Page 72 of Evil Hearts

“Not exactly,” he says in that singsong way of liars. He slinks into the water to end the discussion. Sure, I could follow him, but that would lead to my throwing myself at him again. At his mention of my need, a spark ignites in my belly. I’ve never been controlled by my libido, and that won’t start today.

If he wants to keep secrets, fine. When I secretly escape, we will be even.

Jane

The water’s freezingand black when I dip my face into it. I drifted into a fitful sleep as soon as my anger cooled to a simmer. Atlas is nowhere to be found, and there are no new slime streaks on the beach. Now is the time for me to make a getaway. I can’t become attached to a monster who hides me in a secret cavern with sweet promises and a detachable cock.

Too much like being trapped as a housewife on land.

Tying my father’s hat to my chest with my shirt, I remove any obstacles for my gills. These babies better work without a life-or-death situation. Here goes nothing! I slink into the water. I push my belly out and retract it to open my new gills. The little bastards need my attention, but they work. It will be tricky to remember to breathe and navigate the dangers of the ocean, but I’m up for the challenge.

I am Captain Glass’s daughter.

The fish of the grotto are smaller than my hand. I guess they would be my food source when Atlas abandons me for weeks on end. All that business about adventures were sweet promises to get into my trousers.Blimey.Just because he lacked fingers and a face doesn’t mean he’s different than any other man…and I fell for it.

The opening to my monster’s home is a crevice between two rocks. No wonder he felt safe from the hammerhead migration; they couldn’t fit through the opening. I slide through easily. Is it really a prison if there’s no lock on the door? I’m not second-guessing my plan…just intimidated by the large schools of fish and endless ocean stretched out before me. On the boat, fish were identified asedibleandwill eat you. Why didn’t I pay attention to me hearties fishing on calm days?

Because I never thought I would be trapped in Davy Jones’s locker—not dead—and swimming my way to the surface. What a fish tale I got! But who will hear it? I need people, right? If this is the right move, why can’t I let go of the crevice? If only there was a sign…

Gazing up to the heavens, I receive a message from above—not in the divine sense, but the shadow of a dinghy’s haul. Avast ye! I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight! I push off the sandy bottom and drift upward toward the shadow. Bubbles cascade around the haul as a grappling hook is thrown overboard. Is this my ride? I step on one of the iron curls—careful not to snag my linen pants on the sharp hook. After a few tugs to the slack line, I’m towed upward. Fish of various colors and sizes whiz past me as I’m rescued from the briny deep.

Who will I meet at the surface? Someone easier to deal with than Atlas. If these fishermen lie to me, I won’t be worse for the wear…they are a means to a port where I can begin my career anew. Maybe I’ll ask about Ellis at the tavern. Lord knows he owes me a tankard of grog for the fish tale I’m about to tell him. I’m giddy as punch as I breach the surface where two burly men throw a net over me.

“Back off, ye scallywags! I’m Jane Glass fromPetunia Fair, and I’d like permission to board.”

Atlas

Did they catch her or did she call them to her like a siren? My mate jumps onto the hook that spells death for the likes of me and rides to the surface. Do I dare intervene? Her choice is obviously not to stay with me. She’s pulled from the water…from my life…from my soul…leaving a gaping hole behind…

Jane

“Look, Harry, we dropped a hook for a monster and caught ourselves a mermaid,” drawls a fisherman with white hair peeking out of his blue cap. Thank the heavens they speak Spanish. Who knows what troubles I would get myself into if they spoke English?

“She’s very pretty,” replies the younger fisherman as he offers his hand to help me board. I swat it away and leap over the side. The tiny craft doesn’t even rock when my weight hits. “She doesn’t have a tail.”

“It’s because I’m a pirate—not a mermaid,” I snap, leaving off the curse I would give me hearties if they mistook me for an imaginary mermaid. I untie my shirt to hide my gills but distract their wandering eyes with a shake of my hat. A few salt droplets between the lashes ought to teach them to ogle my goods. “My ship,Petunia Fair, was sunk by the navy less than a fortnight ago. I’m the only survivor. Would—”

“Petunia Fair,” says the older fisherman, rubbing his chin. “Never heard of it.”

“But I have,” replies Harry. “Those boys drank all of Maude’s rum and ale in one night. We residents had to swill grog until the distilleries could bring more.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” says the older fisherman with a wicked gleam in his eye that shivers me timbers. “Never could get that taste of grog out of my mouth. Rumor has it that not all the crew paid for their drinks either. Are you here to settle the debts?”

Avast ye! My father would never let the crew board without settling their accounts. He paid our crew handsomely because he educated each member. Losing someone to another boat issour, but losing someone you taught to fence, sew, shoot, and sail is devastating. This doesn’t sound right. I bet this Maude is spinning tales to get the locals to drink her nasty grog with a chaser of sympathy. If she served the crew, she met my father…and would recognize the hat I wear. The nearest port or tavern was my destination. So confronting Maude is one way to get there.

“Yes,” I declare with a snap of my chin. “I represent the crew and wish to speak to Maude on their behalf.”

“That’s what we hoped,” Harry says before swinging the grappling hook around me, looping the rope over my arms. “She wants to hire a new working girl.”

“And we’re just the sailors to break one in.”

Atlas

Iwant to makeher happy, but I want her to be by my side. I hate it when my feelings are at war with each other! It makes me wish I was a thoughtless blob like other octopi I’ve come across. How lovely their existence must be! No heartbreak or empathy to ruin their happiness—just eat and procreate. Do I let her go to make her happy or take her as I’m entitled as my fated mate?

I am a sea monster. I could snap that boat into pieces without straining a tentacle.

What would she say? She’d scold me and hold her tiny knife to my eyes. I shouldn’t chuckle at her rage, but it’s adorable when her legs barely wrap around one of my tentacles. She will be furious, but she will be furious on land too if she gives birth to a clutch of eggs.

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