Chapter 24
Finch
It’s dark by the time I climb back onto my ship. All the strength has been zapped from my limbs, and I’m tempted to slither along like a boneless thing, but I manage to fight the urge. Just about.
The jelly-like state of my limbs is an indicator that I lost myself for longer than I realised.
For hours, the thinking part of my brain shut off and I surrendered to the base beast inside.
I couldn’t help it. Once I caught sight of the ships in the distance, a familiar all-encompassing rage took me over.
And then I came to, surrounded by driftwood. It was nighttime when we were rudely interrupted, and it’s nighttime again now. But something tells me it’s not the same night.
I must have lost an entire day to the kraken’s fury.
There’s enough wood in the water to rebuild a dozen ships, and the water around my ship is discoloured and murky.
My gut gives a wayward lurch; it’s a sea of blood out there.
Another indicator I’ve been gone longer than anticipated is the quiet on the ship.
There’s no mad scramble to set things to rights.
The deck is clear with only a couple of crew dotted around, working on the nightshift.
All of the supplies have been put away and we’re sailing due east. It’s almost like we never went ashore for any amount of time.
Almost.
Despite my consciousness slinking into a pea-sized corner of the kraken’s brain for an entire day, I can still recall that moment when pure power washed over me and the strange web of connection formed. It was overwhelming as I was bombarded by so many thoughts and feelings that weren’t my own.
And right in the centre, she sat.
Reva.
My insides give a gurgle of discomfort. Now she’s got her seal back, perhaps she won’t want to stay on the ship. She might want to get as far as possible from me, especially if she witnessed anything from the past day.
The kraken was... brutal. Even more than normal.
I can’t act like I had no part in it, either.
My own anger stoked the beast to a whole new level of fury, like I haven’t experienced in a long while.
It was even worse than when we visited the Deadwood Cove labs.
Deeper and more visceral, as though the kraken was a being made of wrath with nothing on its mind beyond destruction.
It’s like he was sending the bastard king a message. One to say that we won’t back down until every one of his men is dead.
Although there’s no one left to bear witness. No one to spread the message. But when the king’s men don’t return to him, it’ll become clear soon enough.
Not quite the plan I’ve been hatching. In fact, our discovery before one of Kit’s little treats could prove effective is a real crimp in my plans.
Perhaps, considering we weren’t able to curse him from afar, we can bring the fight to him. I’ve spent enough years hiding in the deep, too afraid someone might discover the weapon our dear king created in me.
The truth is, I could level the entire city with relative ease.
And perhaps that’s exactly what they deserve.
SOMETHING COLLIDES with my leg since I never did quite push my gelatinous form to carry me below deck. I’m just sprawled on the deck like a sea slug.
“You all right down there, Cap?” One of my crew peers down at me, and I tip my head back until I recognise the face that goes with that voice.
“Never better, Bones,” I reply.
“You sure about that, Cap? We saw you go pretty hard out there. Have you eaten? Or I guess you might not be hungry on account of that beast of yours gulping down plenty of—”
He cuts himself off right as my stomach gives an ominous gurgle. It’s a sound I’m not sure how to interpret, considering the kraken and I don’t share any body parts, particularly not organs.
Even if he ate his way through an entire battalion of the king’s men, it shouldn’t affect me in this form.
My stomach churns and lets out another loud gurgle that I try to stifle by pushing my hand against it.
“You feeling an unreasonable anger at nothing in particular?” Bones continues, dropping down onto his haunches beside me.
He shouldn’t be seeing me like this. I should get up. I will get up any moment. I just need to rest my head for a second.
“Not right now, I’m not,” I mutter. “I’m just... I need a moment.”
“Feeling so tired you can barely string a thought together?” Bones asks, still peering at me intently.
I squint up at him. I am, as a matter of fact. Does that mean there’s something wrong with me? Have I caught some rare disease that comes from accidentally ingesting the blood of a few hundred men while I was in my other form?
“You’re hungry,” he continues. “Possible hangry too. Cookie made a stew for dinner. Of course, some people complained because it was stew again. But he threw out a few threats, along with a couple of his sharpest knives, and they shut their faces pretty quick.” He gives a fond smile before rising to stand beside me with his hand out.
I stare at it as though I have no idea what to do with it, or what his gesture means.
He wants me to take it, of course. But why?
And why is my brain so sluggish?
When I fail to reach up, Bones gives a little chuckle as my tentacles reach out of their own accord, gripping the gunwale at the side of the ship to heft me up to standing. I stumble slightly once I’m on my feet and Bones doesn’t say a word as he wraps an arm around my waist.
A large part of me recoils at the unwanted contact. It’s overly familiar behaviour, but I don’t have it in me to argue. Maybe I am sickening for something. I don’t remember ever feeling like this before. Shaky, as though I can’t quite get my feet under me.
“Is this how Kit feels every time he’s on the ship, do you think?” I mutter to myself.
If it is, I owe him a few apologies and a drink. I can barely stagger in a straight line with the world spinning around me just as if it’s trying to win first place in a dance competition.
“We’ll get some food in you and you’ll be right as rain,” Bones replies.
“At least we’re not too far from the kitchen.
You’re heavier than you look, and I’ve not seen Torin around to help drag you about.
