Rising Shadows

Percy stayed up with Emily until she was fast asleep and the glass had fallen from her hand, making her fade away. Percy sighed and tucked it back into his pocket before any authorities saw it, though to them, it would have just looked like he'd been talking to himself. No one else would be able to see the face in the glass or the voice he'd been hearing unless they were to look into it themselves.

He closed his eyes, but there was no way he could fall asleep. He was ashamed to say that it wasn't the first time he'd been locked up in a prison cell, and that he was well aware that the first night was always the worst. He'd had his run-ins with the authorities quite a few times, but none ended in punishments that lasted one or two nights. Port Nuxvar was different. So different, that he hadn't even told Emily about it. He hadn't done anything seriously different than normal. The only difference was that he'd been caught with a knife in someone else's gut. No one asked him why he had done it. No one bothered to ask if the man had tried to kill Percy first after Percy refused to hand over his money. He was sixteen years old and following pirates around. Of course he was simply up to no good. This time around, he didn't have Colt there to clean up after Percy's messes. He had to depend on Emily and Luke, and scariest of all, his cousin, Catarina.

That first night Percy had been locked up in Port Nuxvar, knowing they intended to hang him, Percy had never felt more helpless. He'd been lucky to get away. He could only hope his faith in Emily was enough to save him a second time, since he couldn't do much else but wait, Once again, he was helpless.

"Curious little thing you have there."

Percy looked up to see that the man in the cell across from him was staring at him. It was the same one who'd said he'd never get out.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Percy lied.

"Oh, you do," he chucked. "I won't press. Your secrets are yours. Though if I dare ask, I do wonder how one of Everett's boys got locked up."

Percy froze, staring at him blankly. "How did you...?"

"Don't kid yourself, boy," he said with an amused grin, showing a couple gold teeth among the yellowed ones. "You look just like him. Great kid, that Nathaniel Everett."

"You must be mistaken," Percy said, confused. "My father was horrible."

"I said he was a great boy, not a great man," he corrected. "I knew him long before he was a father. He was thirteen or fourteen years old the first time I met him. He and his mother had appeared in The Smokes so suddenly, and as if they'd always lived there. They even knew some of us by name, like old friends. People were starting to wonder if they actually knew them, and had just forgotten."

"They were gypsies," Percy said slowly. "His mother left, the group of travelers without reason. That's all I knew."

"Well, I used to be a shoemaker," the old man continued. "I was young. Had just married, and my wife had just had our first child. One day, Nathaniel came in and asked me for brand new pairs of shoes for him and his mother, because his were so worn out that walking barefoot may have been better for him. I told him that if he didn't have any money, I couldn't give him any shoes. He told me he'd pay me with something better. He said that he'd give me quality time with my young daughter, rather than having to work so long and hard, because he'd do all that work for me. And for a few years, that's exactly what he did. Managed to get shoes for him and his mother- until she passed away, that is."

"That doesn't sound like him at all," Percy frowned.

"Well, you would never have known this side of him," he shrugged. "When he met your mother, it brought out a different side of him. He stopped coming to see me. Oh, he was infatuated. Didn't see him at all when they were married. Even less when they had their first boy. Say, which one are you? Older one?"

"Younger," Percy corrected, still in a bit of awe.

"Oh, you're that one," he nodded.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Percy frowned.

"Nothing, nothing," he said. "Anyways, I lost all contact with him. Heard about his crimes and how he treated his family later, and lost a good majority of my respect for him. Yet, there will always be a part of me that remembers a young boy coming in to work so he could buy his mother shoes."

Percy nodded slowly, thinking for a moment about it. It didn't sound like his father, but he knew it was true. Part of him wished he could have known his father before having children. It was the sudden responsibility of having children that brought out the worst in him.

"My name is Percy," he said, wanting to shake the old man's hand but knowing it would have been silly to even try.

"Atticus Miller," the man responded with a nod. "Pleasure to meet you. Sorry it had to be here."

"You seem like an honest man," Percy frowned. "How did you end up here?"

"Well, Percy, think about it a little," he said, an odd glint in his eye. "You're an honest man now, but does that change what you did in the past?"

Percy tensed up a bit, about to say something but shutting up when the officer guarding them suddenly came down the stairs and glared at them.

"Shut up, no talking here," he snapped. "Did you think you were gathered here for a little chat over afternoon tea?"

Percy and Atticus both went silent as he glared at them and headed back upstairs. Atticus shot Percy a wink and a half smile, but it didn't really calm his nerves like Atticus had hoped. He smiled back, but sat back against the wall and pushed his hair out of his face. He closed his eyes again, but he couldn't sleep. He just didn't want to talk to anyone anymore.