Seth sits with his back to the rigging, an apple in hand. He looks up when he sees me, and I can’t read the expression on his face. His bruise is almost gone, and the cut on his lip is healed. “Diving contest.”
Lucia’s voice sounds from below. “Bullshit. That was at least a nine.”
Seth inspects the apple. “I told you. Your knees were bent slightly, and the angle of your dive wasn’t straight. As captain and head judge, I have to deduct.”
“It was a cannonball, you ass!” Lucia shouts. Seth smirks and takes a bite of his apple.
I don’t know if we’re going to talk about last night. Or what last night means. If we’re slowly becoming friends or if we’re just not enemies anymore.
Rielle looks over her shoulder, and I don’t even hide the fact that I’m checking her out. I don’t use the term “perfect” often, but she is quite the specimen. She knows it, too, from the way she’s grinning at me.
“Want in on this? I got a spare in my room,” Rielle says, motioning to her bikini and giving a little shimmy.
“Perfect ten,” Seth jokes, and Lucia splashes him from the water below.
“I’m good. I just . . .” I motion to the pad of paper and pencil. I was going to come up here and think. Maybe a change of scenery will jog my memory. “Why are we stopped?”
I look out—we’re closer to the coast than we have been in several days. I can see the leaves of the trees dancing in the wind, and I shiver. I don’t know how Rielle and Lucia are actually getting in the water right now.
“We needed to restock. We have a station tucked just beyond those trees, but it’s safer for one person to go. Less of a scent for Vessels to track, now that we have a Curseclean on board,” Seth explains through another bite of apple.
“Vessels will eat anything,” I say, almost defensively.
Seth points a finger at me. “But they’ll always prefer Curseclean, and they know the Chosen One is Curseclean.”
“Yeah, but that could change,” Lucia quips.
“No, it can’t,” I say firmly.
Rielle and Seth share a glance, and the playful tone feels like it loses its footing, snagging on the words hanging in the air. I take a deep breath and peer at the shore. “So Thomas drew the short straw this time?”
Seth smirks. “Nope. I did. Hanging out with them is a pain in the ass. But we have to sit here and wait anyway, and since it’s the first not-cloudy day in like a month, these two couldn’t help themselves.”
Lucia hauls herself back up over the railing, her black one-piece almost as scandalous as Rielle’s bikini. It plunges deep in the front and back, and she wears it well.
“In your dreams, Cap,” Lucia says, twisting her hair out a little too close to his boots. “He’s just jealous that I repeatedly beat his ass with my double-back twist.”
Seth looks to the sky like he’s pleading for help. “That’s not a double-back twist! You can’t just fling yourself into the air and call it a double-back twist!”
“Everyone be quiet! I have to concentrate,” Rielle demands, lifting her long arms above her head. She takes a deep breath and then jumps, feetfirst, into the water.
I walk to the railing, looking over into the water. It’s more blue than black, since we’re closer to the shore. For the first time in a while, I feel the longing that used to tug on me back in the summers before all this happened. I miss the water being a friend.
Rielle emerges, spitting a mouthful of water before looking up. “How was that?”
Lucia rolls her eyes next to me. “That isn’t anything! That’s like stepping into the ocean! So . . . perfect ten for stepping into the ocean.”
Rielle glares up, indignant. “That is too a thing! It’s called a pencil jump—look it up!”
“And how would I do that, genius?” Lucia shoots back.
“You’re both ridiculous,” Seth sighs, the apple dangling from his hand.
I don’t know if it’s the sunshine, the shallows, or the company, but he’s the opposite of the taut, on-guard captain I saw last night.
Lucia reaches out, grabbing the apple with one hand before crunching into it.
“Okay, smartass. You go.” She gestures to Seth. “Show us what you got.” She wipes the apple juice off her chin with the back of her hand.
“Hard pass. You two are terrible judges,” he replies. “I’ll get ten points from Rielle for getting wet and three from you because I didn’t break my neck.”
Lucia opens her mouth to argue, but I tap the eraser of the pencil against the pad as I speak up.
“I’ll do it.”
