“No. She escaped us somehow. Most of us assumed you had something to do with that.”
“Nope.” I sigh, wondering for the smallest of instants if I made a mistake coming here. If they assumed I had her they would have stopped searching. I suppose it’s too late to pass off that bluff, since I’m here asking. Sirens are not that stupid.
“So she fled your pirate ship and entered the water but didn’t come to us?” she says, looking towards the moon. “Is she turned or not?” Azalea muses aloud with a whispered voice.
I narrow my eyes. Why do I get the feeling she’s saying this for my benefit? Like she’s very specifically “accidentally” giving me information
She turns to me, her eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps you did something to cause her to flee? Trouble in paradise?”
I roll my eyes. “Something like that.”
She grins. “So that’s why you called? Because I’m willing—”
“I’m sure you are. Would you slit my throat in the process?”
Her smile falls. “You know better than that.”
“I didn’t mean it literally,” I cast my eyes out behind her. Sirens wouldn’t hurt me physically. It’s the only way in which I “belong” to them. On a technicality. As for Azalea? I know where her true loyalties lie. She showed that three years ago.
She liked watching my heart break.
“So what now? Where do you search for her?” she says casually.
I give her bitter smirk. “Yes, that’s exactly the kind of knife to the throat I was thinking of. Thanks for illustrating it for me.” She’ll use me to learn how to find her, then pass that information off to my mother. That’s exactly what a siren would do.
Emotions. Lust. Thirst for power. Pure stupidity. Sirens readily exploit any human feelings or expressions.
The muscles of her face tighten. “Why her?”
“What?”
She meets my eye with a sincerity that surprises me. “Why not me, but her?”
I suck in breath. My first response would be ‘She’s not a siren.’ But that’s, unfortunately, not strictly true anymore. I vowed never to love a siren again, not even my mother. If that’s what Whitley was—truly, to the core—I’d give up on her. I’d mourn her, but I’d stop fighting.
For a little while I’d convinced myself that sad possibility had already come to pass. I am no longer convinced. She entered the ocean, but somehow fought every instinct that would push her to them.
Whatever is left inside of Whitley is strong. So impressively strong. My stomach twists knowing how much better she is than I am. I don’t deserve her.
She’s probably scared and confused, fighting this illness inside of her mind. And I called her a monster. What a moron.
“There isn’t even a competition, Azalea.” I rub my face with my hand.
She and I haven’t been an item in years. She’s just salty I’ve fallen for someone else. Ever. Did she think I’d continue pining over her forever? If I’m holding grudges against sirens, it’s due to my mother, not a fling with a girl that turned out to be a monster. It was a lesson learned, nothing else.
“Apparently, I didn’t ever have a choice in the matter,” I say, thinking about how hard I tried to avoid falling for Whitley. I could say fate had other plans, but the truth is, Whitley was just too amazing to ignore. Perhaps fate knew that and picked her for me, knowing there just was no way in hell Bluff would be dumb enough to mess this up.
Sorry to disappoint, I tell the wind. I’m a bigger idiot than you thought.
Wind rushes at me, tossing my hair back. Then find her, a voice whispers. I blink.
I close my eyes and allow myself to remember the good. Remember her innocent beauty, her quiet strength, her humility—she never saw how amazing she was. I remember her fight, not just for herself—but for me. Her bravery. Her intelligence.
I could go on.
God I wish she were here now. I’m such a damn fool.
“What are you thinking about?” a slithery whisper pulls me from my thoughts, and I swallow.
“Regret,” I say as I open my eyes to see Azalea now slipped back partially into the water, arms wrapped over the side of the boat again. Her eyes examine me, her face so much softer than before. Right now she’s not an animal. She not a sultry, mindless soldier for my mother—she’s curious. Her humanity is showing. Her head tilts as she examines me like I’m some science experiment or animal whose behavior she doesn’t quite understand.
“How dumb I am for letting her go.”
“You love her?” she whispers, hiding everything but her eyes behind her arms.
“Yes,” I whisper.
She lifts her head, glances over her shoulder, then back at me. “We didn’t just happen to miss her,” she tells me like it’s a secret. “We chased her. Cornered her. She actively worked to flee from us,”–her voice is moving so fast, words spitting like she doesn’t know if she’ll have enough time to get them all out—“despite our best efforts and more than one close call. If she’s that sentient...”
I narrow my eyes. “She remembers.”
“Not everything, but on a very instinctual level, she remembers something.”
My mouth falls open. “If she remembers,” I barely stop myself from saying it aloud—she’ll go somewhere familiar.
“We saw the body. We know she killed before fleeing. And after being in the water that long she’ll be very siren when she leaves it. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is a string of bodies in her wake.” She looks over her shoulder again. “That’s what we’ll be looking for.”
I suck in a breath, shocked she would give me this much information. I hoped she’d give me some, but this—this was something different.
“I should go,” she says, slipping her body the rest of the way back into the water.
“Thank you, Azalea,” I say, meeting her silver eyes. “Sincerely.”
