Taken With A Grain Of Salt (Salt Series Book 2)

by Aaron Galvin

Kellen noted the hot metal shaped in the form of a crayfish. “No…please…”

  “Quit moving, then. Won’t tell you again.”

  Kellen fought back his fears, obliging. Opened his hand and placed his palm flat on the cavern floor.

  “No worries, lad. It’ll only tickle for a minute.”

  Tieran plunged the poker against the back of Kellen’s hand, branding him.

  Kellen howled at the fiery pain and sound of sizzling flesh. He opened his eyes and looked on the crayfish brand seared into his skin.

  Tieran took his foot off Kellen’s wrist. “Douse him and see him dressed.”

  One of the guards threw a bucket of tepid salt water on Kellen’s hand. He winced at the new burning, curled into a ball.

  The guards yanked him to his feet.

  “Next!” Tieran called.

  Kellen heard the cage door swing open and he briefly saw them pull Marrero out before the guards guided him away. One of them lifted the silver-speckled suit in front of Kellen.

  “Put this on.” The guard threw it at him.

  Kellen caught it with his unburned hand. It felt soft and fuzzy, almost like cotton, and not at all like he expected. He heard Marrero scream and found his friend clutching his left hand as the guards lifted him.

  “Next!” Tieran yelled.

  Kellen watched Bryant walk out of the cage of his own accord.

  “Oi!” the guard called Kellen’s attention. “I said put it on.”

  Kellen looked down on the coat. The back of it had been cut, almost like someone had forgotten a zipper should be sewn in. He lowered the suit’s opening to his knees and slipped his leg inside. It feels like pajamas.

  He put his other leg through, then stood and ran his good hand through the right sleeve.

  He heard Bryant growl and the sizzle of burning skin.

  Kellen closed his eyes. He winced and groaned as he slipped his branded hand through the other sleeve, finding cool air at the opening. He sighed as he relaxed his grip. Again, he looked on his left hand, now forever ruined with a crayfish emblem.

  Kellen made a fist, wincing at the pain, drawing on the hate.

  Then he felt something tickle up his back.

  He spun, thinking to see a guard with a feather, but no one stood behind him. A guard watched him from ten feet away, while others dressed Marrero in a hooded suit of tannish-gold.

  Kellen tried looking over his shoulder to see his back as the warm tickle continued its slow and steady ascension. It stopped at his neck and Kellen instantly felt warmer. Thermal heat pulsed through him and he moaned in ecstasy.

  Kellen almost laughed, the memory of pain from his hand nothing compared to the strength, such glorious strength, he felt seeping into his limbs.

  He saw the opening on Marrero’s suit stitching itself together, almost like the suit had a mind of its own and meant to heal itself. Kellen heard Marrero moan with the same pleasure he experienced as the tickle finished near his neck.

  Kellen swung his arms back and forth, reveling in how good he felt. The warmth and freedom he had taken for granted before being locked in a cage.

  “This is awesome,” said Marrero.

  Kellen watched Bryant don a tannish-gold suit that resembled Marrero’s. Unlike the teens, however, Bryant cried as his suit sewed itself about his body.

  What’s up with him?

  “Stop, stop,” Tieran said. “Put him back in.”

  Kellen saw a guard had the beefy man by the arm to lead him from the cage.

  Tieran pushed the beefy man back in and slammed the gate home. “He don’t belong to the Crayfish. He belongs to me. Does it look like I’ve the monies to buy me slaves a suit?”

  “No, boss.”

  “Righ’, and even if I did, this one hasn’t earned it. I oughta skin Henry for pawning this lug off on me. Leave him.” Tieran swung back to Kellen and the others now wearing suits. “All righ’, you sorry seadogs, time for a swim. Off to the pit with this lot.”

  A guard took Kellen roughly by the arm.

  Kellen shrugged him away. “I can walk.”

  He strode toward the testing pool with both Marrero and Bryant beside him.

  “Don your hoods,” said Tieran as they drew close to the edge.

  Kellen reached behind his shoulders and pulled the hood up to cover his ears and head. He heard the cage door swing open behind them and glanced back to see Edmund led out.

  Kellen thought the old marshal came willingly enough, but looked as though he too had been crying. He watched Edmund stop beside Bryant and touch the arm of his suit.

