Brightly Burning(33)
“Thank you for telling me,” Hugo finally said. Then with a deep breath, he began to tell me his own tale of woe. “Five years ago, my mother murdered my father. She threw him out of the airlock.”
It was far more brutal than I’d been expecting, but I paid him the same courtesy he’d given me. I didn’t say anything, and let him go on in his own time.
“I don’t know how to explain it. She just . . . lost herself. I was fourteen; Jessa was five. I’ve never told Jessa the details; she just thinks they died.”
He didn’t have to explain any further. Killing another human being was a capital offense in the fleet, so I could only imagine what happened to his mother. Flushed out an airlock herself, I reckoned. Hugo fell back into his drink, while I went ahead and tried my best to finish mine and give And Then There Were None a try. The prose was engaging, if old-fashioned, and I couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that this was a murder mystery beloved by an actual murderer. It lent an additional weight to each word and phrase.
I noticed Hugo had finished his drink and was now pacing before the window, his silhouette dark against the glow from the stars outside. I got up to join him, driven by tingly warmth that spread from my toes to the tips of my fingers, the alcohol at work in my blood. I was light as a feather, Hugo like the wind, buffeting me in his wake.
“Hugo, I’m so sorry,” I said, touching his shoulder, sighing with relief when he neither jumped at the contact nor shook me off. He turned, honoring me with a crooked, halfway smile.
“Thanks. It’s nice to talk to someone who can understand.”
My heart felt like it had burst wide open, and my body moved on instinct, encircling him in a hug.
He was stiff. Unsure. But that only made me grasp harder, because if I pulled out now, it would make it too obvious how awkward this was. Hugo relaxed, just the tiniest bit, leaning into me. And then with a rush of clarity, I realized what I was doing—?hugging the captain—?and immediately was reined in by my better judgment. I pulled back.
“I am absolutely toasted,” Hugo said, swaying on his feet. “We should turn in a tick early, I think.”
I nodded, tamping down any disappointment I felt and following him with numb feet from the study and to our quarters. Luna, who must have lurked outside our bedrooms waiting for us to return, circled my ankles with a purr, following me to my door, clearly choosing me as his companion for the evening.
“Luna, you turncoat,” Hugo muttered without much heat.
“Good night, Hugo,” I said as I stepped through the door, poking my head back out to catch one more glimpse of him.
“Good night, Stella. Sweet dreams,” he returned, bidding me adieu with a small wave.
Once the door shut, I did not allow myself to wallow in my dizzy-headed space. I made haste to the bathroom, where I gulped down three glasses of water. Uncanny how two months ago, such water consumption would have been unfathomable. Life aboard the Rochester—?a macabre wonderland.
As I turned in to bed, not for the first time I wished that Hugo would bend his rule about not taking books from the study. I wanted to dive back into Agatha Christie but instead settled for an oldie but a goodie, relying on Harry Potter and the whirlwind of the Triwizard Tournament to engage and tire me. Harry had just taken a bath with the golden egg, and my eyes started to flutter as Snape confronted him on the stairs.
Then . . . a laugh.
I heard it—?I definitely heard it. A human laugh. Not a cat. I looked to the cat I had with me, who arched his back, hissing at the door. Luna agreed. There was something out there.
Putting down my reader, I catapulted out of bed to the door, pressing my ear against it. I waited—?ten seconds. Then twenty. Then, screw it, I hit the OPEN button, holding my breath as the door slid open.
The hallway was dark. It was likely close to midnight. I stepped out into the blue haze, the black finish of the ship’s interior reducing visibility to nil. I counted the space between breaths, staring into the black, willing something to announce itself. But nothing did.
I retreated into my chambers, half convinced I was going mad. After forcing myself to calm, I fell back against my pillow, determined to find sleep.
An alarm blared in my ear, too loud, too close, setting my heart into a gallop. My eyes clicked open, the room spinning, the bed seeming to vibrate beneath me. “Rori, what is it?” I sat bolt upright, looking for an explanation.
“Stella, I am sorry,” Rori said, calm and contrite as always. “I cannot rouse the captain. There is a fire in his chambers. Emergency fire protocols will go into effect in one hundred and twenty seconds.”
Emergency fire protocols? On the Stalwart, that meant whatever room was affected by fire would vent its contents into space, in order to seal the wound and save the rest of the ship. Which meant I had . . .
“Emergency fire protocols will go into effect in one hundred and ten seconds,” Rori updated me.
Less than two minutes to save Hugo’s life.
Chapter Twelve
I bolted up from bed and to my door, slamming my hand against the OPEN button and rushing into the hall. The blue emergency lights glowed eerily as always, with not a hint of the true emergency going on just a few feet away. They should be screaming red. I sprinted to Hugo’s door, but of course it was closed.
“Rori, the door!” I cried, and thankfully she overrode the bio-scan protocols, letting me in.