23. The Knife Slipped

Chapter 23

The Knife Slipped

The Siren

T he morning hours passed slowly as I watched over Kipp's limp form. Several of his crew had carried him to his quarters, and while they had seemed weary to leave him with me, I had insisted. It had been Patton who had convinced them it would be okay, reminding them that it had been me that had turned the tides in the battle waged under the dawning sun. He'd left last, making sure I knew not to misplace the trust he bestowed upon me. I'd simply scoffed and waved him off, and I'd sat here in silence ever since.

I'd removed his shirt to dress the wounds he'd suffered, the lines of his chest a map I wanted to discover as my gaze lingered hungrily. The bandages along his abdomen already darkened with his blood, and I peeled them away to replace them with fresh ones. His wounds had been deep, but already his skin seemed to be melding together at a rapid pace. Soon, scars would be all that remained.

Crossing the room, I dropped the soiled bandages into a trash bin by his desk, wincing at the movement. I'd felt the tug of pain at my side when I'd remained in this room after we'd been rudely awakened earlier today. The shirt slipped from my shoulders before I realized what I was doing, my fingertips prodding the new lines that had sliced into my skin at the same time Kipp had been injured. It had been why I'd chosen not to remain where he'd told me to stay.

"Now, that's a sight I could get used to waking up to," Kipp said, moaning as he shifted in the bed. His eyes dropped to the new wounds in my flesh, mirror images to the ones he'd suffered in the battle. "The binding," he said, regret heaving in his tone. "I'm sorry that I wasn't stronger."

I laughed. "I've had worse. I'm just pissed it hadn't been my claws ripping through your skin," I said as I sat in the chair across from him. "And that they ruined the only shirt you've managed to provide me."

He flushed at my words, pushing himself up onto his elbows as he adjusted himself until his back leaned against the wall. The effort had caused his brow to dot with sweat, but he'd hardened his jaw against voicing any complaint at the obvious pain that flashed behind his dark eyes. That smirk slipped into place as he became comfortable. "Now isn't that a pleasant thought?"

"My lack of shirt?"

"That and…"

My brow quirked. "Are you seriously implying that the thought of my claws in your flesh is…pleasing to you?"

He chuckled, a deep sound that sent heat through me. "How long have I been sleeping?" he asked instead, changing the topic.

I gave my head a shake. "A few hours."

"Shit. Okay. Well, we should be getting close then," he answered, standing with a grunt. "Here." Pulling a shirt from his drawers, he tossed it to me. "We need to go speak with my crew, and we can't have you distracting them."

The new shirt fit just as loosely as the previous ones did, and like them, it held the scent of sea and spice, a scent I smelled from Kipp every night we shared that little bed of his. I ignored it, pulling it over my head and flipping my hair from under it. "Getting close to where, exactly?"

"The sea where I first found that witch," he said simply. "From there, you should be able to lead us the rest of the way. Let's go."

I didn't move as he swung the door open and stepped through it.

"Come on," he said, realizing I hadn't followed him.

I just laughed. "Why did you even bother binding me to you if you weren't even going to ask for my help?"

"What do you mean? I brought you close enough to the shrouded island, now you're going to bring me the rest of the way."

"The island moves! Do you think Circe lasted as long as she has by sitting on a single island her entire existence? No! The shrouded island you are looking for is shrouded in a magic that allows it to move."

"Wait, what?" he said, coming forward. Then he laughed. "You know what, that actually makes a lot of sense. That's why I have never been able to find it again."

His hands rested on my shoulders, his fingers grazing my cheek as he brought his narrowed gaze toward mine. "And what do you suggest we do?"

I swiped his hand away and took a step back. "I think it's time you start trusting me. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we break this binding. I don't need any help collecting scars. Take me to your navigational quarters."

The navigational quarters turned out to be the first door below deck, a room I had passed several times unknowingly. Kipp shoved the door open and entered, and I trailed in slowly behind him, my gaze searching the quarters and the people within the room.