Lucia looks to me. “And what are your qualifications?” she asks, and I assume she’s half kidding. I straighten my shoulders.
“Well. My sister was the number one level-ten gymnast in the state, and I was at every competition, so. I know a thing or two. I can for sure tell if something is a twisting double-back.”
Lucia purses her lips, finally smiling at my minor correction and veiled challenge.
Rielle laughs. “Oh hell yeah, she’s got the jargon and everything.”
Seth’s mouth curves up into a smile as Lucia and I turn to him.
“All right. We got the Summer Olympics happening right now. She’s our judge. Let’s do this.” Lucia hits her hand on the railing and climbs up.
“This is us killing time waiting for Thomas before we commit more crimes,” Rielle says, reaching the top of the ladder and swinging her feet to the deck.
Lucia hoists herself up on the railing. “The world has gone to shit. I say this is a redo of the 2020 Olympics—it’s the Olympics. You ready?” she asks me. I nod, lifting a hand to shield my eyes from the sun.
Lucia turns around and goes up on her toes. I bite the inside of my lip, surprised how the little movement fills me with longing. Vanessa. I shake the thoughts away. I can’t afford to start crying now. Not after last night. Seth probably already thinks I’m fragile enough.
Lucia jumps backward, bringing her knees to her chest as she twists and flips once, then twice. Her twist is only one-fourth of a twist, though, not half. She plunges into the water. For a moment, I think about giving it to her. It won’t hurt to maybe not have her hate me.
But something about Lucia makes me wonder if she under-twisted on purpose, just to see if I really know anything.
She breaks the surface and looks at me expectantly.
“A one-fourth twist double-back,” I say. “I give it a nine-point-four. Your legs came apart a little at the end. But other than that, it was good.”
Lucia regards me for a moment, and I wonder if she’s just plotting what swear words she’s going to use to tell me off. But she purses her lips and gives a small nod. “I’ll take it.”
“Nine-point-four. Not bad,” Seth says, sliding off the railing. He pulls his shirt over his head. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing that chest. I wasn’t in the mindset to admire it last night, but I am now. And I do, as he climbs up onto the railing.
“Double front,” he says, looking down at me.
I cock an eyebrow. “Proceed,” I say. He turns, his back muscles rippling in the sunlight as he raises his arms above his head. Then he jumps, tucking his legs in and executing a perfect double-front flip.
Rielle and I laugh, and even Lucia claps when he breaks the surface, flicking the water out of his face.
“How was that?” he calls.
“I don’t know. His toes weren’t pointed,” Lucia says.
Rielle smiles, catching on. “Yeah. And I think he over-rotated.”
I make a show of thinking about it before I lean over the railing. “Nine-point-three,” I call down, and Seth smiles knowingly, nodding as he runs a hand through his wet hair.
“I sense a prejudicial judging panel,” he calls up.
I smile as the sunlight warms my face and Seth climbs back up over the railing. He points to Lucia, who shrieks and warns him with a don’t you dare, but he grabs her and throws her over his shoulder
and jumps in.
Rielle joins, and I find a comfortable perch on the railing. I’ve written down everything I can remember, but my hand still idly holds the pencil. Soon, I find myself sketching. I sketch Rielle as she climbs out of the water, fingers adjusting her straps. I sketch Lucia as she dunks Seth. Somewhere in there, I loosen my mirrored bands and set them next to me. I look at my skin, and the indentations the glass has left over the soft blond hair.
The wind whispers across the deck and rustles my paper, and for a moment . . . just a moment, I’m still.
And I know this can’t last. I know.
If the Vessels don’t catch me, then the Runners will. If I escape them both, then my own lies will have the privilege of finishing me off.
But right now, just for a moment, just for half an hour, I’m a teenage girl again. And I’m listening to squawking laughter and splashing waves.
And I don’t ask why they don’t ask me to jump in, because I’ll have to fully realize that they probably remember what happened last time I went in the water. And I don’t let myself wish I could slip into Rielle’s extra bikini and show off my own flawless double-back. I don’t let myself imagine what it would be like to feel Seth’s eyes on me.
