20. In which life would be hopelessly dull and an accusation is made
IN WHICH LIFE WOULD BE HOPELESSLY DULL AND AN ACCUSATION IS MADE
“Septimus!” Hester bellowed, searching each face. It was so hard to see in the dark.
There was no sign of him.
She ran back to the ramp, and Winston grabbed for her.
“Hester! You can’t,” he pleaded.
The ship shuddered again and crumpled further, water now covering the middle section of the deck as it folded in on itself.
Hester pulled away from his grip, dashing up the ramp and onto the slippery deck. She clung to anything she could get her hands on, slipping and sliding to the companionway entrance.
“Septimus!”
No answer came.
Was he hurt?
Or worse?
She ran down the steps, panting, fear wrapping her heart in its grip. And it wasn’t that heady lick of fear she got when he was fuming with her.
She could hardly think, hardly breathe, like ropes had banded around her ribcage. The ship groaned around her, screaming its death.
She sprinted down the corridor. “Septimus! What are you doing?”
He stood in the galley, a harpoon gun in either hand, a pistol tucked in his belt. “Finishing it.”
She sucked a breath through her teeth. “Now who’s insane?! You have to get out. Come with me. Now!” The ceiling splintered, showering them with wood and iron nails. “Come on.” She lunged forwards and grabbed his wrist. “What did you think you could do?”
“I will go down with my ship and kill the fucking thing.”
Hester blanched. She had to get him out of there. He would be no match for the orca. “Please. Please, you have to come. This is madness. You will die.”
He pointed the harpoon at her head. “Go. Leave me.”
She knew he wouldn’t shoot her. But the betrayal of it sent her knees buckling. “And what of your crew, if you are gone?”
He hesitated. “It destroyed my ship. YOU destroyed my ship.” His face twisted.
“You cannot leave them alone on the ice. Please, Septimus. See reason. Come with me.” She held out her hand, grappling with the idea of life without him in it. “Life would be hopelessly dull without you.”
“I should kill you too. You make my life miserable.” He narrowed his eyes, the harpoon pointing at her heart.
She hissed, face contorting in a snarl. “You take me from my crew and I will haunt you for all eternity. I will make your eternity miserable.”
The galley floor juddered and dropped, almost sending her to the planked floor.
“Then go, go before I do it. Leave me.”
Hester shook her head. There was a deafening crash from above. “You saved me. I owe you a life debt. Come with me. Back to your crew. Your dogs. Come. Before we both die.”
“The world might be a better place without me in it. Without you in it.”
He didn’t mean that. Couldn’t mean that.
Hester dropped to her knees, running out of ideas, running out of time.
She clasped her hands in front of her. “I beg you. The beast is my foe. It came here for me. And it is mine to kill as well as yours. Let us end it together, but not like this. A ship can be replaced. You cannot be replaced.”
He remained where he was, unmoved.
“Your mother!” she cried, the idea coming to her suddenly. Knew they were close. “What of her?”
Septimus tensed, his lips parting, and Hester knew she had him by the throat.
“How would she fare if you never came home? Come on. Let us fight the orca together from the ice, not the sea.”
He lowered the harpoon, and she sprang forwards and grasped his wrist, tugging him to the door. They raced upwards towards the deck, the floorboards creaking and moaning, some snapping under the pressure.
Out on the deck the whole of the rig had collapsed, and Hester scrambled over and under the spars to reach the ramp, Septimus behind her, sprinting down it.
When her feet hit the ice she whirled, checking he was still there.
His face was like thunder as he stalked towards her. “I HATE you, Orn.”
She stuck her chin out. “That’s fine.” They were just words, after all. Words couldn’t hurt her.
“And do they know what you are?” he shouted into the night, sweeping the harpoon over the gathered crew.
Hester stilled, narrowing her eyes. What was he talking about? “What I am?” Wait…he wouldn’t…
“Do they know you are a WITCH?”
A gasp of shock came from the crew.
Her racing pulse kicked up a notch. Bastard.
Hester scoffed, thinking quickly. She had to discredit him. The crew couldn’t know her darkest secret. They would surely shun her. Her anger rose like a spring tide. “Don’t be absurd. His Lordship is mad! Mad with grief for his ship. He is raving—he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“I know what I’m saying, witch. Your magic lured the orca twice now. And have none of you noticed the storms that rattle Havenport when she is in a rage?” Septimus pointed the harpoon at Fliss, her face lined with shock. “Not even you knew of this?”