Maps covered nearly every surface. They hung along the walls, they covered the large surface of the table, they filled the three barrels pushed along the wall in so many rolls I couldn't count them all. A wide window stretched along the wall, overlooking the salty sea and the clear sky above. Several silver instruments sat strewn about the table's surface, worn out from years of charting paths through the seas.

Two pirates stood bent over the table, straightening as we entered. Both of them eyed me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. It was clear that they didn't entirely trust me, but that my actions this morning wouldn't be forgotten. The woman had a fierce look about her, her dark curls hanging like wild twists around her face. A jagged scar ran along her jaw, marring the beautiful dark tone of her skin and speaking of battles won. The man had a calculating glint in his eye, his gaze sharp and penetrating as he assessed me. He stood shorter than Kipp but just as broad. He didn't have the darkness behind his gaze like Kipp did, but there was anger held there, as if this man was used to getting what he wanted, as if he didn't mind doing terrible things if he had to. He smiled, revealing rows of black and gold teeth.

Kipp's hand rested on my shoulder possessively, and both of the pirates in front of me flinched, looking away from me and back to the maps. "We need to determine our next destination," Kipp said, stepping up to the table's edge and guiding me alongside him. "It seems the island is unlikely to be in the same location it was when I'd originally found it. This little siren claims she knows where we should go next though. Isn't that right, Lia?"

I squared my shoulders, meeting their gazes head-on. They still distrusted me, but I'd proven myself twice now and didn't appreciate the looks they sent my way. "I do know where we should go," I replied coolly, letting a hint of mystery color my tone. "Trust me, it's a place that will give us the answers we need."

The female smirked, her red painted lips stretching across her sharp face. "And how do we know you're not leading us into a trap, siren?"

"You don't." I shrugged. "I guess you should have thought about that before capturing me for answers, huh?"

Kipp stepped forward, his hand splayed against my chest as if to hold me back. "She knows what's at stake, Nelle, and she's right. She's what we've been waiting for, so we might as well see where she leads us."

The male stepped forward, moving the tools aside to clear the map. "Fine. Lead the way, but know this: if you betray us, there will be consequences."

I didn't drop his gaze as I let my fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt, lifting slightly to show the new scar developing along my abdomen, where most of Kipp's crew knew him to have suffered an injury earlier this morning. "I think it's safe to say that I am already suffering those consequences."

Kipp's hand covered mine as he dropped my shirt back over the wound. "Brady," he said, staring at the man. "Stand down. We need her, and she needs us. None of us truly trust each other, we all know that. Let us move on from this pointless stating of the obvious."

"Listen," I said, all the soft edges and smooth lilts to my voice hardened by my annoyance as I leaned forward, my hands gripping the table to keep me from tearing these idiots into ribbons. "I get why you don't trust me, but I don't care what you want. You matter little to me. I've proven myself to this ship, to your captain, twice now. I've saved his life…" I jabbed my elbow into Kipp's side, resulting in that infuriating smirk of his. "…twice now. So, you see, it doesn't really matter if you trust me or not. I have my own reasons for wanting to find the sea witch." I jabbed my finger to the map at a spot in the ocean, making sure all eyes were where I'd pinpointed. "Our quest begins there. It's about time someone finally decided to ask me."

I pulled my hand away, watching as Nelle immediately circled the spot I'd pointed out as I turned from the table. "I'm feeling rather cramped in here," I said to Kipp as I passed him, "I think I'd rather the cold looks of hatred of your crew above deck instead."

My bare feet smacked across the smooth boards with my angry steps as I made my way to the bow of the ship. It had quickly become my favorite place on the ship, where the wind whipped my dark hair behind me in waves that reminded me of the sea. I kept my back to the crew for several long moments, burying the hurt I shouldn't feel at the crews' lack of trust. Turning, I watched their movements as they worked tirelessly beneath the hot sun.

