Pack of secrets, p.23
Pack of Secrets, page 23
We rid the peninsula of five more nesnas before I finally got some rest. My last thought before losing consciousness was that, in hindsight, we probably should have avoided the peninsula. Not even being near the chalice was worth fighting those wretched monsters.
Morning came early. Feeling the chalice as it passed by the peninsula and continued east, I woke Tyrin, and we followed the water until we faced the pier. It was still quite a ways out, but I could see a ship docked and waiting. Tyrin pulled out an antique nautical spyglass and pressed it against his eye.
“There,” he pointed.
Following his finger, movement drew my eye to the wolves. They boarded a foreboding ship crewed by blue-skinned men. The ship pushed out to sea, and with it, my opportunity to grab Grace on this side of the Gulf of Aden. We would be heading to the island after all.
Still in my dragon form, I spread my wings so the sun could beat down on my glossy black scales and rejuvenate me. Minutes ticked by as exhaustion eased from my bones and muscles, and magic hummed in my veins.
Tyrin collapsed his spyglass and stuffed it into his bag, his expression hardening like he was bracing for a fight. “You’re going to have to carry me.”
The bastard thought he could command me? “Should have turned to stone like I suggested.”
“And leave you to fight the nesnas alone?” he asked.
“Like you were much help. All you did was slice them into more pieces for me to pick up.”
He snorted. “Taking them somewhere else was my idea. If I hadn’t suggested that, you’d probably still be trying to flatten them.”
Our argument was cut short when a shout of alarm came from the ship.
Grace
I barely had time to shout for everyone to brace before the enormous creature barreling through the water rammed us. The Fiery Stormbird pitched to the port side, flinging me away from the starboard porthole. I caught myself on one of the hammocks and held on tight as water splashed in. The starboard porthole that was supposed to be at a ninety-degree angle was now at forty-five-degrees. I whipped my head around to the port side at the sound of rushing water. That porthole was almost entirely submerged. We hadn’t tipped over, but all it would take was a strong breeze to get us there.
“You okay?” Mackiel asked from the hammock beside mine.
I nodded, lying with every inch of the gesture. My best friend had kissed me, we were being attacked by something my mind refused to admit existed, and I was fantasizing about an asshole who’d tried to kill me. I wasn’t even sure okay existed anymore.
“Alpha? Rust?” I shouted. The hallway they’d been in stood empty.
The ship groaned and then rolled again. It slammed back down, righting itself with a bone-shaking splash. Had I not been hanging onto the hammock for dear life, I would have gone sliding across the room. I tasted blood and felt a hole in my tongue.
A meaty hand smacked against the doorway, and the alpha wobbled into view. “We’re fine. Just a little banged up.” Keeping one hand on the doorjamb, he lurched into the room, making way for Rust to follow. “What the feck is going on? Can you see anything?”
The starboard porthole darkened. Orange and black scales slithered past it, blotting out the light. Snakeskin grated against iron and wood, continuing around the ship until the port side window was also covered. Water stopped pouring in, and we were left in an unnatural darkness, all outside sounds muted.
I looked to Mackiel. My vision adjusted to the darkness, enabling me to make out my friend’s outline and the whites of his eyes as he clung to his hammock.
“It’s the snake, Alpha,” he said.
“The one f-from the shore,” I added lamely, then shook myself. “I mean the one that lost its skin. Obviously.”
As the ship groaned and rocked again, the alpha and Rust fought to keep their footing. Staggering to the starboard porthole, Dad raised his rifle, took aim out the window, and squeezed the trigger, unloading a three-shot burst into the creature. An ear-piercing hiss bounced off the walls, followed by more rocking of the galleon. More shots. One ricocheted off the iron bars and whizzed back into the cabin. My stomach lurched as I looked around our small team, but nobody was hit. He released his rifle to hang from its sling again and staggered backward, hands shooting out to steady himself.
Rust—who’d been on his way to the opposite window—dove for a hammock. Reaching for my father, I clutched his hand and pulled him to me. He let me draw him close enough to launch himself to the foot of my hammock. There, he held on.
I’d saved him. Probably from nothing more than a bruise or two, and we still had the massive snake to worry about, but I accepted that minor win like a freaking medal.
A high-pitched screech sounded from the front of the galleon. Wondering what fresh hell this was, I recalled the glowing tapestry of a spirit located within the fiery mouth of the ship’s figurehead. Opening my other sight, I focused on the bow. The tapestry that had been so calm and placid when we’d boarded now raged, blazing with fire. My spirit instinctively jerked away from it.
Another ear-splitting screech accompanied a hissing bellow as the ship lurched. The scales blocking the porthole shuddered and writhed, letting in glimpses of light. On deck, the fishmen shouted what sounded like a rallying cry in their strange language.
A third screech made my ears ring. The ship rocked so hard I thought for sure we’d capsize. Scales continued to slide over the portholes. Fire lit up the port side window. There was a loud splash, and when the flames flickered out, the monster was gone. Slowly, the ship’s rocking began to ebb while water splashed into our cabin. I scanned my team, assessing the damage. Rust had a cut over his left eyebrow that was already stitching itself shut, and Mackiel’s face had turned green.
