Seafire

by Natalie C. Parker

  They would run. They would survive. Pisces had been right all along. Caledonia’s crew was the finest on the seas. They were smart and brave and skilled, and she was so proud to have been their captain. She hadn’t trusted herself to say goodbye in person, so she did it now as she floated in their wake. In her mind, she listed the names of her entire crew one after the other, alive and dead. She imagined the funeral they would hold for Redtooth and the others they’d lost. She imagined how Nettle’s skill would grow, how Tin would find her stride, how Amina and Hime might allow themselves to be happy together. She imagined Pisces leading them to a better life and Oran and Ares discovering who they were without Silt in their veins. And as the Mors Navis disappeared from view, she imagined her heart a stone, tumbled smooth by the ocean and lost far beneath its surface. The ship had been her home for her entire life. It had been destroyed and repaired and made into a home for so many others. Now it was gone. And she felt certain she would never see it again.

  There was no time to waste. She needed to get close to the battered Electra before the fleet arrived so she was in the best position possible for boarding the Bale Blossom. The tow moved forward at a steady pace, churning the water softly around her. Breathing through the blue lung was odd and it took her several minutes to adjust to seeing water beyond her mask and inhaling safely anyway. Her wetsuit made the biting cold just bearable. Beneath it, she wore a fitted black biosuit that would reflect her body heat back to her skin once she was clear of the water. On her back, she carried a small waterproof pack containing a single remote charge and her gun.

  And in her belt, she carried a simple dagger.

  Though her compass glowed softly in the dark and the needle was clear to see, she felt as though she moved aimlessly in the dark. Maybe Pisces found the sensation relaxing, but Caledonia was not so friendly with the underside of the sea.

  She heard them before she saw them. The roar of their engines carried under the water, bringing her to the surface in a rush. Six ships poured around the eastern peninsula, ghost funnels crooning their discordant tones, with none other than the Bale Blossom in the lead.

  Lir.

  She imagined his face, smiling on the beach. She imagined the stiff sweep of his hair and the crooked tilt of his ear, the star-pale glimmer of his eyes.

  Her sadness burned away until all that remained was her fury, black as a solar scale and full of power.

  She waited until the Bale Blossom slowed its pace. They would take only a few minutes to study the scene before one if not all of these ships turned to track her girls. The mines would slow them down, and by the time they were pursuing in earnest, they’d have lost the trail entirely. In order to pursue at all, they’d have to send ships in three different directions. That was the promise of the open ocean. With enough time and distance, you could lose anything.

  But before any of that happened, she would be aboard Lir’s ship.

  She might have missed her chance to save Donnally. But there was a small dagger tucked into a sheath at her waist. And it was time to return it to its rightful owner.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The hull of the Bale Blossom was smooth under Caledonia’s cold fingertips. The air snaked around her body as she climbed, attached to the bend of metal at the hands and knees by mag-grips.

  She’d stripped out of her wetsuit before leaving the water and abandoned it along with her tow. It would circle at a depth of thirty feet while it had the power to do so, and if by some perfect sequence of events she made it back to the water, all she’d need to do was press the remote tucked safely inside her sack and it would return to her. The biosuit was nothing but a thin layer of black fabric, but with the hood cinched tight beneath her chin and her hair tucked away, it cut through the chill and kept her teeth from chattering.

  Her muscles strained with effort and cold, but she kept her movements controlled and precise, ensuring her mag-grips connected with the hull as soundlessly as possible. Finally, she was over the railing and sliding into the protective shadows of the command tower.

  A roar of laughter from belowdecks brought her to a full stop, body pressed against the wall, but the top deck of the Bale Blossom was mostly free of its crew. Everyone was in their stations, and the few who weren’t were moving so quickly they barely gave her a second glance. Still, she proceeded with caution.