I could ditch you here and get Cookie, but there’s always the chance someone could walk by.
I can’t imagine you’re keen on having the rest of the crew see you like this. ”
Weakened. Possibly dying from some unknown ailment that comes from the blood of the king’s men.
“You’re right,” I tell him. I can’t have the crew see me like this, not when I’m about to wither away into a husk.
“Don’t let her see me like this,” I say, gripping Bones’ hand as it’s suddenly imperative he understands. Thankfully, he seems to know what I’m saying without me having to embellish any further.
“I would never.”
Good. That’s good.
It seems to take a long time for us to reach the kitchen, where the air is so thick with the scent of food, I lose control of my mouth and am practically drooling over the floor.
“What’s this?” A voice asks. This one doesn’t belong to Bones, but it’s equally familiar. Belonging to a bear of a man, in both appearance and temperament.
“He needs some food in him,” Bones replies.
The next thing I know, I’m landing heavily on a wooden bench and there’s a massive plate of stew in front of me. My insides give another noisy protest that I can’t even begin to disguise with a cough as I stare down at the steam coming off the bowl of chopped vegetables and dark meat.
“Eat,” Cookie says. “You must be half-starved. It’s got to be two days since your last meal.”
Two. Days.
Not just one, but two.
That can’t be right.
I frown down at the bowl and then up at Cookie’s face, which is creased with concern.
He was one of the first crew I managed to recruit all those years ago.
They say a crew marches on its stomach...
or something like that, anyway. So, a good cook was an absolute necessity.
And Kit happened to mention that the guy living in the cell beside him was always banging on about the food he’d like to cook whenever he got out.
My own cell never had neighbours, so Kit’s stories of falling asleep listening to stories of freshly baked bread and frying onions stuck with me.
There was something so simple about them.
And when I was putting together a crew of my own, it felt like Cookie’s dream of cooking for a living was one I could help with.
In the early days, we were a slipshod group. A bunch of fools with no money and even fewer sailing skills, just a whole bundle of anger and new bodies we could barely get control of.
We didn’t realise back then just how unsuited Kit was to a life at sea either, but it wasn’t like I could return to a life on land. Not just because I didn’t look like other people anymore; the tentacles sticking out of my head put paid to that.
The kraken doesn’t cope well with being on land for too long either. He needs the quiet of the deep.
And I need him to stay happy, or that’s when things take a nasty turn.
Cookie’s got even better at making food over the years. Whatever supplies we have, he can cobble something together so that no one goes hungry. And it seems that today’s no different.
I artlessly scoop stew onto my fork and breathe in the savoury scent before taking my first bite.
My stomach immediately cramps as saliva pools in my mouth.
Chewing fast and swallowing seems to help, so I do that a few times, pausing every so often to gulp down water by the glass.
Within minutes, the plate’s empty and I have no idea where it all went.
It’s like I fell into a fugue state of chewing and swallowing, losing touch with reality for a moment.
Then there’s a clatter and another pile of food appears in front of me, along with a plate of bread with a thick layer of butter generously plastered over one side.
It’s only once I’m midway through that my brain seems to restart again.
“Two days?” I repeat my words from before I started stuffing my face. “What do you mean it’s been two days since I ate?”
Cookie drops onto the bench in front of me, with Bones hovering behind his shoulder. “That’s how long it’s been, Cap.”
I tear another mouthful of bread and chew it thoughtfully before I respond. “It’s nighttime. The ships first appeared in the middle of the night.”
“A whole day, night and day passed since then,” Cookie replies. “Right now, it’s about ten o’clock on the second night.”
“I didn’t realise—” I croak. Didn’t realise so much time could have passed.
So many ships.
I mustn’t have slept since then, either. Must be why my brain feels like someone swapped it with a sea sponge when I wasn’t paying attention.
By the time I’m done with my second bowl of food, it’s like the feeling starts coming back into my body and my brain starts ticking along again.
I sit back in my seat, surveying the two crewmen as I become aware of a strange tension in the room.
Cookie and Bones are muttering to each other, and neither of them looks happy.
“What have I missed?”
They freeze as though I’ve caught them out doing something they shouldn’t. My focus narrows on the two of them.
“Cookie?”
“We should get Torin in here,” he replies, looking at Bones instead of at me.
“Go and fetch him, then,” Bones replies drily. “If you think you can find him.”
I know exactly where Torin is at this moment. He’s at the cabin at the very far end of the passageway, and he’s not alone.
A deep chuckle rumbles through my chest. “I’m not sure you want to interrupt whatever’s going on in that cabin,” I tell Cookie. I witnessed plenty the other night, and it’s enough to have settled itself deep into my core.
It’s odd, though. I can pinpoint Torin’s location to the nearest metre. Aster’s too.
And when I mentally prod inside my chest, I can feel something larger. A strange sensation that’s tugging at me, telling me I should be on my feet and moving. It’s telling me that I shouldn’t be here.
I should be... with her.
But that’s not the only thing that’s off. Just like I can feel with absolute certainty that the three of them are close by. I can also feel a definite absence.
“Tell me, gentlemen,” I say, my tone deceptively calm. “Where is my brother and why are he and Jack not on board this ship?”