Chapter Twenty-Nine

"This storm will get worse before it gets better," Thane grumbles to me as we attempt to pull in a loose sail on the mizzenmast as it flaps out of control. The rope itself is scraping off all the skin on my hands, leaving the fibers bloody, but I barely feel it. There's too much happening at once for me to focus on just one thing.

"How can it get worse?" I ask, just as a giant wave crashes over the bow and takes out three crew members, throwing them down the deck and smashing them into the sides of the railings.

"When you're at sea long enough, you learn to listen to the ocean," Thane says. "My guess is the closer we get toward Roche Island, the worse the storm will get. Storms tend to use the wind and air currents from land to fuel themselves. Add in the fact that we're in the middle of Drake Passage, where the Atlantic mixes with the Pacific, and you've got a recipe for the world's roughest seas."

"You're talking like Abe now," I comment dryly. "From pirate to scientist."

I swear I hear him chuckle, though it could be the wind. Might be the first time I've ever heard him laugh—not that I'm one to talk. That's probably why Thane and I find ourselves together often. We're both tall and stronger than most of the crew, which makes us handy on a ship like this, but I like that he doesn't ever feel the need to crack a smile, makes me feel like I can be as damn broody as I want to be. Sometimes, Abe gets a little annoyed with my relentless melancholy.

Sometimes, I get annoyed with his relentless optimism.

In addition, Thane has gone through the same sort of pain I have. He lost his wife, Samantha, who was also a member of the crew, during a battle with a Kraken a few years ago. He may not have murdered his own wife, but I still feel as if I can relate. I may not remember those decades clearly after her death, just as I can't even remember her name, but I can see on Thane's face that he is still grieving deeply.

And so am I.

Because there is new grief in my life that has made itself present every single day for the past five years.

And now, that sorrow I hastily tucked away inside is threatening to overwhelm me again. Everything hangs in the balance. This storm that bashes the Nightwind, battering the sides of the ship and throwing everyone around, is no match for the storm inside my heart, the one oscillates from the brightest hope to the darkest despair, no safe harbor in between.

Once we get through this storm, we'll either find Larimar or we won't. She'll either be in Maren's grasp, or she'll be lost to her forever. Lost to me forever, even more so than she already was, in the grip of some mortal, savage men planning to do who knows what to her.

Beyond this thunder and lightning, which is starting to feel like a message from God himself, lies everything I've ever wanted and never deserved. I've tried so hard to be a decent man after I turned, though perhaps I didn't try hard enough. Either way, I am prepared to burn the oceans to get her back, even if that means losing her to the flames in the process.

"Aragon," Thane warns me. "You need to let go."

I stare at him for a moment, wondering how he just heard my thoughts.

Then, I realize he's talking about the rope.

I open my hands, and the rope snaps out of my grip, the sail billowing out just enough to catch the wind.

Thane grabs the loose end, ties it up, and then pats me on the back.

"You're learning," he says. "But you have yet to learn how to stop drowning inside your head."

I grunt at that. Hypocrite.

I change the subject from my torment. "So, if the Nightwind is magic and the wind is always filling the sails, how come the rest of the weather doesn't obey?"

Thane shrugs. "You'd have to ask the ship that."

"You don't truly believe the ship is a sentient being," I snark.

He wipes the rain off his face with the back of his hand. "Well, I suppose I might, since I know both a talking cat and a talking shark, not to mention the Kraken and sea witches. Being a Vampyre should let you believe in a lot of things."

I shake my head as we move on to the next mast to help Lothar and Cruz with those sails. "Not me. I believe what I see."

He snorts. "And yet you were a man of God. Tell me, do you see God anywhere?" He waves his arms around just as another clap of thunder sounds, the rain lashing the ship even harder.

"I see signs of him," I say, almost too quietly to be heard above the storm. "But perhaps not enough for me to be a priest. Just a casual observer of the Lord."

Thane grumbles at that. "I can't figure you out, Aragon."

"Well, if you do end up figuring me out, please let me know," I tell him.

Because I don't know myself either.

"Ahoy!" Drakos shouts up from the crow's nest, his voice carried by the wind. "I see something!"

Thane and I step back around the sails and look up to see what direction Drakos is pointing in.

"Starboard," Thane says. Then, he turns around and cups his hands over his mouth and yells at Ramsay. "Turn to starboard!"

