Page 25 of Hooking Captain Teeth

“You’ve been on legs for days,” I say with more hurt than sharpness laced in my voice. I wish I could scold her the way she lectures me. She messed up in the worst way possible. I’m angry with her for throwing away her chance at true love while accusing me of doing the same thing. “My soulbeak rests on my navel. Does yours?”

“No,” she says to her lap.

“What to tell me about it?”

“No.”

“No lecture to prevent me from making the same mistake? I’m as surprised by that as I am by your get-up,” I add to lighten the mood. As angry as I am at her, she’s hurting more than me. The rings of sadnesshaunted her eyes as she entered the show’s tent on Teeth’s arm—not when Richard lost his head.

“Oh, this old thing? We found a trunk of women’s clothes on the ship we plundered before your rescue. I thought it would give Richard impure thoughts when he’s with his wife. Revenge is a sin, but my definitions of sin and purity are upside-down.”

“Wife? What happened? I thought he was the one for you.” I dab her eyes with the corner of the bed’s coverlet.

“I gave him everything…” Her sniffles escalate into sobs.

I peel back the stack of quilts and blankets to invite her to join me. We wrap our arms around one another as she cries in my hair. I let her wails fill the room as she shatters. My soulbeak tingles with sympathy. The heavy, black curtains on the portholes wave as mourning flags signal over a fort. Even the boat slows its momentum to listen to Bettina’s troubles. If Richard weren’t dead already, the crew would rally around her.

Then why am I terrified of them? Bettina huddles under the quilts to hide from her troubles, but I wish to hide from the humans. I trust Bettina and Teeth because my soulbeak links my soul to theirs. If they plotted to return me to a show, my belly would sour. SinceChub seemed to be the brains behind my rescue and Catalina killed Richard on Bettina’s behalf, I guess I can trust them as well. However, there are lots of humans on this boat…in tight quarters…

Will the nightmares of my time in captivity ever allow me to frolic on deck? Have I lost the sparkle that makes me Sabrina? Will it return when I shift into a Kraken and swim away? How can I see Teeth again if I can’t be on his boat? My anxiety begs me to focus on Bettina’s problems instead of breaking my heart with my own. Whether I swim away as a Kraken or live my days in this room, Bettina must be settled in a life she enjoys…without me.

“What did you give Richard exactly?” I ask when she runs out of tears and silence replaces her cries.

“Last month, we put the kids to bed and spread a blanket behind the chapel to stargaze. He told me biblical stories, which became personal stories as the night grew late. I was so overcome with the openness of his heart that I made love to him, but it wasn’t love on his end. The next morning, I broke my soulbeak into his breakfast—hurt like hell, but I didn’t want to wait—and floated the idea of shifters in the congregation by him. He raged in a powerful tableside sermon about the abomination of shifters. He called us demons, Sabrina.”

“With such a tirade, the soulbond decided you would spend your life on legs. Did you take his plate away and smash it over his head?”

“I should have, but I was stunned. What happened to the inclusion of all God’s creatures and mercy for those less fortunate—”

“Did you see us as less fortunate as Krakens? Are you happier now as a human?” I suppress the hurt in my voice, but I’m proud to be a Kraken. I like who I am and thought Bettina was secure in herself too. If I return to my Kraken form forever, will she respect my choice?

“Not anymore,” she says bitterly. Her fierceness shouldn’t set my heart at ease, but it does. “His hunger for your Kraken broke something in me. He wanted you. Despite his preaching, he desired a Kraken’s touch. On the outside, he acted as the beacon of purity, but his rotten insides held many dirty secrets—including his affair with me. I didn’t know his mission was funded by his wealthy wife, who has spent the last few years on a different island. While she devoted herself to helping the poor, Richard devoted himself to me…and a few other women in the village…and his visits to Maude’s tavern.”

“Oh Betts, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, hugging her closer. Istroke her hair while my brain spins with possible things to say. Do I tell her she’s better off without him? She’s a destitute human. He doomed her to life as one of the helpless people he supposedly lifted from poverty. Do I tell her I can’t choose for us to be humans together? I can’t because of what I endured at the hands of Barnabie, Rufus, Dolbie, and the random men they allowed to touch me during the shows.

What does this mean for Teeth and me? How can I ask her what to say to his proposal when she’s ruined and needs my support?

Knock, knock.

“Come in,” I shout, hoping it’s not Teeth. He can’t enter this chamber of sorrow with his flowery promises of love. It would rub Bettina’s nose in the filth of Richard’s sins.

“I must say you will be the easiest person to serve on the boat,” Catalina chirps as she enters the room. She carries a large tray that contains two heaping plates of flopping fish and three tankards. “The guys caught the fish and dropped them onto the plate. I didn’t have to lift a finger beyond pouring the grog. Seems too late in the day for tea—especially after the thrilling evening we’ve had. If you don’t mind the company, I thought I’d join you for a drink and answer your questions on the sweet trade.”

“The least we can do is share a drink. I owe youone,” Bettina says, climbing from the bed to the wardrobe. She grabs a long, threadbare coat and tosses it at me. Hmmm, it smells of Teeth…err, Milton…I just can’t call him that horrid name…Teeth’s scent. The worn leather is buttery soft against my skin.

“Owe me one? How do you know?” Catalina splutters as she sets Teeth’s table with our meal. I breathe a sigh of relief when the door closes behind her without adding more visitors. Beyond an eyebrow quirk, she doesn’t ask me about the reaction.

“I saw you stab Pastor Richard. If you hadn’t done it, I’d find a way to stab him,” Bettina says, wrapping her arm around Catalina in a brief hug.

“Oh, that,” Catalina whispers, blushing fiercely. “I thought you meant mending the shirt you tore in the battle. The buttons weren’t recovered from the ship we sank, but the new lace panels should cover your dairy. I brought it as a peace offering in case you were mad my Chub killed your friend.”

“That cheating, rotten, self-righteous son of a biscuit-eater is no friend of mine. And any woman brave enough to stab him while her man beheads him is the type of woman I want in my circle of friends.”

“Hey, I recognize that lace,” I say, scrambling out of bed to the table. I wrap Teeth’s duster around me, but thehem drags on the floor, and the shoulders hang off my elbows. At the table, I finger the fresh panels on Battina’s blouse. “That pattern has Pintarro rosettes. Half the women in the Caribbean would give their fingers to weave lace in those rosettes—makes the shirt skyrocket in value.”

“Because I’m Catalina Pintarro, or at least I will be until I marry Chub.” She releases the blouse to my care and points her wrist at me. My eyes bug out like a grouper’s when five thin lines burst from the spinnerets under her skin. A swirling pattern of waves weaves Teeth’s buttonholes to the rusty buttons, closing the duster around me. The masculine garment is transformed with feminine finery so delicate, it resembles the foam that caresses the beach.

If Teeth is attached to this duster one iota…he will hate it.

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