Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

ELEVEN YEARS AGO - SUMMER 1656

Y ves sprinted across the deck as it splintered and broke around him. The screams of his fellow pirates echoed in the air as another barrage of cannon fire tore their bodies apart. Yves didn't even know who was attacking, just that they'd been ambushed in the dead of night under a scarlet flag of no quarter.

Yves's already shitty life had gotten unbelievably shittier when he found out what his sister Ana was really doing to keep them alive and fed on the streets of Saulès. He wanted to help, but he was just a kid, barely past his twelfth birthday. He'd found work as a kitchen boy in the home of General Batteux, but a peaceful life continued to elude him. He'd caught the general's eye.

Even years later, he couldn't think about what happened without panic rising in his chest, or what more could have happened if Ana hadn't come for him in time.

But powerful men didn't like to give up their playthings, especially when those playthings knew damning information about their sickening predilections. To protect himself and Ana both, he got a job on the next ship out of port, which turned out to belong to pirates.

He'd taken to the sea like he was born of its tides.

And now what did he have to show for it?

He stumbled as the ship shuddered and groaned. He was just a teenager. Just fifteen. He couldn't die yet. He hadn't seen Ana in three years, and he'd never gotten the chance to thank her and take care of her like he wanted to.

But there was nowhere to go. Not now. They were in open water with no land in sight. And even if Yves begged for mercy, he doubted it would be granted.

A concussive boom threw Yves backwards over the rail, plunging him headfirst into the waves.

Beneath the water, all was quiet. Peaceful. The screams of the dying were muffled and far away. Yves kicked toward the surface, but his coat and boots dragged him down. He struggled harder. He knew how to swim, but it was as if the sea itself was determined to swallow him up. Another body plunged below the surface, dead weight trailing a plume of red. It sank past him into the depths, blood and salt water invading his nostrils. Yves battled against the sucking undertow, desperate to reach the surface.

Something wrapped around Yves's ankle, yanking him deeper. His mouth opened in surprise, a string of silvery bubbles escaping with his breath toward the receding surface. He clamped his mouth shut before the sea could rush in to take its place. He kicked at the thing holding him, but it constricted, grinding muscle and bone together. He writhed in its hold, desperate to escape, but it squeezed harder, and he felt something in his leg snap. He clamped his hands over his scream, keeping whatever breath remained inside.

Yves's coat billowed up around him as the thing pulled him deeper. His hands shook as he fumbled with the knife at his belt and it slipped from his grasp, sinking out of reach past the dark and writhing shadow pulling him down and down into the depths. His muscles burned with futile struggle. He could barely hear the report of cannons or see the firelight above the surface anymore. He reached up as if that would get him any closer to the agony and breath of life. Would it be better to drown here in the peaceful dark? Or surrender to this creature, whatever it was?

Was this all he was? An abused and runaway child. Lost at sea with only one soul in the world to mourn him.

His body went slack, letting the water cradle him, giving up. He looked down toward his future grave. The massive shadowy creature waited below, a multitude of tentacles ebbing and flowing with the deep currents. He could see no face. No eyes. Only a void-like maw of sharp teeth waiting for him .

He couldn't help it. He gasped, salty water rushing down his throat and forcing the last of the breath from his lungs.

The tentacle crushing his leg shivered, speckles of light like a galaxy twinkling across its skin. It would've been beautiful if it wasn't going to kill him.

In some distant corner of his mind, he wondered if he would drown or be eaten first.

Free me.

Was he going mad in the face of his inevitable death? His oxygen deprived brain playing tricks on him?

Free me, the voice said again, deep and echoing.

I'm the one who's trapped. I've never been free, Yves thought. The three years he'd spent on the pirate ship had been the closest to freedom he'd ever gotten. And even that was tinged with violence and death.

The tentacle, with its shiny, star-like speckles loosened slightly and the shadows beneath it roiled, revealing a gargantuan black eye.

We can help each other then.

He wasn't imagining it. The creature was speaking to him.

We can make a deal, the creature said.

I'm dying, Yves thought.

You will free me from this prison, and I will free you from death.

But how could Yves free this creature? And from what? Who could be more free than a creature in the vast seas?

I have been imprisoned here for millennia. I will free you from the restraints of death. Not only this death, but any illness, any wound suffered, will be nothing in the face of my power. I will live your life beside you, and one day we will return to the sea together. You will know success and riches beyond your wildest imaginings. But you will not know love. That is a price you must continue to pay.

Love . Yves's mind caught on the word hazily, his brain oxygen starved and slowly dying. He would give up everything to live. He would even give up love if it weren't for…

Ana …It was impossible to speak her name aloud. His mouth and lungs were already full of seawater. But the creature heard. The creature knew.

