Page 52 of A Steeping of Blood
“How? By tearing down every Ettenian building standing proud on Ceylani soil?” Jin asked, scorn at the sight before him apparent in his voice.
“Retribution needn’t be so loud,” Matteo said. “Spindrift wasn’t.”
But this wasn’t the same. This required something loud. A statement, as Matteo had said when he wanted them to steal the EJC vessel.
He was watching her. “Or maybe we can destroy their ships on our way out, possibly even dump their cargo into the sea.”
Those were two solid ideas.
The ship wrenched to a halt.
“A port would have been safer,” Vane said apologetically as his men extended the longest plank they had.
Arthie shook her head. “We were right not to trust them.”
It didn’t look entirely safe, but the twisting trees were less risky than showing their faces to the Ettenians at shore. Their ship had been spotted, and no doubt a scouting party would venture this way soon enough to see why they’d berthed so far away, but Arthie and the others hadn’t been seen, and that was enough. Besides, she didn’t think she had to worry much about an Athereum vampire who also happened to be a naval captain. He could handle his own.
“Best of luck out there,” Vane said as Arthie stepped over to the plank, Jin and Matteo in tow. “We’ll circle and keep out of sight until your return.”
“That’s a good man,” Matteo observed as soon as they were out of earshot.
Arthie glanced down. The rocky shore was far below, bordering a sea of green leaves—one misstep and she would break her neck. She didn’t want to know what that would be like as a vampire.
Matteo gulped. “I’m not too fond of heights.”
“Neither am I, which is why I’m not yapping,” Jin snapped, his jaw cinched tight.
Arthie raced to the bottom and hopped off, the leafy covering softening her landing as the heat layered her like a coat. She pitched open her umbrella and glanced up at them wobbling and hobbling and bickering their way down. “Any day now.”
At last, the doddering men joined her, and Vane’s men retracted the plank. Arthie started through the trees without comment, both Jin and Matteo muttering complaints as they dirtied their shoes.
Until a terrifying shriek echoed through the jungle—a bloodcurdling screech. The two of them froze.
“What was that?” Matteo asked, his voice tight.
“Arthie?” Jin whispered.
“A devil bird,” Arthie murmured in response, searching the trees. “They’re usually only out at night. They say a devil bird’s cry portends death.”
“How sweet,” Matteo said with false cheer.
“Simply wonderful,” Jin added.
Arthie ignored them, trekking ahead. She used to be afraid of the bird’s shrieks in the dead of night as a little girl. Now there were scarier things in the world. She studied her surroundings. She didn’t know where she was. A decade ago, the world was larger, and she really only knew the places she frequented. Under the shade of a towering tree, Arthie swatted away mosquitos as she waited for Jin and Matteo, a familiar scent tickling her nose. It was faint but unmistakable. She glanced up: coconuts. They clung beneath the fanning leaves, ripe for the picking.
When she was younger, her father would knot up his sarong and shimmy up to the top, hacking away with his machete until the entire bunch came loose. He’d shimmy back down and free one of the heavy fruits to create an incision along the top with that same, broad machete and hand it to her with a sweaty brow and a proud smile. Arthie would flip the coconut over into her mouth, lapping up the murky water and the sweet white flesh, though her favorite was when her mother would stir it up with a fresh squeeze of lime and a dash of sugar.
Arthie ached at the memory. She had gone from that—relishing coconuts as a treat—to needing them to survive.Not anymore. She glanced at Jin as he and Matteo joined her, remembering the bottles they’d clinked aboard the ship.
No, not anymore, she told herself. And perhaps one day she would go back to that time of her life, to relishing coconuts as a treat.
Goodness, she was beginning to plan for the future. Arthie tried her best to view this like any other job, trying not to let the trees, the heat, and the memories weigh her down. She passed a startled palm civet and beckoned Matteo and Jin to a vantage point on a hill.
“I couldn’t spend another second in those trees,” Matteo said with a sigh.
“I was melting,” Jin agreed.
Arthie sighed. “Men.”
