Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
M o’s heart pounded madly. It felt like he was being stabbed in the chest with how intense the magic coiled around. It wasn’t just that, his stomach rolled with nausea. His head felt heavy, weighed down by stones. He clenched his jaw tight.
As he was swimming alongside Noon and Wenta, trailing the sloop John Beaut above them, the immense sensation boiling under his skin made him halt. The mermaid turned her head to look at him?—
“Mo, is something the matter?”
He held his temple with one hand, clutching at his hair, digging his blunt nails into his scalp. But each pulse of magic threatened his claws to come out. He couldn’t respond to her, not yet, not when every essence of himself was being consumed by the overwhelming feeling.
He heard a voice shouting, muffled through the water, yet the magic enhanced it clear enough so he could understand the words?—
“Mo! Are you out there?! Help me!”
“Kent!”
He quickly straightened his back and looked up, up to the ship floating on the surface.
“Kent is in danger!”
Wenta blinked, then covered her mouth with one hand in shock. “Are you certain? How can you tell?”
“I’m not sure exactly how , but I know in my heart what is true. I heard him shout… it must be the magic that connects us.”
“Then you must go to him,” said Noon next to them, low voice booming. “He needs your help.”
“But how can you get to him?” asked Wenta. “The pirates won’t let us on board!”
“If Kent is in trouble, I don’t need their permission.” Mo held out his hand in front of him, extracting his claws. “I’ll get up there one way or another.”
Wenta sucked in her lips, brows furrowed with concern. She took in a deep breath through her gills, and exhaled, nodding once, slowly. “All right. Please take care. Good luck.”
Mo nodded back, extracting the claws of his other hand. “Thank you.”
“I’m starting to feel something, too. I’m worried about Seth.” She put her hand flat in the middle of her chest. “I’ll keep watch from the water’s surface.”
“All right.”
“I will keep watch too,” said Noon. “As long as the water remains safe.”
“Thank you both.” Mo managed a smile. He took his carry-bag off his shoulders and set it atop Noon, knowing it would only slow him down if he kept it on. It didn’t matter if he lost it. None of its contents mattered more than Kent’s safety.
As quickly as his tail would allow, he kicked and kicked, swimming up to the surface. He flicked his hair back once out in the open air, gulping in a deep breath, and gazed up at the ship—looking for any trace of Kent, and where he should enter from.
All sorts of shouts came from above, and he could make out none of them. Not even Kent’s voice— is he all right? Soon enough, Wenta appeared at his side, pointing to the wooden hull.
“There!” she clicked. “There are no windows along that edge; you can make it up that way.”
Mo nodded and did not hesitate; he swam up to the ship and dug his claws into its side. He felt the magic throughout his whole body, pulsing in his arms, down through his fingertips. Arm by arm he climbed, kicking his tail for balance, holding steady with his claws. He didn’t even notice if any chips of wood cut him, creating slivers in his skin. All that mattered was getting onto the deck.
“ Please ! Stop !”
There was no mistaking that voice.
“Kent!” he shouted back, hanging onto the side of the ship.
In no time at all, he crawled onto the main deck, and the bright morning sun was muffled behind scattered clouds and the huge white sails bundled around the mast. Before him was a barrage of pirates, crowding around and blocking his view. Where was Kent? He knew he heard him shout; that couldn’t have been anyone else.
But there was no sneaking around—the pirates closest by saw him instantly.
“You there! What are you doing?”
“It’s the noble’s merman!”
“Grab him!”
Mo’s heart raced in a panic. Fuck! If only I had legs! He crawled around a crate as fast as he could and kicked it with his tail, sending it flying toward his pursuers and slowing them down. Around the edge of the ship he went, tugging himself across the wooden floor by his arms. Now at his new angle, peering around the backs of other pirates, he could finally see who drew him here?—
“Mo! Oh, my God, it’s you!”
“Kent!”
The sight made his blood run cold, his skin pucker tight, his gut clenching in a knot. Kent was standing, terror in his eyes, with three men groping their hands all over him—one of the men he recognized as the vile Captain Young.
“You!” said the captain, turning his head and making eye contact with Mo. “Brothers! Catch him!”
