Chapter 15 The Crowded Deck #2
Riley wasn’t sure what was happening at first, because this time? She didn’t see a different version of herself anywhere. And she didn’t see Maren. Which made all the self-confidence she’d had about being able to deal with this evaporate into thin air.
Simmering panic replaced it instead, crawling up her throat as she stared out at Nyxen coiling a length of rope, just two paces away from a second Nyxen who was checking the rigging with Eryx.
They both looked the same. Riley couldn’t tell which one was real and which one wasn’t.
Before the panic threatened to overtake her, Riley stalked her way to the Nyxen standing by himself and touched his shoulder.
The vision thinned into nothing. Her hand met the wood of the mizzenmast instead.
Riley blinked at the mast, and something in her chest unhitched as she sucked in a breath, forcing the panic down.
So this was all it was. Visions. Not real.
She couldn’t touch them. Okay. Lightheaded, she turned to sit down on the coil of rope resting against the mast, then blinked as she looked out on deck.
There were more people than before. A lot more.
The deck was filled with pirates. Pirates she knew. Pirates she didn’t. A surge of sudden helplessness hit her as she stared at them, making her heart seize in her throat and her throat close up with panic again.
She couldn’t go around touching everyone she saw.
How was she going to tell what was real from what wasn’t?
How was she going to trust her own eyes, or her own mind, or that she was even where she thought she was?
Riley remained frozen in place, her heart beating faster and faster until she was sure it was going to burst out of her chest, and then she forced herself to breathe in. Breathe out. Think.
This had always happened when she’d been upset, right? Maybe she could make them disappear if she relaxed.
Treat it as entertainment.
Some of it was interesting.
There by the railing stood Ignatius, without his eye-patch but with a wooden stump for a leg as he taught an older Pip how to shoot a pistol.
A younger Boarley stood by the gangplank, taking in the Moonshadow’s deck with a dubious look on his face, a sack slung over his shoulder.
A pirate Riley didn’t recognize approached him, talking to him.
When Boarley just stared back without saying anything, the pirate got louder, angrier, until the cook opened his mouth wide to show him his cut-off tongue.
The unknown pirate’s face went bright red in embarrassment as he stared at it, and Boarley shoved past in distaste.
Kittredge and Sabine sat by a barrel with a pitcher of rum between them, talking, laughing. Until Sabine leaned over for a kiss, and Kit turned her cheek instead, shooting her an apologetic smile after.
Riley almost felt bad for the gunner. It seemed she wasn’t having much luck with all of her flirting, even in her visions.
And then she got distracted by more glimpses into what could’ve been the past or the future or anything in between, and none of it was fucking useful, and every moment that passed and Riley was just sitting there, her limbs felt heavier, and a headache was coming on, because what was this?
What was she supposed to make of any of this?
She was getting upset again, which didn’t even matter because clearly her theory had been wrong.
Maybe she just needed to be somewhere quieter. Maybe they wouldn’t follow.
In a fit of optimism, Riley stood.
Or tried to.
She stumbled, falling on her knees. Her gloved palms hit the deck’s planks as she barely caught herself from planting face-first into them. And by now Riley was ready to fucking cry because it wasn’t enough that her mind was turning useless, her body, too?
The sting of it was there, in her eyes, and Riley tried to blink them back as she steadied herself, prepared to try standing again, slower, because some of the pirates on deck must be real and this was already humiliating enough without everyone seeing her fucking cry.
Fucking–
A cool hand slipped on her cheek, tipping her head up, and Calla was looking down at her, a displeased twist to her mouth. Riley managed a gasped breath. Because Calla was here, and she was real. And–She hadn’t seen her in any of the visions, had she?
“Come,” Calla said, fingers falling from her cheek to grab her hand instead.
She helped her up, and Riley clung to her hand like a lifeline. She didn’t let go as they walked across deck and descended into the officers’ quarters together, past Calla’s door, to her bed. With every step, Riley’s breathing came easier. There were no visions here.
Just her, and Calla.
Calla, who was real and sitting right next to her on the edge of the bed as she felt Riley’s cheeks and her forehead with an unhappy frown. Riley wanted to lean into that cool touch. It was soothing against her skin.
“More visions?” Calla asked quietly as her fingers settled under Riley’s chin, tilting her head up so Riley would look into her eyes.
Riley’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. Calla was so close. Her breath brushed across Riley’s lips, eyebrows pinched in worry as she searched her face, not missing the slightest twitch. Riley couldn’t lie to her right now even if she wanted to. “Yes,” she sighed.
Calla still smelled like the sea after a storm, and now she looked of the sea, too.