  “You,” Tieran pointed at Edmund. “You been here before. Show these pups how it’s done then.”

  Edmund nodded and donned his hood. Then his body changed.

  “What the…” Marrero gasped.

  Kellen watched, fascinated, as Edmund fell to all fours, the sleeves extending over his hands and feet, then transforming into sea lion flippers. Kellen’s nose wrinkled when Edmund’s hood closed over his face and bulged outward, sprouting whiskers. The changes completed in a matter of seconds and a Sea Lion looked on them all sadly.

  I’m going to do that too. I’m going to change. Kellen thought of the strength pulsing in him. He looked at the guards and Tieran. Then I’m going to swim back out the Gasping Hole.

  “How-how did he,” Marrero hyperventilated. “Wha-what did he…”

  “He’s a Selkie, lad,” said Tieran. “Like the lot of you are now. So get a good look at him cause the pair of you”—Tieran pointed at Marrero and Bryant—“are just like him.”

  “I’m a…I’m a…”

  “A Sea Lion,” said Tieran. “And there’s worse suits, believe you me. Now, close your eyes, lads, and think about the animal. Picture him in your head and keep it there. You’ll feel something funny in you, sure, but don’t lose the thought, see?”

  Kellen watched as Bryant’s hood drifted over his face. His body transformed the same as Edmund. Marrero’s changes came slower, his eyes widening and stopping the transition nearly as soon as it had begun.

  “Keep the picture in your head,” Tieran reprimanded. “No good being some sort of halfsie.”

  Kellen watched as Marrero finished the metamorphosis; a trio of Sea Lions where his cellmates had stood. The one who had been Marrero barked.

  Kellen closed his eyes and pictured the Sea Lion in his mind’s eye. He felt nothing.

  “Nah, nah,” said Tieran. “Won’t do you no good.”

  Kellen opened his eyes. “What do you mean? It worked for them.”

  “They’re Sea Lions. You're not.”

  “What?”

  Tieran grinned. “Your suit’s far and away better than theirs. You ever see a Leopard Seal?”

  Kellen shook his head.

  Tieran frowned. “Did you meet Henry? A no good Frenchman who—”

  “Yeah,” said Kellen. “I remember him.”

  “Good,” said Tieran. “'Cause your suit's like his.”

  Kellen closed his eyes and thought back to the jail. Remembered the silvery seal with a snake-like head that ripped out Officer Murphy’s throat. Kellen recalled the terror he’d felt at the seal’s bloodstained teeth and its cold, black eyes.

  A killer. That’s what I am. Kellen thought. That’s what I’m going to do to Tieran.

  He felt the cold air on his face vanish entirely, warmed as his hood lengthened past his nose and sewed itself shut. He kept the thought of the Leopard Seal in mind and suddenly felt pulled to earth, dropped to his knees as the tickle sped through his body. Kellen swore his tongue felt looser, longer, and he ran it over his teeth, now pointed and wicked sharp.

  Yes. Kellen felt a primal mind twin with his own. We’re Lepers…the voice whispered. That’s what we are. Fear us.

  Power surged through him and Kellen whipped his seal head back. His satisfied moan became a hiss and his tongue licked the air. Kellen opened his eyes.

  The smallest Sea Lion backed away.

  He
snorted at it. That’s right. Stay away. Kellen thought, looking at all three Sea Lions and the guards with newfound confidence. None of you have what I do.

  “Righ’,” said Tieran. “The games are tomorrow and you lot need all the practice in these new bodies you can get. Into the pit with you.”

  Kellen hissed. Come make me.

  Tieran chuckled. “Been at this a long time, I have. Don’t let that seal mind convince you to try and pull one over on ol’ Tieran.”

  Kellen showed Tieran his jaws. Roared.

  A wire noose wrapped around Kellen’s neck and tightened. He gurgled as the guards dragged him toward the pit and dumped him over the side.

  Kellen hit the water on his back and felt the wire release. His seal mind reminded him to flip, swim for the surface. His body instinctually responded and did it for him.

  Whoa. Kellen thought as he peeked his head above the water line.

  Tieran looked down on him from the edge. He motioned to the guards. “Get the others in.”

  Kellen heard splashing as the three Sea Lions joined him in the pit. He growled at Tieran.

