Of Magic and Rum (Beyond a Contemporary Mythos)

Chapter 10

A monstrously loud crackle jolts me awake, my hammock swinging so erratically I almost topple out. I hop to my feet, pressing a hand near the porthole window to brace myself. A flash of lightning streaks the midnight sky, the sea pulsing with white-capped waves. Panicking, I race to the stairs, slipping on my boots as I hop and climb to the deck. A wind gust slams into the ship’s side, throwing my body against the far railing. Water splashes onto my knuckles, and I gasp, pulling my sleeves over my hands.

“Get those fucking sails secured before they’re torn to shreds,” Ragnar shouts.

The crew scurries, tying up the sails. Mary helps with the ropes, but they keep flying from her grasp with every other gust. Without hesitation, I move to her side, grabbing one of the rogue ropes and pulling it taut, waiting for the other men to roll up the mainsail. Squid has his legs wrapped around the mast, using one hand to steady himself while the other works the ropes around the sails.

“We all sobered up real bloody quick, huh?” Mary grins at me, winding rope around her arm to hold it firm.

I muster a weak smirk, far too concerned by the looming torrential downpour, the clouds darkening with each passing second. Only hours prior, drunken crewmates littered the deck sleeping, and now every soul is doing their part to ready the ship for a battle with Mother Nature.

“Seems we’ve pissed off the sea gods somehow, eh lads?” Duke barks, laughing and helping with the rigging despite his age.

My stomach twists into knots.

“Anne,” Jack shouts from the wheel before stalking in my direction. “What the hell are you doing up here?”

“I’m helping,” I yell back. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Jack yanks the rope from my hands with a snarl. “You don’t have the experience to handle a storm like this. Get below deck. Now .”

I need an excuse to get out of the rain and avoid revealing my true self, but not like this .

“And hide like a coward?” Pulling the rope from Jack’s grip is like tugging on a planet-sized boulder.

“It’s not hiding, Bonny. It’s surviving. And we need people down there to secure the cannons and anything else heavy that might launch into the side of the ship and make a damned hole.” Jack grunts, the rope pulling him forward, his feet sliding until he regains his hold. “You swore an oath. I’m your captain. Now, get below deck .”

My sinuses sting with held-back tears of rage, but I know it’s the best thing to do.

Balling my hands into fists at my sides, I puff my chest. “Fine.”

“Good girl,” Jack has to say, adding fuel to the already building fire in my breast. He nudges his head toward the stairs.

I sprint below deck so I won’t strangle Jack within an inch of his life before realizing what I’m doing. Glog, working ropes around one of the cannons, notices me, and relief washes over him.

“Help me secure these cannons, will you? There’s extra rope there.” Glog points at a pile of coiled rope, and I spring into action.

Below deck is far more abusive to one’s equilibrium, and I widen my stance to give me more purchase as I help Glog. “How many cannons are there?”

“Twelve,” Glog says, grunting and tying a knot far more intricate than mine.

Pausing to watch him, I mimic the loops and ties he’s doing, applying them to my rope. “And how many have you done?”

“Two.” Glog’s gaze snaps to mine, realization settling over us.

The thunder roaring outside, rain splashing against the windows, sends a chill through my bones. Snapping to attention, I run to the next cannon. “Let’s each take one at a time. We’ll not secure them all in time if we don’t.”

Glog nods, and we’re a whirlwind of tying knots and losing our balance with every ship sway. One wave sends me hurtling toward a barrel, and I hold onto it to keep from lurching backward. A crate slides into another, slamming into it with such force that it cracks, and several cannon balls break free, rolling across the floor. Glog clumsily chases after one, using both hands, squatting, and returning it to the crate. I manage to wrangle two, and after checking if Glog is looking, I pick them up, one in each hand, and place them.

A crackle of lightning and a thunderous boom make me wince and hold my head. The next wave that hits the boat turns us almost entirely sideways, and I fly onto my back, my elbows slamming into the wood. The sound of something splashing into the water makes my arm hair stand on end, and when a cacophony of voices screaming the name “Jack” shadows it, my blood freezes.

I scramble to the porthole window, panic shaking me to my core. There’s too much wind, rain, and chaos to see if Jack’s head appears at the surface. And despite how good of a swimmer I assume this pirate captain is, no mortal could survive this storm, let alone make it back to the ship in one piece before drowning—or worse.

Either I out myself to Jack and the entire crew right now, or Jack is dead. Setting my jaw, I make for the stairs, stripping off clothing and leaving it in a haphazard trail. Glog yells at me, begging me to stop, but his words are static in my ears.