  It was eerie to be here. The ship was as tidy as her own but ringed with evidence of its terrible trade. The entire railing was lined in steel spits of varying lengths and widths, pointing in all directions. Most were decorated with bones in several stages of decay. Others were bare, ready to receive a fresh kill. High on the tower, a ghost funnel was mounted with its metal mouth stretched wide to catch the wind. It was simple, almost elegant, but managed to look haunting. Like the mouth of a great whale poised to engulf anything in its path. Standing beneath it, Caledonia couldn’t help but imagine its thin screams. How terrible would it be to hear them this close?

  Based on the very little she knew of Lir, she expected his cabin would be as convenient to the bridge as possible, giving him the quickest access at all times. Caledonia pried her eyes away from the funnel and moved carefully toward one of two hatches directly beneath the bridge. Pausing outside the first, she listened for anything that might suggest the room was occupied. Then, readying her gun, she pushed through the hatch.

  Inside, the room was beautiful. Lined with panels of polished wood and filled with handsome chairs, a low table, a desk. But Lir wasn’t here. The room was empty.

  Though she would have loved to investigate, to run her hands across the gleaming surface of the walls and search for information about Aric’s Bullet fleet, it wasn’t her mission. She pulled the door softly shut behind her and moved to the next room, again pausing to listen for any indication that someone was inside. Hearing nothing, she pushed the hatch open to find what was clearly Lir’s chamber.

  No simple Bullet would enjoy the luxury of a private room. The bed was large and made with sheets that were as smooth as a mirrored surface. One entire wall was painted to match the hull and was covered in a riot of baleflowers. A doorway to her left led to what must surely be a private bathroom, and at the foot of the bed sat a large metal chest decorated with exquisite twists of multicolored metal she’d only seen in one other place.

  She hurried to the bed, slinging her sack around to retrieve the charge she’d taken from Amina. It was a failsafe. She wanted to kill Lir with her own two hands, but if that didn’t happen, she’d either need a distraction or a backup plan. It wouldn’t do much to damage the ship, but it would be more than sufficient to take out a single person. Flipping the sensor, she crouched and secured it beneath the bed.

  She stood, eyes coming to rest once more on the mural. It had been painted with a skilled hand. The flowers curved in and around one another, bending over the porthole window so gracefully they seemed to be in motion, and brushed into the center of each one, a faint blush of blue. Had it been Lir? It was strange to ascribe this kind of art to any Bullet, least of all the man who slaughtered her family. Still, there was something about her memories of the boy from the beach that lent themselves to this kind of work.

  “They are perfect, don’t you think?”

  Caledonia tried to spin, but hands closed firmly over her arms, holding her still. She tried again to yank herself free and felt the rock of his chest.

  “I think they’re perfect.” He spoke again, voice curling like a smile. It was a voice she’d recognize anywhere. “Symmetrical and persistent. Rather like you, Caledonia Styx.” Her hood was ripped from her head, snapping the clasp beneath her chin and revealing her red hair. Lir leaned even closer, his breath burning along her cheek. She couldn’t see it, but she was sure he smiled.

  A dark realization snaked through Caledonia’s mind: He wasn’t surprised to find her here.

  “Did you know that in the old world, scientists en
gineered them to survive?” Lir continued. “The story goes that they were in crisis; crops were failing the world over partly because bees and insects were coming out too soon or too late to pollinate. As a result, all sorts of crops failed to produce their fruits and vegetables. So scientists selected a flower for its grace and endurance and used its genes to create a new flower that could bloom under nearly any circumstance all year round. Of course, this was the old world, and while they wanted to prolong its life, they also wanted to defang its dangerous medicinal properties—to divorce the flower from its spirit! They created a disease to wipe out the original flower so that when they released their improved version, it would flourish. But do you know what happened?”

  Caledonia didn’t care. She jerked against his hold again.

  “One survived.”

  He was taller than she was but not by much. And overconfident. She brought her heel down in a sharp kick to his shin. There was slack in his grip for only a second, but that was all she needed. She threw her head back into his face, felt the crack of bone against bone, and then she was free, swiveling to face him.

