Cogling (12 page)

He, the experienced thief, would get them out.
He has to.
Harrison would laugh so hard; call her cow-eyed for gawking.

Light washed over them as the door opened and a girl’s voice tore the two apart. “You’d best be gettin’ outta there before Augusta comes round an’ boxes yer ears. There ain’t no fondlin’ allowed.”

Ike pulled away, his gaze locked with Edna’s. “I was just getting out.” He pushed to his feet, still watching her. “Comfortin’ is all I was doin’ here.”

“Sure.” The girl scowled at Edna. “Get up, trollop, an’ get to work. Just because you’re new don’t mean you can dawdle.”

Edna passed tables with pitchers and stacks of barrels. Workers knelt by the spigots, filling their brass pitchers. Edna picked one up, gasped at the weight, and filled it at one of the gin barrels. Her muscles screamed in protest. The Waxman Estate trays had never been so heavy. Odds bobs, she needed to conserve her energy, not waste it in a gin house. Cold air brushed against her legs. “Why can’t this ridiculous skirt come down longer than my knees?”

Of course, no one answered. She might have to force them to warm up to her before she could get information.

Stepping into the main room, Edna glanced to the right and left. The men laughed amongst themselves, scenting the air with their gin-soaked breath. No one looked as if he wanted more to drink. At Waxman, people who wanted more waved two fingers. No one did that, either.

She would work around the room and try to locate another escape route.

“You the girl Annie brought here, called you Eddie?” a male voice asked.

Edna’s hands tightened around the pitcher as she turned her head. A tomtar stepped through the haze.

“Jimmy!”

What they say, so it is.

immy nodded toward an empty table. “Over here.” Shadows from his moles stretched across his caramel skin.

Edna’s hand shook as she set her jug on the table with a
clunk
. “You were right there when we were stolen, but you didn’t try to save us.” Her throat tickled from the smoke in the room. “What are you doing here?”

He glanced at their surroundings through bloodshot eyes. “The master lets me come to bring home—”

“Can you fetch the police?” She opened her mouth to say more, but wasn’t sure what else mattered. If he’d wanted to do that, he would’ve done it already. Maybe she could pretend to be his sister, or wife, or owner—
something
—and slip out with him.

“You’d better pour before they think somethin’ is funny,” Jimmy said. “Where you come from, the police help the peasants?”

“I’m not a peasant!” She sloshed gin over the edge of his cup and looked around for something to clean it up with—no rags in sight. She used her skirt. So much for being clean.

“Sorry.” Jimmy shook his head. “You were kind t’ me, so I wanna do you a favor.”

“Get someone to listen to you! These people can’t keep Ike and me here. It’s kidnapping. My parents won’t be able to track me, and I have to save my brother.”

“The police can be bribed, and them owners here got the stuff to bribe with. This place is popular ‘cause they cater to everyone, even a slave like me.” Jimmy sipped the gin, scratching his pug nose.

“You only came to rub it at me that I’m stuck? Tell me what to do.” Tears burned her eyes. “Please. There has to be a way. If Ike and I can’t think of a way out, maybe you can.”

He pulled out a sack from under his coat and thrust it at her. “Wish I could do more. Selling folks off makes a world of trouble.” Tipping the glass back, he downed the contents and stood. “Gotta get some for the master.”

Whatever it was, could it really lead them to freedom? Edna stuffed the sack into her top. The cotton swelled, but the folds helped to hide it. “I’m begging you. I’ll do whatever you want, just please, get us out.”

He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “You’re real determined, so I hope this thing’s enough.”

“Jimmy.” She choked on his name as he left for the stage. He wouldn’t help her anymore, and pleading would make her look ridiculous. Clutching the sack under her top using one arm, she hurried toward the kitchen, keeping her head down to avoid looking at the people she passed. The full jug, held only in one hand, strained her muscles. She sighed when she set it in the kitchen. Maids bustled through the door, clanking their pitchers and gossiping in hushed voices.

Pretending she’d dropped something, Edna crawled under the table to remove the sack. Maybe he’d wrapped up a key or a disguise.

Unfolding the coarse material, she discovered knotted rope. How could she use it to escape? Maybe strangle someone. Probing the rope, it unrolled into her lap, becoming a ladder. How could that help? She hadn’t seen any windows she could climb through. A frustrated cry rose in her throat, but she fought it down. There had to be some way to use the ladder. Maybe she could pretend to be a painter, but she didn’t have any supplies.

