“Let’s go,” he says. And we do.
Chapter 18
EVERYTHING IS STILL CHAOS AS WE SLIP THROUGH the close metal corridors that snake like a maze. Above us, in the heart of the Jawbone, screams and the clamor of swords ring out against the splashing that’s coming from—I’m assuming—people jumping into the water. There are no Torch Enforcers, but they don’t know that, and the fog is lending itself nicely to the confusion—which is what we were hoping for.
Seth opens the hatch and slips into the night, motioning for me to follow. I do, coming out into the cold air and onto a slim metal outcropping just below the western edge of the Jawbone.
The fog is so thick it’s almost impossible to see more than ten feet out. If I really try, I can see the dark, looming silhouette of ships tied to the dock.
Rielle and Thomas climb out next to me. Rielle puts a finger on her lips, and I nod. Above us, boots pound on the latticelike metal, rage booming in voices as the chaos reigns. Every knave on this godforsaken metal fort is armed and ready for a fight with Torch Enforcers—we’ve shouted fire in a crowded theater, and everyone is too panicked to realize that there isn’t one.
Their shouts fade as they walk back toward the center of the Jawbone.
Moments later, a dark form slinks over the water, cutting through the curtain of cloud coverage.
It’s bigger than any boat I’ve ever been on.
And Lucia is at the helm.
She lets out the same coo that Rielle and Thomas used earlier, and then Rielle and Thomas step toward the end of the platform and dive into the water, cutting through the surface like arrows: soundless, barely leaving a wake. They both emerge twenty feet away and swim to the ladder carved into the ship. I watch them climb up the side.
I freeze, my mouth locked tight as I realize what’s happening. If they see me falter and sink, they might think twice about helping me. Seth already thinks I’m a liability.
The boat keeps drifting closer, by some miracle and small mercy. This whole metal hellscape was built for ship access. I can feel Seth’s eyes on me, and the question lingers in the air between us as the ladder gets closer.
He’s watching me. Studying me.
What kind of Chosen One created by a ruby found in the middle of the ocean can’t swim?
When the ship is three feet from the metal platform, I can see the cuts in the wood that make the ladder. I can’t wait for it to drift closer, because it might not.
With one more look to Seth, I leap into the darkness.
My fingers catch the rung of the ladder, and my chest slams painfully against the side of the ship while my legs splash in the water. I can only imagine how ridiculous I look, but I’ll take anything that keeps me from having to swim.
I climb, the mist surrounding me until I reach the edge of the railing. I roll onto the deck and vaguely register Rielle and Thomas drying off near the mast. But I don’t see Lucia until I feel the blade at my throat. Her eyes burn bright as she looms over me.
“They said you told them you’re the Chosen One, and I know you’re a fucking liar,” she seethes.
“Lucia,” Thomas calls—a warning.
Lucia shoots them a glance but doesn’t lift the knife.
I swallow, and the dull blade scrapes against my skin. I open my mouth, but then Lucia’s weight is wrenched off me. I breathe, the frigid air filling my lungs, and roll over. Rielle, still sopping wet from her swim to the boat, pulls Lucia off me and presses her knee to Lucia’s chest.
“Get off me!” Lucia bites, not letting out more than a deadly whisper, because we are still right next to the Jawbone. I sit up and wipe my hand across my throat, checking for blood. I don’t feel any.
“We have a chance to end all of this, all of it, Lucia, and you are not going to let your shitty, murder-y attitude ruin this for us,” Rielle shoots back, leaning forward to be heard.
Lucia bites the air, inches from Rielle’s face. The click of her teeth sounds across the deck.
“Enough,” Seth’s voice sounds from the railing as he reaches the top of the ladder. His boots make a thudding sound as they hit the deck, and Rielle looks up for just a half second, but it’s all the time Lucia needs to bring a leg up and across Rielle’s chest, switching the momentum until Lucia is on top.
“Thomas,” he says, and Thomas strides to the wheel.
“That’s what I said,” Lucia says, standing quickly and pointing the edge of her knife at me. “Enough of this one. The Chosen One? Seth, do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”
“I hear it.”
