Nevermor Page 3

  He has gone so far away.

  Feeling discouraged and tired, Wren sat down on the bed to collect her thoughts. She lowered her head and sighed out in defeat for the moment. What was her family coming to?

  You can’t give up on him, she encouraged herself.

  Yes, yes, I know.

  Wren sighed, then sat up straight again and regained her composure. Henry did not know how he abused her, but she would roll with the punches. She had no other option. She opened her eyes to go on with her life, knowing she could not live in the darkness forever.

  A flash of light at the corner of her eye drew her attention to the window, but when she turned toward it, there was nothing. She was sure that she had seen a circle of light there.

  A spirit light? A will-o-wisp? Those were her first thoughts, but she decided she was being too whimsical. Perhaps it was a rare glimmer of sunlight shining in against the glass, but it had reminded Wren of her dream – of the light that had been trying to get away from her on the sea.

  It slipped from her mind after that. Her real life was confusing enough. There was no reason for her to be chasing fantasies.

  2

  The line of orphans dressed in gray ambled down the street in a line, off toward the large buildings where the smoke billowed out over the Thames. They knew the way by heart, and knew also that they shouldn’t be wayward, for being late would warrant a beating from the overseer. They wordlessly fell in with the masses that flooded the streets, marching to their jobs at the factories.

  Since Wren and Henry were of age as far as the labor laws were concerned, they were sent to work at Winchester’s cotton mill with several of the others from the Home. The work was hard and tedious, but it was what they had to do if they were to stay at Miss Nora’s, though Wren often wondered if it was a fair trade.

  The mill was hot and muggy inside, with no cool breeze for relief. Dust in the air often sent workers into coughing fits, and she had seen more than one or two carried out because of it. The machines were so loud that she often left with a dull roar in her ears, but the worst thing about the mill was the overseer, Reynald Worthy, who made the rounds on the floor, keeping an eye out for any who did not seem to be working hard enough.

  Worthy was a large man, both in height and girth, with a shining bald head and a deep frown set in his face beneath a black mustache. He would often take heavy steps behind them as they worked, waiting for one of them to slip up, fall out of line or make a mistake. It seemed to Wren that he was not only trying to keep them alert, but silently hoping to make them nervous so that they would falter – so that he would have an excuse to make them bleed. He carried a club on his belt, but sometimes he held it in his hand as he came close, reminding them of what would come.

  They were not allowed to address the overseer, but most wouldn’t have dared. He was a dark shadow in their midst, and the workers referred to him amongst themselves as the Devil.

  Wren couldn’t count the number of other children that she had seen beaten by him – especially if they had come from the workhouse. She was lucky that she was one of Nora’s, who at least insisted that they come home in one piece at the end of the day. Nora’s arrangements with the factory owner made things a hair better for them, though Wren often felt sorry for the ones who didn’t have those rules to protect them.

  In the past, their days in the factory had provided a framework for some of Wren’s stories. She used to tell them that they were spinning threads for the bridal gowns of princesses, and that every strand was important. The minders and piecers were descendants of leprechauns, who embedded each strand with gold. The smaller children who worked the dangerous job of scavengers beneath the running machines were in fact from an ancient race of rat-people, and it was their job to brush out the stray cotton because none could be wasted. The overseer was a wretched general who, if he had known about the gold, would want to use it for himself. They had to stay clear of him and make sure that he did not discover their secret.

  When a poor little scavenger had gotten much of her hair – and part of her scalp – ripped off by one of the machines, Wren couldn’t bring herself to tell those stories anymore.

  Wren and Henry both worked at the mill at least four days out of the week, sometimes five, and yet still they were among the lucky ones. Miss Nora’s arrangement dictated that they only worked half days because Wren was needed back at the Home and Henry was not yet fourteen. It was an ease of burden that most of the factory children didn’t get, some of them working from morning to night without rest.

  Today was not any different. Wren’s machine was spinning rapidly beneath her and Henry was across the oil-slicked floor in his bare feet, doing his job as piecer for one of the other lines. Nora’s children were often divided up over the span of the room to discourage familiarity with one another, but also so they could be easily replaced at the end of their shift and the lines would never have to be shut down.

  Standing there now, Wren knew that she was not as rested as she should have been. The dream had drained her as if she had not slept at all. She could feel her head growing heavier, her knees getting weaker. Even humming to herself didn’t seem to work – as if she could hope to hear it over the mechanical roar.

  I have to stay awake, she scolded herself as her eyes fluttered. To slip up could mean death if she fell into the machine. Just a few more hours…

  She tried to keep focused on her work, to keep herself alert, but the streams of white sweeping by her were hypnotic. Soothing whispers were drifting all around her, and though she couldn’t understand the words, she knew that they were trying to comfort her. They said it was alright for her to be tired. She could sleep if she wanted to – right here, right now…

  Wren felt dizzy. The room was spinning as rapidly as the cotton mules beneath her. She saw a flicker of light and then she was falling forward, straight down into the machine that would tear her apart.

