Chasing Boston

by Grey, Rebecca

  We're jostled. The crew that had gone silent yelps in response. I fist both my hands, throwing my shadows into the water, chasing it away. I sprint, feet stomping, to the edge of the boat, watching as it swims away, down, down, down, and back to the hellhole it crawled out of. Go home. I tell it. Stay there. Leave us be. Each command is more demanding than the last.

  The old worn boards creak as Jac makes her way to my side. She presses her palms into the railing looking down into the waters tainted with my dark shadows. I'll leave them there. Let them guard the boat and ward off anything that might try to attack us. I should've done it earlier…I would have had I not been distracted. Otherwise happily occupied.

  For the first time in my life, I was content.

  What Millicent and I had, what we shared, could be nothing but a fluke, possibly even a figment of my own overactive imagination. If it was real, in the way that I think it actually was, I'll be out of her system now. Me, something wicked from another world, something not for a human to keep but something they casually want to try. Every time ends with heartbreak. Not theirs, because they realize how wrong I am for them, how unsuitable someone like me is for someone not made for this.

  I haven't let something like this happen to me in a long time. Even now, standing next to Jac I can still feel the press, the desperation and need of Millie's lips on mine.

  I answered the question. What would we be like together? If we can go off of this one moment then the answer is, well, not perfect but something worth fighting for. Humans are all the same. At some point, she'll realize it too. Someone like her isn't made for someone like me. When she figures that out, she'll despise me and miss the life I took her from.

  Jac looks back up at me. A few of her braids have fallen out of her hat and she forces them back up. She squares her shoulders, pursing her lips before she speaks. "Millie wasn't in her bed last night."

  I almost smile and I stop myself. "Is that so?"

  Jac laughs just once. A short noise. A staccato more than anything else. "I've always been rooting for you, just so you know."

  “We just got attacked by a giant sea creature and that’s what you have to say?”

  “Weirder things have happened.”

  I laugh dryly. Without speaking I wave a hand to dismiss her, a command passing from my thoughts to her, to warn Millie about the sirens.

  Two cliffs wait for us on the horizon. The pass between them is just wide enough for a ship of our size to cross through, at the top, they grow closer, almost an arm’s reach apart. Monsters I can't control live there. Creatures not made from hell. Though they are sinister in their own ways, the sirens here are made of light.

  I have defenses against things such as these. Powers that'll help but not solve that particular looming problem. I stand there, staring at the cliffs, feeling the ship move closer and closer to them. Jac disappeared on my demand, shaking her head. She’d entered my room searching Millie out. She can't be in my bed anymore, not any longer. I can't imagine she'd wait for me to return.

  When both of them appear on the top deck, Millie’s dress looks sloppily thrown back on. Jac takes a minute to adjust the gown, whispering something to her but I can't make it out. My shadows are too busy below the ship to whisper whatever she said back to me.

  Millie’s lips still look red and swollen. Her cheeks flush with a similar shade under all her freckles when she meets my gaze. Jac squeezes Millie's hand, looking at me with some sort of new challenge in her eyes. I glare at her but am quickly distracted when Millie comes to stand next to me. I turn back around pointing a finger at the cliffs.

  "The Trove is on the other side."

  She nods. She's quiet like the rest of the crew is as we get closer. A nervousness settles into their bones, as it should. There's something unnatural about this place. It doesn't bother me. I was born from the unnatural.

  Millie’s body is tense, a far cry from the way she had relaxed in my arms. I find myself wanting to fill the silence. Take her mind off of it as it quickly approaches. I'll be her distraction from the sirens. From the fear.

  "You know I never really explained myself." She tilts her head toward me but her eyes remain pinned on our destination. I swallow and continue, words tumbling from my tongue. "I was born into this job. Born from a human conceived with the devil. I grew up in the darkest ring of hell. Honestly, I hardly remember my childhood, but I'm thankful for that. I only have to serve fifty years."

