Chapter 25 Lyx
TWENTY-FIVE
Lyx
Lyx has to get her head on straight. She leaves Cav in the hammock, shuttering herself in the cabin and leaning back against the door.
What was she thinking? She’d gone on the deck to search for more clues, yet one moment with Cav made her forget what she’s meant to be doing.
He leaves her mind warm and heady, clouded with seafoam, ready to drift away and dissolve.
One thought solidifies. She carries it to the bed and sinks down on the mattress before she can bear to look at it.
Cav didn’t run when she told him the truth.
He didn’t cower from the wicked desires she has.
Her vision blurs until all she can see is Cav beneath her, groaning and arching against her mouth, letting her sink her teeth into his flesh again and again.
Heat coils between her legs. No. She clenches her eyes shut, but the images of Cav don’t stop whirring past. She cannot be distracted by some meaningless fantasy. It is not the reason she’s here.
The pain in her throat grows stronger than anything else.
When she swallows, it’s raw and chafed, squeezing in search of something that’s no longer there.
She clings to that feeling, the reminder of exactly what she’s working toward.
Exactly what she has to lose. That is the only truth that matters.
It was easy for Cav to play along in the heat of the moment, but that doesn’t make it real.
He could not withstand her undivided attention.
He could not stomach the reality of what she is.
It stings like a misplaced tentacle, but she refuses to dwell on it. The day after tomorrow, the Indulgence will arrive at the next island, and she has no doubt Tidus will be waiting. She has to find an answer for him, something better than the scattered puzzle pieces she has.
Fingernail clippings. Oyster shells. A secret room.
A room that Lyx tried breaking into. Before she’d fallen into Cav’s hammock, she’d hidden in the belly of the ship, watching the door in the wall.
Once Cypher locked the door and returned upstairs, Lyx tried her best to get in.
She searched sacks of dried beans and tins of coffee for an extra key, but there was nothing.
When she rammed her shoulder against the door, it didn’t budge.
She has to look somewhere else, and there’s only one place she hasn’t checked.
The next morning, she stays in her cabin, avoiding Cav and any further diversions he might create.
It’s not until night has fallen that she prepares to leave.
The sound of footsteps dwindles as crew members retire to their cabins.
She waits for the lantern light to fade, for the idle chatter to be replaced by snores, for the ruckus on the deck to settle.
Only then does she slip out of her cabin.
It’s hours after midnight, far later than the night before.
She wears a hooded cloak and long trousers to dampen the glow of her skin.
Carefully, she creeps through the dark toward the hatchway and starts up the stairs.
On the third step, the wood creaks. She freezes, peering between the slats toward the dark cabins.
Something rustles. Her scales prickle when a shadow moves in one of the rooms, but it rolls onto its other side and settles. She counts a full sixty seconds before she climbs the rest of the stairs and peeks out onto the deck.
The first thing she sees is Cav’s hammock.
His tail dangles over the side, swaying and twitching dreamily.
Memories pour into her, but she shoves them aside to focus on the rest of the deck.
It’s a good night for what she needs to do.
The sound of the ocean swells, and the sky is thick with clouds that blot out the moon.
A handful of crew members are stationed up here.
Lyx scans their faces. She can hardly make out their features, save for the opals of Heathen’s eyes gleaming from the helm.
They swivel toward Lyx. Her breath catches, and she fights the urge to shrink back, tensing until her muscles burn for reprieve. She gives them none. After a long moment, Heathen rotates in the other direction.
Lyx exhales before she crawls onto the deck. It gives her a better view, but she’s exposed, slipping along the wall to duck behind a barrel.
The railing sits above her. It’s carved like all the others, a mollusk set into swirling patterns.
Last night, she’d thought perhaps Heathen’s secrets were hidden there, but she could deduce nothing from it.
It was wooden, like everything else. Stubbornly, Lyx reaches for it and tries to wedge the clam out again.
Someone shouts. Lyx jerks her hand back, bracing to be hauled into the open, but Heathen just calls back a reply. A round of chuckles rises from the group. Lyx peers over the top of the barrel, catching Heathen engrossed in conversation before Lyx darts for the next cover.