  There was a shriek, but not from her own mouth, and then Wren was jerked up by her apron and thrown backward onto the floor. Knowing she shouldn’t have fallen, she tried to pull herself up quickly, but a hard blow across her face knocked her back down. This time, she stayed there.

  Her cheek was throbbing, and she could feel it filling with fever as it began to swell. When she dared to look up, the Devil was standing over her, his large hand still raised from slapping her face.

  “Fallin’ asleep, are ye?” Worthy bellowed, and somehow his voice was louder than the machines.

  “N—no!” she stammered. Wren was already shielding herself, knowing what was to come. She had never been beaten before – was always much too careful for that – but she had seen more than her share of children forced to continue work with broken bones, or left to lie there on the floor with blood running out their ears.

  “I don’t care whether you’re Nora’s or not. No one falls asleep on my watch!”

  The man was apparently in a foul humor today and didn’t care for rules. He wasn’t supposed to hurt her. Didn’t he know that? But Wren could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t care. She must have been too clean – her skin too smooth. He wanted to remedy that, give her a few scars.

  He raised the stick and Wren knew that it was coming down on her, going to break her arm as she tried to protect herself and beat her senseless until he felt she’d learned her lesson – if he stopped before he killed her. She was trembling as she clenched her eyes shut and held her arms over her face–

  A roar of rage echoed through the room. From out of nowhere, Henry sprang forward and tackled the overseer, leaping up on the man’s back and wrapping lissome arms around his thick neck.

  Wren looked up at the sound of the angry cry, and when she saw Henry clinging to the man’s shoulders and throat as if to choke him, she knew that all the color had drained from her face. Her insides clenched, tangling in a knot that grew increasingly tighter. She knew from the first moment that this was not going to go well. Teetering one way might send them
both into the machine, but even if they avoided that, she knew Henry would not win.

  No, no, Henry!

  Worthy did not go down, for he was much larger than Henry, but he did drop his club, which slid under the machine where the scavengers lived, disappearing into the dark. This gave Wren enough time to get up off the floor, for Worthy had forgotten her completely, but Henry was not so lucky. The boy had a lot of anger, but not much body mass to back it up. He was easily thwarted by the larger man.

  The Devil flipped him over onto the floor and gave no warning before he began to smash his heavy fist into Henry, even though the boy was trying to block and kick with fury – anything he could do to lessen the blows. A mighty punch in the gut made Henry drop his guard from his face, and then the blood began to flow.

  Wren’s first instinct was to run, but she knew that she couldn’t leave this as it was, or she would have nothing more than a broken, bloody mess for a brother.

  The man was hitting Henry in the face with his bare knuckles, the blows slow but forceful. Blood was pooling out of his nose and mouth, droplets splattering over the floor. Worthy didn’t see that Henry was a child, much smaller than him. All he saw was the red of his rage. The sight of the boy’s blood was only feeding that fury, and the sadistic grin on his mouth proved it.

  Someone do something!

  Wren looked around frantically at the other workers, many of them women and children who were too afraid to do anything, thinking the same might happen to them if they intervened. Some had not even pulled away from their machines. This was such a frequent occurrence that it didn’t faze them – just as long as they weren’t the ones on the ground.

  She was afraid like the rest of them, but she couldn’t let this happen to Henry. She didn’t know what the consequences would be, but she cast that aside. This man was going to kill him if she didn’t act!

  Knowing that she couldn’t wait for anyone else to step forward, she let her instincts take over. Wren pulled herself off the floor and ran toward Worthy, casting off her fear and inhibitions. She leaned in with her weight and threw herself into him, shoving him as hard as she could.

  A vengeful wail burst from her lungs and the man lost his balance, flailing backward. His girth made it impossible for him to regain his footing before he fell flat on his large rump. That was enough time for her to grab Henry and help him get out of harm’s way. He seemed disoriented, but she wasn’t surprised at that when she considered the amount of blood that was running down his shirt.

  That will never come out.

  “Are you okay? Henry?”

  She clasped his head between her hands to force him to look at her. He managed to nod, and she saw that his eyes were able to focus on hers. He was, at least, not too damaged.

  Thank God, he’s–

  Her thoughts were shattered by a piercing yell of agony, and she lent her eyes back to the scene. On the floor, Worthy had toppled over and instinctively reached back, stretching out his hand to catch something for leverage – but he hadn’t been quick enough to remember the spinning machine. His scream filled the factory as his hand was caught in the weave, but the machine did not yield for him, and within moments, had torn off several of his fingers.

  Blood gushed out in spurts, dying the weave a hideous red. Everything seemed to stop then. The other workers – so many of them grimy, unclaimed children – were standing back, simply looking on with horror in their eyes while the overseer writhed on the floor, clenching what was left of his mangled hand.

  Wren was frozen in place, unable to move or even breathe – do anything except stare at him, knowing she had done it.

  This is not good. It’s not happening…

  She was in a daze when Henry grabbed her arm, and then they were running through the mill and out onto the street. No one stopped them. No one outside even knew what they were running from, but Wren knew, and also grasped that it would be better for them if they didn’t stop.