Ana. The creature repeated ponderously, rolling the name around in the currents. It seemed to know exactly who she was, as if it were rifling through Yves's dying mind, picking apart his thoughts and memories. Your beloved sister who sacrificed herself for your sake. And now look at where you are, dying at the bottom of the sea. Would you rather die loving her? Or survive and repay her sacrifices.

Yves's body jerked. He was in the last throes of drowning, succumbing to the cold embrace of the sea. But all he could think was, C ruel .

The creature chuckled.

Say I am cruel. Curse me and rail against me with the little time you have left. Or make a decision. Will you tie your life to mine?

Yves would have laughed if he could. It almost sounded like a marriage proposal. He was just a kid; he couldn't make a decision like this.

But he didn't want to die.

What are you?

There was a short moment of hesitation. A moment in which Yves died a little more.

Demon. Monster. God. Call me what you will. I am your savior.

A demon. A deal with a demon. A deathless life with this creature always looking out from behind his eyes.

You are dying, the demon said.

Yes. I will free you. Just let me live.

The salt water churned in his lungs, the pressure of the sea pressing in all around him. He gazed into the blue blackness of the depths. Starlight twinkled in the dark as more tentacles wrapped in chains closed around him.

His body went slack, and his eyes drifted shut again, succumbing to death.

When he woke on the rocky shores of an unknown land, un-drowned, he was not alone in his own head. And he would never be alone again. The demon was him, and he was the demon. There was no separating one consciousness from the other now. They were one. A new being. Not Yves. Not the demon.

The demon had changed him. Made him more merciless. But in turn he had made the demon more human.

It took him half a year to return to Saulès.

It was dark, but Yves could see everything in the narrow, stinking alleyway beside the boarding house where Ana stayed. The Batteuxs's dried blood flaked from his knuckles as he clutched the sack of money and valuables close to his chest.

The first thing he'd done upon his return wasn't finding Ana. He'd gone straight to General Batteux's house and killed every man and woman who'd known what the general was and done nothing about it. Who'd turned a blind eye to the suffering of the child Yves used to be. He'd left only the young kitchen boy alive. It was a wonder how much he could do when he didn't have to worry about dying, when the strength of a demon coursed through his veins. There was no fear left in him, only revenge. Unfortunately, one family member hadn't fallen to his violence, the general's second son who was away at sea. He'd stolen everything he could from the house and stashed most of it in a hollow on the outskirts of Saulés, but this he'd saved for Ana, his sister, the woman who'd raised him. Who'd starved and sacrificed for him.

No warmth spread through his heart at the thought of her, no loneliness or yearning to see her again. That was part of the deal. The chambers of his heart would never again fill with the flush of love. Not for Ana, his only family, and not for anyone else. But that didn't mean he'd forgotten her.

A burst of chatter accompanied the boarding house door opening, spilling women and lamplight out onto the cobbled street. Yves shrank into the shadows, watching to see if Ana would appear among them. And there she was, as pale as the moon overhead and hair as black as the night. His own face reflected back at him through feminine lines. If the human part of him had half hoped he would feel something when he saw her face again, he was disappointed. There was nothing. He remained empty.

Ana said something to one of her companions and hung back to lock up the boarding house door as the other women moved on down the street to their nightly activities. Ana slipped the key into her pocket and made to follow.

Yves's hand shot out as Ana passed by the mouth of the alley, dragging her into the darkness. She yelped, and a small knife flashed between her fingers, burying itself into the meat of his shoulder.

"Ana," he grunted, and her struggle stopped as she looked up into his wan face, lit only by the moon overhead.

"Y-Yves, is that you? Oh gods…" Her hands flew to her mouth in horror as she took in his ghoulish countenance, half starved and smeared with dried blood. Then her gaze flicked to the knife still sticking from his shoulder. "Yves, I'm sorry. I…" Her eyes welled up with tears, and even that did not move him.

Yves released her arm and drew the knife out of his flesh, a fresh gout of blood gushing from the wound.

"Don't do that! We need to get you inside. I'll get bandages?—"

"No need. Here," Yves interrupted her. He handed the bloodied knife back to her, hilt first. She took it reluctantly, eyes searching his face.

"Yves…" Her expression crumpled, and she launched herself into his arms, face buried into his uninjured shoulder as she sobbed. "I'm so glad you're alive."

Yves froze, a singular ridiculous thought nagging at his mind, that she was so much shorter than him now. He'd not seen her since fleeing Saulés when he was just twelve. But after a moment, some muscle memory kicked in, and his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He let her tears dwindle into sniffles, saying nothing until she stepped back.

"We'll need to bandage that," Ana said weakly, smiling her familiar, motherly smile.

"It's nothing." He could hear the echo of tides in his own voice, but such a thing didn't seem to register with her. Nor could she see the tendrils of shadow that protruded from his back to fill the expanse of the alley.

Yves thrust the sack of money into her hands. "This is for you."

