Chapter 49
J A N E
B olting down the stairs, I can’t believe I’m free. I’m able to find the other Cinders, moving in a crouch position, ready to tumble or dive for support if the ship hits another wave.
I have no idea what happened to Misery but I’m not waiting to find out.
The Cinders are all shocked to see me, the loyal one starting to scream that I’m back and unbound. I go to her first, my knee stinging as it smacks into the floor, placing my hand over her chest. My well of magic is insanely low, but I’m also desperate to achieve this. Her cries become labored, and then she’s out.
I pant as I pull my hands away, feeling as if I’ve been bled.
The ship dips once more, and I grab onto her body, clinging to it as my legs fly in the air, her hair getting in my face.
“What did you do?” someone yells as the storage boxes all press against the netting.
“Subdued her!” I shout, waiting on the ship to even out once again. “No time to explain.”
As soon as I feel like there’s an opening, I rush underneath the lantern.
Fuck.
I’m too short.
I start to feel the motion that might hint at the ship taking another dive, and I run over to a pole and hold it tight while the rest of the women scream. Every time I brace myself, it takes even more out of me, especially when I’ve exhausted myself so greatly already.
The blonde asks, “What are you doing?”
I ignore her to focus, to scoot a wooden box across the floor with labored breaths, quickly standing on it and nearly falling off from being lightheaded, and then unlatch the lantern. I smile with triumph as I hold the caged flame inside my hands. “Burning the ship down,” I finally say, looking around the room and realizing I need to resecure the box before it slams into someone. I sway with my movements, saying, “We’re immune to fire, and there are sirens in the water. I’m certain of it. They will protect us.”
Two of them protest with something about, ‘that’s insanity’ or ‘ who asked you! ’ But I don’t care. This damn ship has to burn, and all the assholes within it. I don’t owe these women any loyalty.
The blonde seems to be the only one who doesn’t hate my plan and says, “Back that way. There are boxes stuffed with small barrels of oil. Spread it around. I saw it earlier when everything was sliding around. I realized what you wanted, so I kept a lookout. This wood is treated with pitch and tar.”
“What’s your name?” I ask, knowing she’ll be helpful.
“Sheila—I know you’re Jane. We all do.”
Nodding, I grab a pole as the ship leans, the sound of splashing water nearly drowning out all conversation.
I carry the lantern with me, bypassing the netting as I search for a box, the lantern fire shining brightly to reveal all the labels. Behind me, the Cinders enter a heated debate about if they should scream for help or not, on how society always has its rises and falls so who cares if others will be hurt as long as we are thriving? I move faster, searching and coming up empty.
It’s unnerving that no one has come searching for me yet?—
The ship begins to dip again.
I hold the lantern against me, my body weightless and slinging around, my shoulder slamming into a box before my ankle lands poorly, and I wince loudly.
When I’m standing on a hobbling leg, my shirt is singing.
Oh, shit. My clothes.
I open another container just as one of them yells, “SHE’S SETTING THE SHIP ON FIRE! HELP!”
“ Cunt ,” I whisper, my voice shuddering with joy when I see I’ve found the small barrels with corks at the top. I use all the strength remaining in me to uncork one and smell oil . I immediately begin dousing everything, my eyes flicking to the lantern with nearly every other breath.
I then get the idea to douse myself in it, just in case someone comes upon me. I partially smile while breathing through my mouth, waving at the flames. “Go, burn it all. Ruin this ship.” I scoop up some of the flaming oil, amazed to see it not burn me as it washes over my skin, and splash it on one of the pillars, the flames climbing up.“This is for you, Anya.” My brows are furrowed in a wild fury as I splash it on another one. “For you , Mom.”
“What are you all shouting at?” someone asks, and I glance over to see one of the crew. I gingerly lay the lantern down, and the fire catches on a trail of oil. I laugh and get to work on another barrel.
“ FIRE !” the guard shouts. “OIL FIRE!”
Like a mad woman, I dip my hands in oil and let them catch aflame, spreading it around like a child who is painting.
More men come in right as the ship dips. I scramble to pull out the cork, oil flying everywhere, even a little on my face, as I spill over the boxes. It’s now golden and bright inside, the heat very appreciated after being up top. I glance up at the ceiling. The ceiling !
I take the small jar and sling it around lines the wood above us in streaks.
“Well, get her!” someone shouts.