And Riley knew Calla hated it, that she resented what Riley’s wish had done to her, but she couldn’t help thinking the captain was even more beautiful than before, like this.
Because the changes fit her. Her skin was tinged blue, like the calm sea on a sunny day, bringing out her piercing blue eyes.
The fingers under Riley’s chin were soft, smooth, like the caress of flowing water against her skin.
Her nails were the same shade of ink black as her hair, and they lent her an air of danger, of warning of what lurked beneath the depths.
And the fins she had for ears made Calla easier to read than before, less closed off, once Riley had learned to read them–they were splayed out in interest now, and she itched to reach out, see what they felt like under her fingers.
She was even more impossible to look away from than before.
The words were just on the tip of her tongue.
Would you believe me if I said you’re beautiful, Calla?
But she didn’t dare say them. She didn’t dare touch. Because she knew how Calla felt about it all.
Maybe this was the punishment she’d been craving. Being close enough to touch and not daring to. Maybe when they found Sable, she could finish what she’d started, and then Calla might forgive her before she gasped her last breath. That would be enough.
“Is this what having the Heart in your head felt like?” Riley asked softly, drawing back from Calla’s gaze, from her touch. “Like you couldn’t trust your own mind?”
A beat of silence settled between them, heavy and charged.
“For a while,” Calla said, quietly.
Then she turned to take hold of one of Riley’s hands, slowly pulling her glove off.
Riley let her. Her skin tingled at the touch, and this small act felt vulnerable.
Intimate. She’d never liked having her hands bare ever since her two fingers had been cut off, and with the marks staining her skin now, that had gotten worse.
Riley wouldn’t even look at her own hands anymore, but she let Calla do it, watching the small frown pulling at her brows.
“I didn’t figure out what it was doing until the cave, but this is…” The twist to her mouth was troubled, and Riley’s fingers twitched from the impulse to smooth it away. “Different, I think. It’s not talking to you, is it?” Calla’s eyes found hers.
Riley shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
She looked down at their joined hands. Calla’s webbed one, Riley’s stained one.
She supposed neither of them was happy with what the Heart had made of them.
But there was no beauty to be seen in the marks on Riley’s hands.
They were dark, twisting, ominous things, and not even Haddock was willing to inspect them bare-handed. And yet Calla didn’t hesitate.
“Do you think it’s doing it to Sable, too? What it did to you?” she found herself asking.
Calla stiffened beside her, but didn’t let go of her hand, so Riley remained quiet, waiting.
“I think it’s trying,” Calla said, then her lips curled in a small smile. “But if I know anything, it’s that Sable won’t let anyone bully her around. Not even an ancient artifact with the power to destroy us all.”
Riley huffed a laugh, even as worry twisted tighter in her chest. “You know, I think you’re right,” she said, feeling herself relax as Calla’s thumb rubbed against her skin.
She didn’t seem aware she was doing it, and Riley tried to stay as still as she could, lest it stop.
“She’s too stubborn to let herself be convinced of anything.
” She frowned then. “I’m not sure how we’re going to talk her out of whatever it is she’s up to. She’ll just tell us to fuck off.”
Calla smirked. “She can try.”
Riley narrowed her eyes at her. “Don’t tell me your plan is just to boss her around when we find her.”
Calla looked at her in confusion. “It’s a good plan.”
Riley frowned. “It won’t work.”
“We’ll see.” Calla tilted her head, a smile playing on her lips. “It’s working well-enough with you, and you’re nearly as stubborn as she is.”
Calla laughed when Riley’s cheeks flared in response, and fuck, she’d missed this.
She remembered that night, when she’d knocked on Calla’s door with a pitcher of rum and Calla had let her in, had let her guard down for the span of a few breaths.
Riley had made her laugh then, too, and a warmth settled in her chest at the memory, at the knowledge they could do this again.
That they could sit here and talk, and tease each other, and steal this moment of peace for themselves even after everything.
Just like back then, though, Calla’s expression sobered too soon. She drew back from Riley’s hold and stood from the bed. “Get some sleep, Riley. You look exhausted.”
Riley sighed, rubbing a hand against her face. “I feel it, too,” she grumbled. Then she remembered, and she looked at Calla questioningly as she headed for her desk. When did she sleep? “Aren’t you tired?” she asked.
“I find I do not need as much sleep as I used to lately,” she said, her voice even as she settled at her desk. Too even. “But I’ll be here. Sleep, Riley.”
Riley frowned. Was that a lie? Or another silent accusation? Riley wanted to push, but didn’t, because the last one still played through her head as she settled down in Calla’s bed.
There are still consequences to things you don’t do on purpose.