The Call of the Wild: Klondike Cannibals, Vol. 2 by Herbert Ashe Page A

straightened up, very carefully, and turned around.
    “What are you doing here?” the voice asked.
    It was Annie.

*  *  *  *  *
    Her hair was different. Black, the colour of ravens.
    I n the dim light of the moon he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes. How they widened, ever so slightly, when she saw him.
    At first, h e was embarrassed that she’d caught him there in his underwear. But his embarrassment was quickly replaced with confusion.
    What was she doing? he wondered. Pictures from dime novels raced through his mind. The Argo was transporting white girls into slavery, somewhere in Africa, or the Orient. The gang knew some terrible secret, and it placed Annie wholly in their power. Maybe she was in disguise, and trying to escape? Maybe that’s why her hair was different. Maybe—
    And then all at once he knew.
    Of course. She was one of them .
    They had al l been shills, in that crowd in front of Dr. Fiddler’s gaming-table. Annie, her aunt.
    E veryone except Jack.
    In the first moment of his realization, he felt hurt, stung by betrayal. But almost instantly he hardened. Fine, he thought. It’s better this way. The moment of connection he’d thought he’d felt with her had been a lie, just part of the honey-trap.
    His blood boiled. He’d been so easily suckered.
    He wondered how many other s like him there’d been, how many other men she’d played in just this way.
    “ I came for my money,” he said.
    “Put your clothes on,” she said. She looked in the direction of the approaching lantern. “Quick!”
    “No.”
    She glared at him and pressed the tip of the knife forward ever so slightly . It hadn’t yet broken the skin, but would soon.
    They could hear the barking of the dog getting closer, and a couple of men’s voices now…
    “Please go,” she whispered. “They’ll kill you if they find you here.”
    He stared at her. He knew he could make a break for the railing and hurl himself off the side of the boat. Sure, it would hurt to hit the water from this height, but Jack had done his share of cliff-jumping in his youth, and knew exactly what to do.
    But he wasn’t going to do that.
    “Let them ,” he said, fixing her with a steady stare.
    The barking o f the dog got louder and louder, and now they could hear the sound of the dog’s paws scrambling on the deck, too, the slink and slide of its leash, the gnashing of its teeth…
    Two lanterns flew past where they stood, and kept going. The barking receded a little into the distance.
    “ This is your last chance,” she said.
    T he intensity between them was electric.
    T hen a lantern was suddenly thrust towards them, and they were caught in its brittle light.
    “Our hero is back,” Dr. Fiddler said. He seemed a little drunk: his words were slurred.
    “He wants his money, ” Annie said quickly. She lowered her blade from Jack’s throat, and took a step away from him.
    “ Oh,” Dr. Fiddler chuckled. “Is that all?” He’d seen them there, caught in an awkward moment, Jack was sure of it.
    Annie blushed and looked away.
    Jack got dressed as quickly as he could, trying not to get any blood from his hand on his clothes.
    In the darkness behind the glare of Dr. Fiddler’s lantern loomed Indian Jack, holding a growling German boxer on a short leash on one side, and the Chinese boy, his face expressionless, on the other.
    As soon as Jack was fully clothed, Dr. Fiddler s aid: “Let’s go below.” He looked at Annie. “You too.”
    “Is that really necessary, Richard?” she asked, her voice turning soft and melodious. “It’s late, and—”
    “Your c harms won’t work on me, my lady,” Dr. Fiddler said. He pulled a small bottle of medicinal laudanum out of his black coat, unscrewed the tiny cap, and took a swig. His pale throat shivered a little, and his eyes rolled up into his head for a moment or two.
    “You know that, ” he said, grinning at her.

*  *  *  *  *
    They took Annie, Jack, and the boy, below deck,