“This bitch is on fire, too!”
The ship groans like a giant animal, the battering of rain echoing throughout, but at least it’s no longer cold.
I stand among the flames as they roll upward, my body jerked around the boxes and barrels. The area reeks of burning oil and wood, and the panic begins.
A few of the women shriek as they’re still tied to the poles, and the one that’s knocked out begins to awaken and starts screaming her head off.
When I’m on my feet again, more men pile into the room.
Some begin to work on getting to the other women, the willing one being freed first as a few of the others protest.
Sheila’s rope catches fire; she squints and holds her breath, as if waiting for the burn, but it’s only the rope that’s set aflame.
We dip over another wave.
I grab onto a pole and clench for dear life, watching as Sheila slams her body into the boxes as she’s free from her confines.
The rest of the crew either scramble away as the flames overtake the space or fall into the fires themselves, screeching while they burn, the shock to their system swiftly overtaking them as they slowly collapse to the floor.
Where the fuck is Misery?
Sheila stands over a dead crewmate, a bloodied blade in her hand, probably stolen from him. She smiles at me. “I like your plan.”
“And I like your attitude,” I say. “Let’s get the rest freed.” Smoke overtakes the area, and while I choke on it, I can’t help but notice it doesn’t make me dizzy. It’s the rancid smell of the space that makes me want to vomit the most.
With my back to the main entrance, I move to another Cinder after freeing one, Sheila helping another. Panic spreads on the face of the one I’m about to approach. “Careful!”
I glance over my shoulder to where she’s looking, and the willing one from earlier is back, coming right at me with a dagger.
It—it takes me completely off guard.
The blade pierces my chest, and I’m almost shocked that this happened. I don’t quite feel the pain, but rather the disturbance of everything suddenly not working properly.
“Maybe that will make you sit still,” she grinds out. “Don’t take it out, or it will kill you. I’m sure someone can heal you so Misery won’t be mad.”
My eyes flare, the taste of metal on my tongue. “But they won’t heal you .”
She knits her brows, the fire burning so bright I can see flames reflected in her eyes. I take a large step back and scream from the discomfort and agony as the blade is pulled from me, pressing forward once it’s out to disarm her with my other hand, and stab her right in the heart. I lean over, labored breathing and blood spilling from my mouth. She struggles to catch her breath as she collapses to the floor, her arms lifelessly falling to her side, eyes remaining wide open.
I collapse to the floor, the Cinders all working to free each other as crewmates stand in the doorway, yelling hopelessly.
I place a hand on my chest, and it feels as if I’m drowning in one lung, like it’s impossible to breathe on my left side. My mind can’t focus as I’m next aware of Sheila trying to press onto my chest for me, the Cinders all standing together, over half their clothes burned off.
Lifting my gaze at Sheila, I shudder when I exhale. “Get to the ocean. Jump in. The sirens will get you to safety. They have to be out there.”
I close my eyes and heal what I can when my hand replaces Sheila’s, but this isn’t like any injury before. My entire lung feels punctured, and it’s a structural issue I haven’t healed in my own body before. And I’m also weak .
I pivot to look at the men in the threshold, many of their eyes falling to my breasts.
“She’s got a Zenith tattoo,” one yells.
“Aye,” I say, leaning my head forward to look up at them as I grind out, “I do.”
Even Sheila looks down at me in shock.
“Let’s fucking leave them!” one of the crew shouts, and the others. “We need to get sand from below and put out the fires!”
My senses become dreamlike, some survival in me able to stand when Sheila helps me. Who knows if this floor will cave in soon, and I can’t get to the ocean stuck in here. At least, the sirens probably can’t get to me, either, if I’m trapped in this wreckage underwater.
I only make it to the hallway, the sound of a panic somewhere so far in the distance, before I collapse on the stairs, breathing freely, knowing that they have lost.
“Go, Sheila. Get the rest out.” I manage to get out, having no idea if she heard me or not. My inhale is ragged, every breath carrying a groan with it.
My eyes close as my body relaxes onto the stairs.
Drifting within my memories, I’m taken back to Soren’s chambers in the Spiraling Stone, wishing I could lie next to him as tears begin to leak from my eyes.His grating voice is in the murky depths of my recollections, the corner of my mouth curling into a sad smile, the discomfort subsiding as his memory envelops my senses.
He came for me.
And now, I have someone to think about when facing death. And it comforts me.