The Curseclean descend upon the crew of the Cobalt, fighting for their lives.
I don’t have time to second-guess myself. I reach behind me, pulling the knives out from the elastic of my sports bra. With one swipe, I do what I’d seen Harlow practice a thousand times—I run the blade along the back of Gloves’s knees.
I feel the tendons snap like rubber bands under the serrated edges, and I have to bite back the bile that rises in the back of my throat. The sound that comes out of his mouth rips through me like a physical blow, and I know before he’s even hit the deck that it’s a sound that’s been imprinted on my bones.
I fall backward, and it takes everything in me to not drop the knife as blood oozes over my fingers. The man writhes on the deck, and I feel Thomas’s hands on my arms as he hoists me to my feet.
We’re running, and I don’t ask questions. Thomas’s hand is slick with blood, and I don’t know if it’s his or Braid’s or Gloves’s or someone else’s. I follow, my eyes raking over the chaos unfolding on the Cobalt’s deck as he leads me back across to our ship.
My eyes search. Him. That had to mean something. Vanessa loves Dean like a brother. If her Chosen One–ness was going to give her visions about one him, it would be Dean. But I don’t see him.
Lucia kicks a man square in the chest before spinning and loosing two blades straight into another man’s throat. Rielle slides down a rope from the mast and crouches next to her, firing arrow after arrow until her quiver is empty. Then, she pulls a blade from her boot.
I look over at the deck—I didn’t see Seth get away.
A strange new wildfire lights in my chest as I realize that I need to.
I need to know he’s safe.
Bile rises in my throat again as my eyes search, raking hungrily over the tangle of fighting bodies until I see him. He’s at the other end of the ship—the bow parallel to ours. His face is smeared with blood, his teeth bared as he fights a man with two blades.
It’s then that I realize we’re back at the stairwell, and Thomas is trying to usher me inside.
“No,” I mumble, craning to look over his shoulder as I try to pull my arms from his grip.
“Charlotte, they know who you are. You need to hide,” Thomas shouts, letting go of my arms to put his hands on the side of my face.
The closeness startles me, and I meet his eyes. There’s no anger there—just desperation.
“You need to hide,” he says again. “They know we’re with the Chosen One, Charlotte. We’ll be fine. But Seth will only worry about you. Get below.”
At the mention of Seth’s name, I look back again to Seth as he fights on the Cobalt.
I see it just as it happens.
The man has Seth against the railing, and Seth is so focused on the man in front of him that he doesn’t see the opponent slinking up from behind. He doesn’t see the man lifting a harpoon by the hilt—a stick of unforgiving iron.
The air gathers in my lungs, but gets caught somewhere in my throat as the man with the harpoon brings it down, cracking Seth over the back of the head. Seth staggers, grabbing the railing before the man in front of him shoves him with both hands.
And then he tumbles over the bow and into the black waves below.
Chapter 26
I DON’T SCREAM, BUT THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE I CAN’T breathe.
Seth cuts through the water with a sickening splash, and the air whooshes out of my lungs as I shove past Thomas.
Seth, I finally scream, surprised that the sound is coming from me.
Thomas scrambles behind me as I sprint to the bow of the ship, my eyes searching the dark water. He understands, because the terror on his face is real as I turn to him and panic grips me as the reality of what just happened slices through my mind. Seth is unconscious. He’s unconscious in the water.
Time is already running out.
I whip around, falling to my knees as I rip the cabinet door open so hard that it almost comes off the hinges. I lug the rope out.
“Help me!” I cry, and Thomas is there, lifting the rope. I tie a knot onto the railing and then grab the other end. I don’t think as I wrap the rope around my center.
Thomas tries to stop me, but I slap him off, casting a glance across the way. Lucia lets out a wild yell as she swings her blade at a Runner, while Rielle ushers two Curseclean out of the hull. We’re the only ones who can do this.
“He’s unconscious. He can’t climb, and I’m not strong enough to pull us up. I can grab him. I’ll tug twice. Then you pull.”