The boat starts tilting to the right, smashing over the waves that arc over the deck, drenching us to the bone.

"Avast!" Thane yells to Drakos. "What do you see?"

Drakos just shakes his head, trying to see through the spyglass before wiping the lens with his soaked shirt and trying again. "I reckon I saw a shark's fin!"

Everyone runs over to starboard, searching the waves for any sign of a shark or Syren. The swells are deep, the sky the dark, dusky bruise of a stormy twilight. Foam sprays everywhere, and the black clouds above pulse with flashes of lightning. I can't imagine what the humans down below in the hold must feel like—it's hard not to be seasick up here as it is.

"There!" Abe yells from the bow, pointing wildly.

We follow the direction of his finger just as lightning illuminates the waves, shining off a shark's fin that barrels down a swell.

My heart jumps into my throat, and I'm gripping the sides of the railing so hard, I might just break it in half.

Then, a dark head breaks the surface, an arm shooting out to wave at us.

"There she is!" Ramsay yells. "Hold on, luv, we're coming!"

"What about Larimar?" I cry out hoarsely, emotions betraying my voice.

Thane gives me a curious look for a moment before turning his attention back to the ocean.

Still, I only see Maren and the shark before Maren dives again, heading for the ship.

"Lifelines overboard!" Thane yells as everyone scrambles to let the ropes down. They enter the seas with a splash, though the waves eagerly throw them back against the sides of the ship with a thud.

But as much as my eyes scan the waves, searching for any sign of Larimar's blonde head, I can't make out much of anything. The lightning reflecting on the water likes to play tricks on you. I keep thinking I see her everywhere, but she never materializes.

Dread claws up my chest, making it hard to breathe.

What will Maren say?

That she couldn't find Larimar?

Couldn't rescue her?

That Larimar wouldn't follow?

That she already died?

That Nill was wrong?

I can't bear to not know. The seconds it takes for Maren to appear again are pure agony.

And then, Maren does, her face breaking through the surface and grabbing for the rope.

"Pull us up!" she yells.

"Us?" I can't help but shout, hope at the brink.

The men start pulling the ropes back, hauling Maren out of the water. Her red dress is little more than a few strands of clothing wrapped around her chest and torso, barely covering her bottom as her tail starts to transform into legs before my eyes, legs that wrap around the rope.

My gaze then goes to the waves below, to the shark fin swimming beside the ship. It disappears, tail smacking the water as if Nill is diving down. I'm holding my breath, saying as many internal prayers as my soul can muster, not expecting an answer this time but asking for one just the same.

Then, I see a hand reach out from the surf.

Grab the rope.

And then, the rest of Larimar appears.

I feel I might have a heart attack on the spot.

She looks as beautiful as I remember but much thinner, and not agreeably so—dark half-moons sit under her eyes, gaunt hollows on her face. Her breasts are smaller too. My gut churns, wondering what happened to her.

Was it me?

Was this all because of me?

Then, she looks up and meets my eyes.

Looks directly at me.

And she doesn't look surprised to see me at all.

Her gaze is blank, but there's a fluttering in her jaw, as if she's grinding her teeth together.

I realize that, for all the scenarios I imagined, I didn't account for this one.

The one in which Larimar is alive.

The one in which she hates me.

Because how could she not?

She might have stayed my obsession.

But I was her desecrater.

She was my angel.

And I was nothing more than the Devil.

She gave me life.

And I left her to bleed.

All of that I see in just one look.

And then it's gone as she's hauled up the rest of the way and brought on deck with Maren, her focus everywhere else but me.

Ramsay is already at Maren's side, and everyone else has crowded around, tending to the two Syrens. It takes all my strength to stay back, to not rush over to Larimar, though I don't know what I'd do or what I'd say.

You don't seem that elated. Abe's voice slides into my head as he walks over to me.

Turns out, it's complicated, I mutter.

Remember to breathe, he says. You're tugging at your ear.

So I am.

I bring my hand down to my side, but my fingers dig into my palms instead as I make a fist.

What is the likelihood that your beast will make an appearance tonight? he says to me.

It won't.

You didn't really think this through, did you? he goes on, pointing out the obvious.

I glare at him. Is this supposed to be helping me?