Mo could hardly breathe. He’d never faced against this many humans without using the power of his Song. Though he couldn’t use his Song, no, not when Kent didn’t know, not when it could spell disaster for his very beloved. I have to protect Kent! But coming from every angle was a pirate charging right for him, cutlasses in hand, ruthless and unrelenting. Mo tried swiping his claws at one man to his right, but his left arm was quickly seized by another pirate, managing to only tear through the first pirate’s coat. A third pirate then grabbed his right arm. A fourth stomped his boot on his tailfin with incredible force, sending sparks of lightning pain up his spine and throughout his entire body. He shouted a curse in mer-tongue, unable to hold back the agony.
No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t shrug off the pirates’ grips on his arms. Their large, muscular frames had him tight, giving him no quarter.
“We’ve got him, Captain,” said the one to Mo’s left.
“Excellent,” Young said with menacing glee, and then—that crooked smile only grew wider. “Actually, I’ve a wonderful idea. Why don’t we put on a show for this dear merman? You’ve arrived at the perfect time. I know you’re going to love to see what we’re to do with Fareham right here.” The sarcasm in his voice made Mo’s blood boil.
“Take your filthy hands off of him!” Mo yelled.
“Not a chance!” retorted Young. And then—he put his large hand around Kent’s jaw—Kent’s face twisted with disgust and fear?—
—and Young covered Kent’s lips with his own.
“Fucking whoreson! Get the fuck away from him!”
Mo struggled against his captors’ grasp, only to no avail.
After much too long a time of unwanted contact, Young— finally —pulled his face away from Kent, yet not taking away his hands.
“You monster,” Kent growled at the captain.
“You’re mistaken,” replied Young, never losing his grin. “I’m very much a human. The monster you’re looking for is that fish-man over there.”
He leered at Mo, sending more chills up his spine.
“Brothers, tie the merman to the mast!” shouted Young with a devilish tinge of joy. “His frame is rather thin, and he doesn’t even have legs, besides. I don’t think he’ll be of any trouble—and, he’ll have a perfect seat in the audience to watch our performance.”
Performance? The way Young talked about violating Kent only fueled the fire raging in his gut more. As the one pirate who had his boot on his fin finally lifted it off, Mo thrust his tail and slapped him with it, sending him flying backwards and onto the floor. Yet the two who held his arms only strengthened their grips even more, marking his skin with red burns with how tightly they squeezed. It shot pain across his forearm fins, up his elbows and shoulders; he couldn’t help but unwillingly submit to their torment.
They dragged him to the large wooden mast and pulled his arms out to either side, stretching them outward and securing rope on his wrists. The rope then went around the mast, holding his arms against it tight, straining his muscles, and for added measure, they tied his torso to the mast as well. There truly was nothing he could do to free himself. He couldn’t bend to use his fangs. He couldn’t twist his wrists to use his claws. He was sitting powerless. He could do nothing but watch.
Just like Young had wished, front and center, was Kent and the horrendous pirates touching him. To Mo’s left, he saw the only others he had any hope of helping him—except they were incarcerated as well. Allen was standing, held by two muscular men who were of similar size, and Seth was sitting on the floor, tied up by ropes with cloth stuffed in his mouth. Should he shout for Wenta’s help? No, what could she do? She’d only get captured too, just like me.
“That’s perfect,” said Young, hands groping Kent’s cheek and shoulder. A second pirate held Kent’s left wrist still, his free hand resting on Kent’s stomach, lifting up his shirt. A third man held back Kent’s right arm, holding him steady from behind. “Oh Fareham, how must you feel? Knowing your precious merman is watching us pleasure you better than he ever could.”
“This isn’t pleasure , this is torture!” Kent rasped. But before he could say any more, the nameless pirate to Kent’s left shoved two fingers into Kent’s mouth, effectively gagging him.
“Suck,” he commanded.
“You are torturing him!” yelled Mo. “Stop it this instant!”
But they did not stop—they only kept going. It curdled Mo’s blood to see his beloved harassed by these barbarians, unable to do anything against it, three men against one. Young thrust his hips against Kent’s thigh, one pirate grinded from behind, and the last one took his slicked fingers out of Kent’s mouth and reached under his shirt. He lifted it up even higher and circled his fingertips around Kent’s nipple, coaxing out an agonized groan from not only Kent, but Mo, too.
“That’s it, beautiful,” Young moaned against the crook of Kent’s neck, his cravat thrown carelessly on the floor along with his waistcoat. “I’ve heard you sing, your voice carrying through the walls. Let me hear you sing some more.” He pinched Kent’s other nipple, eliciting another groan.