I don’t.
I look at the words on the page, trying and failing not to glance down at the captain in the water.
It’s less than an hour later when the sounds in the water below go silent. Fearing the worst, I look over the edge. Seth, Lucia, and Rielle are looking in the same direction. I follow their line of sight, and my heart seizes in my chest. A small fishing boat bobs in the water, not even two hundred yards away. Seth turns to Lucia. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I know by the way that his jaw sets that the fun is over. He swims to the ladder and climbs up in the amount of time it takes me to slide off the railing. His eyes are lit as he walks quickly to the stairs, disappearing below. Lucia is next, her expression matching his.
Rielle is last.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“We don’t know. Could be a scouting ship. Could be a family in trouble. Either way, we’re not going to just leave it.”
My heart leaps. It’s a complete long shot, but there’s a chance that Harlow, Vanessa, or Dean could be on that ship.
I pull the mirrored bands back on as Seth and Lucia emerge from below deck, iron blades at their sides.
Seth stops when he sees me pulling the bands over my arms. “You’re staying here. Rielle?”
Rielle pauses as she reaches the top of the stairs that lead below deck. Seth points at me, and she inclines her head.
My chest tightens. I can’t just sit here. I need to do something. If Dean is on that boat, or Harlow, or Vanessa . . . I look to the blades on Seth’s belt. I can’t explain it—but the need builds inside me like a dam.
“No,” I bark, shoving myself to my feet. Seth reels around, his expression drawn.
“This isn’t a discussion,” he growls.
I step forward, meeting his eyes. “It’s not. I need to go with you, Seth.” I glare at him. “I have to go.”
It’s low, and I feel the shift in his understanding. I’m letting him believe that it’s a Chosen One reason. I’m letting him believe that this is prophecy-level stuff.
He moves closer to me, his breathing harsh. His eyes stay fixed over my shoulder on the boat that’s coming closer every second, but his words are just for me. “You come with me, you do as I say. No arguments, no hero shit. Got it?”
I nod, and he turns back to the ladder without another word.
We ride the dinghy over the whitecaps, Lucia sitting at the motor. She kills the engine as we get closer and shoots me a look over her shoulder. She raises her blade, as if to check that I’m armed. I lift the machete Seth handed me before we left, and she looks away, satisfied.
The boat is small enough to go from bow to stern in about fifteen steps, and the sides are rusted and dented. I look at the name—Heaven Sent—and run the words along everything I remember, but nothing clicks. We drift closer to the metal ladder that hangs over the side, and Seth grabs it, pulling our raft closer.
I am the last one up, and climb over the railing without making a sound. I keep my eyes downcast, watching the world in the cracked reflection of my mirrors. Seth and Lucia walk toward the bow, blades drawn. Rielle stands in front of me, knives in both hands. There’s a lot of luggage—duffel bags and suitcases. I walk past a rolling pink carry-on with Disney princesses on the front.
It’s covered in blood.
I look up at Rielle, and I see the tenseness in her shoulders.
Something bad happened here.
The sound of the waves lapping against the side of the boat mixes with our footsteps as Seth makes his way to the cabin.
He looks back at us as he reaches for the door handle, lifting his blade once, twice, and—
He pulls the door open and immediately takes three steps back, coughing and retching. Lucia swears, covering her nose with her forearm. It takes a couple extra seconds for the stench to reach Rielle and me, but when it does, it’s so bad that I almost pass out. It’s a mix of rotten meat and waste, all locked in a hotbox and cooked. My eyes water as I whip around, pulling my shirt over my nose and mouth. When I look back, Seth is taking a tentative step inside the cabin. Lucia pulls her tank top over her head and ties it around her face, then follows Seth in nothing but shorts and a hot-pink sports bra.
I move to follow, but Rielle grabs my arm.
“Don’t,” she says softly. I turn to her, ready to argue. But the look in her eyes isn’t concern—it’s something else. She’s not worried about me getting injured. She’s sparing me from whatever is inside the cabin. Part of me says that I should push on. That if the bodies in there are Dean or Harlow or Vanessa, I want to know.