  Him. Lir. The boy from the beach.

  Time had pulled additional sharpness into his features, making a dangerous edge of his jaw and cheekbones. His hair was still a study in motion, the blond spikes reminding her viscerally of the metal spits along the railing. And his ears, though still seeming to reach for the sun, were less awkward than they’d been four years ago.

  He dragged a thumb across his bottom lip, now bloody from colliding with her head. And he smiled. “One survived, and it was her survival that led to the rise of the baleflower. Her genetic material mixed with that of the engineered blossom, and several generations later . . .” His eyes floated to the mural behind her. “Perfect symmetry. Like this moment.”

  “There is nothing perfect about this moment.” Caledonia tried to ignore the velvet press of his voice in her ears. Tried not to recognize the way her cheeks so vibrantly recalled the graze of his fingers. “Not until I have your blood on my hands.”

  “I always wondered what happened to your ship,” he said, moving easily past her threat. “I went back, of course. We always go back once the fires have gone out, to collect whatever remains and fold it into our fleet, but your ship was gone.”

  Caledonia shuddered to think of her family ship in the hands of Lir or Aric. They would have taken their home and used it to enslave and punish, decorated its perimeter with spits covered in death.

  “I am always happy to disappoint you,” she said.

  Lir nodded. “It was a disappointment, Caledonia. At the time, it was the only part that felt like a failure. Aric does not appreciate waste.” His eyes took on a distant look, and his hand moved absently to a spot on his arm. It lasted only a breath, then his eyes focused on her and his smile returned. “I imagine you were similarly disappointed today.” His eyes skimmed to the sigil on her face, satisfied and knowing.

  Caught off guard, Caledonia let panic drive her words as she aimed her gun at Lir’s chest. “My brother,” she gasped. “Where is my brother?”

  Lir raised his hands. “Aren’t you going to demand I fall to my knees?”

  “Where is my brother?” she demanded again.

  His expression grew serious. “Interested in joining him? I’m not sure you’ll like where that takes you.”

  Forgetting the gun in her hand, Caledonia lunged. She delivered two quick blows, driving him back. He retaliated instantly. His fist crashed into her gut, another into her chin. She staggered back but found her footing again. Before he could close in with another blow, she spun around him, whipping her elbow against the side of his face.

  Lir smiled a bloody smile and struck back hard. Soon, blood spilled from her nose, and her breath was sharp in her lungs. Still she fought with every ounce of rage she had to muster. She fought for her mother’s gap-toothed smile, for her father’s quick wink, and for Donnally’s beautiful voice. She fought for Pisces’s family and every other family from the Ghost. And she fought for Lace and Redtooth and her fierce and loyal crew.

  They spilled through the open hatch and onto the deck, where the cold night air revived them. But they weren’t alone. They stood in a ring of boys and men, Bullets come to attend their leader.

  Caledonia paused at the sight. It was too much of a hesitation. He grabbed her hair and pulled. Her head was wrenched around as Lir turned her to face him, pointing a dagger beneath her chin. He bent close, so close she felt a drop of his blood slide down her cheek toward her ear. His grip tightened.

  “Do you know what I find so exciting about your survival?” Lir’s voice dripped against the side of her face like blood. His blade pressed beneath her chin kept her still.

  “Don’t mistake my presence here for interest in your thoughts.” She spoke boldly, letting derision coat her words.

  “I think you’ll find this one interesting.” Lir’s fist tightened in her hair, his other hand shifted on the knife. “You survived when you shouldn’t have, and you’ve turned yourself into quite the thorn in Aric’s side. Your death will bring him more pleasure than the deaths of your parents and everyone else on that boat. You gave me a great gift that night, Caledonia. And you’re going to give me another tonight.”

  The crew surrounding them began to roar. Lir dragged her around in a tight circle, ensuring she felt the full press of their dangerous rage. They wouldn’t move unless he said so, and until then, they were like sharks in the water. They had the scent of her blood and it left an unnerving light in their eyes.