  The truth I haven't told anyone. And more just keeps spilling out.

  "When I reached adulthood, my father assigned me to this region of the world. He gave me the title of Death. So I travel mostly at sea, every so often I have to make trips inland to collect souls. Sometimes the souls find me, carried on the wind, searching for their way to pass on. Whatever history of the world you know…I’ve played some part in. Though nobody ever knows. Wars that have been fought, the casualties...some of it I’ve brought on."

  Millie looks at me completely now. "I only have five years left," I say quietly. "After these five years I'll be free to live my life just like a human would, though I’ll have to hide my powers. If I want to, I can devote my life to my work, live as long as I want. Or I can give it all away…my eternal life…I can be free of this. I can let go of the burdens of my job. The loneliness. I'm so close… "

  "Will all of your crew be free if you decide to be human?"

  I look down at my hands. I can’t meet her eyes. I’m not ready to admit my own failure, how truly terrible I’ve become. "No. They will continue to serve whatever amount of time they gave. It just won't be with me. It will be with a brother."

  Millie edges closer as if she might reach out and take my hand so she might comfort me. I don't deserve her kindness in exchange for my life. I step away.

  "I have thousands, millions of brothers. Most of my father's job, apparently, is to seduce and fuck women until they are pregnant with his children. Then he takes his kids and he puts them to work. We are the hands and feet of the devil."

  "What happened to your mother?"

  "She died. They all die in childbirth." I fist my hands. “I try not to think about who might take my place. It'll be hard on those I leave behind. My brothers fresh from hell itself are always cruel."

  "Do they know?"

  "No," I admit. "I don’t want to tell them. I don't want them to hate me more. I don't want to lose whatever sort of fragile friendship Jac and I have. I know what sort of man I am for not telling them."

  "You don't have to be that sort of man. I don't think that's who you really are," she says. She sounds like her usual optimistic self. She also sounds naïve. My face scrunches up with anger at the way she sees me. She doesn't get it. She doesn't understand how truly wretched I am.

  I turn toward her, practically snarling. "Millicent I am everything I was born to be. I take people and make them bargain away their life just so I have some company. I don't need men on the ship. I don't need you on my crew. I have the power, the ability, to run everything by myself. But I take advantage of every single human who grieves in some way shape or form. I force them to be with me."

  I tug up my sleeve showing her the tattoos. I pull at the collar of my shirt to expose the ones on my chest. "Look at me. Look at how many people I've trapped. I've lied to. I've taken more from than I have given. Count them!” I growl through clenched teeth. “This isn’t even the beginning of it. Men have come and gone on this ship. I've taken years of their lives. I'm taking their prime, their youth."

  I can see myself in the reflection of her brown eyes, the way my face is twisted into something malicious. She’s quiet for a second and when she answers her voice is sturdy, unwavering. "I sought you out. You told me what I was bargaining away. I gave it to you of my own free will. I chose you. I chose this.”

  My fist rattles the railing.

  "You could've taken more,” she whispers. “I would have given more for Boston had you required it."

  I knew that. I felt that when
we talked about it. Millicent Acker was someone I could've taken every single year from if I demanded it. I could've damned her to live the rest of her life on the ship under the command of whatever brother takes over after me.

  "I only didn’t because of my own damn selfishness." I rub my hand down my face trying to remind myself of my human side, trying to suppress the way darkness rallies inside of me and begs to lash out. "I wanted to be able to leave this ship with someone. Someone who’d want to remember. To choose to remember me."

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That's what I’d been then. What I am now as Millie stares up at me.

  "I don't think you're as bad as you think you are."

  She’s so wrong. Still, the shock of those words travels through me. I didn’t expect them to come from her. I've never expected them to come from anyone. And there she said it. Instead of the overwhelming sense of relief, I think a statement like that would give me. Only more anger answers.