“Charlotte,” Thomas starts, and I see the hesitation in his eyes. They talked, I know. I know Seth told him about what happened the night they took me from the Devil’s Bid.
I froze, and there’s no promise that I won’t freeze again. In fact, that’s what I’m thinking. It’s the reason my fingers shake as I finish the knot around my waist.
It’s the reason I don’t say anything as I climb over the railing. The water was calm earlier, but it isn’t now. It churns, almost like the violence above is calling to its likeness below.
I look over my shoulder at Thomas. He knows I’m right. He can’t go in, because I can’t get them out.
If I don’t jump in this water, Seth dies. I wish I could tell myself that the thought of him slipping below the waves is enough to propel me forward, but it’s not.
It wasn’t when Vanessa was under, either, and she’s my sister.
“Shove me, Thomas,” I order.
“What?” he calls, incredulousness coloring his voice. I want to be strong enough to let go on my own, but terror has taken over. I sank last time. All I have to do now is just sink again. I don’t have to swim. I have to go deep, find Seth, and tug twice.
“Shove me, dammit!” I screech, and Thomas listens. Two wide hands find the center of my back, and my head snaps back as Thomas pushes me off the edge of the railing.
The water is as cold as it’s ever been. As it wraps around me like a fist, the terror it conjures up in my bones is as bad as I expected. I’m freezing and burning at the same time, the bubbles from my terrified screams fluttering against my cheeks and nose like taunting kisses.
I thrash, the unending weight of the ocean pressing into my nose and throat, demanding the air from my lungs as the price for my intrusion.
I kick against the water.
Once. Twice.
Three times.
The bloated bellies of the warring ships hover over my head, obscuring the already low light. I can’t see well. It’s all bubbles and light shafts. I feel like I’m being swallowed, and the panic swells.
But I kick again. I push against the water as the voice tells me that I am too afraid to move.
No, I’m not.
I’m swimming then, my arms reaching, searching. I can’t lose him. I won’t lose him.
The thought crashes into me, wringing more bubbles from my lungs and sending the fear scattering.
I won’t lose him.
And then I feel him. Cold, unmoving fingers brush against my arm. I let out a shriek, and my lungs burn. Not from fear, I realize, but from the need for oxygen. How long have I been down here?
I wrap my arms around Seth and reach up, pulling twice on the rope as hard as I can. I dig my fingers into him so hard that I’m sure he’s bleeding. The rope lurches, dragging me so fast that I almost lose my grasp on Seth. I redouble my grip and wrap my legs around his waist.
He’s not moving. I shove the thought away, tightening my legs around him so hard that my muscles scream. We break the surface, and air floods my lungs as I let out a loud gasp. Seth is limp in my arms, and I shake him. Nothing.
The rope bites into my middle so painfully that I cry out, but I don’t let go. I won’t.
They pull us up, up, up, and then we’re at the railing. Lucia is there, reaching over. Rielle grabs my shoulders as Thomas and Lucia and a couple other people I’ve never seen before hoist us onto the deck.
I cough, sputtering and shaking as Rielle flips Seth
onto his back. She tilts his head and puts her ears to his lips.
The look on her face tells me what I already knew—he’s not breathing.
She starts compressions, and I don’t move. I don’t know if I even breathe. Blood mixes with seawater as Rielle pumps, and I remember the man and the harpoon. My fingers still shake as I work the knot, pulling the rope from my waist. The rope burn on my skin is so bad that it burns, the stinging from the salt water only registering as I look at it.
I’ve seen this before.
Flashes of Vanessa and Harlow flicker in my memory. The way Harlow’s face was set. The way Vanessa’s limp hand lurched with every compression.
But Vanessa was alive. Vanessa lived.
“He’s bleeding. Can you tilt him? I can compress it,” I bite out, though my teeth are chattering so hard that I don’t know how I get the words out. Rielle nods, pressing her lips together as she tilts Seth, and someone hands me a T-shirt, which I ball up and shove against the back of his head. I inspect the wound—it’s more to the side of the head than on the direct back. A shallow scalp wound—the type that bleeds a lot but isn’t as scary as it looks.
