“They interfere with children in a despicable way, and Andrés was accustomed to men being kind only because they wanted something.”
“Oui. Which is to agree that he did not trust easily, and so, if I understand your meaning, he would be even more angered by what he saw as a betrayal. In other words, he may be himself andstillbe trying to harm me, in his anger.”
I nod. “So we can walk away and thwart his attempt at revenge, but if we do, then we leave him as a tormented spirit suffering under the mistaken belief that his protector failed him.”
Nicolas swallows. “Is it mistaken? I was his protector, and if he is dead, then I did fail him. I wanted to go down to York. I wanted to assure him that I was well and assure myself he was, too, but others—rightly, it seemed—dissuaded me from doing anything that could place Andrés in jeopardy. If I could have helped him...”
“You had reason to stay away, but he is young, and he may not have seen it the same way. I would like to follow him, taking as much care as possible. I think it is important for both of you to set this right.”
“I do not relish putting you in danger, Miranda.”
“I do not like to interfere in your private business, but as only I can see him, leaving me out of it is impossible.” I motion to the door. “Would you open this, please?”
He nods. “Then I will, of course, go with you.”
14
The galley is in ruins. It seems that when the ship was being moved to this cove, a beam broke, and no one bothered to repair the damage. The entire ceiling has collapsed, and a huge cast-iron caldron fell through the floor. We must pick our way through the debris, with the weak lantern light guiding us.
The entire floor caves in toward the hole left by the caldron. One slip, and we’d plummet into the belly of the ship. It does not help that the floor is slick with mist from the damaged roof and that the rot has sprouted mold. Nicolas advises me to keep a hand on something at all times, lest my boots slide. We stay as far from the hole as we can, but with the collapsed ceiling, we must sometimes venture close to it in order to ease past the broken beams.
I am well aware that we face double danger here. Not only can we slip and fall—or slip and impale ourselves on broken boards—but there is a ghost who may wish us harm, and this is the optimal place to do it. Leap out at me and send me tumbling. Pass through Nicolas and give him that sudden shock that will sendhimtumbling.
I let Nicolas choose our path, which allows me to keep as much attention as possible on our surroundings. There has been no sign of Andrés, and I want to believe that means he does not wish harm on Nicolas, but I fear it only means he is waiting for us to lower our guard. When he finally does peek through a closed door, I nearly do lose my grip, despite the fact he does not “pop” out or seem to be trying to startle me.
“He is there,” I say, pointing at the closed door. “Andrés? Can you hear me?”
The boy turns my way for the first time. His long face is unreadable, but there is no fury in his eyes. Only grim determination. He steps through the door but remains just beyond it. Then he waves for me to follow, and the gesture seems almost reluctant.
“He wishes us to follow him into that room,” I say. “He is still angry, but he is ready to give us a chance.”
“Andrés? Would you come back into the hall, please? It is dangerous in here, and Miss Hastings has done nothing to deserve whatever punishment you might wish to inflict upon me. She is only trying to help us communicate.”
Andrés meets my gaze. He holds it, and I see suspicion in his eyes. A natural suspicion.
He shakes his head and points at the closed door.
“He really does want us to follow him in there,” I say. “Is there something inside that you wish us to see, Andrés?”
His mouth sets in a hard line. Then he nods abruptly and disappears inside.
“He says yes,” I say. “He has gone into that room, whatever it might be.”
“The pantry. It was also his quarters. He had a bed in the corner. Part of his job was to keep rats away from the foodstuffs, and that was more easily done if there was a person staying in the room. Or that is what the cook said, though I think he was just allowing the boy a warm and safe place to sleep, one with late-night food at hand.”
“If it was his room, then there is probably something he wishes you to see. Or wishes you to have. That would make sense.”
“It would.”
Nicolas climbs over a broken ceiling beam. “Is there something in the pantry you wish me to see, Andrés?”
“He isn’t here,” I say. “He has gone inside.”
“Wait there, please, crécerelle,” he says when I start to follow. “It is not safe here, most of all. The floor is gone, and I must...”
He grunts as he swings over what I now see is a hole, as if something else smashed through the floor. On the other side, he grips the wall while balancing on what remains of the floor in front of the pantry door. It is little more than a ledge, and my heart stops on seeing it.
Do not trick him, Andrés. Please. Whatever you suffered, Nicolas was good to you. I know he was. Tell me you did not lure him into that precarious spot to harm him.