Chapter Thirty
The captain stands at the head of the jolly boat, his unnaturally pale skin like melted wax stretched over his skeletal face. He smiles, his teeth razor-sharp, gleaming in the moonlight.
“You mean to tell me,” Rook says slowly, “that’s the crew of the Tidesinger? They would have to be—”
“Hundreds of years old,” Owen confirms. “Sylks must have possessed their corpses centuries ago.”
“Um,” Diana chimes in. She points her blade at the piles of skulls and bones littering the bank closer to the shipwreck. “I don’t think we’re the first ones to find the Tidesinger.”
“What do we do?” Lewis asks, surveying the cavern—looking for a vantage point, if I know him.
The pirates don’t bother waiting until they’ve reached the shore to disembark. They wade toward us, hip deep in the dark water of the cavern, swords flashing, red eyes gleaming.
“The sooner we find the Helm, the better,” Owen says. “Lew, you and Aster—”
He ducks just as the first pirate storms onto the beach, swinging his sword at Owen’s head in a wild arc. Owen whirls, and a shard of glass zips through the air and slices the pirate’s throat.
The pirate’s head dangles by a few rotted strands of muscle, but he smiles, black blood gushing past his lips.
Owen’s right—we need to find the Helm. But before I can retreat, I’m circled by two pirates, the stench of decay nearly knocking me off my feet.
We’re outnumbered twelve to six. Under normal circumstances, I’d like our odds.
But these pirates aren’t human. And we’re severely lacking in Elysian Iron.
The first pirate lashes out at me, but I dodge, using his momentum against him. As he lurches forward, I drop my cutlass, drawing my dagger instead, and drive it into his back.
The Sylk shrieks as it’s expelled from its host, and the pirate’s corpse crumbles to dust before it even hits the ground.
I twirl my dagger, the dark iron blade glinting in the starlight, rippling with iridescent shades of purple, blue, and green.
My opponent’s eyes widen and the Sylk hisses. “Abomination!”
The pirate charges me, but I evade, lashing out with the dagger. He dodges, and I’m forced to opt for the cutlass in my left hand as he unleashes a barrage of strikes.
Out of the corner of my eye, something rustles the tarp on our jolly boat. At first, I think it might be the cat, Rooster, having stowed away, but a pair of blond pigtails peek out from underneath the black sheet, and my heart stops beating altogether. Elsie.
The distraction costs me. I misstep, stumbling, landing hard on my back.
My dagger goes flying. The pirate is on me in seconds.
I raise my cutlass in time to block a strike that would have split my head in two.
I grit my teeth, pushing back on his blade, but the Sylk doesn’t seem bound by the weakness of the corpse.
He laughs, the sound hollow and twisted and inhuman, his putrid breath roiling my stomach.
The sword bears down on me, the sharp edge of the blade slicing my cheek, drawing blood—
The pressure relents, gone in an instant. Some unseen force yanks the pirate backward, into the shallow water, and drags him under the surface.
I sit up, scrambling to grab hold of my dagger, trying to gather my bearings when I spot a ripple in the water—a flash of green, iridescent scales.
A girl, her long black hair cascading to her waist, rises halfway out of the water. She cocks her head at me, her irises glowing white.
I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing as I watch her wipe black blood from her mouth.
“He won’t be dead for long,” she says, eerily calm. “You must hurry.”
I gawk at her, my chest heaving. “Thank you,” I manage to say.
She smiles, her expression placid. “My pleasure.” She holds out her arm then, and a black winged dagger materializes on the surface of her shimmering skin. “Umiko,” she says by way of introduction.
“Aster.”
“I know,” she says simply, and with a flick of her tail, she dives below the water again.
I breathe, try to focus. Elsie. Elsie’s here. She shouldn’t be here.
I whirl, trying to find her in the chaos. I spot her climbing the dark, rocky hill to the Tidesinger.
But I’m not the only one racing after her.
One of the pirates gives chase. He draws back, preparing to throw a dagger.
I open my mouth to scream at her, but before I can make a sound, the pirate’s hand drops, tumbling down the rocks behind him. He turns, watching it go, and when he lifts his eyes, I follow his line of sight to where Titus stands, a small iron ball in his grasp.
