Solatium (Emanations, an urban fantasy series Book 2)

by Becca Mills

  “What will you hunt?” I asked the gentleman. “Will you go ashore?”

  “No, no. We hunt from the main deck.”

  “Perhaps my poor Baasha is to blame, but I would have called that ‘fishing.’”

  He laughed uproariously. “So might I, were fish our prey. Reptiles, my dear. We will be hunting reptiles.”

  “Will that not put a lot of blood in the water?” I asked, remembering the traders’ experience in Gold Rush.

  “Ah, worried about the ribbons, are you? Never fear. This ship’s protections are why so many are willing to pay Nayuspetras Rykthas’s exorbitant prices.”

  Ribbons?

  “That and my charming personality,” Rykthas said from the head of the table.

  People laughed.

  “Besides,” the man said, “ribbons do not come into the shallows.” He put on a spooky voice and waggled his eyebrows. “They are creatures of the darkness and the deep.”

  The people sitting around us laughed again, but I could hear an edge to it.

  I looked down the table at Williams. He was looking down at his coffee, apparently unconcerned.

  He seemed to see a threat around every corner. If he wasn’t worried about this, I shouldn’t be. I guess.

  Early the next morning, one of the crewmen began chumming from the back of the ship while another kept watch from the rigging.

  First came fish, some of which the crew netted.

  Then came pterosaurs by the dozens, swooping down on the chum and the fish it attracted.

  Then came some of the strangest creatures imaginable — thick bodied reptiles with flippers instead of legs. Some were thick-necked with huge, crocodilian heads. Others had long, slender necks and small heads. The long-necked ones seemed most interested in fish. The big-headed ones preyed on the long-necked ones.

  Sharks came too. None were like the monster Mizzy had described in her story, but they were big enough to be scary.

  The florid gentleman and several others waited on deck, crossbows in hand. They took no notice of these creatures. I realized they were waiting for something in particular.

  There was no mistaking when it showed up — a twenty-five-foot short-necked reptile with a green and blue brindled hide and a short, tapered tail. Its jaws were packed with teeth. Each one looked longer than my hand. It had four huge flippers and moved through the water with surprising grace.

  It went right for one of the long-necked animals, seizing it by the head and killing it with a single violent twist that tore its neck apart.

  A shout went up from the men on deck. They began shooting harpoon bolts into the huge reptile. The lines were tied to massive iron rings in the deck. The creature thrashed wildly, crashing into the side of the ship. At 250 feet long and 70 feet wide, Rykthas’s ship was massive, but the animal was all muscle. It must’ve weighed tons. I was sure it would crash right through the wood.

  But the ship held just fine. Maybe that was the famous barrier at work.

  When the animal died, a crewman was lowered in a rope sling to cut large chunks of meat from its back. He also pried out a number of its teeth for souvenirs.

  It was terrifying to watch him dangling down there above the churning water. Several reptiles struck at him, and one shark, lifted out of the water by the feeding frenzy, seemed to crash right into him, making him swing around wildly on the end of his line.

  “Do not fear for the seaman, young lady,” the florid gentleman said. “He is the ship’s barrier-worker and is highly skilled. He is in no danger.”

  I nodded.

  “Though come to think of it,” the man continued, “I believe Nayuspetras Rykthas’s last barrier-worker was killed doing this sort of work. But I am sure it was an unusual accident.”

  Fortunately, I didn’t witness any disasters that day. The guy was hauled up, along with four huge chunks of meat and a dozen nine-inch teeth. The crew cut the carcass loose, and the ship quickly left the feeding frenzy behind.

  We had fresh fish for lunch and reptile steaks for dinner. I’d never tasted anything quite like the reptile — a white meat, mild like a delicate fish but with a texture and fattiness more like beef, and a hint of salt. It was delicious.

  Over the next week, the current carried us closer and closer to land. The northern edge of the continent we were skirting snuck above the horizon regularly — a hazy green line. The water was shallow, warm, and full of life.

