Page 68 of Evil Hearts

“No, I’m not mated and I’m not missing any parts,” the voice says slowly. A shadow looms over me. “However, I don’t have a face.”

Fear the likes I’ve never known seizes my body and holds me stiff as a board. He’s honest if nothing else. The monster inches from my face doesn’t have a face. His black eyes are devoid of other colors and sit on a bulge of slime—which I guess is his head. Holes open and shut on his sides as he talks. A bright red tentacle slithers over my cheek, leaving a pink film on my skin. When the air hits the ooze, a cold sensation ripples over me. I shiver uncontrollably from cold or terror. My mind can’t process this.

He talks with intelligence but looks and moves like a sea monster.

“Don’t try to speak if I’ve stolen your words, little human. I’m content to look at you while you recover. You see, to join me in the abyss, you need to breathe. Your wounds are the gills I gave you.”

“What?!”

“My flesh is within you—”

“You what?!”

“With each kiss of the sea against your body, we prove our destiny to become one. You breathe through my gills, which I placed in you. If we weren’t meant to be, you’d be dead.”

Dead? He saved me from drowning to do some experimental surgery? I can’t take this. My eyes roll back into my head as I drift into the inky blackness.

Atlas

What a colorfullittle minnow?!

I could listen to my new mate for hours. She’s braver and stronger than her little body suggests. I could smell the horror rushing through her veins, but she didn’t flinch under my touch. She didn’t have the strength to fight, so I can’t call her silence consent, but it’s a start. Not one scream left her pretty, blue lips. My conversation with her was the first one I’ve had in many sun cycles. The emotion pouring off her when she spoke of her father fascinated me. To say I’m tickled pink with my newest companion is putting my sentiment mildly. What will she say next?

Nothing for now. There’s nothing to do except keep her warm while she rests and recovers. We have a lifetime to banter…

Jane

I’m awake again.This time I’m sure I’m not dead. Dead people don’t have crackpot fever dreams of talking octopus friends. I’m dressed and dry. There’s no way the blobby monster took off my shirt and put it back on without hands, so I must have made him up. It’s my sea tale, I guess. Ellis has his story of the stunning mermaid who threw him back on deck the first time he fell overboard…and I have a talking octopus.

If there’s no octopus, why am I too scared to open my eyes?

Because I’m warm with the smell of fire in my nose. I’m not alone. Whoever I hallucinated into a talking octopus is still here. He’s watched me sleep, and I’m not a pretty sleeper. The area between my nose and mouth is sore—a telltale sign I snored loudly. Better close my mouth and wipe my chin while I’mthinking of it. I can’t meet my rescuer with crust under my bottom lip.

“I know you’re awake,” says the deep voice from my dream.

Might as well face the firing squad. I must apologize for whatever nonsense I spewed while I recuperated and thank the guy for fishing me from the deep. My eyes flutter open without a hint of salt…which sends a chill up my spine. If I imagined my last encounter with him, wouldn’t there be saltwater sticking my lashes together? Did I sleep with my eyes open too?

Mortifying.

My bedding is made of sails, some yellow from age. No wonder I slept soundly. The familiar texture and smell of the sea bring a tear to my eye. I grew up playing on sails as Father mended them until I was old enough to mend them by his side. Then he taught me to read as I sewed.

“Don’t cry, my pet,” my rescuer whispers. Splashing followed by the rasp of sand accompanies his whispered nonsense. “I will make everything better. Just tell me what hurts.”

“No, no, no need,” I stammer between sobs. My hand waves over my face. “You’ve saved my life and nursed me to health. That’s more than enough. I was caught in a whirlpool of my memories—”

“Your father,” he says resolutely. Well, at least I was coherent enough in my sleep to tell him I lost my father.

“Yes, the feel of the sails reminded me of when I used to mend sails with him. They were beautiful memories that moved me to tears—not sadness for some man to fix.”

“I’m happy my gift gave you fond memories.”

“Your gift? Did you make a bed of sails just for me? Where do you sleep?”

“I sleep in the sea—”

I gasp and scramble against the wall. Pulling my knees to my chest, I open my eyes wide to take in my captor. It’s the talkingoctopus and I’m wide awake. The pinch on my arm registers when I test it. He’s as red and slimy as in my dream. However, his eyes are expressive—especially considering he doesn’t have the white or colored part inside them. No nose to crinkle or lips to turn downward into a frown, but I still recognize the human emotion of hurt.

“Thank you for making a bed for me,” I say with a shaking voice and a hiccup in my belly. I’m a lot of things but never cruel. He could be worse…

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