Page 2 of High Seas

He certainly looked the part, in a dingy white shirt with a wrinkled row of ruffles cascading down his chest. The shirt gaped open, exposing a bronze chest highlighted by a smattering of dark chest hair.

The young man was still hugging himself when he replied to his captain, “’Cause I figure I’ve done a lotta bad stuff in me life, Cap. I reckoned I got the chance to save an angel and figured I oughta take it.”

The captain’s boots were tall, rising to his knees. They were scuffed and worn in places, but in spots the dark leather shone.

My eyes followed the bottom of his pointed beard upward. Black as the oil on his boots, long but full, he wore it well. There were crow’s feet at the outer corners of both eyes – eyes that were narrowed suspiciously at me.

“And what say you? Are you indeed an angel, fallen from heaven, or is it possible that you’ve stowed away on my ship, and now that we’ve spotted land, you decided to swim to shore before you were caught? Stowing away on my ship wouldn’t be prudent, but you’d have to be out of your mind to try to swim in a gown as heavy as that.”

I responded to his insult by coughing up more seawater. Some of it splashed onto his fancy boots and spotted my reflection in the shiny buckles, but the captain didn’t even flinch.

He reached out and brushed strands of hair from my face. “You’re a pretty one.” His voice was deep and gravelly and his speech was formal and stilted. He sounded like Enoch’s people had, with the same accent and formality. “It’s a shame you aren’t smarter.”

He took my wrists – first the right, then the left – and looked at the inside of them, muttering something under his breath.

I had to find Enoch.

At the same time my fingers finally decided to work, my suit came on, warming my skin beneath the sopping wet gown. I needed it to accelerate my healing. I had to recover. Fast.

The captain’s stern voice filled the air as he stood up. “Take her to my quarters.”

Two sailors grabbed me by the upper arm and hoisted me up, threading my arms over their shoulders. My head lolled forward, bouncing with each step they took.

My stomach hated ships, and sailors with body odor, and salt water, and puking, and drowning, and boots, and captains, and even beards… the list went on.

As we walked, the massive vessel lazily rocked back and forth in the waves, my stomach rolling right along with it. I managed to raise my head for a few seconds and watched as the last rays of sunlight fell over billowing, pale gray sails of various shapes and sizes, strung to tall masts with more ropes than my eyes could follow.

Thank God, I landed while it was still daylight. The boy might not have seen me in the night.

My fingers tightened on the men’s shoulders. I could feel my strength returning, and not a moment too soon. At first, my feet sloppily pushed against the wood, but every second my motions became more deliberate.

At the stern were the Captain’s quarters. We passed a set of windows glowing from candles lit within, casting warm, buttery light over the deck as the sun sank below the horizon. The men opened a pair of weathered double doors and unceremoniously dumped me inside before one of them locked the door. Bare feet were almost silent on the planks, their retreating shadows sliding over the windows and then disappearing.

I closed my eyes. Thank God they’re gone. The stench of them clung to my damp hair, but I didn’t yet have the strength to rake the strands out of my face. Instead, I just laid there with my cheek and chin plastered to the floor, pretending I didn’t smell as bad as the manure field I landed beside last time I traveled, and wondering when the sailors last bothered to bathe.

The memory of Enoch ordering a tub for me fluttered into my mind, but that peaceful memory was quickly erased by physical discomfort, which seemed to be the theme of the hour. Added to the list of things I hated? Wooden floors. The rough grain would no doubt leave an impression on my skin. I managed to raise my head and hold it up for one moment, then a longer one, until I could hold it up indefinitely. I curled my fingers, one at a time and then all together. A few moments later, I could sit up.

My abs ached almost as much as my lungs. I clutched my stomach, glancing around the room. A small armory of swords hung on the wall behind me, their patterns interrupted by sconces with thick, white candles whose wax leaked in heavy rivulets to the floor. The wax smelled sweet, like honey.

A warm glow stretched across the space, illuminating a bed in the far corner that looked like it hadn’t been made in years. Across from the bed was a desk with legs that were nailed to the floor boards, a chair perched askew behind it. I scooted to the edge of the bed and used its sturdy wooden leg to help me stand.

My calves quivered under my weight.

Had the link Titus made for us pulled him out of the castle? Was he floating in the middle of the ocean, slowly bleeding out? And Abram… There was no way Enoch hadn’t injected venom into his blood when he tore his throat out. An attack that ferocious would either kill or turn him. For his sake and mine, I hoped the former.

Using the furniture to support me, I made my way to the desk and grabbed the top sheet of a thick stack of papers. Facing its surface toward a nearby sconce and taking advantage of the flickering candle that barely gave off enough light to read by, I tried to figure out what it said. In elegant black ink, someone had penned a letter in a language I couldn’t read. French, maybe?

“Nothing in this room requires your attention.”

I startled at the sound of his voice.

The doors hadn’t even squealed on their hinges, and I was too focused on not falling over and trying to decipher the document to hear him approach. I returned the paper to his desk, abashed.

The captain braced his hands on top of the door frame and leaned into the room. He glanced from the desk to the hem of my dress which was dragging the floor, weighed down by the water it had absorbed. Water that was slowly draining down and pooling at my feet.

If it wasn’t for the tall neckline, he would’ve seen my glowing tech suit.

“The sailor who jumped into the ocean to drag you out is adamant that you fell from the sky. I’ve spent the last twenty minutes plying him with enough rum to stop the tremors wracking his body. For the record, I don’t believe his account, but I am interested in yours. Would you like to tell me the truth about where you came from?”

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