She nods, her eyes sad as she lets go of the boat, letting it coast on without her. “I wish you luck, my old friend.”
I smile as she silently slips below the surface.
Whitley
I follow currents as they guide me, resisting when the pull grows too strong. There is the sea, and there is magic—two separate entities. They intersect, but there is a difference, and I’ve learned it. I’m using it.
When I hear the melodies, I flee. When I feel an unnatural tug, I resist it. Instinct guides me—smells, and familiar coolness of the water as I swim north.
My limbs are stiff and sore by the time I reach gritty sand. Cool air stings my wet head as I lift myself up on the beach. I don’t know where I am, or where I’m going. But the melodies have stopped, and the pressure in my chest eases.
I blink rapidly trying to figure out so many things all at once.
Who am I? What am I?
A haze rests over my mind. Over my body.
One thing stands out to me. Hunger.
It burns through my whole body, driving me forward. So I follow it.
Bluff
I pace along the deck of the ship as the sun rises over the water.
I’ve always loved watching the sunrise. The sun is so vast and beautiful as it meets the water in image only, colors mixing and intertwining in a beautiful dance.
Today, I can’t enjoy it. I have too much on my mind. There’s too much to consider. There’s a mixture of regret and hope swirling through my body. I absently wonder if my head will explode from the pressure before Rosemera wakes to finish the discussing of our plans.
We didn’t have time to confer much last night. Once I boarded the ship again, we quietly drew the boat back aboard just in time for the crew to begin stirring, so we set aside our plan making until the morning.
Now I’m just desperately waiting for her to join me before I go insane thinking about all of it at once.
The sirens will surely follow The Freedom wherever it goes. And if by some miracle I get this right, it means I’ll lead them right to her.
&
nbsp; Then again, if she goes where I think she will... I’ll have the advantage.
The only question is—will she willingly journey far from the water to feed her instincts? I don’t know, but God, I hope so.
Either way, sticking with The Freedom is an added risk, but a new ship has its own set of problems. There are no pirates in the port we’re headed to, and even if there were, pirates won’t be traveling farther north. I’ll must play an entirely different game to get to my destination.
I suppose option number two is commandeering my own ship. I’ll need a crew in that case, though. Killing a captain and taking his place may work. Though I’d prefer not to kill an innocent man. Perhaps I can just knock him unconscious and tie him up somewhere?
“Wow, you look terrible.”
I spin to see Rosemera, arms crossed as she stares at me with an amused grin.
“Gee, thanks.”
She crosses her arms, lips spreading into a wide grin. “Good news?”
I nod. She knows me well. If it were bad, I’d either have never climbed back aboard last night or I’d be pouting in the crow’s nest.
“Tell me,” she says, pulling a canister of water up to her lips and chugging.
“I think she’s going to New York.”
She chokes, coughing and spitting out the liquid in her mouth. “How? Why?” she says when she catches her breath.
“She fled from them. Fought them. She’s fighting the magic.” My heart swells at this thought. I haven’t lost her yet. I just wish I’d realized it sooner.
“That’s good. But...”
“She killed Lucky Seven, a pirate who attacked her before... before we fled The Freedom.”
Rosemera sighs. She wasn’t on the ship at the time, but even so she was the reason we were in danger with our own allies to start with. Not that I blame her. Stede had orchestrated a fake ransom once Rosemera was left behind in New York, and her father fell for it. Stede hadn’t wanted money, though. He wanted me. And her father was willing to sacrifice me in order to get his daughter back.
Too bad his daughter was so much stronger than he gave her credit for—she never needed saving.
“How does this bring us back to the big city?”
“It means she remembers. Bits and pieces, but memories are there. She’ll go somewhere familiar. New York was always her home. She knows it inside and out.” I pause. With the kind of power Whitley has now, she’ll be seeking one of two things.
One— comfort and safety.
Two—revenge. There are men who have hurt her. Men a siren would want eliminated.
“She has friends there...” I say, and I wince as my mind jumps to Jeb. She told me she was leaving her childhood friend and fiancé before the pirates came. I believe her. I suck in a breath. “And enemies.” Her father may or may not be there, but the man to whom her father sold her hand in marriage to? He is definitely there.
He’s the first person I plan to seek out.
“The only question now is how do I get there?”
“You waited for me to make your plans?”
“I waited to tell you, because you helped me. You’d want to know. And, well, you’re much more rational than I am right now.”
She smirks. “That’s true.”
“They’ll be following The Freedom, though. I need to find my way onto another ship.”
Rosemera bites her lip, her expression distant.
“There is little chance we’ll find a ship heading to New York in this little port,” I say. “So I was thinking—”
“There is.”
I blink, freezing. “What?” We’ll be at dock before nightfall but how would she know this already?
“Look for a tobacco cargo ship with a red flag,” she says, looking down at her hands. “It’ll be heading to the same port we used in New York days ago.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”
She shrugs. “I chose this port for a reason.”
