She didn’t have the health to wander around the island or do much more than prattle about people Law would rather not hear about.

  And Law had just spoken to Corollary: “Is Virtue doing any better?”

  “I’m not sure,” was Law’s reply. “She didn’t say much to me. And that’s not like her.”

  “She’s scared.”

  “And that means we all should be.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on the boathouse.”

  “Yes, do that.” Law had walked over with him to the stairway leading out. “See if you can figure out what he’s up to.”

  Law wasn’t surprised that Gospel was missing. But Blasphemy had been gone all day as well. The thought that they might be together was rather amusing, but he considered it improbable. Blasphemy was a gatherer and Gospel was a lone hunter. Plus, he was notorious for never following orders. One would have to suggest and then hope it was something he was philosophically aligned with. He was hard to predict and impossible to control. And yet the trouble he evaded and the dirt he could dig up was nothing shy of amazing. Since his entire persona was shrouded in such mystery, Law would be a fool to believe Gospel would give someone else any tactical insight.

  And that meant he should be worried. “Has anyone seen Blasphemy?”

  He directed the question at Doxy, but she wasn’t speaking to him or even looking at him these days. Law supposed from a female perspective, he had earned that. But in his own defense, he clearly stated it was a one-time thing. And that was because he was not Herald and she was clearly not Virtue.

  How many hours are there remaining?

  He lost count, but the time had come. He needed to get off the island, ideally, a week ago!

  “Last I knew, she was heading to the orchard,” Parody replied when Law’s eyes shifted to her. She was loyal to her sister in Fallowhood, but at least she felt the obligation to answer, if not for his sake, then for Blasphemy’s. “But that was a while ago.”

  “That’s what I thought too.”

  Law was about to get up when a lower door slammed. The rumble of footsteps echoed into the watch room. Whoever was climbing up was bent on speed and not self. The stairs were steep and even an athlete would be winded by the top at that pace.

  Blasphemy burst into the room first. And Gospel came panting in after her.

  Well I’ll be damned. They were together!

  Blasphemy’s eyes flashed around the room. They widened and chose Law to receive the news she had. He stood up and she scurried over to him, cradling her camera in hand a little more carefully than usual.

  “We. . .” She doubled over and fought for breath. “Need to talk. Do you want to tell him?” she wheezed to Gospel.

  Catching his breath as well, he declined by sweeping both hands up toward her.

  “Is Virtue back yet?” she blurted, her eyes wide again.

  “Yes. For about an hour now.” He tossed his eyes toward the doorway leading up and rolled them on the way back to Blasphemy. “She’s with Herald. Hopefully he can drop the grudge and filter out the whole truth. He’s probably the only one who’s capable.”

  She nodded, and her next few breaths were heavy, still, but there was some relief in them. “Captain,” she began again, slightly more in control of her voice. “It’s as bad as it gets. He has this . . . this . . . dungeon?” She looked over at Gospel to confirm that.

  “A torture chamber,” he corrected.

  “Right. More like that. And . . . and there are Fallow locked up in these cells. Law, they’re practically corpses. They can’t even walk! And. . .”

  Law propped a hand over his mouth while he considered all this. He had heard of these dark places before. But he had never seen one or knew personally anyone who would have admitted to possessing something like that. And Law used to mingle among the most likely candidates. There were whispers that they existed, though, in obscenely large families living in exorbitantly large houses.

  Due to the current Marriage and Fallow laws, women of Bearing Age who would meet their terms were in high demand. Therefore, not every man could marry a confirmed virgin even if he wanted to and had the money. They would have to cheat the system or make other arrangements. So these dens were designed for the wealthy who were, for whatever reason, unfit or unwilling to wed.

  Maybe they had become more popular since Law had abandoned high society and it had shunned him. Year after year, corruption was growing more and more open and rampant, and it didn’t take any extra imagination to believe its validity.

  “We broke in,” Blasphemy added, lifting her camera.

  “And you have pictures?” Law finished for her in a tone of disbelief.

  She nodded. “Many. The before, during, and after. He had a friend there too. Some doctor. Or twisted, demented murderer is more like it.”

  Law ran a hand through his hair and had to let out a dry laugh. He knew Captain wasn’t to be trusted, but this was something else entirely. Why would he claim to support everything The Chronicles stood for and then act in such a manner? And allow such a man into his home?

  Because he believed he was above the law. In every way.

/>   Virtue came to mind. That could also explain the dirty doctor.

  “And get this,” she continued. “One Fallow didn’t survive. We tried to help her, but it was. . .” She shook her head. “A lost cause,” she finished in a whisper.

  “Were you discovered?” He directed the question at Gospel. “Or do you think he’s. . . ?

  Suspicious? Law was about to ask. But he was distracted by more footsteps. They were coming down rather than going up, but they were equally as frantic.

  Herald emerged. Virtue appeared behind him, her fingers curled inside of his. “There’s a boat on the horizon,” he informed everyone. “And they’re heading straight for us.”

  Virtue’s hand slipped away. She began throwing together her belongings and Herald’s as well. They were thankfully functioning as a unit again. And that meant Herald would be in a better frame of mind to hear the rest of the bad news.

  Law took the camera from Blasphemy and placed it in Gospel’s able hands. “Make sure no one. . .” he emphasized slowly with one finger up. “Ever digs this up by accident.”

  Gospel took the camera, but he exchanged an unsure glance with Blasphemy.

  “We’re leaving it here?” Blasphemy wondered aloud just as Herald joined them.

  “It’s better than being caught with it,” was Law’s reply. “Meet us at the boathouse.”

  Gospel gave him a slow blink, confirming to Law that he would follow through. Then Gospel dashed toward the stairs leading out of the lighthouse.

  “Did they discover something?” Herald asked as the circle around Law broke apart.

  Law’s exasperated eyes swept over Herald. He had a shirt flap untucked and his cheeks were still flushed. Amazingly enough, Herald managed to lift his eyes to the horizon and make such a discovery in the condition he was in.

  And Law wished he had the time or was in the mood to mock Herald about it, but in this case, he had to walk away. “I’ll tell you later.”

  ***

  When they arrived on the island nine days ago, there was a slight chill in the air. Otherwise it was sunny, pleasant, and the sea was relatively calm. They removed themselves from their hiding spots, stepped from Captain’s thirty-foot sailboat and into his boathouse with a renewed sense of purpose. Their time there would be like a writers’ retreat. They’d discuss their ideas, aspirations, and come up with a plan to bring about a better tomorrow.