“All hands! All hands!” Tom shouted.
Molly’s tears dried up. With both hands she wiped her cheeks and grabbed her three pistols before heading back out on deck. She moved to the quarterdeck and rang the alarm bell posted by the helm.
The crew awakened. The fifty or so men below filed onto the main deck. Tom shouted orders from atop the mizzenmast. “Everything that isn’t tied down goes below deck! If you can’t swim, you may want to tie yourself down!”
Molly gazed up at the sky, awestruck. The black night sky bled back like an ink-soaked canvas being washed clean by a bucket of water. Darkness gave way to a congregation of thunder clouds amassing in crowded, towering stacks, stained and surreal, burnt yellow, stretched over the horizon in all directions as far as the human eye could see. Bright orange flashes crashed and rolled across the breadth of the sky like bursts of fire. The visible heavens on the horizon, beneath the lowest clouds, turned deep sienna, and the ocean beneath the ship churned rust brown, as if the bottoms of the sea were being pushed up from their resting places. Large schools of fish appeared at the surface, desperately throwing themselves to the air as if they had all gone mad. Molly heard thousands of them slapping against the hull and falling hopelessly back to the tumbling waves. Something terrible was going to happen, but Molly did not yet know what it would be. The crew hastily complied with their captain’s orders, taking all guns, powder kegs, loose lines and cargo below. Several men reinforced the rigging supporting the sails.
“Expect to get wet, gentlemen!” Defiant and godlike, Tom fired a pistol into the dark sky and laughed loudly. The muzzle flash lit his face and painted harsh shadows against his handsome features. The devils in him shone through. The dark things inside were stirring.
Molly rushed into her cabin and rummaged through her trunk, grabbing her ruby ring from the bottom corner and placing it on her finger. Paying no regard to anything else, she braced herself against one of the walls of her cabin.
The crew—confused and apprehensive—scrambled to finish their preparations. Tom holstered the pistol again and breathed deeply as a strong rush of storm wind howled across the deck of the ship and strained the masts. Lightning cracked and split the sky. The crew mistook it for cannon fire. Most of the men scampered below deck to their quarters to secure personal items. The galley chef, who had been hired to take over for Molly, locked all his tools into chests and put out the cooking fire. The aides scampered about, collecting armfuls of utensils and loose cookware to shut away.
Molly yelped at the sound of her cabin doors being ripped from their top hinge and dangling freely from the wind pressure outside. She secured her pistols tightly around her waist, clinging to the wall. Star charts and other bits of parchment scattered along the cabin floor, her desk completely overturned due to the rocking of the ship.
Tom swayed along with the yardarm. “I never thought I’d see the day …” The thundering clouds caught up with the ship. Streaks of lightning exploded from out of the blackness in rapid succession. The unlucky convoy of merchant ships Tom had spotted approached, tossed about like toys in a bath. Their crews rushed around the decks snatching at cargo that had broken loose and tumbled overboard. A titanic curtain of rain roared toward the ship. The blast of water slapped Tom, stealing his hat and casting it into the sea below.
The few men still on deck were frightened, if not totally petrified. They patrolled the railing, scanning the water at the ship’s sides, looking for something but keeping their heads craned back as if something would bite their heads off at the neck if they leaned too far. A large, rolling wave rose from beneath a nearby merchant ship, raising it high above the others and sending it sailing dangerously close to the starboard side of Tom’s ship. The crew stepped back and braced themselves, but the merchant slipped past. The crewmen were relieved, but Tom watched the merchant with solemn eyes, knowing what would happen next.
As the merchant slowed and the large wave shepherded it away from the others, the seawater beneath seemed to calm and isolate it altogether. Lightning cracked again, illuminating the merchant briefly before it disappeared into the dark. Thunder rang out, and another bolt lit the ocean’s surface. There were only a handful of loose boards where the merchant had floated seconds before. Tom dropped to the main deck, ordering the crew to put out all lanterns and to smother all the fires. “All lights out!”
Crewmen responded obediently. “Aye, sir!”