She chose this port because she knew there’d be a ship to New York here? Is she really so smart she’d know my heading before I did? “You’re being very vague.”
“A friend is involved with the company, but that’s all I’ll say. You have your secrets. I have mine.”
I raise my eyebrows. “How have I never heard of this friend?”
She looks down at her feet. “He’s a new friend.”
I suck in a breath, shoving the desire to dig more information from her. But if she’s that hesitant I might as well let her keep her secrets. I believe her, nonetheless, and that’s what matters. I shake my head. “Fine. Good, I’ll make my way onto that ship then.”
“I’m coming,” she says suddenly.
“No,” I say, expression incredulous. It will be easy for me to join the crew, with my ability to transform my appearance to mimic anyone, but adding her into the mix will lower my chances of success dramatically. The last time she tagged along, it didn’t turn out so well for me.
“Trust me. I can help. And I want to come.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Rose, I’d love for you to come, but this is important. Getting you on board could ruin the whole plan.”
“Then don’t worry about me. You get on in your own way and I’ll get myself onto that ship. If I fail, go without me. I won’t do anything to stop the ship from sailing out on time. I promise.”
I sigh. “Your father won’t like this.”
“He must let go at some point. Might as well be now. I’m ready for a new adventure.” Her eyes shine with her wicked smile.
“Well, I’ll see you on board, then.”
Whitley
I rise from the sea, water dripping over my smooth skin, and with each step more glistening scales disappear until I appear completely human. Soaked, and awkward, but human. My skin stings in the cold open air.
My body is eager. Hungry. Starving.
I take slow steps, farther onto the coarse sand. Glass nicks my feet as I step through the dirty beach. The city is still far away, but I can see some of the buildings. The tiny lights in the distance call to me. I missed my destination by a few miles, I realize, eyeing the water standing between me and the island city.
It’s a city full of men ready and eager to take women as possessions. Ready to take me.
I cannot wait to see them try.
MY HANDS TREMBLE AS I reach the nearest building. My body is so very low on energy.
I remember the fear. I remember running. I remember the pain.
I remember the delicious fear I tasted. Desire for more fills me. I slide my slippery hands against the rough wall as I step forward, barely able to keep my body upright.
A man turns the corner and gasps when he catches sight of me. I turn my attention to him, eager for his flesh. I could make him fear. I want to.
I want to taste it.
“Oh my, miss!” he says. His potbelly protrudes past his overalls. His balding head dips as he takes me in. He’s not exactly the most desirable man, but even he could do. He steps forward. “Are you hurt?” he asks.
I look down my thin body, still soaking wet. My dress is frayed at the edges but whole. Am I? My knees buckle, and he leaps to catch me from falling.
The smell of his skin fills me as he pulls me to my feet. He doesn’t fear me. Yet.
My fangs drop down. Slowly.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
My heart skips a beat at this question. Do I know my name? All I know is how badly I want to feel his pain. His terror.
Whitley, a whisper echoes through me.
I groan at the realization—as a sharp slice of soul protrudes through the magic. I don’t like it. I’m not sure I want it.
Isn’t it so much easier to forget it?
“Whitley,” my strained voice pushes out. Anger burns through me. No, I don’t need him to know me. I just need him to fear me!
“What happened to you? How can I help?”
The man asks, arms still around me protecti
vely. Don’t hurt him, he wants to help us.
I groan. But I want to eat.
You will, she promises me. I will let you eat. But not him. The men you really want, are there.
I look to the city. Lights calling to me. Yeeeessss.
“Whitley, where can I take you? Do you have family here?”
My heart aches at the answer that floats through me. No.
But there is someone. Someone as good as family. Someone who would take me in, shelter me. Monster or not.
The name presents itself on my lips before I can think to change my mind. “Jeb.”
Bluff
In more or less an hour after docking, I’d packed my things, found a sailor to impersonate, changed my appearance, and boarded the ship Rosemera told me about without even a second glance from the rest of the crew.
My new name is Dodgy—a potbellied, long-haired cook with a nose ring. These boys are in for quite a treat—I haven’t the slightest idea how to cook a thing. It’ll be a miracle if I get us to New York without making someone ill.
I wouldn’t ordinarily choose a cook, but he was too easy. Dodgy was passed out in the tavern when I came across him. All I had to do was pay two of the bar maids to keep him out of sight and drunk for long enough to get the ship on her way before he realizes it’s left.
If he ends up back on the ship—unlikely, as they’re planning to make way before sunset—I’ll shift to someone else. The crew will be confused, but apart from a head scratch or two, they’ll be none the wiser.
Being a shapeshifter is easy as pie when no one knows to be on the look-out for one. Pirates have come to know my reputation, making it a bit more challenging. These folks won’t know what hit them. This couldn’t have worked out better.
It’s now one hour before sunset and the ship is nearly ready to make way, but I still haven’t caught sight of Rosemera. It’s possible she’s successfully stowed away without my noticing or perhaps she’s thought better of it and decided to stay behind.
Bound by the Depths Page 4