Chapter 26 #2
Against all instincts begging me to return to safety, I followed the sound toward the bow, slipping through the shadows on the deck.
The melody grew clearer with each step, weaving between the ship’s groans like a thread of gold in a pile of rust. Approaching footsteps drove me to cover twice, but I patiently waited for the fishmen to pass before continuing.
I crossed to the small door at the center of the bow and paused to beat myself up for being neither smart nor responsible.
But something inside me couldn’t walk away.
I had to see the person responsible for yanking on my heartstrings.
The handle was warm to the touch and unlocked, basically inviting me to enter.
I pushed the door open and froze.
An iron cage roughly the size of a dog crate was built into the bow, suspended half in and half out of the ship. Runes had been etched into the bars, glowing a faint, sickly orange.
Inside the cage, a pair of blazing eyes found mine.
Oh. Wow.
The fishmen had somehow caged fire. Human-shaped fire.
From the tips of her pointed ears to the bottom of her bare feet, the flaming creature wasn’t much bigger than my hand.
Her skin flickered between the deep red of embers and the pale orange of a candle flame, never settling on one hue.
Surprise at my appearance danced in the flames of her face.
My own shock wore off, and sanity returned. Intent on pretending there was no fiery woman in a cage, I leaned away from the door, preparing to make my escape, but panic flooded her eyes.
“Istanni.”
Looking around to make sure the coast was still clear, I shook my head and whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t speak fishman.”
Her face lit up. “Then I shall switch to English. Please come in and close the door so the sons do not capture you.”
She seemed genuinely worried about that, and I was too, so I slipped inside her closet-sized room and closed the door behind me.
The ceiling was so low I almost had to duck, which made me immediately uneasy.
Or maybe it was the way I realized I’d just shut myself in a closet with some sort of fire pixie.
“Do not fear me.” The sorrow in her tone tugged at my sympathy. “You seem quite lovely, and even if I wanted to harm you, I am under an enchantment that prevents me from attacking anyone on this ship.”
Ah. Which meant she wouldn’t be able to help us take out the fishmen, if it came to that. But outside the boat….
“You’re the one who fought off the giant snake monster,” I observed.
She frowned. “Oannes is not a monster. His children are.”
“The fishmen?” The captain had introduced himself as Oannes. She’d called them the sons, so…. “That snake thing is their dad?”
“Oannes was not always in that form. He was like his children before they employed a witch to cast his soul into the great serpent. The sons are oath breakers and tricksters.” She paused, tilting her head as if to weigh her words before speaking.
“I heard them plotting. They plan to betray you, too.”
Shit. A bolt of energy flew through my nervous system, putting it on high alert. This was exactly what I’d feared. I leaned forward. “Did you happen to hear how?”
Flames danced as she shook her head. “Unnecessary, since I have seen this before. The pigeon has flown ahead. It delivers a message to their Somalian contact.” She glanced at the door again, then back at me, and lowered her voice.
“You are the first person to speak kindly to me since Oannes was defeated, so I will give you a warning you did not request. The contact is a buyer. Of… people.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “A slaver?”
“Yes.”
“But… the alpha would never allow that to happen.”
“He is only a wolf. They have taken bigger and stronger. An alpha will fetch a high price. The males will be sold. You....” She trailed off, but the look in her eyes filled in the rest.
I swallowed my anxiety and horror, replacing it with anger.
I suspected the fishmen were shady. Knowing it for certain was a different beast entirely.
My fingers found my dagger hilts, and for a hot second, I seriously considered hunting down Lakhmu and Captain Oannes and splitting their throats.
But there was a whole crew of these bastards, and my people were asleep below deck, defenseless behind a door wedged shut with a spear.
Think, Ziara. Think.
“Thank you for your warning… uh… I’m sorry, I just realized I don’t even know your name.”
“Anunit,” she said with a slight bow.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ziara. Your English is very good.”
“Fire recognizes no boundaries. It respects no laws and belongs to no tongue.”
The smartass that lived inside me wanted to ask how she’d gotten herself locked up if she was so boundaryless, but the ship lurched.
Not the gentle rocking I’d grown accustomed to, but a violent pitch that slammed my shoulder into the wall. I caught myself before sustaining more damage than a bruise or two, but Anunit wasn’t so lucky. Her tiny frame flew through the air and slammed into the bars.