She makes her way from bow to stern, slinking through the shadows until she reaches the captain’s quarters.
From this angle, she’s nearly hidden by the awning that hangs overhead.
It provides perfect cover for her to slide along the ground, lifting on her knees to press her ear to the glass windows.
There’s no sound from inside. She tries the locked handle, already reaching into her hair for two pins.
Her time with pirates has given her this skill, if nothing else.
She bends the pins with her teeth and cuts a fervent glance down the deck.
When no one appears, she eases the bent pins into the lock and feels for every miniscule click.
The boat creaks. Her heart pounds, but she forces herself to steady, timing her movements with the roll of the ocean.
Finally, the lock clicks open. She doesn’t waste any time, tucking the pins into her pocket and sliding through the open door.
Heathen’s room looks exactly as Lyx remembers.
Her bed is tucked into the port side wall, and on the other, bookshelves surround the ornamental ship wheel.
It’s a little on-the-nose, but Heathen doesn’t seem the type to care for decoration.
In fact, there’s still nothing Lyx can see that give her any clues about the captain.
She crosses to the desk at the back of the room. In the drawers, she uncovers papers, books, and coins. There are ship logs, manifests, and professional documents in pristine condition, but underneath everything else is a crumpled piece of parchment.
Lyx pulls it out and flattens it against her knee.
It’s a letter addressed to Heathen, signed by some name Lyx doesn’t recognize.
The paper smells sweet with the faintest hint of perfume.
Unlike the other documents, this one is well-worn with smudges along the edges, like someone has held it more often than not.
Lyx isn’t sure why. The letter is short, so vague that it’s cryptic.
The jewels are working exactly as intended. You continue to impress. I’ll have more shells for you at the end of the month.
Lyx flips through the papers again, but there’s no other mention of “jewels.” She arranges everything back into the drawer and moves onto the others, but all of them are locked tight.
Lyx huffs. No doubt there’s something she could use in there, but Heathen would never be so careless to leave the key here.
They probably keep it on them at all times. Maybe she could pick this lock, too.
The floor creaks near the doorway. Lyx sinks behind the desk, leaning out with one eye to scan the entranceway. Was that sound of the ship groaning, or is someone headed in here?
No shadows pass over the curtains. After a moment, Lyx pushes to her feet.
She’s been here too long already. She needs to wrap this up.
She crosses to the bookshelf. This is where Heathen retrieved the jar for Lyx’s scales, but all the glasses here are empty.
She scans the titles of the books and pulls on the spines of the particularly mundane.
Heathen seems like the type to have a secret passageway, but no matter what Lyx tries, nothing happens.
“Dammit!” Frustration rises in her. Something is happening on this ship. She knows it is. She will not leave empty-handed.
She shuts her eyes and tries to remember everything she saw in the room downstairs. Glass jars. Oysters. Metal tools. A table, shelves, and —
A hole in the wall.
Her eyes fly open. That hole looked empty, except for the rope hanging down through it. A rope very similar to the one before Lyx now. She’d thought it was just a piece of décor, but what if it’s more?
She scans the floor and retraces her steps through the belly of the ship. If she’s correct, the hole in the wall should be a few levels below her, with a rope stretching upwards.
She follows the curving rope on the wall. It trails around the shelves, a decorative outline that leads back to the mounted wheel. Lyx presses close to the wall to peer behind it. There, the rope winds around the axle before it disappears through a small hole in the wall.
Her fingers close around one of the spokes. The wheel turns for a second before it catches. Furtively, she feels along the back for something keeping it in place. At the very top, she finds a metal hook. It takes a few tries, but she unlatches it and pulls on one of the handles.
The wheel begins to turn.
With some effort, Lyx rotates the wheel, watching more of the rope wind around the spindle. Eventually, something settles behind the wall. The wheel stops moving.
She latches the wheel back into place, but nothing reveals itself. No door opens. Something is right on the other side of this wall, but Lyx can’t quite reach it. Biting the inside of her cheek, she presses her palms against the wheel and wallpaper until a section gives way.