“Then what the hell is this?” she barks.
Rielle leans back and kicks up, landing on her feet. She swats the back of Lucia’s head with an open palm. Lucia glares at Rielle, who just makes a what are you going to do about it face before walking over and extending a hand to me.
“Deck drop!” Seth calls from the helm. Without another word, Seth, Lucia, and Rielle all drop to their knees on the deck. I follow suit, turning to look at Thomas, whose hands are on the bottom half of the wheel.
There’s a slat in the railing, and I peek out. We’re sailing away from the Jawbone. Next to us, Glimpse of Paradise cuts through the water. The dread in my chest rises.
“Bank left,” I whisper, looking to Seth. He narrows his eyes at me.
“Get away from that ship. Now,” I beg. Seth considers for a second and then tilts the wheel. We pull away from the yacht.
The chaos is dying down, the noise of shouts and crashing metal lessening against the night. Up ahead, a giant mass of flames blooms and cracks on the water. It’s a ship, engulfed in fire. We pull past it, the destroyed boat shifting just enough to reveal the name on the stern.
The Ichorbow.
Seth, crouching next to me, turns to glare at Lucia over his shoulder. “Why do I have the feeling that you had something—no, everything—to do with that?”
Lucia fingers her mirror chain and shrugs one shoulder. “I had to fire the grenade launcher to start the ruckus. Might as well be pointing it at something.”
Rielle snorts out a laugh, and Lucia grins in her friend’s direction. “Classic,” Rielle breathes.
A sound like a thunderclap rockets through the night, and we all duck. A blast of heat rolls over us, and the orange blaze gets brighter. I pull myself up and peer over the railing.
Far across the water, Glimpse is on fire. There is nothing around it—no conceivable reason why it should have exploded.
My breathing quickens, and I hear my heartbeat in my ears.
“Looks like an engine malfunction. If they feed it bad gasoline long enough, it corrodes,” Thomas says, gesturing for Seth to take the wheel so he can take a closer look.
“What the hell?” Rielle asks. I turn to look at her, and there’s awe on her face. “You knew.”
Glimpse to the water and you’ll see fire.
Vanessa’s words were right. I look back to the ship as the fire overtakes it.
It’s the first time Vanessa’s words have changed something—the first time I’ve understood them before something happens. A small thrill blooms beneath my ribs. I turn to look at Seth, who regards me with an unreadable expression as he turns the wheel, taking us farther from the Jawbone and farther into the fog.
Soon, the only sound around us is the lapping of waves against the ship and the creaking of the wood beneath our feet. The fog fades, and the dark sky stretches above us, the moonlight bright on our faces. I stand, making my way to the railing. The water is smooth, like glass.
“She could have made that happen,” Lucia says finally. There’s no rage in it, which is almost scarier that way. “Planted something.” It’s cold and calculating, like I might as well not even be here.
“Right. Between being completely under your watch and . . . being completely under your watch, I snuck over to a ship I didn’t know to plant a bomb I didn’t have,” I snap.
Lucia sits back, crossing her arms over her chest.
Honestly, I don’t blame her for not believing this. I hardly believe it, and I’ve seen and heard way more shit than an exploding ship. Even in the face of a curse like the Crimson, the idea of a Chosen One is a lot to swallow. The bright stars glimmer around the full moon as Lucia and Rielle argue. Thomas tells both of them to calm down, and Rielle tells him what he can do with his advice. I look up at the night sky and take a deep breath. That was lucky, but they don’t know that.
Everything has fallen to shit so many times, I’m starting to learn to appreciate the small things when I can, like the sight of a full moon and the crisp, cold air in my lungs.
I stop as the thought hits me. Full moon.
This time, I don’t have a weird, nauseous feeling. I don’t have some weird, inexplicable insight. I just remember what Vanessa said the night the settlement fell.
The silver whole brings the storm to the sea, the mirror on velvet brings the ships to their knees.
Rielle bites the inside of her cheek as she looks at me.
The silver whole brings the storm to the sea. A silver whole.
