The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(93)

“Come,” Vada said, nodding at her barely touched beer. “Let’s get you drunk. Of all the folk in this bar, you need it the most.”





33

Leo

IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT AND AGNES STILL WASN’T BACK.

He’d lied to Swansea and told him she had already come home and gone straight to bed. His father returned around ten thirty, went to his study for half an hour, then climbed the stairs to retire to his room. The house grew quiet until no one was awake but Leo.

He sat on his bed, turning the star necklace over and over in his hands. It was so light, the stone unlike anything he’d seen before—white and round like an opal but shot through with wisps of color that would appear and vanish as quickly as he saw them. He thought about Sera’s friend who had given it to her, how special that moment between them had been. Leo didn’t have any friends like that. When he really thought about it, it seemed as if Robert liked being his friend because he had so much Leo did not.

The minutes ticked by and he began to worry. Maybe he shouldn’t have lied for Agnes. Maybe she was actually in trouble, or in danger, and people should be out looking for her. He was just considering waking up Janderson and sending him to the police station when he heard a noise, like someone had fallen up the steps to the brownstone. Then there was muffled laughter. Then the sound of a key fumbling in the lock.

Leo was out of his room and down the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible. He opened the door and found Agnes and another girl, tall with a thick auburn braid, dressed in pants and a leather vest. Agnes was leaning on her and giggling. Leo had never seen his sister giggle before.

“Leo,” she said with a lopsided grin. Then she hiccuped. “See, Vada, this is my brother and he’s a Byrne face, a face . . .” She frowned. “A face of a Byrne.”

“Agnes, are you drunk?” he hissed.

“She only had four ales,” the other girl said with a thick Pelagan accent. “She is a lightweight, your sister. But it is cute. Like me when I was twelve.” She studied him, her eyes narrowing. “You do have the face of a Byrne. All right, little lion,” she said to Agnes, patting her head. “I believe you.”

His sister smiled triumphantly, then burped.

“Come on,” Leo said. “Let’s get you inside before Father or Swansea wake up and ship you off to Larker Asylum.”

“He’s not usually this serious,” Agnes said in a mock whisper. “He’s the fun one. I’m the serious one.”

The girl smiled and passed her off to Leo. She slumped against his shoulder, then quickly righted herself.

“I can stand,” she insisted. “I’m fine.”

“Good night, little lion,” the Pelagan girl said. “Good night, face of a Byrne.”

Then she sauntered down the steps, whistling as if perfectly at ease, seemingly unaware that everything from her braid to her boots to her accent made her unwelcome on Creekwater Row.

“Did you have a nice day?” Agnes asked. “I had a very nice day. She’s nice, Vada is. Well, not nice nice, but she’s funny. Well, not funny but . . .” She lost the thread of her thoughts and her voice trailed off.

“Yeah, she’s definitely something.” How Agnes came to get drunk with a Pelagan girl who whistled and smelled like the Seaport was a whole other story, but not one that he felt should be told on the front steps. “Come on, quiet now, okay? Let’s get you to bed.”

She stumbled twice going up the stairs, but he managed to get her into her room without waking the house. She fell back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Leo had to acknowledge the incredible role reversal that was going on this evening—he’d been sneaking around trying to do good and help Sera, while his sister was the one out getting drunk.

“You know I’m not going to let you live this down for, oh, at least a year,” he said as he knelt to unlace her shoes.

“That’s okay.” Agnes let out a little sigh. “It was worth it.”

“Who was that Pelagan girl?”

“Vada. Her name is Vada.” She said it softly, like it was precious. “She’s a sailor. She’s going to help me get Sera to Pelago.”

Leo dropped her shoe and stood up. “Sera?” he said. “To Pelago?”

Agnes clapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear that. I didn’t—”

“Are you going to get her to that . . . that tether? The one she saw in the photograph of the ruins?” He sat on the edge of the bed.

“How do you know about that?”

“I can understand her now. I saw her tonight—talked to her. Father’s keeping her locked up in a crate in the Maribelle.”

“What . . .” Agnes rubbed her eyes. “How did she . . . did you two . . .” She tapped her index fingers together. “The thing with the glowing and the magic . . .”

“What?” Leo wondered if the Pelagan had miscounted the number of drinks Agnes had had. “No, I think it was when her blood healed me. Is that how it happened with you? Did she heal you too?”

Agnes pressed her index fingers together again. “No, no, it was the thing,” she said again, insistently. “Blood bond, that’s what she called it. And I saw . . .”