  Caledonia bared her teeth, the pressure in her scalp growing tighter.

  “Bale Blossom.” Lir moved closer, pressing the side of his face against her cheek. “You survived. And now I get to kill you again and go after your beautiful crew. Where have they gone, by the way? Tell me and this will go much better for you.”

  She drove her elbow into Lir’s stomach and in the same moment reached up to grip his knife hand. There was a flash of a second where she knew this could be the last move she ever made. She had no good options, so she took the one that came with hope.

  His thumb was loose and in her grip. She twisted. Hard. Spinning on the balls of her feet to put distance between herself and the blade. She heard a small pop as Lir’s thumb came out of its socket. He growled, and the knife clattered to the deck.

  She was free. She was completely surrounded by Bullets, but she was no longer in the hands of one.

  “You do like to relieve me of my weapons.” Lir’s voice had lost its edge of delight. “But do you remember last time, Bale Blossom?”

  She caught the familiar look in his eyes just as he charged.

  Too late, she realized she had positioned herself very near the railing. He drove into her, lifting her from her feet and carrying her backward. She was stopped by a sudden pressure. Digging into her back beneath her ribs and so familiar it brought tears to her eyes. On either side of her, metal spits reached in all directions. One of them sliced through her back and into her gut.

  She gasped. Unable to move.

  “You missed one,” Lir said, running a thumb over her bottom lip. “Again.”

  Her hands shook, but she pushed her fingers into her belt and freed the small remote.

  “So did you.”

  She pressed the button. Behind them, an explosion broke the night sky wide open, spilling fire and screams. The blaze burned upward from Lir’s chambers, twisting around the tiers of the command deck.

  Lir was thrown aside in the blast creating just enough space for Caledonia to leverage her body off the spit. She spotted Lir’s prone figure on the deck just a few feet away. Unmoving, but not dead.

  Blood made a hot trail down her back. She pulled her sack from her shoulder, removed the second remote that would call the tow, then tightened the strap low around her middle to stanch the blood.

  It
wouldn’t be long before someone took notice of her. And she was out of fight. She’d failed, but she’d rather die in the black water below than give Lir the pleasure of killing her a second time.

  With weak steps, she hurried toward the quarterdeck where she’d come aboard only an hour earlier. Her vision wavered. She moved, but her feet felt very far away. And suddenly she was in the water.

  She pressed the button. Pressed it again. But the tow didn’t come and she was too weak to wait. Her head slipped beneath the water.

  She sputtered. Breathed in air. Her eyes were so heavy. The world was so heavy. She was draining away and all she wanted to do was sleep.

  “Hoist your eyes.” The once familiar words seemed to travel over a great distance, seemed to be in the voice of her father. “Hoist your eyes!”

  She blinked. And now it was her mother’s voice calling, “Caledonia, hoist your eyes!”

  The night was full of screams and fire. Her family was dying. Just as she was dying.

  Something bumped into her side. Pain was a lance through her body. She wanted to sink into it, to let it obliterate her senses.

  She reached out, felt the smooth handle of the tow beneath her fingertips, found the strap of the blue lung next to it.

  The water lapped all around her, hungry, insistent, frenetic. It didn’t care if she slipped beneath its surface or if she floated half-gasping above. It would push and pull at her body like it was a toy, helping and hindering in equal measure.

  “Hoist your eyes!” The call came again as though from some faraway world. “Nia, hoist your eyes!”

  Donnally this time. The brother she’d loved. The brother she’d lost. The brother who was still out there.

  Her thoughts were slow, like the flow of an icy river. But beneath them was something that burned, a flame that wasn’t ready to go out. Beneath them was the toss of her mother’s red hair, the steady hand of her father, and Donnally’s song. Memories banked like the embers of an old fire. She wasn’t ready to let any of them go.