Hester stepped towards Septimus and pointed a trembling finger at him. “He is talking nonsense.” She looked at her crew and poured venom into her voice when she said, “You cannot honestly believe this.”
The crew looked between the two of them, and then Charlotte stepped forwards. “This is ridiculous. Hester is not a witch. Witches do not exist. They are made in the minds of men who fear women and their strength.”
“She is! She is a witch and a whore,” Septimus roared.
Hester snarled, fog clouding her vision, heat filling her veins.
She might be a witch, or whatever she was, but she was no whore.
She leapt on Septimus, kicking and scratching, and he staggered back, dropping the harpoon gun and grabbing her, knocking her to the ice.
He pinned her, his heavy bulk weighing her down, and it was not at all how she’d imagined him on top of her.
He bent low and whispered in her ear, “I hate you. You sank my ship and I will never forgive you.”
“The feeling is more than mutual,” Hester spat, and she was glad the magic had been used up, because the crew would have certainly believed his accusations if she had anything left in her, for anger like she had never known it thundered through her veins.
He got up, leaving her lying on the ice.
She didn’t rise. Wanted to curl in a ball.
Hester stared up at the stars.
The Intrepid groaned again, sinking further into the sea.
Hours later, when it appeared that the orca had gone and the Valour was safe, Hester sat at her dressing table, the lamp burning low.
She opened the drawer. Inside lay the vibrant red of the torn dress from the night she’d flashed her tattoo at him, all those months ago.
The colour seemed so strange after all the white.
She ran her fingers over it, pushing it away to reveal the beautiful knife that Septimus had once left in her wall.
The one she should have sold. She stared at the mark in the wood by the door.
Her heart panged, face crumpling, eyes burning. The ache in her chest was unbearable.
It was all her fault.
All of it.
A banging on the door snapped her from her thoughts, and she shouted, “Go away.” She didn’t wish to see anyone, was content to wallow in her grief as long as humanly possible.
“No. I’m coming in.” Fliss opened the door.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Who did you think it was?”
She had hoped it was Septimus, come to make amends. “Never mind.”
Hester bit her bottom lip and scowled slightly, eyeing Fliss.
There was hurt in her mate’s eyes. She’d seen it before.
Seen it when she had ripped Fliss’s stuffed teddy when they were little, seen it when her first love had broken her heart, seen it when she lost the only photograph she had of her dead parents.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Fliss asked, arms folded.
Hester dug her nails into her palms. “What’s true?”
“You’re a witch.” Fliss had said it with such conviction that she couldn’t lie any longer.
“Close the door,” Hester said, her voice low, as colourless as the ice.
The door clicked shut, and Fliss continued.
“At first, I thought Septimus was raving. Magic isn’t real.
Witches aren’t real. But then the more I thought about it, the more I started to doubt that.
The fair winds everywhere we go, the thunderstorms when things don’t go your way, the way it’s always sunny in Havenport even though it can be raining down the coast. That time the wind slammed the door closed in matron’s face. ”
Hester cradled her head in her hands, unsure how to answer.
“It is real, isn’t it? You can work the weather. And you never told me.”
“How could I? How could I tell anyone? You would have thought me a lunatic.”
“You told him.” Fliss’s voice cracked.
“I did not! He guessed.” Was Fliss jealous that he knew? That made two of them who were stupid and jealous. “Besides, there are things you did not tell me, too.”
“Yes,” Fliss folded her arms. “I am in love with Emlyn. But that is nothing compared to the secret you held. For all of our lives! I would not have thought you a lunatic.” She paused, adding, “No more than I already do, anyway.”
The corner of Hester’s mouth turned up. It was a relief in some ways. A huge relief. The secret had always felt so heavy. “What do the others think of me now?”
“They all believe Septimus is deranged. No one believes you are a witch. Don’t fret.”
Hester sagged. She had been so terrified that they would turn on her, that she would lose her crew, her friends. “Thank God. I don’t want them to know about the magic.”
“They wouldn’t care, Hess. They’d follow you to the ends of the Earth. They already have.”
Hester reached out, but Fliss stayed back and whispered, “But I cannot believe you didn’t tell me.”
Hester stood from the dressing table. “I wanted to. For so long I wanted to. I didn’t want to lose you, Fliss. Forgive me?”
“Perhaps. In time.”
And then she was gone, the door closing behind her.
Hester let out a growl. So many times she had wanted to tell Fliss, but how did you even start in explaining that to someone?
And now her secret was out, she feared for her friendships.
It was real fear, sitting uncomfortably on her chest, like an anchor pulling her down.