Tom climbed to the quarterdeck once more, watching the six other merchants behind his ship, still frantically fighting the storm. Molly, mimicking the crew, smothered the bright embers in her fireplace and made her way on deck, clinging to one of the masts for support as she looked around and across the grave waters. The sea thrashed and tumbled over itself. The sky above was continually alight with electric bolts, and the clouds were painted a hellish yellow-brown each time lightning raced along their edges.
Tom looked on in disbelief. “Oblivious. They don’t see it.” He spoke in a hush, watching the helpless merchants. “Put out your lights, you—”
Lightning cracked again. Following the flash, a smaller merchant split in half, its lights quickly extinguished in the salt water. A few desperate shots from the deck guns rang out before the vessel sank.
Molly looked on in shock as the ship was swallowed up in the waves. The destruction was quick, and the cause unknown to her.
Tom yelled out angrily. “Now you’re just inviting it!” He pounded a fist on the railing.
The crew had gathered on deck to observe the phenomenon. Molly spotted Morgan Shaw just a few paces away and called out to him. “What’s happening out there?” Shaw looked at Molly strangely. He moved his mouth slightly, trying to speak as quietly as possible so the crew wouldn’t hear. The storm winds and the hammering rain thwarted his attempts. Slipping through the gawking crowd, he approached her. Still, Shaw failed to deliver the words, his eyes constantly glancing back to the merchants and scanning the dark sea around the ship. Molly followed his gaze out to sea, spotting nothing.
Shaw grabbed Molly’s arm to get her attention once more. “Leviathan,” he said.
Molly’s expression wilted. “What?”
She saw Tom shake his head at the merchant ships. “You’re all dead men,” he muttered.
Lightning ravaged the clouds. In the midst of the hapless merchant ships a titanic, pale, finned body snaked up and back down into the sea like a deathly rainbow. The vermicular form flowed slowly overhead, catching a few strikes of lightning that dissipated across its body and down into the sea. Tens of thousands of little points of light dotted the body like galaxies of stars arranged in straight rows. Fleshy stalks protruded from the body as well, topped by the same glowing spots. The beast’s head descended back toward the sea, emerging from the lowest clouds in a swift dive. Its open mouth revealed irregularly positioned teeth that were long and thin. Two sets of four, sightless eyes sat along the high ridges of the serpentine head. As the body, covered in all manner of oceanic growth, followed the head down, the tail crashed heavily through the sea’s surface, spraying a column of salt water high into the air as if to rival the pouring rain. The spray reached Tom’s ship, further drenching the men on deck.
Molly stumbled back into Shaw from the force of the spray, her eyes wide in fear of what she’d just witnessed. Shaw unintentionally clung to Molly as he fell under the weight of the deluge. Standing once more and hoarsely clearing his lungs of the water, he helped her to her feet. Molly sputtered, coughing out the briny swill in her throat and clutching Shaw’s arm to steady herself.
Tom looked on silently through the blasting rain as another merchant was taken, this time by a large, gaping mouth. Monstrous, translucent teeth snared the hull and a giant, clammy tongue collapsed the main deck like an eggshell. The merchant sank beneath the surface as the teeth closed slowly, and the sea poured back into the empty whirlpool left behind.
Through the blinding wind several more ships appeared. Outfitted with many more
guns, they were escorts for the merchants. No light could be seen from their portholes or rear cabins. Tom took note of this and quickly moved to the port side of the Scotch Bonnet, clutching the railing and squinting through the downpour at the new arrivals. He shouted to everyone on deck. “A white cloth! Bring a white cloth!”
The new ships approached slowly. On the deck of each were gathered hundreds of crew, several waving signal cloths and flags. Molly dug into her pockets, finding a dull white rag she had used in the kitchen earlier. She rushed toward Tom, handing him the cloth. Tom looked at Molly, both concerned and apologetic, but he acted quickly, taking the cloth and holding it to the wind. Shaw ran to Tom, his wild brown hair batting at his eyes. “They will cooperate with us?”
Tom nodded and shouted to the crew. “Load all cannons! We have plenty of ammunition to spare!”
Shaw echoed the order. “Load cannon! Orders, sir? Who is to lead?” Tom raised his hands and gestured in a series of precise signs. The captain of the distant ship watched carefully through a spyglass, nodded and signaled back.
“We are the lead, Captain?” asked Shaw nervously.
