Chapter 15 Cav #2
Heathen sucks in a breath. “When did that appear?”
Cypher lowers her chin. “The day she came aboard.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I wanted to be sure.” Roughly, Cypher ties the scarf back into place. “I wanted to have evidence. I wanted to avoid this exact conversation where you’re questioning my motives.”
It’s haunting watching the Indulgence burn, but it doesn’t have to mean anything, does it? It must be a mistake. Cav’s voice is hoarse. “Your tattoos have been wrong before.”
“They aren’t wrong.” Cypher twists the bandana like it’s Cav’s neck. “A tattoo forms to show what path we’re on. What we’re headed toward. If we change course, so does the mark.”
“What does that even mean?”
Cypher’s teeth grit. “I am trying to look out for you. For all of us.”
Cav’s voice grows stronger over the thud of his heart. “When exactly did the tattoo show up? What time of day?”
Cypher rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t return them to Cav’s. “It must have been as soon as she got here. Right after I did my morning check.”
“So you don’t know for sure.” Cav’s voice is level, despite the uncertain twist in his gut. “It could have been any time that day. You don’t know that it popped up the second Lyx walked up the gangplank.”
Surely someone would have noticed, wouldn’t they? Surely Cav would have been staring straight at the image, but her tattoos are always changing. All Cav remembers about her ink that day is a vague blur.
Cypher’s fingers flex. “I can’t give an exact time,” she finally cedes, “but I know it’s from her.”
That’s all the encouragement Cav needs. “Plenty of other shit happened that day. We left port. Colt got food poisoning. I mean, shit, I came back from the Silver Spoon; you might as well kick me off the ship, too.”
The ink blot around Cypher’s eye sharpens. “Works for me.”
“Please!” Heathen hisses, fingers pressed to her temples.
Slowly, Heathen inhales through their nose before they drop their hands and look pointedly at Cypher.
“I want the facts. Only the facts. The tattoo appeared between your morning and evening checks the day we left the last port, correct? What else do you know about it?”
“It’s on my throat.” Cypher’s lips purse. “Over my vocal cords. Perfect place for a siren song. That’s not a coincidence.”
“It very well could be.” Heathen runs a hand through her hair. “It could be related to eating, drinking, breathing, screaming…and sometimes the placement doesn’t mean anything, right? Your tattoos take up whatever space is available?”
After a moment, Cypher’s forced to nod.
Heathen mirrors her. “Then we can’t hang anything on that.”
“But we can’t just —”
“If our focus is too narrow…” Heathen lowers their voice sternly. “We could miss a credible threat. We can’t get fixated on Lyx. We need to prepare for a fire, regardless of the cause.”
An angry flush creeps up Cypher’s neck.
Heathen steps back. “Keep the tattoo hidden. I don’t want to send the crew into a frenzy when we don’t know anything else.
” Her spine is rigid as she moves back toward her desk.
“Before you turn in for the night, tighten up guard duty. I’ll quiz the crew on the fire plan.
We’ll have to be vigilant for the foreseeable future. ”
Cypher’s jaw clenches. After a moment, she moves toward the door.
“And keep me informed of your tattoos,” Heathen calls after her. There’s a meaningful edge in their voice. “Changes, new appearances, anything, I want to know about them. Immediately.”
Cypher’s hand rests on the knob, but she doesn’t look back toward them. Her shoulders twitch like she might speak, but she tugs the door open and slams it behind her.
Cav swears Heathen’s head shakes as she sits. His presence now seems like an intrusion, but before he can back away, Heathen speaks to him. “Keep an eye on Lyx.” When she lifts her face, there’s a suspicion she didn’t wear before.
Cav’s bravado falters. He tries to find an easy smile. “Thought you didn’t care about speculation. Only facts.”
“I care about this ship and the people on it.” Heathen leans back in her chair. “And I believe in Cypher. Her interpretations are rarely wrong. Despite your bickering, you know that.”
Cav presses his tongue against a pointed tooth. As much as he hates to admit what Heathen says, it’s true. He can’t admit that now. He can’t give Cypher’s campaign any more fuel. “That doesn’t mean she’s right this time.”
“It also doesn’t mean she’s wrong.”
“She’s wrong about Lyx.”
“And that’s your unbiased opinion?”
The spikes on Cav’s back flinch. He hasn’t forgotten Heathen’s warning from the first day, but it’s hard to stand up to scrutiny when he fucked Lyx in front of the entire ship.
It doesn’t matter. That was work. That was fun. He knows better than to expect — to hope — for anything more than that. “I will keep Lyx out of trouble,” Cav assures her with as much confidence as he can muster. “You don’t have to worry.”
There’s a flicker in Heathen’s eyes like she knows Cav has gotten in deeper than he can handle, but then, they press their mouth into a thin line and turn back to their parchment. “Yet I always do.”