  There was a hunt every morning.

  I was glad to have seen the first one. How many people have had an experience like that? But I stayed belowdecks in the mornings after that. In general, hunting didn’t bother me. But these particular hunts were too violent and chaotic for me, and seeing that barrier-worker dangling over the side gave me the heebie-jeebies.

  I used the time to work out. My cabin was spacious — at least twelve-by-twelve. I could do a lot of floor-based exercises. The bunk gave me a place for chin-ups and upside-down crunches. It was hard to get a good cardio workout, but dancing around and running in place was better than nothing. With all the noise and distraction topside, no one could hear my feet pounding on the deck.

  After I was done, I’d pull a chair up to the huge bank of windows on the back wall and watch the animals swimming in the ship’s wake — yet another kind of reptile. They looked sort of like giant dolphins. Mizzy had told me what they were called, but I’d promptly forgotten.

  My cabin was on the third deck, below the captain’s stateroom, which meant my windows were only about fifteen feet above the water. Every so often, a pterosaur would fly into the ship by accident, like a bird hitting a window. At first this worried me — many of them seemed big enough to break the glass. But they always bounced off harmlessly and ended up as dolphin-thing snacks. The barrier at work, again. No wonder Rykthas’s ship was considered so safe.

  After a while, I’d get cleaned up and go to brunch in the stateroom. Then I’d head topside to watch the pterosaurs and look for crocodiles and turtles. After lunch, I’d practice writing in Baasha. There was no one to correct it for me, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.

  I tried to find opportunities to strike up conversations with Mizzy, and as the days passed, she began to respond a bit more. She was still obviously uncomfortable, but I had some hope that we’d eventually be able to talk about what happened in Ancient Inland.

  Ida made an effort to spend time with me. I appreciated it. She was a good listener. She didn’t talk about herself, much, but I got the sense that under her no-nonsense, no-complaints exterior, she wasn’t happy. I could understand that. She must have missed her daughter terribly.

  Terry took to seafaring like a cat takes to cream. He was always off climbing in the rigging or learning knots from the sailors. We probably didn’t exchange more than a few words a day.

  I saw Kevin even more rarely. Once he finally got over his sea-sickness, he took up with one of the female passengers. I reminded myself that I wasn’t on the inside of his relationship with Joanna — who knows what sort of agreement they had. Still, it was hard not to judge.

  I didn’t speak much to Williams either, but I saw a lot of him. If I came out of my cabin, he’d show up to keep an eye on me, lurking around like some huge, dark shadow.

  And so the days passed. One week at sea became two. We lost our first current and spent a day and a half propelled solely by water-working until we picked up the one that carried us over the top of the southern continent. We moved out of that one after two days and labored almost due south toward the next one. It would carry us southwest between the landmasses and spit us out on the edge of the vast world sea to the west — 150 million square miles of open ocean.

  We wouldn’t go out there, Terry said. No one did.

  When I asked him about the “ribbons,” he looked perplexed.

  “It’s weird, but the sailors won’t talk about that,” he said. “They say it’s bad luck.”

  “Do you think they’re giant snakes, or something?”


  He shrugged. “No idea. They say we won’t have to worry about them until the last few days, and that they’re really rare, anyway.”

  “What’s different about the last few days?”

  “That’s when we head west to the ligature. It’s off the continental shelf, so the water’s a lot deeper.”

  “I thought you said no one went out there.”

  “They don’t, usually. Just to reach the ligature.”

  Great.

  No one went out there. Except us.

  Muffled thumps woke me, and I rolled out of bed. Top-side, the morning hunt was getting underway.

  We’d been at sea for three weeks and had covered more than half the distance to the ligature. Today our third current would spit us out to the west, and we’d have to labor north by water-working alone. The currents would be running against us, so we’d travel closer to shore to keep out of them. Going would be slower.