Tom turned away from the railing. “Turn full around, helmsman! Load one round shot per cannon! Move all powder to the second deck and await orders!”
Shaw’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Sir, we can’t possibly hope to fight—”
“Follow your orders, Mr. Shaw!” Tom barked.
“Aye.” Shaw descended to the second deck.
Molly peered down into the agitating waters, her stomach filling with dread. Tom’s ship turned about and the merchants’ escorts followed close behind. Tom grabbed Molly’s hand. “Stay with me.” He ran with her to the helmsman. “Full ahead! Keep close to that ship!” The Leviathan burst from the ocean’s surface again, rising into the sky above the merchants and crashing its weight down on them. Molly tightened her grip on Tom’s hand, her eyes never leaving the thrashing waters. The larger of the merchants split under the impact of a pressure wave. The nearest escort ship kept very close to Tom’s. Tom, spotting the captain, signaled him once more. Several of his crew began to line the deck, manning the swivel guns. The three warships sailed ahead, tumbling forward dangerously over the mountainous waves. Their gun decks opened, and the heads of the crew peeked from behind cannons. Those on deck loaded harpoons.
The three ships circled water. Tom ordered the helmsman to sail straight for the center of the stormy debris-ridden waters. “All hands below! Each man secure a barrel of powder! Wait for orders!”
The crew complied without question, though not a man among them thought Thomas was sane. The Leviathan exploded from the dark water and crashed down again, this time within perilous range of Tom’s ship. The vessel rocked, and several men catapulted into the sea. Tom snatched a line and caught Molly’s wrist again. Molly took deep breaths, masking her fear behind hard, determined eyes and pinched lips.
The three warships began to unleash a broadside assault on the monster. The heavy lead shots did little more than pockmark the thick, outer layers of its ghostly white hide. Lightning flashed again, striking down the foremast of the leading warship. The deck below splintered, and the vessel was capsized by a following wave. Tom let go of Molly’s hand and leapt to the main deck, seeing their one and only chance. The Leviathan approached the starboard hull. A colossal bulge in the ocean revealed it was gaining on them. Thunder clapped, following another bolt of lightning. The rain came in sheets sideways across the deck as Tom’s ship leaned toward the whirlpool opening below it.
“Molly!” Tom shouted, motioning for her to stand next to him. His voice calmed momentarily. “You have your ruby ring?”
“Yes.”
“Trust me.”
She nodded and stood close to him, trying her best to hide the terror in her eyes. The ship rocked up on its side. A gaping mouth reared up beneath Tom and Molly. The Leviathan’s gums and teeth were encrusted with a few centuries of wreckage and the skeletal remains of human prey. Its throat was a catacomb of ruin and rot, the stench of which made several of the straggling crew keel over in sickness. The ocean’s surface receded, and a ravenous, alien cry pierced their ears. Tom shouted to the waiting crew. “Powder!”
The men below shoved dozens of barrels at a time up and out the lower deck stairs, all eighty or so barrels tumbling out of the bowels of the ship. Tilting on its side, the Scotch Bonnet groaned, the barrels rolling faster, spilling out of the ship and plummeting into the hungry abyss below. Tom seized a line tied to the main mast and wrapped it around one arm. Gripping Molly’s arm in the other hand, he yelled over the noise. “Do not let go!”
The deck tipped perpendicular to the whirlpool. The sudden rocking caused the rest of the barrels to fall rapidly into the widening mouth of the Leviathan. A few men tumbled out after them and vanished into the dark. Molly clung to Tom as she lost her footing.
Tom freed the hand bearing Molly’s ruby ring and struggled to hold her as they dangled over the mouth below. “Use the spell!”
The last barrel whizzed by Molly’s face. Gasping loudly, she struggled to speak.
“Agh!” Tom strained to hold on. “Say it!”
Molly’s dangling hand formed into a tight fist. “Spuere ignis!”