But the smell is overpowering, and I can’t imagine what it looks like in there. If the people I love are in there, then I’m better off not knowing.
It’s quiet for a second, and then Seth and Lucia come back out. Seth lowers his blade, his shoulders sagging. He has a paper in his left hand, and he stares at it.
Lucia pulls the shirt off her face and leans forward, bracing her hands on her knees. She walks over to the side, leans over, and vomits.
I don’t ask. I don’t need to. I can tell by the way Seth paces by the railing that there are no survivors.
“A log of their distress calls. They hailed Torch Enforcers six times a day for two weeks,” Seth says, whipping around. “No answer. And you know why?”
He crumples the paper and throws it to the side. I’ve never seen this kind of fire in Seth’s eyes before. It’s something past rage. It’s despair, lit from within. His breathing is ragged; his hands ball into fists before opening again.
“Because it was a couple of families. Blue-collar parents, from the looks of it. And . . .” He stops, blinking for a second. Tears bite the back of my eyes as I see him struggle to find the words. His voice cracks, and he cocks his jaw. “And kids. And he would have told the Torch Enforcers to leave it alone. To focus on the big picture.”
“Who?” I ask quietly. Rielle turns away and runs a hand through her hair. I look up as Seth’s eyes find mine. A dark, hollow laugh rips from his throat.
“Who? My father. You want to know why I left? Why Evelyn left? Because we found out how my father and Genevieve were dictating who the Torch helped. People with money. Skills they deemed necessary. Young people. Politicians. Bureaucrats. Abel has been trying to reverse that since he took power, but . . .” Seth gestures to the boat. “And now that he’s gone . . .”
Seth shakes his head and turns away. I don’t even realize I’m crying until I taste the tears that slip over my lips. I open my mouth, but the words die in my throat as I see a shadow rise up in the tinted, distorted window of the cabin. For half a second, I think it’s Rielle, coming back around. But it limps slowly toward the door. A terrible, croaking sound rips from its throat, and every step it takes makes a b
ubbling sound, like it’s stepping through puddles of blood.
“Seth!” I shriek as the Vessel careens onto the deck. Seth spins around, lifting his blade as Lucia shoves herself upright.
“Charlotte! Look away! Now!” Seth screams, and I drop my gaze to my mirrors as I raise my knife. Rielle runs back up the side of the boat as more croaking grunts join the fray. There are more Vessels. Lucia ducks as what used to be a man in a mechanic’s jumpsuit lunges for her. She switches the blade between her hands as she comes back up and swings it wide. The Vessel’s head falls to the deck with a sickening thud.
“Rielle!” Seth calls, cutting off a head as he kicks another Vessel into Rielle’s swinging blade. It falls to the deck. I can’t count how many there are—they are moving too fast, and it’s hard to tell in my small, cracked mirrors. But it would only take one to end me.
I hear it before I see it, and I smell it even before then. Heavy footfalls sound behind me, and I tilt my wrist to see it in the reflection.
It used to be a woman. She’s wearing a flowery dress, and has a crucifix necklace stuck in the decaying flesh above her breastbone. Her eyes are a violent, hateful red. My hands shake as I redouble my grip on the blade.
I’ve never killed one before. I’ve never had to.
I hear Seth scream at me, but the Vessel’s grunt drowns out what he’s saying. I shut my eyes tight, lift my blade, and swing as hard as I can.
I feel some resistance as the sword hits, but the grunting stops and my arm follows through. Blood hits me in the face as I hear a disgusting thunk, followed by a dull thud. The Vessel’s head and body. I keep my eyes shut as my heartbeat pounds loudly in my ears.
The sound around me fades back in, and it’s just the ocean again. No grunts. No screams.
I open my eyes slowly, keeping them down. My mirrors are covered in blood, and I wipe them on my pants as I turn and check the rest of the deck in the reflection.
Seth’s in front of me before I know what’s happening, and I jump as his hands touch my face. I shut my eyes and let out a small shriek.
“Charlotte, it’s me,” he says softly. “You’re okay.”
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