A wet, crackling sizzle reminded me of meat hitting a hot skillet. Then acrid, thick smoke curled off her skin where it pressed against the iron. The stench of burning flesh hit the back of my throat and nearly brought up my dinner.
A high, keening wail split the air before she clamped her jaw shut, strangling it into silence.
The fiery muscles in her tiny neck corded.
She wrenched herself free and crumpled to the floor of the cage, curling around the fresh burns.
Wings that I hadn’t noticed before folded around her trembling form as she gripped copper handles bolted to the floor, bracing.
Her flames guttered low, barely flickering, as if even her fire was trying to retreat from the pain.
Smoke hung in the cramped space, stinging my eyes.
With her light dimmed, I could clearly see her for the first time, and I couldn’t help but gawk at the marks on her body.
Not just the fresh ones. All of them. Scars were layered across her arms, shoulders, and the ragged edges of her wings.
Burns healed over burns healed over burns.
Some had silvered with time, while others were still raw and weeping embers.
Every single one was the exact width of the bars.
This wasn’t incidental. The cage had been built too small on purpose. Every swell, every wave, every gust of wind that rocked this ship drove her onto the bars. Over and over. For years.
The rage that flooded my veins was hot enough to rival her fire.
“They did this to you.”
Anunit’s blazing eyes lifted to mine, glassy with pain. She opened her mouth, but when nothing came out except a thin wisp of smoke, she simply nodded.
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. “You said there’s a curse keeping you from attacking them?”
One trembling hand rose, a finger pointing at the glowing runes etched into the iron bars.
Her voice came out scorched and raw when she said, “The witch cast a spell on my cage, binding my fire to the ship. I cannot turn it against the crew or passengers, and I cannot break free.” She drew a shaking breath. “Believe me, I have tried.”
I studied the runes. They meant nothing to me, but I had yet to come across a lock I couldn’t pick.
“Why did they do this?” As soon as the words came out, I regretted them.
What was I doing? Victim shaming? “I’m sorry.
That came out wrong. I meant that this is a lot of trouble to go through unless they were really pissed at you.
Is there a reason for their torture? Or are these assholes just evil? ”
“A bit of both.” She grimaced. “Oannes is my friend. I tried to warn him of their plotting.”
“Ah. You tried to prevent the coup.” I nodded. “Your loyalty to your friend is commendable.”
“He would have done the same for me.”
I studied the runes trapping her magic. When she’d said witch, I had instantly thought of Sereana.
We were a long way from home, but Dad had gotten that conch shell somehow.
Besides, now that I knew about the teleporting station, her involvement wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
Still, the magic powering the runes didn’t feel like hers.
It was just as dark and menacing, but… different.
“Did the witch who trapped Oannes power these runes?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. That was the mage with her.”
Did my aunt have friends? Accomplices? Fellow psychopaths?
She seemed like a loner who was more likely to have minions whom she blackmailed or bullied into doing her bidding.
Still, I wouldn’t put anything past her if it meant getting what she wanted.
I probed the magic, curious. Thanks to her ministrations, I’d developed quite a tolerance to the press of magic over the years, and this spell felt weak.
“If I break this spell,” I said, “will you help my people escape the sons of Oannes?”
Her guttering flames flared. Not by much. She seemed too drained for much of a display, but that spark of hope was encouraging.
“Free me,” she said, “and I will burn a path through anyone who stands between your people and their safety.”
“Good enough for me.”
I pulled my lock pick set from my bag and crouched in front of the cage, examining the bars up close. There was no keyhole, visible latch, or hinge. Goddammit. Why was nothing easy?
The runes covered every joint where a lock should have been, fused into the iron as if the cage had been forged around her. I tried anyway, sliding the thinnest pick into the seam where two bars met, feeling for a mechanism, a catch, anything.
The pick scraped uselessly against solid metal.
I switched to a tension wrench, then a rake, working the seam from different angles. Nothing gave. The iron wasn’t just locked, it was sealed, bound by magic that didn’t care how skilled my hands were.
“It cannot be picked,” Anunit said quietly, her fire dimming once again.