Bright flames spouted forth from the glowing gem. The fiery stream crawled through the wind, catching the kegs and finding a home in the volatile gunpowder. The resulting flash of fire rushed into the Leviathan’s dark mouth. A forceful, hollow thump erupted from a cluster of kegs lodged in the beast’s throat, rocking the ship upright. The ship tipped backward just as a column of fire soared out of the gnashing mouth. Tom lost his grip on Molly as he slipped across the rain-soaked deck, crashing into the broken railing. The explosion of the powder kegs tore Molly from his grip. She was flung to the other side of the deck, colliding with the main mast before rolling to a painful halt. Tom shouted out Molly’s name.
A piercing cry stabbed the crew’s eardrums. The Leviathan regurgitated another plume of fire before sinking below the surface. Thick, red and brown rain pelted the deck. Tom lay in place, breathing heavily, repeating Molly’s name, calling to her over and over. The blow to his head dulled his vision and hearing. Molly lay motionless across the deck from him. Above her left eye a deep gash was bleeding heavily down her face.
Tom got to his feet and immediately fell again. As he slid across the deck he sighted Molly from a disorienting sideways perspective. Panicked, he got up once more and staggered awkwardly to her. “Mol… guhk!” He coughed and spat sea water. “Molly!” he called, dropping on his knees next to her and rolling her over into one arm. The other hand touched her face, trying to wake her.
Molly coughed violently at the sudden movement, ejecting sea water from her mouth. She’d have screamed if her lungs hadn’t been on fire.
Feeling the familiar warmth of blood, Tom followed the stream staining his arm up to Molly’s injured forehead. “Molly?” Bleeding...who’s bleeding?
Molly struggled to find the source of the voice; her senses became muddled and nauseating. The sounds around her were no more than muffled, dull moans. Her eyes could barely open, and the world felt far away.
Tom knew it wouldn’t be long. She was mortal. Luck wouldn’t save a mortal. A costly decision now rested on his mind, but he wouldn’t consider it until he was sure it was his only choice. “Molly! Listen to me! Can you feel anything? Molly?”
She failed to reply. Her breathing slowed and grew labored, and a metallic taste welled in her throat. She stuggled to open her eyes. The rain pounding hard against her cheeks. Her voice was barely audible. “Thomas? Am … I hurt?”
Tom made his decision. “Molly, forgive me, but, you can’t die here.”
Molly forced her eyes open weakly, finding Tom’s, though his face looked like a fuzzy apricot. She gasped for breath.
Tom’s eyes flashed golden yellow, and his voice grew strong and hoarse.
“I’ll make sure...”
His
teeth grew long.
“...this is only temporary...”
His body changed shape.
“...and you won’t suffer as I do.” Tom opened his jaws wide. He tore open Molly’s blouse at the shoulder and sank his gleaming white teeth into her.
Molly sucked her breath in sharply, holding back the urge to scream. Around the bite a small black mark appeared in the shape of a crescent moon. Tom reopened his jaws and pulled away gently, resting his head wearily into her neck.
Molly gazed up into the dark sky. The tumultuous, thundering clouds were the last thing she witnessed before darkness rolled over her.
Tom raised his head. With both arms he cradled Molly against himself, lifting her and hunching over her so the rain could not touch her anymore. He winced with every step. Probably broken, he thought, not daring to look down at his legs. Despite the danger, he employed the curse to carry him at least to his cabin. The crew returned to the deck, swiveling their heads about in search of the Leviathan. Tom’s feet thudded like leaden weights against the planks. He held Molly close. In the cabin he laid her on his bed and wrapped her in every sheet and cloth he could find. The curse receded, and Tom collapsed to his knees.
Molly was murmuring to herself. “Not here … please. Let’s go home.”
The previous chapter of Tom and Molly’s story is one that would long after be told again and again by sailors young and old, from the ports of the Caribbean to the seaside boroughs of Europe. The reader is now familiar with stories of werewolves and vampires, but what I’ve just described was the tale of a true monster.
Never before has lived a beast as terrific as the Leviathan. It has been called the Devil’s Lighthouse, the Atlantean Worm and the Great Mouth. Sailing men have told me that they would rather die where they stood than go out to sea again if it meant meeting the Leviathan. The monster, they say, is not of our world; too large to have been bred in oceans so small, they say; too powerful to have been unleashed upon the seas of the earth by coincidence, they say.
The Lore Series (Box Set): All 3 Books In One Volume Page 25