I look up. The moon is full tonight. Something clicks into place—a last hope I grab with a whole fist. They’re still arguing as I shove myself to my feet.
“There’s going to be a storm tonight,” I blurt. Seth looks at me for a moment before raising his eyes to the crystal clear sky. Not a cloud in sight. “A bad one,” I add.
“You’re not even good at pretending you’re not full of shit—” Lucia starts, but I pin her with a glare.
“If I’m wrong, then you can do what you want. Leave me alone in whatever pit-of-the-earth way station you want. But if I’m not? You take me with you.” I look at Seth. He clenches his jaw as he considers. It’s a lot to ask, but I know I’m right.
“And, just clarifying the terms here,” Lucia says. “If you’re wrong, we toss you overboard.”
My throat tightens at her words, and I know she’s watching me to see how I react to that.
“Fine.”
“We’re not throwing anyone overboard, Lucia,” Seth cuts in, his eyes on the sky as he walks to the middle of the deck, scanning the stars like he can find proof of my words there. Or something to damn me.
He lowers his gaze.
“We’ll wait, then, Chosen One.”
I don’t know if it’s the look of taut regret on his face, or the way he spits the words like they’re a mouthful of sour milk. But I know, in that moment, despite everything that just happened, everything he just saw—and despite the looks of irritation he keeps giving Lucia—Seth Marsali doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
Chapter 19
LUCIA SHOWS ME TO MY ROOM WITH A GRUNT, BUT after a couple of hours, I give up sleep—somewhere between paralyzing fear and nagging hopelessness. Whichever time that was.
The air in the room was too thick, too filled with my own breath.
As I step out onto the deck, the night air bites straight to my bones and I don’t fight it. I let out a low hiss and let the sea air lift the hair from the back of my neck. Goose bumps prickle along every inch of me, and I close my eyes.
I look out off the back of the stern, the moonlight illuminating the white, frothy wakes that cut over the black abyss.
“As much as you dying would solve a lot of my problems, I don’t think hypothermia is the way you want to go,” a low, smooth voice sounds behind me.
I turn. A small fire burns in a metal pit secured to the deck, and Seth sits on a stool next to it, an open tin can in his hand.
Shivers rack my body as I eye him. He motions to the fire with his head, and I walk over. His eye is less swollen, and it’s looking more like a normal bruise. But closer, I can see that his lip is still split, his knuckles still bloodied.
I sigh in pleasure as the heat seeps through my skin, and Seth pulls a folded blanket from under his stool and tosses it to me. I wrap it around my shoulders and sit on the stool opposite.
The fire crackles between us, embers catching the wind.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks finally, digging his fork into the tin can.
I shake my head. “The door doesn’t lock, and I keep imagining Lucia duct-taping my hands together and gleefully tossing me to my doom.” It’s a joke, but it’s also not.
Seth rolls his eyes.
“No one is tossing you into the ocean, princess,” Seth says, bringing a forkful of green beans to his mouth. He stops before they reach his lips and holds them out slightly. An offer.
“No thanks,” I say softly, and then his words register. “And you can stop calling me princess, you know.”
“You would prefer ‘Chosen One’?” he asks. His eyes are sunset-tinted in the glow of the fire, and they bore into me. It’s a joke, but it’s also not.
“Charlotte,” I correct. I don’t trust myself to say more.
He holds my eyes for another beat and then shovels a bite of green beans into his mouth.
It goes quiet again, the wind sounding like a low hum rippling over the water. The fire dances in the wind.
“The whole country thinks you’re some traitorous frat boy, you know.”
Seth’s fork freezes on the way back down to the can, and his eyes find mine. “You’re a shit conversationalist, Charlotte the Chosen One.”
“Charlotte,” I grind out. “What I mean is . . . I wish they could know they were wrong. About you.” My eyes fall to the flames.
Seth scrapes the fork over the tin ridges. “It wouldn’t matter.”
“What are you talking about? Of course it would. There isn’t anything good this side of the grave anymore, Seth. I’ve seen it. The best-case scenario is some sort of horrible illness that takes you out before you turn into a monster, your loved ones turn into monsters, or you’re all eaten by monsters. You could give people hope.”