"What?" The coins clinked together and her eyes widened. "Yves, what's going on? Where did you get this?" She seemed to register for the first time that he was covered in dried blood. "I-I heard that the general and his family were murdered. Did you…?" She seemed unable to bring herself to say it.

"Yes," Yves answered without hesitation. Tears sprang to Ana's eyes all over again, and Yves reached out to grip her shoulders. "Take this money and go far away, buy a cottage in the countryside. I will find you again. But for now I must flee. I'm returning to the sea to make a name for myself, and you'll never want for anything again. "

Ana placed a trembling hand over his. "And if they catch you? You'll hang."

That did cause him some discomfort. In the back of his mind he knew he wouldn't die, but he couldn't tell Ana that. He tried to smile reassuringly, but it felt wrong on his face.

"Don't worry."

He turned to leave, but she caught his arm. He did not turn back to look at her. It was too painful knowing that he no longer felt the most human of emotions. Love.

"What happened to you?" Ana whispered, her voice breaking on another sob.

Yves looked back then and met her teary gaze.

"I'll tell you when it's safe." He gently pried his arm from her grip and disappeared into the dark, trailing shadow and leaving her sobbing in his wake.

Yves only lasted two days before he was caught. There was no trial. He was arrested, accused, and confessed to the murders he'd committed. The young kitchen boy bore witness, and within a few days, he found himself trudging up the steps of the gallows in King's Square under an overcast sky.

The smell of imminent rain mingled with the sea breeze in Yves's nostrils. They'd taken his boots at the jail, and the wooden steps of the gallows were cold beneath the bare soles of his feet. He kept his eyes forward as the bodies of the criminals before him were taken down and stacked into a cart.

We will not be joining them in death for long, the darker part of him whispered, and he knew it to be true, but that did not keep his hands from trembling.

Yves made it to the top of the steps, and he followed the jailers to stand atop the trapdoor. He gazed dispassionately out at the hushed crowd, wondering if they knew of his crimes and the crimes of his victims. Or if he simply looked like a frightened teenager, his clothes still stiff with dried blood.

His gaze snagged on the one familiar face in the crowd as the noose was placed over his head, rough rope scraping his throat. Ana. She had not fled yet. She would see him die. He hoped she would not mourn him too deeply.

Yves felt wetness on his cheeks. For a moment, he thought his ability to love had returned, just before the end. But it was the clouds, not his heart, that had opened up and now wept. Soft rain pattered upon the gray square as the magistrate read out his sentence. But he was not listening. He caught Ana's eye and smiled.

"Do you have any last words?" the magistrate asked, a quill poised at the bottom of Yves's sentencing papers, ready to record his final goodbye to life. The executioner tightened the noose but not enough to hinder speech.

Yves's smile widened despite himself. Every drop of rain that landed upon his skin washed the blood away little by little, along with his fear.

"You will remember me." Yves's voice rang clear over the heads of the crowd. "I have things yet to do."

It was a short drop, but his thin body lacked the weight to break his neck.

The dark tides bore him where they willed. He floated weightless in their embrace for only a short time until slowly, he awoke. First the cold rain pattered on his face, slipping down his cheeks as if the world cried for him. Then the awareness of his throat and lungs aching. His fingers twitched as if he could soothe away the after effects of hanging to death, but his fingertips met only the dead flesh of the other occupants of the cart. Distantly, he heard the scrape of shovels moving wet earth.

Yves was alive.

He sucked in a deep breath of damp air, and it burned all the way down. He forced his eyes open, blinking in the gray evening light filtering through the spindly trees of the paupers' graveyard. It was almost blinding compared to the blackness of the tides that had borne him through death. But he relished it. Even an overcast sky was a sign of life.

Yves sat up slowly, half expecting the other bodies to rise with him. But they remained still, inert, for they had carried only one being inside them, where he carried two .

The paupers' graveyard was empty but for the cart and the two men currently digging a muddy trench to place the criminal deceased. Yves climbed gingerly down from the pile of bodies, his limbs feeling clumsy as a newborn calf. He stood for a moment, watching the gravediggers until one of them turned and saw him.

The rain had washed him clean of blood, yet the gravediggers still screamed, dropping their shovels and falling over their own feet as they fled away through the trees. Yves watched them go. He did not have the energy to chase them.

Wet blades of grass tickled his bare feet, and Yves looked down at them, his toes curling into the earth. In his childish na?veté he'd thought immortality would make him deathless. Yet he was full of death. Even now he could feel it along the edges of his consciousness, trying to pull him beneath its waves. It had gone away for a while, satiated by the blood of revenge. Perhaps that was the key to keep from going under. Perhaps he could slake death's thirst with the souls of others.

Yves turned and trudged away beneath the trees, leaving the dead and his grave behind. He did not look for Ana. His steps led him to the sea.