I lifted my chin, feeling the warmth on my skin and relishing in the warmth. All my life, I'd been used to the frigid kiss of the deep waters, but I could get used to this. I'd been at sea on this ship for weeks now, and as I peered up into the clear skies above, the sun a glittering ball of white, I realized I hadn't once caught a glimpse of Apollo riding his chariot across the sky to bring in the sun. My mother used to tell me stories of seeing him once, his white Pegasus steeds glowing in the fading light as he guided the world from darkness into light. Perhaps they had only ever been just stories.

A shanty lifted into the air, and my gaze landed on a sailor as his voice carried over the waves lapping against the ship. He only sang a few words before the rest of the crew joined in, their voices harmonizing effortlessly as they worked together. I couldn't help but feel envious of their bond, how they knew each other completely, and worked together naturally. They were like a family, a real family built not by blood but by years spent together at sea. It made me yearn for that kind of camaraderie and belonging, something I hadn't had since my mother had perished.

A young boy with dark curly hair and ebony skin emerged from below deck, carrying a wicker basket the same size as his chest across deck until he reached the roped ladder. I'd seen him around over these weeks, always busying himself with minor tasks. Even he did his part to help this ship. I moved forward before I realized what I'd planned, knowing I needed to start doing my part if this crew were to ever see me as anything other than an enemy.

"Watch where you're going, siren," an older man grunted as his shoulder bumped into mine.

I ignored him as he passed me, continuing across the ship, past the masts.

"Hey you! To the left!" another barked as he dropped a heavy coil of ropes that nearly hit me from above.

I sidestepped, a crease forming along my brow as I tried to cut carefully across the deck. Another woman came around the mast, gathering the ropes, her lips pressed tightly together as she spoke between her clenched teeth, "Find something to do. You're in our way." She clutched the ropes to her chest as she turned and carried them toward the helm without another glance back.

Kipp stood in the doorway leading toward the cabins, and I stopped as I realized he'd been watching me. My cheeks burned with humiliation, wondering how long he'd been standing there as I crossed the deck toward him. He stood leaning against the frame, his arms crossed his chest and his dark eyes glittered with amusement that made me want to drag my claws down his chest.

"I think it is time we find you something you can do to contribute," he said as I stopped in front of him.

"I don't think any of them want my help," I said, trying not to sound as bitter as I felt.

The woman stood over my shoulder, saying, "Perhaps something below deck. I don't need her underfoot while we're working our asses off up here."

Kipp held a hand up. "I've got it, Camilla."

Her green eyes the shade of kelp narrowed as she looked at me. "I'll be keeping an eye on you," she said, turning and walking away.

"Splendid," I mumbled, "I'll do the same."

Kipp's lips twitched, but he said nothing as he guided me back below deck to the large common room. "Barlow, I have some more help for you," Kipp announced as we crossed the room toward the back corner next to the arched doorway that led to the kitchen.

An older man sat in the corner on an overturned half-barrel with a younger boy by his side. Another half-barrel sat at their feet, quickly filling with potato peels as they skinned vegetables. Barlow didn't even lift an eye as he grunted, "Take a knife and peel some potatoes, if you would."

The young boy hesitated, fear evident in his eyes as he handed me a small, curved knife. I took it in my hand gently, my lips stretching into a wicked grin as I let my eyes flash. "Don't worry, I don't eat little children," I said softly with a wink.

Barlow chuckled, sliding a barrel my way for me to sit upon. Kipp gave his head a shake as he left me with his kitchen crew. I grabbed a potato from the edge of the barrel with the skin still intact and held the knife firmly in my hand as I watched Barlow and the kid work, trying to figure out exactly what was expected of me. I tried to mimic their movements, but the knife slipped, and I fumbled the potato, sending it rolling across the deck with a rumbling thud.

"Never peeled anything before?" Barlow asked, his voice deep and gravelly. I shook my head as I sat back down, having collected the rollaway vegetable. He pointed his knife at me as he said, "Not even when you peel your victims? You don't dress them up any? You just gnaw on them?"