I’m naked from head to toe when I reach the deck, the rain slapping my body and immediately soaking it. It doesn’t take long for the scales to shimmer across my skin, the ridges and grooves protruding down my spine, between my breasts, and forehead. There’s so much wind and rain that none of the crew can make it out—yet. But their warning shouts fade into the background as I climb to the railing. A hand latches onto mine just as I’m diving forward, and I turn in time to see Mary’s terrified face and our fingertips sliding away. I do a backbend, making my fins appear, and collide against the sea with my arms outstretched.

To the mortal eye, beneath the surface becomes a dark, desolate, and eerie existence, particularly during a rainstorm, but not to me. The depths are as crystal clear as a cloudless day. My heart races and my eyes frantically search for air bubbles, searching for Jack . The Charybdis is also an issue. As soon as my fingertips touch sea waters, it sends an ethereal ripple that lets it know I’m in its domain.

A slow, steady rhythm growing increasingly sluggish pounds in my ears, and a breath catches in my throat. In the distance, Jack sinks further into the depths, his body limp but not yet lifeless. I flick my tail and launch through the water, my nerves sizzling against my skin once he’s in my arms. Sea nymphs can speak underwater to understand others with the same gift, but mortals hear nothing but muffled stammering.

I shake his chin, waiting for a response. Nothing. Cradling the back of his head, I press my mouth to his, pushing air from my lungs into him, praying it’s enough to make it to the surface. There’s nothing romantic or intimate about this gesture, but it still sends a sizzle down my spine into the tip of my tail. With one arm wrapped around his chest and the other reaching above me, I cut through the water, snapping my tail furiously.

And this is when I see them—threatening me through the haze of bubbles and mist—two enormous glowing red eyes. Terror grips me, and I only allow it to paralyze me for a single breath before I’m swimming to the surface, pushing, grunting, and not caring that my tail and arms burn and ache from the strain.

The coarse rope ladder brushes my skin, and I hoist myself from the water, carrying Jack with me. I shove him to the deck and will my fins back into human legs, the nip of the Charybdis grazing my tail before I scrambled aboard the ship. Crawling, I collapse over Jack, breathless and terrified when he isn’t breathing. Despite the sound of rain punching the deck and booming thunder fading away as the storm passes, the silence from the crew staring at me is painful to my ears. Ignoring it for now, disregarding my nudity, I tilt Jack’s chin and pinch his nose shut. I press my mouth to his and give him the air from my lungs.

Holding back a sob, I pound my fist against Jack’s chest. “You stubborn jackass, come back,” I yell, pressing my mouth to his again. The rain coating my eyelashes blurs my vision.

After a few seconds, salt water sputters against my lips, and Jack is coughing, gasping for air. A tear streaks my cheek, masked by the wetness already coating my face, and I turn Jack on his side. The crew surrounds us in a circle, still not speaking but staring at me slack-jawed. My ears, now pointed and webbed like tiny fins droop, because I’m ashamed of my appearance, of my betrayal . I sit back on my haunches, my ears twitching, and I drag my hands down Jack’s legs, not ready to let go of him.

“Anne?” Jack croaks, a hand pressed over his ribs. He squints at me through blurs of falling water, gratitude in his stare, which soon freezes into confusion tinged with fear.

The look alone carves a hole in my stomach, and I rasp, “Are you alright?”

“Am I—” Jack sits up too quickly, his palm flying to his lolling head, but he doesn’t lose sight of me, anger suffusing his words. “What the hell are you?”

I hold my palms up, splaying the webbing between each finger, the shiny, pointy claws catching the moonlight emerging from behind dark clouds. “I can explain everything.”

Jack’s jaw ticks, strands of soaked hair falling over his eyes. I wish I could sweep them over his ear and out of the way. “You’ll do it from the brig.”

I’ve been metaphorically kicked in the gut, and I push out a breathy, “What?”

“Take her to the brig,” Jack shouts over his shoulder.

“But Captain, she—” Red starts, but abruptly shuts his mouth when Jack’s hand rises.

“Shouldn’t we vote on it?” One man asks.

Like a fool, I look at Jack, hoping he’ll agree, but all I get is a steely glare. Behind those eyes, there’s disappointment, a melancholy sadness laced with uncertainty. And I can’t blame him for it—I just can’t.

“Not the time, lad,” Duke answers him.

Mary shoves through the crowd, peeling off her jacket. “I’ll bloody well take her. At least give the woman some clothes.”

“Woman,” Jack mutters accusingly.

Aranck is pushing his way through next, and I rise once Mary covers me with the coat. I say “sorry” to Jack as Mary leads me away, meaning it with every fiber of my being, but he only continues to peer at me, his glare softening like he can’t decide how to view me.