36. Carol

36

Carol

She had to turn this boat around, and to do that, she needed to find the wheelhouse, scare everyone else in there away, and lock herself in.

Easy. Right?

Because what the hell else am I going to do? Sure, there was the possibility Fairchild was hiding a helicopter somewhere on board. Carol couldn't fly a helicopter. Submarine? Absolutely not.

And if the ship kept its current course, everyone on board would die.

She couldn't let that happen.

Fear. She'd spent so long being afraid. Afraid her shark would never show up. Afraid, when it did, that she would hurt her friends. Afraid she would scare people, that she was too much, or not enough…

And now none of that mattered because if she couldn't get to the wheelhouse and turn this goddamn boat around, every other person trapped on this boat was going to lose their souls. And then die, probably, because they would go from slightly- more-resilient-than-normal-humans to normal humans. In Antarctica. Famously cold and icy Antarctica, no matter that it was summer this side of the world.

They were all going to die. And none of them deserved it. The dumbass guards she'd tricked into locking themselves in the library. The strange metal bird shifters who'd come with Fairchild, thinking he would save them. They were all trapped here.

Except the bastard himself, and maybe, maybe , his bodyguards, who moved like they were properly trained and not scared out of their entire minds, except the way things were going even they were all probably being strongarmed into protecting him on pain of seeing their families murdered or something.

Fuck.

She wasn't afraid for herself. She was afraid for them. Everyone Fairchild was dragging into this insane nightmare.

She had to help them.

How long did she have before someone found the two dumbasses she'd left locked in the office? It had been surprisingly easy to lure them back into the room after she broke into the drinks cabinet.

She felt bad at how quickly they'd taken to the job of emptying it, but it wasn't like she was the queen of good coping mechanisms. By the time she snuck out in search of the control room, they were too drunk to see beyond the bottles in their hands. They were shifters, so if they noticed she was gone, they would only need to shout telepathically to get the word out, but she hoped they wouldn't.

They might not know exactly what they were in for with this job, but it was obvious they knew it was nothing good.

The ship rocked slowly, the long, slow incline of open water. Which meant although it was a big boat, it wasn't big enough to cut through the ocean without feeling its swell.

The bird shifters were trapped below. From the way her two "guards" had complained about their accommodations, she figured most of the staff were housed far below decks as well. Her electrosenses were working again. Maybe the knock on the head had knocked them back on. She scanned the ship, keeping out of the way of patrolling guards.

And hiding guards. And other crew, huddled together where they thought they wouldn't be noticed, heads bent in hissed whispers of conversation or eyes fixed unseeing as they talked mind-to-mind. The air tasted like fear.

She knew where she was going. Bit by bit, she got closer.

It didn't work. Fairchild caught up with her right outside the doors.

"You're here!" she cried out, slumping against the wall. She looked desperate. Helpless. Like she'd spent the last few hours crying, not plotting her escape.

She hoped that he could see that, from behind the handguns his two guards were pointing at her.

"Oh god. You've got to help me. It's getting worse. I know you said you would help me, that the Soul-Eater would fix me, but you didn't say how long it would be, and I can't cope like this anymore-—"

People thought she was a freak. They thought she was creepy. Fairchild thought she needed to be fixed.

If she gave him something that needed fixing…

She pressed both hands to her chest. Was he falling for it? She'd let her vision go unfocused, because if there was one thing that would mean he for sure didn't fall for her bait, it would be carefully watching him to see if he did.

"Stand down. Miss Zhang—Carol. What happened?"

She slid down the wall, clutching her chest, until she was a slumped heap of knees and trembling breaths. "I didn't mean to. I don't want any of this. I didn't—I didn't—"

I didn't realize I'd stopped stuttering until I made myself start again. She kept her head between her knees like she was trying not to pass out.

Mr. Fairchild knelt in front of her. "It's going to be all right, Carol. I promise. It won't be long now. I need you to stay strong for a few more hours, that's all."

Got him.

"I know I shouldn't have left the cabin. Please don't put me back in the cage," she whimpered. "I don't want to be down there with… them. And the water. My shark…"

"Of course. I apologize for that. You were… indisposed, when my men brought you in. I wanted to keep you somewhere you couldn't hurt yourself further."