Mo could barely handle watching any more of this. If no one were to stop them, what else would they do? He didn’t even want to think about it, yet it was all happening right in front of him. A fury clutched tentacles around his heart, pulsing, beating, beckoning. Faster and faster his heart pounded. He wanted to claw out Young’s eyes, sink his fangs into the necks of the pirates, gut their brains from their skulls until they could hurt Kent no longer. Yet he was immobilized—each time he tugged on the rope, it seemed to only pull him tighter.
Magic swirled in his chest, so intensely, so raw, he could feel the power rushing throughout his whole body. The sunlight above them darkened behind large, thick clouds, casting shadows onto the ship. A lump rose in his throat, coiling around his neck, begging him, begging him ?—
— You can use it. You want to spill their blood. Now is your opportunity. You can save Kent. You still have your voice ? —
Mo squinted his eyes shut and grit his teeth. No! I mustn’t! It could put Kent in danger! But his inner voice kept calling out to him. The magic clogged his throat. His stomach churned and churned, seeping bile into his mouth, making him nauseated.
“Stop it, please! Oh, Mo…”
Kent’s sobbing voice made him open his eyes again.
Droplets of water ran down Kent’s cheeks— is that how humans cry? —but Mo had no time to wonder further. Young groped his hands all over Kent’s torso, moving even lower down his exposed abdomen, causing Mo to seethe with rage. The captain’s fingers moved meticulously on Kent’s breeches, working through unfastening the strings.
“Why should we stop when we’ve only just begun?” Young breathed against Kent’s face, and Mo could see Kent visibly shiver.
The sky darkened further as the power within Mo grew. More and more, the clouds turned gray, the sun no longer hot, the wind starting to chill. Was this because of his magic? Each pulse around his heart seemed to draw in another looming cloud.
“Mo!” It was Allen who called out, and Mo turned his head toward him. “Is there anything you can do? I have a notion that there might be something…”
He knows I’m a siren.
“What the devil could a stupid fish like him do?” Young snarled.
Mo’s heart felt like it was going to burst from his ribcage. The magic grew and grew, expanding his throat, stuffing it, pulling at his insides.
— You know it’s what you have to do. You must do it. Allen won’t be affected. Wenta can help. You can swim Kent back to shore. There’s no other way ? —
“Stop, please…” Kent cried.
As Young slid his hand down into Kent’s breeches?—
Mo screamed.
Young flinched and pulled his hand away.
Kent’s chest rose and fell with each harsh breath.
Lightning split the sky.
And Mo began to sing.
Mo was singing.
Why?
With every terrible thing that was happening, Kent could barely comprehend his surroundings. His head felt heavy, his mind spinning, his knees feeling weak. It was as if he were drunk, yet he hadn’t had a drop of rum. No, this feeling was more intense than merely being in his cups.
It was as if he were paralyzed.
In an instant, Young and the other two pirates unhanded him, leaving him standing on his own. He couldn’t fathom why, as his thoughts were in a haze, and even stranger still was that he could barely even move. Every time he tried so much as to lift an arm, it fell back down to his side. But he was thankful, so, so very thankful, the pirates finally let go of him and stopped their excruciating abuse.
Suddenly, the pirates surrounding him collapsed to the floor. Kent could barely hold his own weight anymore as well. His knees shook even more, buckling, and gave out as he fell like a ragdoll. Somehow, with whatever strength he had within himself, beit the strange magic he felt in his chest or simply sheer willpower, he still sat upright. With his good eye, he witnessed the bizarre scene that began unfolding in front of him.
It wasn’t only Young and the couple others— everyone halted, stopping their actions in midair. A few fell, though others stayed standing. During this all, Mo never stopped singing. What was he singing? Why? It was a song with no words, only oo’s and ahh’s , yet Kent had never heard a voice more beautiful in all his life. Even when Mo sang before, it was not nearly as gorgeous as what he was hearing right now.
But… how?
How was the sky suddenly so dark?
How was the wind against his skin so cold?
Movement to Kent’s right made him turn his head (at least he had enough strength to do that). Allen shrugged away the two pirates who had a hold on him, shaking them off as if they were nothing but loose paper. Allen wasn’t joking when he’d said Kent hadn’t seen him get out of sticky situations before—with expert ease, the redhead found a loose cutlass from one of the fallen pirates on the floor, grabbed the hilt with his feet, held it with his heels and positioned the blade pointing upwards, behind his back. Kent stared in awe as Allen cut the rope tying his wrists, freeing himself, and then moved onward to untie Seth.
