Chapter 14 #2
I don’t look back. I can’t. Because if I do and I see the mermaids close behind me, I might falter.
I might give up. No. I keep pushing even as every part of me screams for me to take a rest. It’s a trick.
If I stop, I’m done. My mind yells at me to take a break, but it’s just like everything else on this island—untrustworthy.
So, I keep going, keep fighting as the moon climbs to its zenith and the wild things in the forest begin to howl and screech.
The waves begin to crest around me, promising the shore is near. My nose burns as saltwater splashes into it. When my foot grazes the ocean floor, I lunge forward, trying desperately to find purchase. But I sink, my head going under as I push, still trying to force the water to part for me.
But with my next stroke, my foot hits the sand.
Relief wells in me as I fight against the pull of the undertow and throw myself forward, my feet digging into the sand and scraping over shells and sharp bits as I scramble toward safety.
The sea foam swirls around me, water in my ears, my eyes burning, my muscles ready to give up. When I stagger up the last underwater berm, I fall forward, hands and knees in the surf.
That’s when pain rips through my calf. I scream and crash into the sand. Rolling over, I find Marinda, blood running down her chin as she chases me onto shore.
“No!” I kick at her with my other foot, but she swipes it with her claws, drawing more blood. Then she grabs my knee and starts struggling backwards, her tail slapping against the surf as she tries to drag me back into the water. “Let go!” I kick hard, slamming the bottom of my foot into her nose.
She shrieks, the sound like an ice pick in my ear, but she doesn’t let go.
“Peter!” I yell for him, my throat aching from the raw scream as I keep fighting to stay on the shore.
Marinda’s grip is sure as she pulls me deeper, her body submerging and giving her more strength. She drags me easily now, leaving my claw marks in the sand as I try desperately to pull away from her.
When another wave comes and lifts me from the sand, she yanks me away and back into the water. My head goes under, and even though I thrash, her grip only strengthens. That’s when I know it’s over. When I realize I’m going to die right here, right now.
I want to scream, to fight, to do everything I can to save myself. But it’s done. I’m drowning, bleeding. I can’t stop this.
Something bumps into my side, and then I feel Marinda’s grip disappear. With all the strength I have left, I put my uninjured leg down and stand. An arm goes around my waist, lifting me from the water, and I find the pirate from earlier with an oar in his hand.
“Filthy pirate!” Marinda screams, her voice shattering the last of my nerves. “That’s mine!”
I cry, a sob bursting out of me as the pirate brandishes the oar. “If you want another whack, then come for it.” His voice is a salty growl.
She hisses as Quenith floats behind her, her white eyes feral and glowing in the dark.
I try to back away, to get the hell out of the water, but the pirate holds me tight to his side. “Please, please let me go.”
“Get out of here!” he bellows and raises the oar.
Both mermaids hiss then disappear beneath the black waves.
The pirate tosses the oar behind us, then scoops me into his arms and carries me to the sand. Once we’re a good distance away from the water, he sits me down and kneels beside me.
“Took a bite, did she?” He grips my pants leg and rips it open.
I’m crying too hard to even protest, my entire body exhausted as I lie back and stare up at the stars.
The howls continue, beasts lurking just beyond the trees.
I can’t focus on them though, because the pain in my calf is a supernova.
It burns and spreads up my leg until I’m whimpering from the bite, my tears confused about whether they’ve been summoned because of fear or pain.
“This is going to sting, lass.” He leans over me and pulls a bottle from behind him.
Maybe from his back pocket. Then he pulls the cork out with his teeth and spits it into the sand.
When he looks up at me, I see his eyes—the deep blue that somehow holds more secrets than a cerulean sea.
“It’s all right to scream.” He pours, and a white-hot burn rockets through my nerve endings.
I take his advice and let out a ripping cry, my throat tearing to shreds as I wail. My back arches, my body rebelling, but he holds my thigh, his big palm keeping me flat on the ground as I try to writhe away from him. He pours a little more where Marinda slashed me with her claws.
“Breathe, lass. Breathe through it.”
I let out another weak scream then suck in a deep breath. Then another.
“Good. Keep that up. The worst is over.” He stows the bottle then grabs one of his sleeves and rips it clean off.
After a quick dash to the sea, he returns and wraps it around my wound—one I’m too afraid to even peek at.
“Sea water will help it stay clean and heal. She didn’t take a chunk out, which is good. Just a sample bite.”
“A sample bite?” My voice is crushed glass.
He ties the material, and I wince when I feel the pressure. “All good here.” He turns to me. “You can’t blame Marinda too much.”
“Oh, I certainly can.” I wipe the tears that roll down my temples.
He shrugs. “She’s a wild thing. Everything here is. And when the moon’s high—” He jerks his chin toward the almost-full orb. “—they lose what little bits of sense they have. It’s not their fault. It’s just their nature.”
“They were going to drown me and eat me.” I shiver. “Even after they saved me from you.”
“Like I said, lass, it’s their nature.” He takes my hand and pulls me until I’m sitting.
My head swims, and I see two of him for a moment before my vision clears.
“If it makes you feel any better, I gave Marinda a solid whack with the oar. She’ll be feeling that for a while. I’ve no doubt she’ll be out for revenge against me.” He gives me a grim smile. “I almost killed her, to be honest, when I saw she had you.”
“Your boss wants me that badly?” I ask and press a hand to my forehead.
“Aye.” He stands and takes my hands, pulling me to my feet. “He’ll stop at nothing to have you.”
I put a little weight on my leg. It stings like all hell, but it doesn’t give way. Maybe I’m going to survive.
“Now, if I remember correctly, you and I made a bargain—” He gasps and staggers back.
“What …” My eyes widen when I see an arrowhead poking through his shoulder, blood soaking through what’s left of his white shirt. “No!” I look toward the woods and see Peter loading another arrow into his bow. “Peter, don’t!”
He pulls back and lets another arrow fly, but the pirate darts toward the sea. The arrow barely misses him as he runs, and the first arrow protrudes from his back.
“Peter, stop!” I yell, but he’s already nocked another arrow.
Coy runs down the slope toward me, Foy right behind him. “Moira!”
The pirate splashes into the water, then dives. Peter looses his arrow. It pierces the surf then floats up. The pirate doesn’t surface. I watch, my eyes on the sea even as Coy comes to my side, he and Foy asking if I’m all right.
I watch and wait, but the pirate never comes up. Tears rekindle in my eyes as Coy kneels to inspect my leg.
“A mermaid bite. Who did this? I’ll kill her.”
“No.” I shake my head and will the pirate to come up for air, to be alive.
He doesn’t.
“Moira!” Peter barrels down the beach to me. When he reaches me, he cups my face in his palms. “Are you all right? You’re hurt! What happened? Was it the pirate?”
“No. The pirate saved me.”
Peter scoffs. “Only so he could take you to his master.”
“Does it matter?” Tears roll down my cheeks.
Peter wipes them away. “It does. He didn’t save you because he was good, Moira. He saved you to take you to Hook, so Hook could kill you. That’s all.”
“The only good pirate is a dead pirate.” Foy stares at the sea, too, his own bow in his hand.
“We need to get you back to the cave. Nibs and Slightly will take care of the bite.” Peter takes me in his arms and lifts us up into the night as Foy and Coy keep their gazes on the sea. “Come home soon,” he tells them.
“If he comes up, we’ll handle him,” Foy calls. “We’ll be back after that.”
As we fly through the night, my mind is filled with thoughts of deep blue eyes and rough hands.
But none of that matters, because one image rises above them all—blood in the water.