  I stretched, got a drink of water, and pulled on a pair of shorts. Time for my morning workout.

  I got down on the floor and slipped my foot through the ankle weight I’d manufactured out of a t-shirt and a small melon I’d borrowed from the galley. I started running through my leg-lifts.

  The melon smelled a little ripe. I’d have to replace it.

  I counted off ten lifts with the right leg and then transferred the weight.

  Something creaked off to my left, and I turned my head.

  Serhan was standing in the doorway.

  I stared at him for a moment, confused.

  Then I understood.

  I lunged toward the saddlebag where I kept my .38. My feet tangled in the t-shirt around my ankle, and I came up short.

  Serhan landed on my back, pressing me down. I got one knee up and threw myself to the side. He lost his balance but grabbed for me again, knocking me onto my back and straddling me. I went for his eyes. My left hand caught the bridge of his nose and slipped off. My right thumb hit home. I felt his eyeball rupture. He screamed. Then he punched me in the face and everything went fuzzy.

  As though from a distance, I noticed my head move as he hit me again.

  I felt him pulling off my shorts.

  Do something.

  My body wouldn’t work.

  Through half-open eyes, I saw him opening someone’s legs.

  My legs.

  His body moved in, blocking the light. I felt his weight.

  With a sickening lurch, something inside me yawned open.

  The weight disappeared.

  With great effort, I turned my head.

  Williams had Serhan suspended by the throat.

  For a second, Williams studied him without emotion.

  I remembered that expressionless expression. I’d seen it in a makeshift basement darkroom in Wisconsin.

  Then Williams threw Serhan out the window. The kid went through the glass, hit the barrier on the other side, and bounced back into the room. Williams walked to the window and stuck his hand through. The whole ship shuddered as the barrier broke. Then he picked Serhan up off the deck and tossed him out.

  I heard a splash, high-pitched screaming, and shouts of alarm from the main deck. Then the screams stopped.

  Williams turned away from the window. His face was still blank.

  I shrank away from him, trying to pull myself up into a sitting position. The room spun when I moved. My head hurt terribly. My face hurt. I reached up and touched my left cheek. The bone underneath moved wrongly. My mouth was full of blood.

  Williams didn’t try to approach me. Instead he went to the far corner of the room and sat down on the floor.

  Steps pounded down the passageway, and Rykthas appeared in the doorway. Her eyes swept over the room and settled on me. Her face went bone white, and she backed away, pulling the door closed as she went. I heard her ordering everyone to get top-side. There was commotion and raised voices. They faded, and an unnatural silence fell.

  “Ryder,” Williams said calmly. “It’s over.”

  I stared at him.

  It didn’t feel over.

  I opened my mouth to say so. A lot of blood came out.

  I spat and tried again.

  “He raped me.”

  “No. He tried to, but he didn’t.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. You’re still wearing panties.”

  Williams let that sink in for a minute. Then he told me again that it was over.

  I looked at the window.

  “It doesn’t feel over.”

  “You defended yourself well. I got here in time. He’s gone.”

  I was confused. Something was wrong. I felt wrong.

  I studied Williams’s face, trying to understand.

  “Am I doing something?”

  “You’re not going to do anything. It’s over.”

  I nodded, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Ryder. He’s dead.”

  Something inside me folded up and closed. The confusing sense of wrongness began to fade.

  I leaned back against the bunk. We sat for a few minutes in silence.

  “I’m going to go to the door and call for Ida,” Williams said.

  “Okay.”

  I watched him stand slowly and walk to the doorway.

  I didn’t bother listening to the muffled conversation he had with someone in the corridor. Instead I tried to remember what the giant dolphin-things were called. No luck.

  I lay in bed, thinking. Or rather, I lay there thinking I should be thinking — because, you know, someone had almost raped me. Surely there was something important I should be thinking about. But my mind was oddly blank. Random thoughts flitted through. Nothing stuck.

