It began with his father punching him squarely in the jaw. Leo staggered back, hitting the back of his shin against an old trunk, and falling to the ground. Blood filled his mouth.
His father’s teeth were bared beneath his wiry, black mustache, and his dark-brown eyes were bloodshot. “I regret ever siring you,” his father said. “I could overlook your drinking and gambling, but this is inexcusable.”
What had he done to earn his father’s censure? Memories flickered past, too fast to catch. His legs ached as if he’d run a mile the previous day. Had he gotten into a fight? Knocked out some young lord at the gambling hall? His father nudged an empty bottle on the floor with his foot. “Pathetic. You have no idea what has happened, do you?” He tossed a crumpled paper onto Leo’s chest. “Read that and see.”
Leo smoothed out the paper, which appeared to be a telegram. His tired eyes struggled to focus on the small script. Finally, he puzzled it out. “An accident?”
He had a vague recollection of being woken up at the crack of dawn by his sister’s pleading voice. He had thrown her aside, having no desire to wake up after getting so deep into his cups the night before. Sabrina had been insistent, ranting and raving at him, then sobbing when he’d refused to move.
He checked the telegram again. The name of the ship was familiar. Why? The fog in his brain parted, and he remembered that he’d promised his sister he would accompany her on a trip to visit a young man she had met in London. That was it—the tickets she had shown him had been for the same ship.
He tore the paper into small pieces. “No. I don’t believe it.”
“Get out of my house,” his father said. “Don’t come back unless Sabrina is with you.”
Leo pushed past his parents. His sister wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. His father couldn’t see it. He would have to go to the scene and find Sabrina himself. Somewhere, she was laughing at him, certain she had punished him for not coming with her on the trip down the river. He was sure of that; he simply had to find her and end the game.
He hitched up a horse and set off. The light of the rising sun was insufferably bright, pounding into his head. He paid a fisherman to take him across the river. There was still no reliable transportation other than taking a boat. It was a long crossing, but once he finally arrived, he started hearing the whispers.
“Those poor people,” one woman said.
“There were mostly women and children on board,” a man replied. “Such a tragedy.”
As he journeyed closer to the city, he pieced together the gossip to learn what had happened. Two boats had collided on the river, a cargo ship destined for London and a small river cruiser laden with tourists returning from a day exploring the pleasure gardens.
“Please, brother. It will be cold soon, and I might not get another chance to meet with him.”
Sabrina’s wheedling voice echoed in his mind. They’d been on their way back from a shopping trip, laden with boxes, when she’d bumped into a young man. Leo had been so preoccupied with keeping them from missing their ferry that he rememberedlittle about the man except that he was skinny, wore a striped, yellow suit, and had sputtered his apologies for so long that Sabrina had giggled. To keep them from being late, Leo had finally agreed to chaperone Sabrina on an outing with the man the next day.
It was worth it to see her smile.
She couldn’t be dead.
Finally, the coach could take him no farther and dropped him at the edge of the city, near the river and the foul stench that came with it.
The scene was chaos.
The bodies dragged out of the water were white, clammy things covered in a sick layer of mud.
“Sabrina!” he called.
She’s around here somewhere.
Even if she had been on the boat, she certainly would have survived. She had been a strong swimmer all her life.
He could only just make out the remains of the transport ship, lilting to one side in the river. The pleasure cruiser was gone, but dozens of other boats bobbed in the gentle waves. Their operators held long sticks with barbed ends that they used to pull up hulking shapes and haul them onto the boats.
He accepted a perfumed rag from a woman holding a basket and staggered between one row of bodies to the next.
“If you have not found your loved one here,” a man shouted from a few feet away, “search on the other side of the river.”
The dream skipped forward, and he was standing beside a body, trembling with exhaustion and fear. He flipped the corpse over with the toe of his boot.
It was Sabrina, her curls plastered to her swollen face.
He fell to his knees, ignoring the wet squelch of the mud that seeped through his trousers, icy daggers cutting into his flesh.
Then the dream twisted from reality, and his sister’s eyes flew open.