“Don’t throw up in here,” I told my friend. I would follow suit if he blew chunks, and the cabin already smelled rotten enough.
He swallowed and nodded. “I’m good.”
He didn’t look good, but I didn’t blame him one bit. The jerky I’d had for breakfast was creeping up my throat, too, but we’d survived. Something had fought off the gargantuan snake, and now we just needed to cross an ocean possibly full of angry gods.
Piece of cake.
Something was happening above us. Feet pounded against the deck in a rhythmic thumping.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
The alpha’s expression soured. “Preparing to get us on our way, I imagine.” He kept a hold on his side of the hammock, so I followed suit. Rust and Mackiel also continued to hold on.
Moments later, instruments joined the stomping. I listened, surprised by how much lutes sounded like guitars, only brighter and with more twang. The tempo increased, and the fishmen added their voices. The song, soft and reverent at first, quickly grew in volume and speed until it was so fast it felt like the ship was trying to keep up. Rattled, I glanced out the porthole and saw it wasn’t some strange musical illusion.
We were racing across the water!
Our speed continued to increase, and I clutched my hammock for dear life once again. This time, inertia forced me toward the back of the ship, plastering my innards against my backbone. The netting dug into my hands, gouging deep grooves into my fingers, but if I let go, I would fly into my old man and send us both crashing against the back wall, so I held on. The crew above continued to dance and sing, and I feared they’d never stop.
Exactly how far away was that freaking island?
My arms trembled from the strain, and blood dripped down my arms. Darkness clouded the edges of my vision, and my heart threatened to pound out of my chest. Swallowing back bile, I wondered how long I could hold out.
Then, the chanting and pounding feet above us died down. The unnatural speed slowed, and the g-force released me to slump forward, exhausted. Finally able to stand freely, I peeled my bloody fingers from the hammock and stumbled toward the porthole. My three companions bolted out the door, their footsteps echoing in the hallway and up the stairs. Gripping the iron bars outside the ship, I yanked myself forward to lean out over the water and emptied my stomach into the deep.
The rest of the team returned, looking slightly less green. To my surprise, Lakhmu followed shortly thereafter with cleaning supplies. He entered the room and made a beeline for me, but the alpha intercepted the fishman, taking the bucket and rag. Dad folded his arms across his chest and widened his stance, turning himself into a human wall. Casting me a leer that made my skin crawl, the fishman chuckled and left.
Dad set the supplies at my feet. “This should keep you busy for a while. I don’t want you leaving the cabin, Grace, you hear me?”
What was I, Cinderella? I opened my mouth to argue, but the alpha held up a hand, silencing me.
“There is only one response I want to hear from you right now,” he said in a tone I knew all too well.
Accepting my fate, I lowered my gaze and parroted him. “Is leatsa mo shaol, Alpha.”
“Your life is mine. Remember that, pup. Someone’ll be in here with you at all times.” Dad’s gaze took in our companions, making the order clear. “Rust, you have the first shift. Mack, you’re with me.”
Great. Not only was I stuck below deck, but I would also be saddled with a babysitter. My father’s sudden protective streak was growing increasingly suffocating. Wolves were meant to be free. Even children restricted to the den were allowed to roam and explore. We had a jail cell made with silver bars, but the alpha only ever used it when someone had really messed up. Usually, when they’d done something to put the pack at risk. I’d done nothing wrong, yet I was being locked up as if I had.
Every time I started to think Dad and I were making progress, he found a way to shut me out again.
As Mackiel followed my father, he threw me a look over his shoulder that promised one hell of a conversation later. I worried my bottom lip, wondering what to make of our unexpected kiss. The entire time we were growing up, he’d never shown the slightest hint of romantic interest in me, so why now? Had something changed between us that I didn’t know about? I needed to corner my friend and find out what was going on with him.
And then there was the chalice’s guardian to consider. I was no expert on romantic relationships, but I knew I shouldn’t be thinking about one guy while kissing another. Why couldn’t I get the tall, dark, and terrifying man—and most likely dragon—out of my head?
My mind wouldn’t stop spinning, and I felt helpless and caged. The water that had spilled in when the giant snake was rocking the ship had only soaked the dust and grime, turning the floor into a slippery mess. Desperate for something to do, I grabbed the bucket of somewhat clean water and wrung out the rag. Then I started washing down the hammocks.
Rust ambled over and held out his hand.
“What?” I asked.
“Give me the rag.”
When I handed it over, he ripped it into two and gave me back half. Before I could ask what he was up to, he dunked his half of the rag into the bucket, wrung it out, and started on the next hammock.
“Thank you,” I said.
“We’re all stayin’ here. You shouldn’t have to clean it alone.”
“You’re a good guy, Rust.” Then, because I couldn’t resist the urge to mess with him, I added, “I don’t care what Janey says.”
He chuckled at that. “Always tryin’ to make trouble.”
“Gotta keep you on your toes.”
It felt like the walls were closing around me by the time we finished. I needed to break out of this stuffy room and breathe some fresh air. So, I played the only card I could think of playing.
“I-have-to-go-to-the-bathroom!” The announcement came out as one word squished together with way more enthusiasm than it deserved.