“Rielle?” Thomas whispers, and Rielle shakes her head.
And I can’t look at her face. I can’t see what I saw in Harlow that night. I can’t see the hopelessness in them.
I press the shirt against the wound and I pray.
The words slip out before I can stop them.
Please, I’m whispering. Please.
If there’s a plan for all of this, Seth has to be in it.
“Please, God,” I whisper. I pull myself closer to him, letting my fingers of my free hand find his jaw. Water drips from the edge of my nose and lands on his lips. “You’re not done here yet. Not like this.”
I believe like I wanted to the night Vanessa was on a ship just like this. I should have fought then. Hope is worth something, and I feel it—a defiance, a wild spark in my chest.
I look up, expecting Rielle’s expression to be full of pity, or sadness. But her gaze is lit from behind, and her mouth moves quickly, though I can’t hear what she’s saying. She nods once, urging me on.
And then Seth coughs, and Thomas lets out a string of swear words as Seth turns, spitting up water, and Rielle pats him on the back, hard.
He’s alive.
My mind is spinning, fighting with my heart as a small weed blooms between the bricks. A small thought I don’t want.
I push back, shoving myself to my feet as I turn to look at the deck.
My feet are so cold I can’t feel my toes. I look around as the Curseclean find each other on the deck, hugging and crying. My eyes rove over the faces, desperate for something familiar. Someone familiar.
Find him on the dark blue. This has to be it. It has to. Dean has to be safe.
Seth talks to Rielle, her hands in fists against his back as she embraces him. She sets her forehead against his, closing her eyes as she says something to him. The sight is like a spear through my chest, and I whip around, my eyes desperately raking over the deck, looking for him.
Dean.
He should be here.
Lucia is behind Thomas, crouching with one hand on the railing, relief plain on her face. She stands, wiping her nose with the back of her hand before turning to face the dozen people huddled in the center of our ship. I walk over to her.
“Are there any other people on the Cobalt?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Rielle said there were empty cells down there still. If there were more people, that’s where they’d be. I mean, there was a locked hall, but that’s where they’ll put the Exposed, if there are any—”
“So we just leave them down there?”
“What else can we do, Charlotte?”
I don’t wait for her to finish. I stalk across the deck until I find Gray Hoodie, still hunched over his mutilated leg. He spits a curse at me as I kneel down next to him. I feel Lucia come up behind me.
“Charlotte. We have to go. They hailed another ship as we approached—more Runners. It could be Maddox.”
I ignore her as I lean closer to Gray Hoodie.
“How many Exposed are there?” I ask. He groans, breathing in gasps of air through clenched, yellowing teeth.
“Go to hell, you stupid bitch.” He turns, and his sweatshirt lifts slightly as more blood from the wound gushes onto the deck. And I see it, hooked on a belt loop—a ring of keys.
I reach out and snatch them. He tries to stop me but howls in pain when he takes his hand off his knee.
“Come back here! Come back here!” he screams as I step away. He struggles to get up, like he’s going to follow me or something, but Rielle shoves him back to the deck with her boot before taking off after me.
I hear Seth call my name, but I don’t turn back.
Lucia runs up beside me. I expect her to try and stop me, and I’m ready to fight. But her shoulders are set as she strides alongside me. “We have to move quickly.”
“Char, we have to go,” Rielle calls.
“Get them back to the ship, and get ready to haul ass,” Lucia hollers.
3A, the one with the teeth.
I feel the spinning in my gut. Dean. Hold on, Dean. I’m coming.
I sprint to the stairs and tear down below. “Where was the locked hall?” I cry.
The levels have numbers etched on the walls. 1. 2. 3.
I know where it will be before she answers. “Three,” Lucia answers.
My heart is beating so hard it feels like it might shatter my ribs. I stop at the third level and pull out the keys.
There are at least thirty. We don’t have the time.
Then, I see it. A key with serrated edges that come to perfect, symmetrical points. The key almost looks like a mountain range. Or teeth.