What a nice way of saying "I dropped you in the drunk tank because you were screaming in terror after I had you drugged, and I didn't want to see that."

She gulped breathlessly. "Please—" She faked a stifled sob and covered her face with her hands. "If I could just talk to someone who understands what happened—Eloise, or, or…"

"I doubt my daughter would make a compassionate shoulder to cry on. But don't worry. By the time we get there, everything will be ready."

"How-how did you even find out about this? That any of this was possible? The-the… fixing people?"

He helped her up, which wasn't part of the plan but wouldn't ruin it. She kept her weight low and unsteady.

"We've known for a long time. And for just as long, we thought it was an impossible task. It took Gerald to show us that sacred cows bleed like anything else if you shoot them in the right place."

She didn't have to fake her shaky, cold-sweat reaction. He was talking about the shadow dragons. The people who'd been guarding the Soul-Eater.

Maggie's parents.

Also, he was being grossly racist, but what was new?

"And—now you know where to find him. To fix people like me."

"Something like that." Fairchild's voice was still gentle, but she got the sense that he was watching her more carefully. Had she laid it on too thick?

Oh, well.

"Is there a reason for all these questions?" he asked, a feline growl barely audible beneath the words. The hairs on the back of Carol's neck rose. Lion shifters. Eloise had been like that sometimes, though she pretended to be embarrassed by her lioness showing itself so obviously.

Mathis's lion didn't make her react like this, though. Maybe it was because she knew him better?

Or maybe it was because he wasn't a total psychopath.

She licked her lips. "The last few days have been… difficult."

"Of course, of course." He was back to soothing mode. Like the growl had never been there. The same way he told her to make herself at home in the library, as though he'd never thrown her in a cage. "Where are your guards, by the way?"

"That's why I had to find you ! I didn't want to hurt them!" She covered her face with a fake sob.

"Hurt them?"

Both bodyguards had holstered their guns. About time.

She swallowed wetly. "My shark c-can't deal with feeling trapped. I didn't want to risk it coming out…" She wiped her face, then dropped her hands as though she was going to wipe them on her robe.

The gun she'd taken from her guard was an inch away from her fingers, tucked into the pocket.

"I already thought of that, Miss Zhang. This collar prevents you from shifting. Nobody here is in danger from your shark, except yourself."

He slid one thin finger beneath the metal collar and lifted her chin until their eyes met.

She held his gaze. "I'm—I'm at risk from my shark?"

"If it attempts to force you to shift, yes." He gave his caring, gentle smile again. "It has already caused you enough pain."

It took all of Carol's self-control not to scream in his face.

He let her go. "Don't be afraid. Before long, you'll be free of it forever."

"Free?" she echoed, blinking.

Fairchild smirked. He thought she sounded like an idiot—and his lion did, too.

"C-can you—please—" She hesitated, a stupid little girl too intimidated to even form full words.

"What is it? Ask away," he offered, graciously.

"I d-don't want to go back in there. Just waiting. If I could—could see where we are, if you h-have a map, or GPS, or…"

Fairchild sneered and flicked a look at one of the guards. As his attention left her, she brought the pistol up from behind her, slamming it under Adrian's chin.

It stopped in midair, smashing into something invisible standing between her and her captor, and there was no time to do more than think shitshitshit before invisible hands wrenched her arms behind her.

The two visible bodyguards had been decoys. His real guards were invisible—shielded with stolen dragon magic.

After that, he threw her back in the cells.

At least the guards didn't chain her down this time; they shoved her in, turned the key, and left her sitting in the wet and cold.

She stared after them, barely seeing the cells or hearing the uneasy scrape-scrape of metal feathers all around her. Fairchild's words were still echoing in her mind.

It has already caused you enough pain.

How dare he? How dare he? Her shark had never hurt her. It had never caused her any pain. It had saved her life. And then it—it… went away. As far away as it could go without the Soul-Eater's help, apparently.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

Okay. Fine. It hurt , that her shark didn't even want to be around her. That even having its features stamped on her human face didn't bring it any closer within her soul. But she didn't—it wasn't—

She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. It didn't matter . She wasn't going to let anyone take her shark away from her. She was going to get out of here, and save herself and this whole ship full of poor idiots who'd been suckered into Fairchild's scheme.

Before Moss got here.

Because Moss was coming. He had to be.