  “Now, now, I’ll have none of that,” said Tieran. “Did you a favor, I did. Now do me one. Get used to that new Salt body of yours. The games’ll be here before you know it, come morning. Best be ready to earn your keep, else I’ll pluck that pretty suit off your back.” Tieran backed away from the edge. “Righ’, lock ‘em in for the night, lads.”

  Kellen saw the guards walk the edge of the pit, dragging a thick rope net over the top.

  No! He barked.

  The guards continued their work until the rope net covered the pit entirely. Then, they left and took their torches with them, leaving the sea lions and Kellen to the dark of Crayfish Cavern.

  LENNY

  “Captain Dolan,” Fenton addressed Lenny. “Master Oscar would see you hanged for freeing slaves—”

  “Even though he’s got no proof of it.” Lenny earned a disapproving glance from his father.

  “But our Lord Master Collins is both generous and fair. I do not believe he would wish a newly made captain hanged without evidence, especially one with a pedigree such as yours.” Fenton nodded in Declan’s direction. “However, you lost a member of your crew, which does warrant a punishment. Since you are a captain, it stands to reason you should bear the harshest sentencing of all.”

  “He’s going to hang you,” Oscar nearly sang the words.

  Lenny shut his ears of the taunt as he awaited Fenton’s judgment.

  “Lenny Dolan, the Ancients will decide your guilt or innocence. Guards”—Fenton looked up—“see him keel-raked immediately.”

  Lenny slumped as far as his wooden confines allowed, scarcely hearing anything but Oscar’s giggles as taskmasters swarmed him. He heard the rusted lock pop open. Felt the wooden beams released. Rather than help him stand, one of the larger taskmasters lifted Lenny from the stone and carried him through the throng of slaves bound for the dock.

  Declan shoved through the crowd to keep up, his bum leg hobbling him. “Ya gonna be all right, son.”

  They’re gonna drown me, Pop. Lenny’s eyes welled. Drag me from one corna of the cavern to the other.

  They passed the racks of wet seaweed hung to dry for the next morning’s take to the Boston markets. Lenny closed his eyes. Tried listening to the sound of waves lapping, yet he only heard the footfalls of taskmasters and slaves echo off the same rotting boardwalk he would soon pass under.

  Lenny stared at the glittering stalactites, recalled happier times from his youth when Declan taught him to use their alignments as a map.

  “Saddle the seahorses!” Oscar called as they neared the furthest dock, the one in most need of repair and staging point for the keel-raking to come.

  Lenny heard several splashes as taskmasters dove in to carry out Oscar’s command.

  The Selkie carrying Lenny knelt and set his bare feet to the cold, wet boards.

  Lenny shivered as a taskmaster emerged with a rope to bind his wrists. He watched the other end of rope tossed into the ocean. The rickety pier shook beneath him and Lenny noted the water frothy from a struggle beneath the surface.

  A seahorse stallion, large as any Lenny had seen on land, raised its violet head above the surface, black eyes mad, nostrils flaring. Its furious neigh echoed throughout the cavern as the Selkie taskmaster slipped a harness over its mouth and yanked its head below again.

  Another seahorse, yellow with orange rings about its body, bucked the Selkie on its back while other taskmasters dove in to help restrain their master’s prized steeds.

  Lenny saw slave children nudge one another, gleefully point at the beasts seldom released from their underwater stables. Tieran had arrived and Lenny heard the dockmaster venture along the dock taking bets with Merrow buyers come out from their guest homes to watch the spectacle. Their gambles not on whether Lenny would survive the keel-raking, but if the initial jolt from the stallions would rip his stunted limbs from his body.

  Declan stepped into his line of sight. “Rememba what I told ya?”

  Lenny gazed up the boardwalk, ten feet in front of him, knowing he would shortly be dragged under it. He had only seen a keel-raking twice and, staring up the boardwalk now, he thought it little wonder neither of the condemned had survived. The length of track ran almost the entirety of the cavern with the far end taking a sweeping angle to the right, curving back into itself to rejoin the main line, as if the architect modeled its form as a long, wooden P.

  He glanced down at the space between the barnacle-encrusted pillars, the watery black hole the stallions would pull him through. Lenny scarcely understood how he had never before noticed the yawning opening, eager to devour its newest victim.

  “Hey!” Declan called his attention. “Rememba what I told ya?”

  Lenny shook his head.