Rust blinked at me.
“What? I have to use the facilities.”
He snorted. “You think this ship has facilities?”
Every building in the den had facilities. As had every above-ground building Mackiel and I had raided. A bathroom seemed like a necessity for all… even creepy fishmen. “Why wouldn’t it?”
Rust picked up the cleaning bucket and offered it to me. “Here’s your facilities, Chip.”
I eyed the bucket but didn’t take it. “That’s disgusting.”
He nodded. “It’s also true.”
I’d started this conversation to get out of the cabin, but now I was super concerned. “Surely, the bucket can’t be the only option.”
He scratched at the whiskers on his chin. “Nope.” He pointed a finger above us and said, “Up there, you’ll find two holes carved out of the planks that lead to the figurehead. Sailors just piss off the deck, but when they need to take a shit, they climb up on that plank, drop trou, and pop a squat in front of God and everyone.”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Not at all. And now you know why people say they’re goin’ to the head to take a piss.”
“I could have gone my whole life without knowing that.”
Leaning forward, he chucked me on the chin. “Knowledge is power, kid.” He wiggled the bucket. “Still need to use the facilities?”
“Nope.”
Between the portal fatigue, our restless night, the excitement of today’s attacks, and my little cleaning spree, I was too spent to even consider something as stressful as using a bucket for a toilet. I climbed into my hammock and closed my eyes, determined to ignore the promptings of my bladder. I never should have set my mind on that path because now it was all I could think about.
Before I could drift off, the scent of cooked fish and potatoes wafted into the room, making me sit up and look around.
Footsteps echoed down the passageway, and then Mackiel opened the door and strode into the cabin carrying two plates of steaming food.
“I got her,” he said to Rust. “There’s food in the galley.”
Rust nodded and slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Reminding myself that my mentor and best friend were only following the alpha’s orders, I resisted the urge to pop off about not being a child they had to babysit and climbed out of the hammock. I hadn’t eaten since the jerky Dad had divvied up this morning, and I was starving.
Mackiel sat on the portside wooden box beneath the porthole. Settling one plate in his lap, he held the other out toward me. Gliding forward, I accepted the proffered plate and froze, eyeing the thing. It wasn’t a plate but a large sea scallop shell. It was worn with a chip on one side and a small crack on the other.
“Interesting dish,” I said, sitting beside him.
“Yeah, and they don’t believe in flatware, so you have to eat with your hands.”
“How… quaint.” I broke off a bite of flaky white meat and popped it into my mouth. It was delicious. Suddenly ravenous, I attacked the meal with gusto.
“Careful, there’s bones,” Mackiel warned.
A smile tugged at his lips as he watched me, but I didn’t care. I needed all the food in my belly right then.
“How ya holdin’ up?” he asked.
Swallowing, I asked, “Are we there yet?”
“Soon. Captain Oannes said we’ll reach the island tomorrow morning. Eat, then you can sleep, and we’ll be there when you wake up.”
That sounded like a plan to me, but he was missing an important step. “After we talk.”
He nodded. “Yeah. We should probably do that.”
Yet he sounded like he didn’t want to, which was odd. Regardless, I finished off my meal, set my plate aside, and got right down to business.
“Why did you kiss me?” I asked.
Mackiel was still eating, and he choked on his bite. Coughing, he cleared his airway and set his own plate beside mine.
“You should finish that,” I said, eyeing his remaining food. If he didn’t eat it, I would.
“I will, but I want to answer you first.”
I watched him, waiting.
He took a deep breath, turned to face me, and asked, “Why not?”
That was not what I’d been expecting, but my answer came immediately. “Because we’re friends, not mates.”
“My parents started out as friends, too, and they’ve been mated a long-ass time.” He dropped his elbows to his thighs and leaned forward. “Mom says friendship is the key to mating. That it’s a far sight better than searching for a true mate and losing your mind.”
“And what do your parents think about me becoming your mate?” I asked.
Mackiel looked away. “They respect the alpha and will honor his will.”
In other words, they weren’t happy about it, but my father wanted Mackiel and me together. I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it to me.
“And what about you?” I asked. “What do you want?”
He rubbed at a spot on his leg, just above his knee. “You and I make sense, Chip. You’re gorgeous and funny, and I like being around you. I hope you feel the same way about me.”
His gaze met mine then, and the pleading look in his eyes made me realize it wasn’t just my father; Mackiel wanted us mated, too. I had no idea how to process that. Having never considered there being anything more than friendship between the two of us, I felt blindsided. Sure, my friend was one of the most attractive guys I’d ever met, and I could hang out with him every day for the rest of my life and be perfectly happy, but he didn’t make my stomach flutter or my heart race like… like the guardian had.
The guardian who’d tried to kill me and promised to track me down and finish the job.
The murderous nutjob I’d hopefully never see again.
The tall, dark, and terrifying stranger I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Man, I was a mess.
“Say something, Chip,” Mackiel said.
How long had I been staring at him, trying to make sense of it all? Shaking myself, I said, “Right. Sorry. I… Wow. This is a lot to take in.”
His expression fell.