How the hell was Allen able to move, yet he himself could not?
Thunder clanged overhead.
He felt wetness on his cheeks—no, that wasn’t only from his tears. Rain began to pelt down, covering the deck in a hazy mist. How did the weather change so drastically from sunny skies not even twenty minutes ago?
As Mo’s song continued, hitting a beautiful falsetto, some of the pirates started to stir. Kent’s breath hastened and his heartbeat clogged his throat. Was whatever paralyzing magic that had settled upon them begun to wane? No, that wasn’t the case. Kent still couldn’t move. But as one pirate further back reached for his belt and grabbed his cutlass, holding it out and ready to swing, Kent nearly choked as he watched in fear?—
The man stabbed the pirate next to himself. His blade went straight through the nameless man’s chest, dripping blood out on the other side.
Kent wanted to scream.
Yet no sound came out at all.
What the hell is going on?
Lightning shot in the distance, and thunder soon followed.
Next thing he knew, he saw Allen next to Mo, untying him from the mast. It devolved from there, and Kent witnessed more carnage than he’d ever seen before in his life. More pirates started attacking each other, swinging their swords, cutting flesh, tearing limbs. Not only that, a few even attacked the ship itself, stabbing their blades into the flooring, which puzzled Kent’s pounding head even more.
Allen groaned after finishing with the ropes, slapping his hand onto the side of his neck, gripping it as if he were in pain. Kent couldn’t even fathom why that might be when, finally freed, Mo hurriedly crawled his way toward him. Each thump of his arms on the wooden floor created ripples in Kent’s chest.
As Mo grew closer, pausing his singing, Young suddenly stirred. He tried to stand up, tried to fend off the merman when?—
Mo grabbed Young by the shoulders and sunk his fangs deep into the pirate’s neck.
Kent couldn’t believe what was happening. His vision was darkening, body swaying, head heavy, and he knew he couldn’t hold himself in a sitting position for much longer. But with everything around him so overwhelming, he thought it must be a dream. An awful, terrible dream. Using his teeth, Mo ripped Young’s flesh from his bones like a feral animal right in front of Kent’s eyes, then moved on to the other two who violated him, tearing their skin with his claws, spilling thick red blood, mixing with the rainwater.
But despite the horrific, gorey wreckage in front of himself, despite blood splattering onto his own white shirt, Kent felt a wave of relief soothe his entire body. His atrocious tormentors were finally dead.
However, his limbs became so relaxed, he couldn’t hold his own weight any more. But before he collapsed to the floor—caring arms grabbed him, holding him steady in a tender embrace. Kent looked up, and gazing right at him were the ocean-blue eyes he’d committed to memory.
“I’m so sorry, darling,” said Mo, blood spilling from his lips. “I had no other choice. I had to stop them. I couldn’t forgive what they were doing to you.”
Kent closed his eyes, and he felt Mo press a kiss to his temple.
“I love you more than anything, my dear Kent.”
The screams of pirates jolted his eyes open again. Mo clutched Kent’s frame tighter as lightning brightened the sky once more?—
—striking the top of the mast.
The large white sails were consumed by raging flames.
Kent’s heart thudded and thudded in his chest, his ears, his throat. He saw Allen carrying Seth, unharmed, taking large strides to himself and Mo.
The ship’s wood creaked and cracked as the fire only grew hotter. It burned so fiercely, not even the rain could quell it. For whatever reason, the pirates even helped stoke the flames, throwing the bodies of their fallen men into the blaze.
“I’m so sorry, Kent,” said Mo, holding him firmly. “But I promise, I will protect you at all costs.”
It didn’t matter that chaos was all around him.
It didn’t matter that he’d witnessed Mo kill three men.
Kent felt safe .
Safe enough that the magic within soothed him; closing his eyes again, he let go of all tension.
Another crack. Everything jolted—the wind, the heat, the floor, the ship itself.
But Mo kept his hold on him strong.
The next thing he knew, he was falling.
He was in the water.
Mo used the Siren’s Song.
Submerged in the ocean, feeling the warm embrace of his merman, Kent held his breath.
He’s a siren.