  They ran until they were tired, and Henry pulled her into an alley before they halted. He leaned back on one side of the narrow space and she slumped against the other. Breathless, they looked at each other in wild surmise. They didn’t need words to know exactly what the other was thinking. Perhaps they had escaped the worst of the beating, but the worst was to come. Even as they stood here, Wren knew that everything she had worked for – everything that she had tried to preserve – was over.

  Chapter Three

  1

  “This disappoints me,” Miss Nora said. “It really does.”

  Wren and Henry were sitting in front of her desk, which served as a barrier to keep them separated from her sympathy. She was not their mother, and since they had caused trouble for her, she was also not their friend. She might have denied that she knew them at all if not for her contract with the factory. Wren knew she must take what she could get from the woman as far as mercy, but already knew it wouldn’t be much.

  Wren had finally convinced Henry that they had to come back to the Home even despite what might have been awaiting them. If for no other reason, they could not simply vanish and desert Max. Wren was certain that once Miss Nora had seen how badly Henry had been beaten, surely they would get some compassion. She was at least right about that, though it wasn’t much more than getting Henry doctored properly.

  Wren glanced over at the boy now, and she felt terribly guilty with her small welt compared to what he looked like. His cheeks were puffy with bruising, and one eye was nearly swollen shut. His bottom lip was split, but he was lucky that he still had all his teeth – if she had a right to call it lucky.

  There were papers on the desk, detailing their release from the factory, giving up all the discriminating details, which Wren was certain made them seem like the ones fully at fault. She didn’t want to read them and there was no real use in speaking against the charges. All she could do was beg for mercy.

  “I suppose the only thing I can do now is give you your choices. Do you want to go to the workhouse? Be on the street? Or do you want to continue to stay here?”

  “We want to stay here,” Wren said quickly. Her heart was beating furiously, hammering away at the nails in her coffin. She felt that since this had happened, they would be cast out on the street for certain, regardless of what she said.

  Henry still hadn’t tried to make a case for himself, and Nora was waiting for him to. When he did not, she called for his attention.

  “Henry,” she said sternly. “Your sister loves you very much, and you have hurt her by this.”

  Wren saw his eyes widen – saw the words welling behind his lips and she begged for them not to burst free. When he actually managed to keep quiet, she was relieved.

  “I’m going to try one more time to place you in work, but this is the last chance. I have often refused that any children in my house should go to the mines, but perhaps that is the only place for you.”

  “No!” Wren protested on his behalf. She knew how treacherous the mines would be. There was often news of cave-ins, and even if not that, she still did not want to imagine her brother down there alone in the dark. “Please just put us in another factory and nothing like this will ever happen again.”

  Nora eyed them both, giving particular consideration to Henry, but she didn’t say anything else on the subject.

  “Henry, you may go. Wren, I’d like you to stay a moment.”

  Henry cast a glance at Wren and then tromped out heatedly, glad to be free, but the idea of time alone with Miss Nora did not make Wren feel at ease. It could not have led to any good conversations.

  Once the woman was sure that Henry had gone, she looked Wren in the eyes.

  “You need to prepare yourself for the worst,” she said firmly. “The two of you lashed out at a supervisor and caused him to be severely injured. This is not something that’s easily hidden or forgiven. No one wants a defiant youth.”

  “But you will try,” Wren led on hopefully, though she felt she was asking in vain.

&nbs
p; “That man violated our contract, but that cannot explain away what you did to him. I’m not going to hold my breath, and you shouldn’t either. I may still be able to get some domestic work for you, but if I can’t place Henry within the next few weeks, then he’s going off to Armstrong’s to work in the mines. I’ll leave it to you to tell him – or not – as you see fit.”

  Wren felt tears pressing behind her eyes, but she couldn’t say that she hadn’t known. A thousand consequences had gone through her mind and this had only been one possibility. They couldn’t get away with what they had done, even if it hadn’t been entirely their fault. It would have been better if Henry had just let her take the beating. At least it would have been over and done with.

  She looked down at the scarred surface of the desk, trying to keep herself together.

  “May I go now?” she asked, her voice low and strained. But Nora would not release her.

  “There is one more thing.” Wren looked up, wondering how this could have gotten worse, but knowing it was about to. “A husband and wife who were at the visitation yesterday have expressed a desire for adoption, and I have approved it.”

  Wren wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Her heart was tugging one way and her mind the other. If she were a puppet, she would have been tangled beyond use. She remembered the woman she had spoken to and her husband with the hungry eyes. Was it them?

  “They want to adopt Max – only Max.”

  Wren’s face fell as understanding sank in, passing from cautious expectation to absolute fear.

  “What? No!” It was her natural reaction to protest, whether or not it was acceptable for her to do so. She had been looking after Max since he was a baby, and though she’d claim she didn’t want him to look to her as a mother, she couldn’t help but feel that her own child was being ripped from her.

  “Wren, you know how often we get to move children out of here,” Nora said reasonably. “This is for the best.”