Page 32 of Blood on the Tide

Recognition rolls over his features as he takes me in. “You!”

He charges me, but Lizzie appears behind him like a vengeful ghost and wraps her hand around his throat, drawing him up short despite the fact that he’s twice her size. “Uh-uh. Drop the sword.”

For a moment, it seems like he might try to fight his way out of the situation, but she tightens her grip on his throat, her blood claws pricking his skin, and he relents immediately. The sword falls to the deck with a clatter that makes me jump even though I expected it.

“Good.” She’s practically glowing in the moonlight, and there isn’t a single part of her that’s bored or uninterested now. She’s grinning widely, flashing fangs. “Now, my dear Captain, I have a question for you. It’s very important, so listen closely.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

She laughs lightly. “On the contrary, this is the most fun I’ve had in ages. But you may regret it for the short time you have left to live. So let’s get down to business.”

He goes pale beneath his suntanned skin, as he seems to finally register the headless body on the deck. “What have you done to Bronagh?”

“He took something that doesn’t belong to him. I’m sure you understand that the original owner is not pleased with that theft.” She shakes him a little. “Where’s the selkie skin?”

He doesn’t even try to pretend he’s unaware of what she’s asking about. “In my cabin. We couldn’t find a buyer locally, so we were heading to Lyari at the end of the week. Nobles love shit like that, and they’re willing to pay a hefty sum.”

Of course they are. A selkie pelt brings exceptional bragging rights. There are legends that such a thing can be used to control the selkie themself, but they’re nothing more than folktales. If that was ever a power our skins held, it isn’t one any longer.

“Very good,” Lizzie practically purrs. “Now you have a choice, my dear Captain. You can help us track down the Crimson Hag—”

He makes a shocked sound. “The Crimson Hag is a Cwn Annwn ship. Chasing it down is suicide. I won’t do it.”

“Pity.” Lizzie isn’t surprised, and neither am I. There was no way he was ever going to bow to our plan, but a part of me had hoped to be proven wrong. I don’t like the man, but that doesn’t mean I wish him dead.

Unfortunately, it’s too late for that. A hand appears in the center of his chest, and my eyes refuse to acknowledge the fact that Lizzie just shoved her hand through the rib cage of a grown man. He slumps to the ground without a sound, his blood pooling out to join Bronagh’s.

“Damn it, Lizzie. You didn’t even give him a chance to change his mind.”

“He wasn’t going to. You know it and I know it. I was merely saving us time.” She examines the heart in her hand, and my horrified brain is certain that it beats a few times before going still, as if it’s not quite aware that it has left the safety of its body. “Let the rest of the crew up. They have their own choices to make.”

I stare at the scene around us, at the crew members who are softly groaning as they regain consciousness, at the beheaded body of the quartermaster and the heartless body of the captain. It’s gruesome and terrifying, and Lizzie stands in the middle of it, her pale skin bathed in red. She looks like some otherworldly creature that appeared from a nightmare, one intended to seduce and then traumatize.

But keeping the crew locked up indefinitely isn’t an option. This will be our one chance to get what we need. I reach for the sword with shaking hands and pull it free. Then I step back, putting a decent amount of distance between me and the crew members, who will no doubt be furious.

But when they emerge from belowdecks, it’s cautiously and with fear in their eyes. The Serpent’s Cry doesn’t run a particularly large crew. The captain was always cheap, so he kept it bare bones. There are scarcely a dozen people who file onto the deck and stare at the carnage.

“Your captain and quartermaster took something that did not belong to them. It’s a mistake they won’t make a second time.” Lizzie tosses the heart and catches it idly. “I have need of this ship and this crew to reclaim something that was also taken from me. Cooperate, and whatever riches we find along the way will be yours. At the end of our search, you can elect your own captain and sail off to do whatever the fuck you want. The best part is that you’ll be alive to do it. Deny me and...” She tosses the heart again. “Well, I don’t have to tell you what will happen.”

The crew exchanges looks. At some point, this will become a problem. When they have time to think and let their anger grow instead of being overridden by fear. But in this moment, no one protests.

Lizzie smiles slowly. “I thought you might see things my way. Pick your new quartermaster. We sail at high tide.”

Things happen quickly after that. There’s some arguing before the crew puts forth Alix as the new quartermaster. They’re a bird person, their feathers a dozen shades of black, and they seem reasonable enough. It’s about the best we can ask for.

We’re shown to the captain’s cabin as someone provides a few mops and buckets of seawater to clean up the mess on the deck. The moment I step through the door, the sensation of the missing piece of me becomes almost overwhelming. Lizzie says something, but my ears are clogged to anything but the call of my pelt. I rush through the captain’s cabin, digging through chest after chest before finding one tucked in the corner. And there it is, neatly folded on the top.

My pelt.

I reach for it with shaking hands but stop just short of touching it. This hasn’t been an easy journey, but at the same time... it’s been too easy. I expected for weeks and weeks to pass as the search stretched out and became frustrating and hopeless.

“It’s there, Maeve. Take it.” Lizzie sounds carefully distant, the fervor in her voice having died down now that we no longer have an audience. The blood is gone from her skin even though I’m nearly certain that she didn’t stop to wash it off. That’s a strange little mystery for another day.

I take a deep breath and pick up my skin. It’s as warm as my own body, and the urge to wrap it around myself is nearly overwhelming. But not here. Not like this. “I need—”

Lizzie is there in an instant, wrapping an arm around my waist and guiding me through the door and out onto the deck. The sailors watch us with fear in their eyes and no little amount of curiosity. Now that the time has come, I’m almost afraid to wrap the skin around myself. What if it’s no longer part of me? What if it rejects me? I’ve never heard of such a thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

“You won’t know until you try.” I hadn’t realized that I’d been speaking aloud, but Lizzie’s voice is very soft and careful. As kind as I’ve ever heard her.

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