The doctor gives me a kind smile. I just want you to think things through now, while you can. Before you have a reaction.

I already am having a reaction.

No,he says. A reaction that could change our relationship with everyone on this ship. A reaction that could get us ostracized. A reaction that could put everyone's lives at risk. A reaction in which you end up breaking your own heart again.

I want to snap at my friend, to tell him he knows nothing about heartbreak, but I don't.

Because he's right.

The last few weeks on the Nightwind have been some of the most enjoyable I've had in a long time, and I'm sure Abe has felt similar. Even with the hunt for Larimar in the back of my head, I was able to set it aside from time to time to focus on the journey, on the crew, on the camaraderie of being amongst like-minded creatures. The day-to-day tasks in keeping the Nightwind in tip-top shape have done wonders for my soul, more than preaching the gospel every Sunday ever did. As a priest, I was always struggling with my relationship with God, but here, I realized my relationship with men and Vampyres was the real challenge. It's one thing to think God has forsaken you because of the monster you became, but it's another when you think humanity has.

In the end, I was tired of being alone, of feeling alone. I think everyone gets that way eventually. The need for connection, no matter how hard we try to deny it, is more important than our need for salvation.

It's why the church and religion are so important to so many.

Why Larimar was so important to me.

She came into my life just as Abe left, showed me there was more than one way to truly connect with someone.

And now, she's here, and I have to be ready for her resentment and her rage.

I have to figure out how to put my own aside at the fact that she left me and broke her promise.

I have to find a way to control my temper and my own feelings before I destroy this second chance with her.

God, help me do it.

Or the Devil will step in.

I touch the rosary beads around my wrist and try to count back from ten.

The crowd parts, and Maren stumbles forward, holding on to Ramsay for support as the ship slams into another wave. She looks exhausted but triumphant, and when she spots me, she has a keen gleam in her eye.

"Aragon," Maren says to me before she steps out of the way, showcasing Larimar as Thane carries her. The volcanic fury inside me flares, wanting to erupt. She belongs in my arms, no one else's.

Easy, Abe says, just in time for me to hold myself back. Easy, now.

"This is my sister, Larimar," Maren says, eyeing me closely. "I request that you do your magic on her."

"My magic?" I repeat.

I can't keep staring at Larimar. She absolutely devastates me. Right here, as I stand, I see her, and I might as well be on my knees.

And she won't look at me.

That one glance as she was hauled up the side of the boat was all I got.

Instead, she rests her head on Thane's shoulder, staring at nothing.

Your reaction will determine our fate, Abe reminds me quickly.

"Yes, your magic," Maren goes on. "I know your powers are strong, Aragon, strong enough to turn a Syren's tail into legs."

By now, the crew has gathered around us, eyeing me with this new information, whispering to each other.

I turn my fury to Abe, my eyes burning into him.

"It wasn't me," Abe says out loud with a display of his hands. "I didn't tell her."

"He didn't," Maren explains. "Sometimes, our seeing stone tells us a lot about what happens in the future…and in the past. It's always nice if we can clarify what we see when we can."

"And your stone told you I worked my magic on the Syren I caught?" I ask carefully.

She nods. "There's a reason you were brought on board, Aragon. I knew you were a witch and a monster. I knew you had powers stronger than any of this crew could ever conjure. When the crystal let me glimpse what happened at Nombre de Jesus, I knew we had to have you. Abe's correspondence with us was the sign we needed."

I swallow hard, running my fingers over my rosary beads, not caring if the action seems anxious to some. I am anxious. I am wild.

"I won't do it," I say.

Everyone gasps, and Maren looks like I slapped her.

Then, Larimar raises her head and looks at me.

She really looks at me.

Her gaze no longer holds a blank stare; instead, those beautiful violet eyes brim with pain and anger and shame.

"It's best you throw her right back in the ocean," I say, switching to Spanish so she can understand me, the words like razors in my throat. "Seems that's where she belongs, not in the world of men and monsters."

Not in the world of men and monsters like me.

"Priest," Larimar says reproachfully, hurt simmering in her voice.

She might have been told I was a priest, but it's the way she says it, with so much weight behind it, that makes Maren frown.

"Wait but a moment," Maren says, looking between the two of us. "Do you two know each other?"

"Seems your stone doesn't tell you everything," I say.