  "Millicent!" This time I don't hide my power. This time I feel the echo of the Otherworld in my voice, I feel it in my bones, I taste it like ash on my tongue. “I’m not entirely human. I am a demon! I am a prince of hell. Nothing good comes from me. Nothing "

  This time Millie does shrink back. This time I've done enough to show her just how terrible I am. It will only help soften the blow when she realizes what evil I’ve truly done.

  She opens her mouth to respond. A voice, not her own, steals away whatever she’s about to say. Soft and sweet it feels the air making it thick like honey. One voice. Then another. And another. Until the atmosphere is filled with a harmonious melody.

  Conversations stop and the peace that my crew had for only mere moments shatters. Where there should be fear, awe settles in.

  Millie’s gaze lifts from my face to the clouds as if heaven above is singing to her. That's the promise the sirens make. The promise that makes men leap from the edges of their ships to drown in the sea. A promise that makes good captains jump into the arms of what they think are angels until those angels eat the flesh from their bones.

  I pull my shadows to me, to use them to drown out the noise. To protect my crew. I reach out taking Millie's hand in mine. She watches the clouds so intently, I wonder if I can pull her back from their song at all. The look of hope they inspire in her makes a crack form in my old black heart. I want to give her that look.

  While on my ship, a part of my crew, no one will be hurt. I can feel my voice echo off the walls of Millie's mind, like a knock at first, and a banging second, until I force myself in. I don't mean to. I don't want to, I don't ask for it, but what I feel when I get there is the premonition of Millie's death.

  16

  After The Deal

  Millie

  The sky is the loveliest shade of blue I've ever seen. The clouds are fluffy and soft like cotton candy. Everything in me is calm. Happiness chases through my mind and then the rest of my body like a bubble of laughter breaking the surface. A harmony that connects me and the universe. None of the frustrated anger that had been simmering inside me only moments before is there.

  I can still recall the way Rumi was trying to push me away. I can hear the desperation in his voice asking me to stay even when his words were something entirely different.

  I'm not mad at him now. I'm not mad at all.

  I'm happy. Giddy even.

  Somewhere above me an angel circles. Large wings block out the sun with a face nearly as perfect as Rumi’s. The angel will take me to my brother. The angel promises me Boston. And when the angel whispers that Rumi will never be enough for me, I find myself pulling away, distracted with the question of why?

  The being answers me quickly as if trying to make up for their small mistake. He's tricking you, it says.

  Do you think he's enough?

  All he does is a lie. He lies.

  We won't lie to you.

  We’ll give you what you want.

  Just take the lead.

  Just take the leap…

  All you have to do is—

  "Millicent!" A voice breaks through the thoughts. "Millicent!" I'm familiar with the agony and heartache in the voice. I know that voice. It’s Rumi. "Sirens," the voice reminds me.

  Not angels. Not someone here to help. Sirens hungry for flesh. The fog of peace that had overcome my mind evaporates into the tones of my anger and frustration, returning now tinged with some shape of fear.

  I look to Rumi wide-eyed and he takes my hand, pressing his lips to my knuckles. He curses under his breath, the words hot against my skin, looking from me to those around us staring at the sirens. "I can only break the spell for so long. I have to help them before they all jump ship. Try not to look at them. Cover your ears." He tells me. “Whatever you do, do not go to them.” There’s an edge to his voice, something like desperation.

  The monster he tried to present himself as is gone. There's only a man who loves his crew, who loves the ship and has a bargain to complete with a girl like me. When he storms away he takes my breath with him. He reaches out, touching crew members who are frozen as they stare up with smiles at the things above us.

  The shape of their wings and their bodies—so humanlike—are cast down onto the deck, their shadows mingling with wisps of Rumi’s darkness. My gaze starts to travel up with curiosity, I want to see more myths and legends that shouldn't exist. When it does, Rumi’s voice barrels down the deck to me. "Don't look at them!” he screams and the shout travels through my bones.