The pirate doesn’t move an inch before Titus throws out his hand and a thin wire wraps around his victim’s throat, slicing his head from his shoulders with a flick of his wrist.
No hesitation. No mercy. No remorse.
Titus smiles, but there’s something about his eyes—heavy-lidded, glazed with bloodlust—that sends a shiver down my spine.
Another pirate barrels toward him from behind, but he just rolls his shoulders. Looks at me. Winks. And when he turns, drawing his cutlass as he spins with lethal grace, I lose sight of him in the frenzy.
Rook and Diana fight together, their movements fluid, and nearby, surrounded by four pirates and the captain himself, Owen—
Owen laughs.
“Aster!” Lewis calls to me, and my head whips in the direction of where Elsie had been a moment before.
I’m at his side in moments.
“Is this an illusion?” Lewis asks me, his eyes wide. “I could have sworn—”
“It’s her,” I say, already moving toward the small gap in the hull where she must have slipped through.
Lewis lets out a long string of curses, crouching to follow me inside.
Whatever magic gives the exterior of the ship the appearance of having just washed ashore, it has no effect on the rotting interior.
“Careful,” I say.
“Elsie?” Lewis calls out, his composure slipping. “Elsie!”
“Up here!” she calls from somewhere above.
Relief washes over me. I step blindly in the dark, trying to find a way up by the thin streams of silver radiance filtering through the gaps in the ceiling, but Lewis grabs hold of my arm, guiding me through the shadows.
We move as one; I trust Lewis as we duck under low-hanging beams and up a crumbling companionway.
We find Elsie in the dilapidated captain’s quarters, standing in front of a gilded trunk.
The air around the chest glows, glittering with gold dust.
“What were you thinking?” Lewis asks, already moving toward Elsie.
I grab her arm, pulling her away from the cloud of Manan. “You shouldn’t be here!”
She throws off my grip. “I wanted to help!”
“Help?” Lewis shakes his head. “You could have been killed! It’s not safe for you—”
“I can help!” she insists, her chin held high. “I found it!” She points at the chest. “I can hear it. It sings.”
My pulse leaps. “What sings?”
She plants her feet. “Coins. Spoons. Swords,” she says, crossing her arms. “All sorts of metal things. They sing to me.”
I kneel, eye level with her. “And what does this song sound like?”
“Like…” Elsie screws up her face, listening hard. “Sunshine.”
I glance at Lewis, and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s putting it together.
Mother said my siblings’ affinities would never surface—that they had suppressed their magic for too long.
But Elsie…
“Do you think it’s really here?” Lewis asks.
I pivot, facing the chest.
There’s an inscription carved into the gilded latch.
What is given must be gained.
I wish Owen had worked that part of the riddle out, but by the din of clashing metal coming from just outside the Tidesinger, there’s no time to waste.
I clutch the medallion hanging from my neck, take a deep breath, and say a quick prayer to the Stars.
“Well, open it!” Elsie says.
My hands buzz as I reach out, the Manan humming louder as I grasp the lid.
“Stars!” Elsie gasps. “Your eyes!”
I barely process what she’s said as I open the chest.
There, seated on a bed of red velvet, a silver helmet with a moth in the center of its metal forehead…
The Helm.
I reach out, taking hold of it and—
“Help!” Elsie screams.
I drop the Helm, whirling to face her.
There’s no one but Lewis and me here. She isn’t wounded—not that I can see.
But her skin… it glows, sparkling with golden dust. And as the Manan begins to fade…
So does Elsie.
Lewis and I both try to grab hold of her, but our hands grasp at thin air, as if Elsie were a ghost.
“Az? Lew?” Elsie cries, reaching for us. “I’m scared!”
“It’s all right!” I say, paralyzed by panic. “You’re all right!”
“What’s happening?” Lewis continues to grasp at the air where Elsie’s form grows dimmer by the second. “Az!”
“I can’t see you!” Elsie screams, her eyes blazing with gilded light, as bright as the sun. “Az! Help me!”
A gust of wind sends Lewis and me reeling backward.
A flash of blinding white light, followed by all-consuming darkness.
I scream Elsie’s name as I scramble to my feet.
But she’s already gone.