Page 137 of The Worst of Them

“I know,” he said. “Sleep, love.”

It wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear, but she let it be as she was dragged into oblivion.

33

HAUNTED

A small, niggling sense of wrongness roused Cecily from sleep.

Early morning light streamed through the porthole, casting the room in blues and grays. Their belongings were still strewn over the floor, remnants from the night before and proof that it hadn’t been some terrible dream.

Her stomach turned at the sight, another pain to compound on top of her aching muscles and raw throat—but all of that paled against the press of guilt as she saw the specks of dried blood dotting the floorboards.

Jack.

He was gone, having left their room at some ungodly hour. Perhaps he hadn’t slept at all. When she reached for his side of the bed, the sheets were cold.

Wherever he’d gone, she needed to find him and have it out about what had occurred night before. She needed answers, details about what she’d said and what he’d said to her. There was no forgetting the way he’d flinched or the blood on his arms, and she had to make it right.

Rising, she shoved her feet into her boots, dodged the broken glass on the floor, and hurried from the room.

The main deck was empty, but a quiet song drifted from the starboard, lilting and ethereal. She paused to listen, feeling beckoned despite her will to find Jack. She hesitated for only a second before she crept to the edge of the ship, going slowly for fear that her body might usurp her mind and throw her overboard.

Among the dark waves was the pale-faced merman. He stopped singing when he saw her, his black eyes sparkling.

“You are well?” he asked, his voice hauntingly beautiful. Long fangs flashed as he spoke.

“I’m alive,” she replied with a note of irony. She remained rooted to the spot, everything in her waking mind warning her to avoid the cause of the sickness that had plagued her the night before.

He rose higher in the water. “I must apologize, my lady. I did not intend to subject you to my kiss.”

Cecily frowned. “You have nothing to gain from me. Why bother saving me?”

“I was indebted to another.”

“Who?”

“A witch called Fay. She said danger would befall you, and she asked me to help in exchange for my life back and freeing me from this curse I was tricked into long ago. I have trailed your ship for weeks, watching for what she meant. She said I would know you by the turtle you carry.”

Cecily blinked, her hand flying to her necklace. Fay.

“I was told I must see you alive and well before I return,” the creature said. “Now that I have, I will take my leave—but I also wished to return this.” His hand rose from the black sea, holding the sword she’d lost.

She rushed to the rail and braced herself against it, no longer concerned about her nearness to the creature or the sea.

“It must be important,” he said, “if you were willing to drown for it.”

“You…you retrieved it for me?” The monster had fallen to such lightless, fathomless depths. She couldn’t imagine why he would do such a thing so far beyond his agreement with Fay.

“I do not particularly care for the wants and needs of mortals, but if I am to be one again, I thought to practice some…humanity.” The word sounded foreign on his tongue, like he hadn’t said it in a very long time.

“One moment.” She left the rail and returned with a rope, which she slung over the side of the ship. The end splashed into the water, and the creature swam close to tie it around the hilt. She pulled it up, nearly laughing with relief when the sword was finally in her hands.

The mother-of-pearl inlay shone in the weak light, and the cold, clean metal gleamed as though to tell her it was ready to be used again. There wasn’t a dent, scratch, or flaw to be seen after all she’d put it through.

“The rest of your journey will not be without strife,” the creature said. “Your ship has been marked. Not by me, but by someone else.”

“Jonah Lovibond.” Jack’s flat voice came from a step behind her.