Chapter 4

“What have I done?” Vanth yanks me so hard our chests collide, his warm breath popping against my face with every blasted word. “I was aiming for the head, and I definitely missed the fuckinghead. You may have just killed us all, Mist—”

He’s blasted from my grip by a shove that lashes him against the railing. Captain charges forward and clenches his collar, bending him backward over the handrail, hanging his life in the crush of a fist. “Damn fool.”

The shrill jingle of a familiar bell has me searching the aftermast, finding Zane halfway up—clinging to the rungs and looking at me.

Pointing at the sea.

I frown, a deep sense of unease rooting through my chest.

“Cap … the aftermast … look.”

Frowning, he does, face blanching when he spots Zane. “I locked that boy in my quarters. The hell is he doing up there?”

Zane continues to point portside, screaming one word over and over again.

“That blasted wind ... Can you tell what he’s saying?”

“Bubbles,” I murmur, stepping forward to look past the balustrade. Leaning over the rail, I catch sight of something shimmering beneath the froth floating on the restless waves, stomach dropping. “Everyone, hold on—”

The ocean erupts, and I’m ripped backward, gasping as the serpentine beast punches through with a torrent of water that pelts the ship like a storm. The world bucks beneath my feet and I lurch to the rail, squinting through the cold spray to make out the creature’s head—boxy and barbed and dusted in jeweled scales, its piercing green eyes shaded by a mantle of shards.

It’s beautiful. Statuesque.

Huge.

Towered above us, it sways, the sharp fins on one side of its body unfolding like a fan, revealing a stretch of webbed, triangular panels.

Water wings.

The other is pinned by the bolt staked through its front, blood spilling from the frayed wound.

My stomach tips.

Its maw cranks wide, and I take in the fatal set of canines that could crunch through this ship in a single bite, its cavernous throat reeking of dead fish and embers. It spews a violent roar that rattles my bones, its clamor beating against my skin, followed by a chilling squeal that rips a sob from my throat.

With another curdled wail, the creature lashes against the ocean, tossing the ship with such violent force my feet whip out from under me.

I slam against the deck.

Wood groans, and the ship begins to roll to a symphony of screams.

Anything not bolted down becomes a deadly missile, and we plane sideways, lashing against the spindles in a groaning tangle of limbs. I scramble to grip hold of the wooden rails only seconds before we slam into the ocean’s livid face.

Water hammers me—a crushing attack that rips my fingers from the rail. I flit with the heavy current for a few harrowing seconds, then collide with one of the masts, the breath punched from my lungs from the violent assault.

I hold tight, a rinse of bubbles exploding against my face.

The mast vibrates when a strident crack ratchets through the water, like a tree splitting. Snapping.

This is how I’m going to die.

I lose track of which way is up, which way is down, the ship lurching side to side like a wild, bucking beast, scrambling my organs and making my head spin.

My hold begins to slip, gravity pulling me down.

Water drains with the easing motion, and I land in a lump, gasping a treasured breath. It hacks out of me in retching increments that almost split my chest.

I roll onto my back. Open my eyes.

Silence.

Blurry clouds swing side to side—something that strikes me as odd until I realize the boat is swaying.

The silence morphs into a blare of blood-curdling screams; the sort of loud that makes me want to squeeze my eyes shut and clap my hands over my ears.

But I’ve done that all my life. Blocked out the noise.

Enough.

I battle into a sitting position and survey my surroundings.

My blood chills.

The floorboards are laden with puddles, some red and syrupy. People’s clothes are slicked to their skin, torn in places, revealing fleshy wounds with shards of bone poking through. Some are groaning through twisted expressions, cradling limbs hanging at odd angles.

Some are deadly silent.

The few men who survived the roll unscathed cling to the splintered balustrades, searching the surface for any signs the wounded beast will return to serve more bloody vengeance.

“That stupid bitch …”

The strangled condemnation comes from behind, and I peer back to see Vanth pushing to his feet, a deep slash in his forehead spitting a bloody ribbon down his face.

Caught in a daze, I watch it drip while he scans the commotion with keen, desperate eyes, before I shore up the energy to crawl toward the Captain who’s motionless—wrapped around the base of the harpoon. Rolling him onto his back, I inspect the grisly gash on his head, then set my ear against his chest.

A choked sound erupts from Vanth, and I see him folded against the handrail, gaze pierced across the ocean. “No ...”

I haul myself up, tracing Vanth’s line of sight to Kavan—slung over a bobbing barrel a ship-length away. Blood gushes from a gnarly wound in his arm that’s torn through by a shard of bone, feeding the ocean and a circling shark three times his size.

My heart flops. Chest constricts.

“Help!” He chokes out a desperate cry. “Brother, help me!”

“The dingy,” I blurt, stare flying to the spot on the deck where the small vessel is usually stored.

All that’s left is a tangle of snapped ropes.

“Gone,” Vanth growls, striding toward a wooden box bolted to the deck. He unlatches the lid, tugs it open, and hauls out a small crossbow.

Bile sears my throat, and I cast my gaze on Kavan now trying to kick at the predator drawing closer with every turn. He scrabbles to fit his entire body on the barrel, only to roll forward headfirst and dunk beneath the waves. He resurfaces, gasping and splashing as he tries to stay afloat with one good arm.

The shark circles closer, closer ...

Kavan’s scream shreds the air. “Help me!”