  Once he called for Ida, Williams had gotten a blanket and wrapped it around me. He told me exactly what he was going to do each step of the way and waited for me to okay it.

  I appreciated that.

  Then he’d gone back to the far corner and sat down.

  He looked small, all the way over there.

  That was odd. He never looked small.

  I tried to examine the matter further, but it skittered away.

  The memory of Serhan’s eyeball popping under my thumb arose.

  That was satisfying.

  I’d have to tell Tezzy how much her training helped. A few months ago, I would’ve been paralyzed in a situation like that. But that hadn’t happened. I’d fought back without even thinking about it. Tezzy would be pleased.

  Ida had shown up after a couple minutes. She’d healed my injuries — concussion, split lip, broken cheekbone, loose teeth, bruises. And she’d confirmed what Williams said — no penetration. I asked if she was just telling me what I wanted to hear. She looked like she wanted to give me a piece of her mind but restricted herself to “no.”

  She was probably telling the truth. Healers were supposed to be ethical about stuff like that. Kara said so, anyway.

  Kara had treated me after my last concussion.

  I sure was racking up the concussions. Was I going to get that thing all the football players were getting?

  I remembered when Callie was burned, and Kara healed her. She was perfectly restored.

  That’s right. Kara healed backwards. So I’d be okay. But Ida didn’t, so maybe I wouldn’t be okay.

  My mind drifted into blankness.

  I wondered what I was supposed to be feeling.

  This was so strange.

  I decided I’d rather do something than just lie there feeling weird.

  I got out of bed and wrapped the sheet around myself.

  I was in Williams’s cabin. Mine was a mess.

  Williams was probably right outside the door. I went and opened it and, sure enough, there he was, leaning against the wall of the corridor.

  “Can you get me some clothes?”

  He leaned down, picked up my bags, and handed them to me. I hadn’t noticed them sitting there.

  “Thanks.”

  I closed the door and got dressed.

&
nbsp; I spent a little while sitting on the bed, holding the .38 and wondering if I should start carrying it all the time.

  But really, was I going to take it to bed with me? To the shower? If I could be attacked in my own room — and clearly I could — I should have it with me at all times.

  I wasn’t sure I liked that idea. It seemed frightening, though I wasn’t sure why. I set the gun aside until I could think about it properly.

  “You going topside?” Williams said when I opened the door.

  “Yeah.”

  He turned and went ahead of me.

  Once we reached the main deck, he headed over to the rail amidships.

  He was giving me a chance to be alone while still keeping an eye on me. I appreciated it, but I didn’t particularly want to be alone with my weird, skittering brain.

  I went and stood beside him and looked out over the water.

  A slender crocodile-thing swam by, paying us no mind at all.

  It was late afternoon. I guess I’d slept quite a while after the healing.

  “So,” I said, “what’s the fallout?”

  Williams shrugged.

  “Seriously. Tell me.”

  “Traders are pissed. We’re heading into the world sea with no hull barrier.”

  “Can you make a new one?”

  “Sure. Ship’s barrier-worker could too. But making one that good would take a month.”

  I gritted my teeth. “I can help.”

  He acknowledged the offer with a nod. “It’s not just the power involved. It’s the craft.”

  “But you’re really good at barriers.”

  He shrugged. “There’s a reason most ships don’t have ones like that.”

  “Wow. Rykthas must be pissed too.”

  “Yup.”

  “What do the traders want?”

  “Blood for blood.”

  I frowned. “Did you remind them we saved their asses back in the jungle?”

  He shrugged again.

  I guess that wasn’t the kind of thing Williams would bother with. He’d just wait for them to make a move and then kill them.

  Jesus, what a mess.

  Why had he thrown Serhan out the window? Rykthas probably had a brig.

  I wondered if I felt bad about that. I wasn’t raised in a society where the death penalty was imposed for attempted rape, after all.