I flinched at his words, my grip tightening on the handle of the knife as I breathed. "I don't eat people," I said, my teeth gritted as I held back my rage just barely.

"That's not true," the boy piped up, his voice squeaky as he scooted closer to Barlow. "The captain caught you eating a poor man's heart when he found you. I heard the crew talking about it."

Barlow continued peeling potatoes as he nodded, grunting in agreement as he worked.

"It's not like I wanted to," I explained. I didn't know why I wanted them to understand, but I wanted them to know I hadn't done what I'd done by choice. These weren't my friends, but it was clear they knew nothing about sirens, not really.

"Why not?" the boy asked. He peeled the potatoes at a much slower rate than Barlow did, but he worked tirelessly to contribute.

Barlow held up his knife and the boy quieted. "Hush," Barlow chided as he turned to me and demonstrated with his hands how to properly peel the vegetables without hacking away at it as I'd been doing. I mimicked his movements, grateful that it worked. I wasn't as efficient as Barlow, or even the boy, but at least I no longer dropped them.

We continued peeling in comfortable silence until the boy's curiosity piqued. "So, why did you do it then?"

"Do what?" I dropped my first potato into the bin and reached for another one.

"Eat the man's heart." His high-pitched voice held excitement, but it also held fear and wonder. "You said you didn't want to, but you still did it." He shuddered as he added, "Is it like an instinct?"

I tried to ignore his question, focusing on the task at hand. Even if I explained it all to them, they'd probably still see me as a monster.

"If you don't eat a man's heart, could you die?" the boy persisted.

I dropped another potato into the bin with a heavy sigh as I nodded. It was clear he wouldn't stop so without looking at either of them, I said, "It's part of our siren nature. When we come of a certain age, we must consume a human heart or we risk losing our siren power, some of us even die."

The boy leaned forward, his toothless grin lighting up his face as he eagerly awaited a story from one of the monsters in the nighttime tales that he'd no doubt grown up hearing. "Why do you have to eat a heart?"

As we continued peeling vegetables, potatoes and carrots, I told him the story of our creation by a goddess of the sea who became our queen so she wouldn't be lonely. "She fell in love with Zeus," I said, watching the boy's face light up with fascination.

"Oooh!" he exclaimed, bouncing on the barrel he sat on. "I know what happens next! Hera always gets mad and punishes them!"

"Exactly," I confirmed with a nod. "So, the story ends tragically. Hera cursed the goddess and all sirens to be monsters, taking from us our powers and immortality. In order to earn them back, we must make a mortal fall in love with us and then rip their heart out and consume it before the third full moon after our twenty-first birthday."

With wide eyes, he asked, "What happens if they don't do that before the third moon?"

"They become mortal," I replied gravely.

"Will they die?"

"Most do," I admitted with a heavy heart. "They cannot survive without the ocean, but some manage to cling onto life still."

I couldn't bear to look at either of them. I didn't want to see the disbelief in their gazes, the judgement. Everything I had shared had haunted my people for ages, it threatened the population of my people, and it was the only reason I'd so quickly agreed to Kipp's terms, especially if he agreed to help me in return.

"We are all monsters," Barlow spoke, his voice low and his hands in constant movement as he worked. "It just depends on who is telling the story." Barlow's gaze lifted to meet mine, and for the first time since I'd joined them, his hands stilled. "Why do you call yourself a monster?"

I shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze. "Because I want power," I admitted reluctantly, not entirely sure why I was being so open, so honest with them. "Ultimately, I am fighting for my people, and I will do anything for them. It makes me monstrous."

I'd never shared everything like this, and as the boy's eyes widened with wonder, Barlow simply smirked, his demeanor almost softening with my explanation as we continued working in silence. As I'd told them my history and my reasoning, I understood that being called a monster wasn't the worst thing. It only mattered what we did with that label. Now, I was just determined to be a monster for the right reasons, for my people and not for myself.

Because Barlow had been right. We were all monsters…

It only mattered who told our story.