What?
He smiles wider, vanishing below the glassy waves. Another splash. A set of scaly green fins flicks. Slaps. Sends a cold shower our way.
I guffaw. This can’t be real. Kuna is, he’s a . . .
Merman?
Flying I can handle. Seasickness, not so much.
The waves chop and slice, manipulating the boat like a sautéed vegetable. The taste of stomach acid fills my mouth. I guzzle it back on a flood of stale canteen water. Nasty.
Kuna shows up every now and then to give Stormy the thumbs-up, then returns to the world below when she mimics the gesture.
Wow. A merman. What next?
How long until we reach that sliver of land on the horizon? It might as well be a floating stick of gum. Thin and flat and far away. I can’t see the Haven’s shore anymore. Maybe we’re going faster than I think.
Ky sits and sulks, his slumped back toward me.
Let him sulk. He deserves to feel guilt for what he’s done. He’s lucky I don’t push him overboard. He did as much to Joshua.
“Is that how I raised you? To hurt the people who hurt you?”
Of course not, Mom. But where’s the justice? The punishment for his crimes?
My middle churns again, and not because of the waves or constant undecided motion. Gage’s disdain for Ky is no secret. I don’t know much about him, but I know he wouldn’t bring Ky along just for kicks.
Kuna must be pushing us from below because no one’s rowing. I always thought of merpeople as dainty redheads in purple bikinis. If Disney only knew.
The boat tips too far to the right. I brace myself, eyes on the water. Any second Kuna’s going to pop up, his potato-sized thumb pointing to the moon.
Come on, come on . . .
Ka-boom! Thunder. Close thunder. One, two . . . flash! Lightning surges. Droplets of rain pelt down, full and extravagant.
Stormy’s eyes are locked on the sky. Without a glance she orders, “Get down.”
I scoot to the left and jam myself into the hampered space between benches. My hand slips, sending a splinter through the tip of my middle finger. I try to get it with my teeth. Futile. Never thought I’d miss Quinn, or rather, her purse. Tweezers would be nice to have right about now.
The bottom stinks of mildew. It’s not far down. I sit with my knees to my chest, the sea still in full view. Rain gathers in the cracks between floorboards. I’m no sailor, but there must be a drain somewhere because we’re not sinking.
Ky abandons his seat, too, fixes his gaze on me. “Untie me.”
I recoil, refusing to look him in the eyes. “You think I’m going to help you after what you did to me? To Joshua?”
“I can help them.”
“Why should I trust you? What reason have you given me?” I turn my head slightly.
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Let me give you one now.”
Around us the storm intensifies. We’re rocking uncontrollably. I stiffen from a spike of pain. Is the Illusoden wearing off so soon?
“Hey.” Ky draws my attention back to him. “You’re bleeding.”
The pain prickles and spreads, most pronounced on my right side. I press my hands to the warm, damp spot on my shirt. I don’t have to look. Ky’s right.
The others busily prepare defense.
Crud. This is a bad idea. “Fine,” I hiss. “Don’t make me regret this.”
He turns, and I dig my fingers into the thick knots binding his wrists. The rope chafes my skin. It’s too tight. I bend and work at it with my teeth, gnawing and pulling. There. Almost got it. It’s loose!
Ky acts quickly. He removes his top layer, wrings it out, and then rips it down the middle, leaving only a black thermal clinging to his form. He slips his hands beneath my jacket, wraps his torn tee around my waist, cinching it snug. The others are so focused on what’s happening outside the boat, they don’t notice us.
“Ouch!” I will not take the Illusoden yet. I don’t need it. I don’t.
He pauses. “Does that hurt?”
“You think?”
His brows furrow, and his lips flatten into a thin line. “Didn’t the Physic give you something for the pain?” Why should he care if I’m in pain or not?
“Illusoden.” The word pants out of me.
“When did he give it to you?”
Does it matter? I shrug. Wince. “This afternoon.”
Ky’s lips move but no sound emerges. He closes his eyes, then opens them. They’re hard and calculating. Then he shakes his head. The odd moment is over.
What was that about?
He knots the ripped T-shirt once, twice.
This must be what a corset feels like. I can barely breathe, but I’m alive.
He shakes as he stands, hugging the bench between his calves. Ky picks up the rope and wraps an end around each knuckle. Is he planning to strangle someone?
Did I make a mistake?
His focus remains seaward.
I sigh and take in the others. Stormy’s gaze hasn’t left the sky. Preacher watches the sea, a death wish in his glare, in the way he grips his weapon. Gage holds a pair of binoculars to his eyes, his head twisting from side to side. Nobody seems to notice or care their prisoner is free.
Splash! Kuna soars over the boat. Did he jump? Was he thrown? I’ve got a feeling I won’t have to wait long to find out.
Is that . . . a head . . . in the distance? Coming closer. No way.
A little girl, no older than six or seven, swims toward us. She’s wailing, “Mama! Mama!”
We have to help her. Whatever danger lies below the surface will go for her first. I push the pain aside and reach out.
Ky grips my wrist, shoves my arm down. “Don’t. It’s a ruse.”
Isabeau’s gorgeous face invades my thoughts. Was that her true form?
No. It wasn’t.
My heart seizes. The girl cries louder, her squeal carried by the wind. Every instinct says rescue her. I cover my ears, trying to drown out the sound. I’m tired of this. Tired of fear.
The girl snakes into the air, towering high. Like a mermaid, the top half of her body is human. But the similarity ends there. Her bottom half is red, slender, and slimy. Serpentine.
Preacher nocks and shoots, nocks and shoots, his face twisted into wrinkled knobs.
The monster doesn’t even twitch. Instead she opens her small mouth wide, exposing rows and rows of deadly-looking fangs. A Venus flytrap, hungry and ready to devour. Then, ever so slowly, she glides forward on the chopping waves.
Gage yanks an oar from the boat’s bottom and rows, puffing determined breaths through puckered lips. Left, right, left, right.
“What’s happening?”
“Leviathan,” Ky answers. “The Dragon of the sea.”
We’re going to die. Right here, right now.
I rise, gripping the boat’s smooth edge. If we’re all goners, I’m going to stand. Face what’s coming. I won’t cower. My knees knock as water sloshes over the side.
“What are you doing? Get down.” Preacher reprimands me like an insolent child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Ky brings the rope over my head and pulls back against my neck.
I claw at his hands. I love you, Mom.
He pulls tighter.
Gasp. No air. Joshua’s face flashes across my blurred vision, calming me for the briefest, purest instant.
Stormy looks our way at the exact second the storm subsides. Why doesn’t Ky’s stare affect her, or the others for that matter? If he wanted to, he could make them all go limp with one glance. Couldn’t he?