“I thought that’s what you were for?” he asks. It’s a simple question, but it cuts through my chest like a razor. Especially because, in this moment, he’s not saying it ironically. He’s not saying it to get a rise out of me. He means it. Hope is as foreign to him as it is to me, and he’s circling it. Poking it with a stick. Seeing if it’s still breathing, and refusing to get excited until he knows it’s the real deal.
And I’m exploiting that.
Sickness spins in my gut as the full weight of what the hell I’ve done settles on my shoulders. I’ve done something here. I’ve pulled a thread I can’t un-pull.
My mind grasps for something—anything—to redirect the conversation.
“Did Evelyn do this, too? Before . . .”
Something shifts in him, and I see it. Shields up, the massive swipe of raising them extinguishing any flame of hope he’d manage to bring from kindling to spark.
“No. She didn’t get the chance.”
My mouth moves soundlessly as I search for words, but none come. Everything I’ve been fearing—losing Harlow and Vanessa—he’s been through. I should know what to say here.
But words fall short at the look on his face.
“So you were remade by water on the night of blood. That’s what the prophecy said, anyway,” he says. It’s conversational, not inherently a challenge. But I see the look in his eyes, and I know he’s testing me.
“Yes.” It’s clipped, a word cut from the chunk of other things I can’t say and tossed at him.
He tongues his molars, cocking his jaw to the side as he regards me. He shrugs. “And what does that mean? Was it some sort of ceremony? Did some priests in robes anoint you or some shit?”
“No.” My shoulders square. I may not be the Chosen One, but it’s not a lie that there is one. And Vanessa’s been through hell for it. My hackles rise, the blood filling my cheeks.
He sits up. “You understand how ridiculous it sounds. Like the hope invented by people who wanted to give their kids some sort of way to cope with the apocalypse. And the ‘Chosen One’ sounds like a trope from a C-list made-for-TV movie.”
His voice, that word, grates on me, and
I feel the anger blooming through my bones.
“More ridiculous than red-eyed creatures? Wake up, Cap, we’ve been in a bad fantasy movie for a long time.”
Seth laughs then and sniffs against the cold. The tip of his nose is red, and for the first time since I sat down, I wonder how long he’s been out here. If he thought it was safe to sleep at all. “It’s nothing personal,” he says.
“You’re calling me a liar. That feels pretty personal.”
For a moment I can’t believe how righteous I can sound while actively being in the wrong. It’s a talent. A shit one, but I’m almost impressed, honestly.
“I wasn’t calling you a liar. I was asking for information. But if you’re asking, yeah, I take lies pretty seriously. I’d even say personally,” he shoots.
“So you’re all about honesty, then? Mr. I Stole a Man’s Ship and Said It Was Mine.”
Seth holds a hand up. “I never told you I was the captain of the Ichorbow. You assumed.”
I laugh this time, and it’s humorless. My breath is visible above the heat of the flames.
“Fine. You want honesty? Then give some. Why the hell did you take me with you if you don’t believe in the Chosen One?”
The air is thick between us, and the fire crackles, unaware of the fight raging over its head.
And then, in that moment, Seth is caught off guard. His eyes meet mine, and we’re at a stalemate.
“I don’t know,” he says finally. He swallows hard and clamps his jaw tight. There’s an emptiness in his words, the shadow left in the space where a promise should be.
I stand, knocking the stool over with the suddenness of it. Then, I’m striding across the deck, the blanket falling off my shoulders.
Maybe I should tell him. I should just tell him the truth. I saw the look when I said his sister’s name. He knows what it’s like to love, I think.
I’m looking down at the deck right when I see the first pebble of rain plop against the wood.
It doesn’t register at first. Not until the heavens crack open above my head, and the clouds I was too angry to notice roil across the air, thunder ripping through the night. Rain pours, soaking me in seconds. I turn just in time to see the fire wink out in a puff of steam. Seth doesn’t move for a moment, like he can’t quite believe it, either.
Unchosen Page 15