Ike dropped under the table beside her so fast she screamed. He slapped his palm over her mouth.

“Shh.” He slid his hand off her lips. “I saw you dart in here with something.”

She trembled as she held it out. “Jimmy gave it to me.”

Ike fumbled with the rope. “Who’s Jimmy? This might be a trap.”

“Jimmy’s the tomtar. Annie’s slave.” Each clanking of pans and splashing of drink made Edna jump. If someone caught them, they would take the ladder away and she’d be no better. She glanced around the kitchen as best she could from her position. “I don’t see any spyders. We should be safe if we stay hidden.”

“I’ll definitely trust Jimmy, especially since Annie and her pa sold us here,” Ike said in a monotone.

“Odds bobs.” Edna stared into his eyes. “We gotta get out of here. We can’t let Harrison rot. Jimmy had seemed sincere, flustered. I refuse to believe he’d try to trap us further.” Harrison needed her to figure out how to use the ladder.

“
We
can’t rot.” Ike scowled. “I’ll keep the rope and try to think up a plan. If you get any ideas, holler.” He rolled out from beneath the table.

A wooden spoon rapped the chair nearby, making her jump.

“Get back to work,” a cook snapped. “You dillydally, then you don’t eat.”

Harrison tried to blink. Wait, had he blinked? His eyes felt swollen and dry. The corners stung. Could he move his eyelids anymore?

The hag with the cane hobbled past his seat and he turned to see what had caught her attention. Another hag strode in with a little girl at her side. Younger than Harrison, the girl wore a brown cape and fish scales clung to her boots.

“Where am I?” Tears drenched her cheeks. Odds bobs, tears. If only he could still weep.

“Dream yourself free, my dear,” the hag cackled. Dark kohl rimmed her silver eyes. Could she be the one who’d brought Harrison to the factory?

He tried to scream at the little girl not to trust them, but his tongue had become a lump. Shimmers poured off the newcomer to tangle in the daydream catcher net above. She would turn as gray as he was.

How long before he couldn’t dream?

The customer laughed, displaying rotten teeth, as Edna spilled gin across his table. Working as a maid had never been so difficult. After three hours, it felt as if she’d worked there for weeks. Her body longed for a break. Even combing Lady Rachel’s hair would have been preferable.

She hadn’t discovered any other exits, and when she’d whispered her plight to customers, they’d waved her away. The only plan remained with the ladder. The customers hadn’t been able to help her gather more information about the hags, either. That question earned her widened eyes, hissed breath, and scowls.

Edna’s stomach rumbled and her hands shook, not only from fear, but also from fatigue. A headache gnawed the corners of her temples. Each step made her forehead throb. When she tried to steal a sip of water from a bucket in the kitchen, one of the cooks slapped her knuckles with a spoon.

“You eat at the end of the day, same as everybody.”

Smoke stung her eyes. When she closed them to inhale a calming breath, something soft touched her hand. Edna gasped, choked on her breath, and blinked at Ike. Winking, he swept past into the crowd. Ducking near the crimson wall, she studied what he’d given her—a napkin with writing. As she unfolded the linen, Edna wondered how he’d gotten the black ink. It rubbed off on her fingers and gloves: coal from the kitchen. She wiped her hand on her robe.

Spill on your clothes and get sent to the dorms.

At last, a plan. Maybe. Edna stuffed the napkin into her shirt, pivoting her head to make sure no one looked her way. Other workers laughed with customers in the den of smoke. Perhaps this type of life was preferable for them, but not for her, not when Harrison needed her. Holding her breath, Edna dumped her jug of gin down her dress. The cold liquid drenched her skin and splashed across the floor. She bit her lower lip to keep from cringing.

“Hey, gal, you all right?” a man called over.

“I’m fine.” Holding the jug close, she scurried to the kitchen and poked Augusta’s arm. “Excuse me. I can’t continue out there looking like this.”

Augusta turned from the stove where she’d been checking a stew to grab Edna’s shoulder. “How’d you get so soaked?”

Edna averted her eyes, cheeks flushed beneath the scrutiny. “I tripped over a leg. I spilled and—”