Vanth notches a bolt and cranks it back, face tight, lips shaping silent words. His lids sweep shut for a few drawn beats that hit me in the chest like a hammer.

He opens his eyes and pulls the trigger.

A bolt whistles through the air, grazes Kavan’s tilted chin, and thuds deep into his chest at a skewed angle—straight through the heart.

I flinch, releasing a strangled sound as Kavan’s eyes go wide and vacant. His limp body eases back into the water before he’s snatched beneath the surface in a lather of blood and thrashing fins.

I rip my gaze from the sight, but Vanth watches, motionless, eyes flat and empty.

Captain croaks out a sound, still lying in a heap on the bloodstained deck, bleary eyes peeling open. “Z—Zane …”

It lands a kick to the chest.

Heart thundering to the chorus of screams, I scan the crewmen littering the deck, chest tightening as I comb through until there are none left. Moving to the balustrade, I set my hands on the rail and find the courage to survey the ocean, flicking between bits of bobbing shrapnel, doing my best to avoid the thrashing shadow now feasting amongst a pool of red—all that’s left of Kavan.

I dart to the other side of the boat, drawn to the blue swirl of our torn sail drifting on the surface, kept partially afloat by large pockets of air. Amongst it all, a bright blue pop of material wafts around a small form facedown in one of the puddled divots.

Zane.

I charge down the stairs.

Someone bellows my name, tells me to stop, but the sound fades into oblivion when I reach the handrail, climb atop, and jump.

The wind whips at my hair and steals my breath, stomach rising in my chest.

I slam into the water’s unforgiving face, all the air clapping from my lungs as I sink into the deep abyss, crushed by the sense of its infinite stretch.

When my body finally slows, my limbs power into action, and I push toward the surface with a litter of bubbles, breaking free with a heaving gasp. Ignoring the bellowed words coming from the ship, I throw my head around and gather my bearings, adjusting to the seascape—so different down here amongst the tattered remnants of the ship’s lost bits.

Everything looks bigger. More alive.

Farther away.

Shoving down nudging thoughts of sharp, shredding teeth, I propel toward the bold blue sail bubbled above the surface, every kick lacking, every pull of my hands paltry and weak and—

Not fast enough.

With chapped lungs and a face full of sting, I finally reach the sail, getting tangled amongst the material in my frantic search as I gather and shove, gulping breath every chance I get, until I finally fist Zane’s velvet cape and pull. Flipping him, I wrench his head above the water.

The sight of his still face and pale blue lips brands my soul.

“I’ve got you,” I splutter, painfully aware of his motionless chest, of the endless ocean beneath us. “I’m so sorry.” Choking back a sob, I unhook his cloak and free him from the anchor of his much-loved loot.

I drag him to the edge of the sail, tip onto my back, and rest him against my chest so his head stays above the water while I propel toward the ship—feet churning with the rush of my labored breaths.

Little waves fold over us, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision.

Every second that drips by is another breath lost. Every volley of water that batters his face is another dose of death up his nose. Down his throat.

Not fast enough.

My head bumps against something hard, and I jolt to a stop, feet sinking. I look up the steep edge of the ship to a handrail lined with bloody, frantic sailors. To the rope ladder hanging down the side.

“Grab hold!”

Our bobbing vulnerability makes my stomach turn.

I can feel the sharks lurking—watching. Any moment, one could hit,snatch us under, tear and thrash and chew. Or perhaps the sea serpent will charge from the depths again and swallow us in a vengeful gulp.

My grip on Zane tightens as I flounder for the rope. Putting his limp body between myself and the ladder, I try to haul him free from the skulking threats.

“I can’t pull him out on my own!”

My voice is foreign—sharp and desperate.

I shove hair off my face to see Cap scaling the ladder, blood dribbling from his chin.

“Can you climb?”

With my nod, he grips Zane by the back of his shirt and hauls him from my clutch, lumping him over his shoulder. A surge of relief shoots through me.

He’s safe.

I follow them up the ladder, my hair a sodden anchor down my back. The flimsy rope blisters my fingers with every pull farther from the mauling threat below, and I tingle from the base of my spine to the soles of my feet.

Certain I’d see my own death rushing toward me with a wide-open jaw, I don’t look down—not evenwhen I realize we are well and truly in the clear.

Zane and the Captain disappear from sight, and I’m gripped on the back of my shirt like a kitten, then lumped upon the deck.

I watch in muted horror as Captain pinches Zane’s nose and breathes big bouts of air into his lungs, inflating his chest.

Breathe ...

Breathe, dammit!

He paws at Zane’s face with calloused hands. “Wake up, my boy. Come on. Open your eyes and look at me.” A harsh, desperate sound escapes him as he rolls Zane onto his side and batters his back. “Wake up!”

The seconds drip by like oil in water, refusing to blend, coasting across the surface of my soul. I feel like I’m falling through a hole in the ground with no air in my chest to scream.

Perhaps they’re not seconds at all, but minutes, hours, days.

Perhaps this limbo lasts forever.

There’s a hacking sound, a splutter and a spill that makes my heart and stomach lurch in tandem.

Zane’s eyes blink open—so shot they’re more red than white. They swivel, latching onto his uncle with a faraway stare, like he’s trying to reconstruct some sort of puzzle.

Cap’s face crumbles, a curdled sound rupturing from his lips …

I fold forward and vomit across the floorboards.