Page 72 of A Storm in Every Heart
And now I need to go find her.
I blink blood out of my eyes and my breath heaves as I stumble across the deck toward where I saw Odessa watching me. She’s not on deck anymore, but she and Jett can’t have gone far. I’ll find her and?—
Without warning, something smashes into the side of the boat. We rock to the side, and I falter, catching myself just before I fall onto the deck.
I whip around just in time to see a towering column of water erupt over the port side, turning the world into a blinding spray of white mist.
For a fraction of a second, I think it was my doing—that I somehow conjured another wave without meaning to—but then reality takes over.
Emerging from the depths is a gigantic black tentacle, as thick as the mainmast and lined with suckers that could easily rip a man’s head clean off. With terrifying speed, it slams down onto the deck, shattering the railing into splinters.
Before I can react, dozens of tentacles burst from the frothing sea in a frenzy—some thick as tree trunks, others sinuous and searching—slamming down with bone-rattling force. One lands so near I taste its briny spray. It wraps around the starboard cannon, ripping the heavy iron free with a sound like thunder.
I duck, roll, and slash at the thing with my sword, but the blade only carves a shallow groove in its slimy hide.
It wraps around my leg, yanking me off my feet and into the air. I slice at it, over and over, but the grip tightens, winding up my legs until it wraps around my chest and squeezes. I gasp for air, but can’t find it. My vision grays at the edges.
Then, from below, a saber flashes—a thin, precise cut, severing the tentacle at the base. Blood and seawater pour from the wounded monster, and the tentacle writhes for a second before it’s yanked overboard by the unseen creature.
I crash to the deck, gasping, struggling to regain my breath.
Out of nowhere, a scarred hand reaches toward me, and I look up into the face of its owner. Standing over me, wild-eyed and very much alive, is Captain Connell, hand outstretched to help me up.
What the fuck?
His throat should be open. His chest should be empty. But he stands, blood-drenched but grinning. “Alright, mate?”
Shock reverberates through me, and I scramble to my feet. “I killed you.”
He laughs, spitting blood onto the deck. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
I gape at him, a thousand questions flooding my mind, but I don’t get a chance to ask any of them. Whatever monster is beneath the ship recovers, and returns with a vengeance.
Its flailing tentacles emerge from below in a shower of ocean spray, and for one disorienting moment I think the whole ship is about to roll over. The deck tilts beneath my feet—a slick plane canted forty-five degrees toward oblivion.
Somewhere behind me, I hear a chilling scream—a raw note of terror that vibrates through my spine like a struck bell.
I spin just in time to see Odessa and Jett charging up from below deck. Her face is wild, dress torn, and her hair plastered to her cheeks. She screams again as a tentacle, swift as a whip, flies toward her.
“Dessa—down!” I shout, helpless to do anything from so far away.
Jett grabs her arm and yanks her aside just as the appendage crushes the deck where she’d been standing, boards splintering under its weight.
The impact is so strong it splinters the mainmast; above us, rigging and canvas come crashing down in a billow of torn cloth. The mast groans like something dying slowly, its shadow looming as it tilts at an impossible angle.
Another tentacle wraps itself around the broken mast and heaves, snapping it off at the base with a thunderous crack that reverberates through my bones. The deck lurches; splinters rain down like daggers. The upper rigging, still tangled with black sails and snapped lines, falls straight at us.
Odessa and Jett are right underneath it.
I don’t think—I react.
Something primal surges inside me: hot and electric at the core of my chest. In one motion I reach out—not with my hands but with something deeper—the magic answers instantly: ocean water boils up in a heaving wave that collides midair with sailcloth and wood debris, knocking both clear before they can crush her.
But even as relief floods me, another tentacle sweeps toward them from the port side—this one studded along its length with jagged barnacles that could strip flesh from bone.
Jett shoves Odessa back again, hard enough that she stumbles onto one knee. The tentacle catches him hard in the chest and swings him wide over the ruined deck.
Another scream has me tearing my eyes from Jett. My vision tunnels down to Odessa’s terrified eyes as she crouches on the deck, her arms over her head.
