10
THE CREATURE
There has never been a time when I wanted to be home so desperately, yet I was afraid to return.
Though if I spent any more time on boats, I may walk with a permanent wobble.
I took a greedy drag of my cigarette.
The cold smack of the ocean wind made it nearly impossible to keep it lit.
The bow of the ship rose and fell, pointing to the horizon.
Thick steam painted a long streak across the cloudless sky.
A couple of gulls cried ahead, dearly disappointed in finding a passenger line instead of a fishing vessel.
I stared over the railing, watching the seafoam peel from the metal body of the ship, waves that curled back into the ocean as the boat cut through the water. Entrancing and nauseating all at once.
After two months of traveling, the campaigning was finished, yet I still thought I hadn’t done enough.
Would anything be enough to ease the crushing weight on my chest?
Would anything convince me that breaking from my father’s curses was within reach?
Confidence was my strong suit, but not now; there was nothing so terrifying.
“The last few responses are promising,” the thick Russian accent was nearly hidden behind the groan of the metal ship, “the last telegrams just came in.”
I glanced his way.
Luka stood, hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders shrugged to his ears. Neither of us was very fond of the boat, or the sea, for that matter.
“What’s the tally?”
“I’m confident in my connection with the Russian Nest, at least fifteen don’t like England to begin with—so that helps.”
“But will they come for the Appraisal?”
“They all have agreed to send a representative, yes.”
“Luka.”
He raised a brow in reply.
I turned around, my back pressed against the railing. My heart was heavy, my legs were never still, my mind was always turning.
“What are our odds?” I stretched my neck from one side to the other.
“I am confident we can make our case.” His non-answer might as well be my indicator.
“Are we going to pull this off?” I pressed. “Or do you think we’ve wasted our time?”
“Not a waste,” he corrected. “I think, in my professional opinion, we have a fighting chance. A strong one.”
“But there’s a possibility—”
“Of course. There always is.”
I took a dry pull of the burnt-out cigarette before flicking it into the ocean. “I guess we better make it worth the trouble.”
“It will all work itself out. We have too much going for us to fail,” he assured me, but I knew it was to keep my head on straight.
“Any telegrams from Chimera?” I asked. “Did she wake?”
Luka glanced down at his watch, a chuckle pushing his mouth into a coy smirk. “You asked early today.”
“Time zones,” I huffed. “Is that a no?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Your sister updated early this morning, as she does every morning.”
“Have you considered I look forward to asking?” The sarcasm tinged my tone as I rubbed my face with my palms. “It’s practically part of my routine now.”
“They say good things about those with a routine.”
“Enough,” I mumbled.
Luka shrugged it off, staring off into the distance. His eyes squinted, the scarred skin across half of his face tight as he did so.
I turned my head, letting it slope to the side as I glanced. A small, tiny blip in the horizon. A glimmering bump in the distance. Our metropolis awaits, the real work hasn’t even begun.
Returning was a relief, but it brought an uncertain terrain that I had yet to grasp. It was only the beginning. The danger had not passed, and there was too much to protect. Would it be worth it? I hoped it would.
Only time will tell if the canary sings beyond the cave.