Page 69 of Evil Hearts

He could want to eat me.

“I thought the sails from your boat would motivate you to build this cavern into a home. I’m Atlas.” Despite both blowholes opening and closing like twin mouths, his voice isn’t divided. It’s throaty without a throat and rattles my bones.

This cavern shall be my home? Over my dead body. The ceilings are high, but I was made to live under open skies. A river of saltwater flows between the two sandy banks, but I’ve lived my whole life on the open water. This place makes my skin crawl with the need to escape and breathe fresher air. I need the salt on my face, the wind in my hair, and the sun roasting my shoulders. I need to be on my—

“I assume my boat sunk.”

His nod breaks my heart. I shouldn’t be surprised. With father gone and the crew arrested, there was no need for the navy to tow our boat to shore. Barnacles and patches decoratedPetunia Fair, but she’s the only home I’ve ever known…except for the one I’m supposed to build for the slime monster. Anger sparks to life in my belly as I realize he returned to my boat, and he did nothing to the naval ship…or did he? Did he drown everyone I’ve ever known too?

“They’re from my boat? What of the naval boat? Did you sink it too? Is every crewman fromPetunia Fairdead? What kind of monster salvages the sails from a sunken boat—”

“The kind of monster determined to give his new companion everything her heart desires.”

My mouth closes on my arguments, opens for my apologies, and closes again with stunned silence. I drop to my knees and lean forward to peer from my crevice in the rocky walls. Piles of frayed rope dangle from bits of railing and masts. Random barrels, waterlogged crates, and a pile of junk sit at the water’s edge. A shine at the bottom of the heap gives me the courage to stand up and walk past the creature. His tentacles reach for me as I pass but don’t connect.

I’m transfixed by the little light.

I sift through piles of debris. Heave timbers over my shoulder and drag them away. Geez, the monster even salvaged our anchor! I crouch under the eye where we connect our chains and stand with it on my shoulder. With a shove and a grunt, I roll the hook onto its other side and uncover the bounty below. Someone’s boot, a pile of apple cores, and an ax squash my father’s hat. It lost its perch, but at least it held tight to the prism of Captain Glass. I stroke the crystal before raising the hat to my lips for a kiss.

“That belonged to your father.”

Not a question. I shoot him a glare that could forge iron.

“Your face changes when something reminds you of him. It’s pretty.”

“I know we’ve never met, so I’m going to go easy on you—”

“I appreciate it,” he says with the corners of his blowholes pointing downward like twin frowns.

“I’m Jane Glass. My father was Captain Glass, and my training was to take his place as a pirate queen. This means I don’t doprettyever.”

“I’m sorry,” he says in that voice men use when they want to giggle, not apologize.

“You aren’t now, but you will be soon. Once I have a boat and a crew, the world will be mine for the taking. I’ll live off the sweet trade, but I’ll travel the globe, terrorizing all the civilized folk who hide on land from real adventure.”

“Which you prefer,” he says, sliding closer to me. “Instead of being some man’s wife, you want to sail around the world, being a—”

“Pirate queen,” I say, straightening my father’s hat when it falls over my eyes. “Oh, out with it! You look like you’ve been pickled in punch. Your tentacles writhe on the ground when you get excited—has anyone ever told you that?”

“No, I’m a sea monster. Nobody tells me anything,” he says, inching closer so his tentacles dance over my feet. “It’s just that we could combine our interests and make each other happy. I’m overjoyed that you want what I want.”

“We want the same thing? Do you fancy yourself a pirate queen too? Better hire a savvy deck swabby with all the slime you leave behind. Your decks will weigh down the boat to Davy Jones’s before you weigh anchor.”

“No, I’d prefer if you called me Atlas. I’ll leave the title of queen to you, pet,” he says in a singsong way that pulls my upper lip into a sneer. “There’s no need for a boat. Blasted things sink at the first blow of hurricane season anyway—”

“What do you mean no need for a boat? And where did you learn Spanish? How can I understand you?”

“We could switch to Quechua if you like. No? My first companion spoke both. She taught me languages as I showed her the world—without a boat.”

“Did you eat her?” He slinks back a step at my question, and I instantly feel terrible. “That was rude, I’m sorry. You must understand I’m feral, barely socialized—I’m not the lady you seek.”

“I do eat humans, so your question is valid. However, you are special—a fated companion, if you will. I know because there are pieces of me within you. It’s the same answer to travel without a boat and what I require of you—”

I fly at him so fast my father’s hat falls into the sand. I pin the two tentacles sporting wicked claws over his head with one hand and hold my rigging knife to the spot between his eyes. Three more tentacles smash between the wall and my knee. I lean with all my might, but he’s not fighting. His other tentacles are longer than I am tall and could crush me in an instant.

If anything, he shakes with concealed chuckles and amusement.

“Colorful language and a fighting spirit,” he says between annoying guffaws. “You will entertain me to no end.”

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