  Instantly my eyes snap down to my feet. I lift my hands to my ears just trying to drown out the sweet sound of the song that carries on. I sink to the ground, and my dress snags on the wood behind me, but I don't pull a hand away from my ears to tug it back into place. Shadows loom and the men who aren’t enthralled move frantically trying to steer the boat on its course while not making eye contact with the monsters.

  A tall lanky crewman picks up a rifle aiming it into the sky. He pulls the trigger with a resounding boom. My eyes try to follow the bullet, there then gone.

  Two sirens swoop down, both plucking crewmembers away as if they're candy taken from a child. One of the crewmembers is the man with the rifle still in his hands. He fumbles the weapon reaching to get his grip and cock the gun. With an echoing note of passion, the siren drops him, sending him toppling several feet out of the sky, and crashing into a heap on the deck that sends the gun skittering away. When he looks up, he stares toward me with stars dancing in his eyes, the spell of the song forcing him back to standing where his mouth parts as he looks up and off where a streak of wings cuts through the air.

  I can hear it through the press of my palms to my ears. The siren song continues.

  Rumi moves quickly from one person to the next. He grabs Jac, shaking her by the shoulders, his hand briefly touching her cheek. The gesture is almost intimate, a friend worried for a friend. Jac snaps out of the spell she’d been under, taking a few steps away from him before she shakes herself and hurries back to what she'd been doing. She tugs at a splintering rope making it tightly drawn again.

  The edges of my vision soften almost to a blur. Heat fills my limbs like their song fills my head until I’m lounging instead of hiding. Sirens sing words I can't quite make out but I understand their intent. It's eerie, not quite a warning, but not quite an invitation.

  My head starts to tilt toward the sky but Rumi’s command repeats through me and instead, my vision levels. I want to look up. I want to see the angels.

  I want them…

  I want them…

  I want them…

  I want Boston.

  They will give me Boston.

  Rumi turns quickly away from the man he’d just been at. There's a fierceness in his features and the way he stands makes him look solid. Nothing and no one can get through him. Nothing can break him. The sirens, they should be running from him. How are they not running from him?

  An angel glowing white with the power of heaven lands directly in front of Rumi. Its large feet bal
ance it and it snaps its wings down to its side. Feathers. They look so soft I want to touch them. They look as if I can bury my face in them. Touching my face to the wings of an angel will give me a lifetime of happiness...I just know it.

  Boston. Give me Boston.

  I stand up. Rumi’s shadows, which I hadn't realized had gathered in the shade around me try to hold me back. They circle my wrists like chains but I shake them off and take a step forward. Rumi glares in the way only death can at the angel. Why would he glare? It's an angel. It’s here to help him. It's here to help me.

  The angel opens its mouth and all I can hear is singing, a call for me to finally go home. Stretching its arms out, its reach is nearly as long as its wingspan. Unphased, Rumi pulls a dagger from his belt. The knife cuts through flesh easily creating a dripping line of metallic gold on the creature’s neck.

  The song stops and it isn’t an angel that crumbles to the deck. It isn’t beautiful. It isn’t here to help me. It's a dead siren. With a face covered in sagging skin, its large white eyes—bug like—protrude even further. Gold blood gathers on its pale, slim lips that curl away in a dying snarl to reveal razor sharp teeth. Those wings full of feathers are not anything but thin gray skin pulled taut along splayed bones.

  The air in my lungs wheezes out of me when I realize what exactly I'm being drawn to. Another legend, real, and utterly terrifying standing…dying…right before me. The cliffs rise up around the boat, drenching us with shade, and Rumi’s shadows immediately go forward searching out any sirens that dare come near us.

  Tendrils of the dark smoke travel up my neck weaving itself through my hair and then down my spine and around my torso under my dress. I can feel it settle there, holding me, claiming me, reminding me of everything the sirens are.

  He pauses as he sees me staring at it, at the siren. "You're okay." It isn’t a question, he’s telling me.