  “Ya was neva gonna be big, Len. Today it’s gonna save ya life.”

  “How?” asked Lenny. “Nobody survives keel-rakin’.”

  “They weren’t as small as us. Weighed more.” Declan placed his hands on Lenny’s shoulders. “Ya gonna make it, Len. I know ya will.”

  Lenny felt a pinch as a taskmaster pinned his hood to his back, preventing him from changing into his Salt form once below the surface line.

  “Don’t wait for ‘em to pull ya. Understand?” Declan asked.

  Lenny opened his mouth to speak when he noticed Oscar stroll onto the pier. The younger Collins glanced at the churning water. “The horses certainly are eager today, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Aye,” said Lenny, steeling his voice. “Ready to get this over with. Same as me.”

  “Soon enough.” Oscar’s gaze flitted to Declan. “I do hope the pair of you have said your goodbyes.”

  “My son’s innocent. He’s gonna make it.”

  Oscar laughed. “Just like a nipperkin…more height than sense. Guards. Take him away.”

  “No need.” Declan sidestepped the guards. He glanced at his son. “Rememba what I said.”

  Lenny watched his father limp away and stand next to Fenton.

  “Any last words?” Oscar asked.

  “Yeah,” said Lenny. “Why ya doin’ this?”

  “Do you remember the Shedd?” Oscar asked. “That…all-important post…you assigned me to take?”

  Lenny did. How he had given Oscar a fake position to keep him safe and, more importantly, out of the way. “Oscar—”

  “You all laughed at me that day.”

  Lenny shook his head.

  “I know you did,” said Oscar. “Henry told me.”

  “Ya gonna take his word on it? The guy who left ya behind?”

  “I remember how stupid I felt,” said Oscar, “standing there amidst Drybacks, all of them beneath my station, only to learn you…a nipperkin…was laughing at me.”

  “I neva laughed at ya,” said Lenny.

  “You would say that now. You would say anything for me to halt this sentencing. Then, later when you�
�d be around your friends, you’d laugh at me again.”

  “Oscar—”

  “Laugh at how stupid I was to believe you.” Oscar stepped closer. “Know this, you little swine. I’ll be the one laughing today. When you’re yanked off the pier, I’ll laugh at the stupid face you make before you hit the water. When you’re under the pier, I’ll be laughing at the thought of your inhuman form bouncing from pillar to pillar, your ribs crushed at every smack. And when they pull your bloated carcass from the water…I’ll be laughing still.”

  Oscar turned up the pier to walk away.

  Lenny knew he should keep his silence. That anything he said to bruise Oscar’s ego might bring his madness upon Declan. He glanced at the space beneath the pier. Thought of Oscar laughing.

  “Ya know,” said Lenny. “Not for nuthin’, Oscar, but ya got issues.”

  “Goodbye, Lenny Dolan,” Oscar sneered. “I shan’t miss you at all.”

  And I shan’t miss the stupid way ya talk. Lenny sighed as he looked down at the outlines of massive, colorful seahorse bodies, mismatched against the blue. He recalled the first time he’d dove to look on his master’s steeds as a child. How the beasts of beauty and burden towered over his Salt form even then. Lenny had secretly held a wish to ride one from that point on, knowing it would never be.

  Oddly, he felt a giddy rush as he watched the seahorses now, the loose rope tying him to them growing taut, then lax as the taskmasters fought to restrain them.

  The rope! Lenny thought back to his father’s words. He remembered the keel-rakings he’d witnessed and how the condemned seemingly resigned themselves to their fates. The surprise in their faces as Fenton whistled. How they were torn from the pier in the seahorse’s initial burst.

  Lenny watched the rope. Don’t let ‘em pull ya.

  When it laxed again, Lenny stepped to the edge of the pier, near the point of falling off. His fingers trembled on the coarse, wet threads. He forced the fear away and squeezed the rope. Fasta or smarta.

  Lenny heard himself breathing, ragged and quick. He chanced a final look at his father.

  Patience, son. Lenny almost heard Declan’s voice, mentoring him still. He took a deep breath. Felt wetness stain his cheeks. Focus.

  Fasta. Lenny closed his eyes, leaned forward, and dove from the pier. He heard Fenton’s whistle before he struck the water and swore he heard a pop in his shoulders at the whiplash.