Page 66 of Evil Hearts

“You’ll pay for that, you nasty scamp!” He lunges at me with his hairy arms raised.

“Never!” I shout as I bounce to the far end of the crow’s nest. I wave my blade between us but miss his digits by inches. This nest shrinks by the second. My attacker balances on the outside of the wooden structure while grabbing at me from above. As I hit the floor to dodge his meaty fingers, I spy his hidden advantage. He’s worked his boots into the crevice where the sides and floor no longer meet. The wood—warped by months of salty spray—should have been replaced after we took our last prize.

I remove my rigging knife from my belt and stab at his boots. The satisfaction of the blade sinking into the shiny leather twists my lips into a smirk. It sinks between his toes, but he howls like I severed one. He lifts his foot to inspect the damage, but the five-inch knife prevents it from escaping the hole in the nest. Oh, how I wish I carried a second knife! His boots tap on the outer edgeof the nest as he tries to dislodge his toes. My machete slashes at the half-dozen arms pinwheeling overhead.

Wait, how are there so many arms?

I crawl around the crow’s nest until I reach the stern side where there aren’t arms reaching in. Risking my neck, I stand in defiance of my attackers. Three men in matching uniforms—with matching bad haircuts—reach into the nest where I once hid.

“It’s not a cabin boy! It’s a doxie!” yells the sailor with his shiny boot tip caught in the nest.

There’s a shout from below. I meet my father’s gaze. His face contains an expression I’ve never seen him wear.

Fear.

“Aye, Smitty, the one to grab her gets the first go at her!” shouts the second man who reaches for me.

The third man remains silent, but a cruel smile that churns my insides splits his face. I have a feeling he would be the worst one to catch me. The dead voids he has for eyes follow the lines of my father’s shirt. It’s gone translucent with the constant rain. Me hearties have known me since I was a tyke, so my dairy doesn’t rouse them. I guess I grew too comfortable with them hanging out. For the first time in my life, I want to wrap my arms around my chest and hide my nudity.

Terror coats my limbs like bilge sludge. My hands grab the flagpole. I hoist myself to the top of the main mast to fly with our Jolly Roger. The black fabric wraps itself around my waist to shield me in my father’s colors as if to give me one last hug. I look down to say goodbye just as a nameless, faceless soldier beheads my father from behind. Father’s blood showers Ellis before the head rolls across the sterncastle deck.

My mateys defending him raise their hands and drop their weapons.

The admiral blows his whistle.

The sailors freeze.

It’s over. My life as I’ve always known it is over. My voice, my choices, and my rights are swiped from existence with the swipe of the sword across my father’s neck. All my hopes and dreams centered around his position as captain. He held my safety in his hands without complaint my whole life…and I never thanked him.

“Now we’ll get a taste of your quim!” The men who grabbed at me have conquered the crow’s nest. They reach for me on stable footing. As four slimy fingers wrap around my ankle, my mind clears of fear.

“Not when I can escape to the briny deep,” I whisper as I hurl myself overboard. The smack of the saltwater on my cheeks is welcome as I sink toward the end of my life with a smile on my face.

Atlas

They are atit again. What once was a peaceful cove to escape the roaring Atlantic Ocean is now infested with human ships. Like the sand fleas that attack my flesh if I lay still for too long, they irritate me from head to tentacle tip. How many ships must I sink before they leave this area alone?

Their primitive canoes amused me as they zipped from island to island—even their skinny Viking vessels, adorned with carved dragons, were works of art for my lair. But these vermin…are a different sort. Each one is larger than the last. More booming cannons to sprinkle their toxic powder over my coral reefs, more humans who dispel their putrid waste into my water, and moremetal to litter the floor of the Caribbean. It’s not fair because I loved humans once…well, a certain human.

What keeps me here? It’s not like Fate will replace her.

Their behavior makes me so sick, I can’t eat them without a bellyache.

Should I let these two ships destroy themselves or expedite the process? I just don’t have the energy to deal with them anymore. What’s the point? Where one sinks, five more hatch, like cannibalistic worms to eat the remains of their dead. I should let this go…maybe swim south and brave the frigid waters to retire in the Pacific.

Her final resting place will decay the same if I’m here or gone. Human companions don’t last—

What’s that smell? Delectable. Delicious. My gills breathe in the scent I thought was long lost. My body awakens, stiffening my mating arm. I stretch my tentacles along the seafloor, desperate for sensory information. Where is she? How is she here? Fate has given me another chance at happiness. This time I won’t take my little human for granted again. I will love her every minute of every day—not some half arrangement where she visits her family on some island.

She will be mine and mine alone.

The source of my mating frenzy floats gently from the surface like the gift she is. My tentacles strain to receive her without approaching the debris falling from the ships. There’s nothing worse than being injured by the curse humans callfire. A delicate female glides into my embrace as if it’s meant for her. We fit as I hug her to my head, careful not to block my gills or eyes. She’s smaller, younger, and paler than my first human, but perhaps that means she’s less fragile. I lost my dear Maria too soon.

With my new treasure nestled in two tentacles, I bunch the remaining six and propel myself off the sandy bottom. Bubblestrail us as we dart toward my lair. I must carve gills into my human before anything. Pumping water and kicking my tentacles, we make our way toward deeper water. While my lair has air for her to breathe, I refuse to leave her behind as I travel. Seeing the world through her eyes and reliving the excitement of first-time experiences are the brightest benefits of having a companion. I draw water into my body until it hurts with the strain and blow it out my siphons to move as fast as I can.

“There, there, my treasure,” I whisper as I drape her upper half over the sandy bank within my lair. Her skin almost matches the golden grains. Oh, what wonderful camouflage, just like my color-changing skin! This is further proof her destiny was always as a Kraken’s mate.

Hmm, she doesn’t whimper or still when I remove her cloth coverings. She needs gills right now. I hate how I haven’t time to explore her as I please. My tentacles itch to caress her delicate skin and find where she’s the softest. Instead, I release the claws on my front tentacles and slice between the hard lines on her chest. Hers are more pronounced than Maria’s, which makes finding them easier, or maybe I’m just better the second time around. Cutting the sensitive tissues of my gills hurts like hell, but I’d suffer a thousand times over to have someone to share my lonely life. I dig until I find the air sac that connects to her mouth, and wedge my tissue in her body.

---