My heart staggers in my chest.
“This one,” I breathe, pulling it loose with shaky fingers. I slip the metal into the lock and twist. It takes both my hands before the lock turns with a deep, booming click.
A thrill rushes through me, and I let out a sharp gasp as I pull the door open as hard as I can.
“Let me check first,” Lucia says, pushing past me. I lift my arms and survey the hall through my mirrors, then lower one arm to grasp my knife from the back of my pants.
The hall inside is dark, and the air is musty and damp, like it’s been closed for some time. The doors on all sides are closed, their windows blocked out with black plastic. Lucia pulls a small flashlight from her pocket and illuminates the shadows.
“Dean?” I whisper sharply. It’s silent, and I step farther inside. “Dean!” My voice echoes and Lucia whips around, her finger to her lips.
But besides the soft hum of the motor and the trickle of water, there isn’t a sound.
Then, I hear it. A groan, from the back.
“Dean,” I breathe. My feet move on their own, and Lucia has to struggle to keep up. I skid to a stop at the last door and yank it open, keeping my eyes fixed on my mirrors.
He’s huddled in the corner of the room on a thin, dirty mattress. His hair is greasy and hangs over his forehead, and he holds his hands up to shield his eyes as Lucia directs the beam to his eyes.
His yellow eyes.
“Dean,” I whisper, lowering the mirrors. But as I drop to my knees in front of him, I see the confusion on his face.
All at once, my heart sputters to a stop. Because it’s not Dean in the cell.
It’s Abel Lassiter.
Chapter 27
“HE HASN’T EATEN OR SLEPT IN ABOUT A WEEK, I’D guess,” Thomas says. “But other than that? He’s fine. No signs of torture or permanent damage.”
We’re sitting in the kitchen an hour later. It took Rielle, Thomas, Lucia, and me to get Abel off the boat—he was too weak to walk by himself and, truth be told, he had no reason to trust us.
Seth wanted to help, but Lucia said she’d kill him, so he paced the deck until we brought Abel over.
Abel, who pulled free
from my grasp to hobble toward Seth, who, in turn, launched himself at his friend with such fierceness it brought tears to my eyes.
Abel trusted us then. We got him clean clothes and some water. Seth found him a bed as Thomas revved the engine as high as it could go. Lucia disabled the Cobalt’s rudder, so they’re dead in the water. I watched the ship disappear over the horizon, and I’ve kept my gaze out the window since then.
Vanessa’s prophecy wasn’t about Dean. It was about Abel.
We saved the leader of the free world. That means something. And Seth isn’t dead—that means something. I feel different now, like a bone has been set. It still aches, but there’s a rightness about it.
But I thought I’d be holding Dean tonight. I thought, for a few brief minutes, that I’d hear his laugh. I’m having a hard time letting that thought go.
“I’m going to go to bed,” I whisper. Rielle rubs my back as I slip across her lap and out of the booth. “Will you check on Seth?” she asks.
I stop, lowering myself on her knees as confusion slips over my face. I don’t know if everyone knows about Rielle and Seth, and I don’t want to broadcast something private. “I figured you would. When you, you know. Went to bed,” I whisper.
Rielle’s brow furrows, and then she lets out a snort laugh. “What?” Realization slips over her features. “Oh. Oh,” she says, shaking her head. “No. Seth is like . . . he’s like my brother. You thought . . .” She makes a face across the table, and I turn to see Lucia and Thomas holding back smiles.
“What?” I ask. Lucia presses her lips together as she stands, gathering her dishes.
“Seth is . . . not my type,” Rielle says gently, cocking her eyebrow meaningfully.
“Oh,” I say, twisting to look down at Rielle. I realize what she’s saying. “Oh. I just assumed, when you said you met someone in the Torch, that it was . . . Seth.”
A small flicker of sadness crosses her expression, and she wrinkles her nose. “No, babe. She and I . . . we had different ideas about how the world should be saved.”
“Sorry,” I say quietly, and Rielle wraps her arms around my waist and lays her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her.
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