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“I must admit that’s not at all what I expected you to say.” Bellamy cocked his head. “You’re a strange lass.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered. “Now can I have the sword back?”
“Not yet, love.” Bellamy’s ice blue eyes glimmered beneath sturdy raised brows. “See, you’ve got me thinking, Katrina.” He spun the sword in his hand by the hilt, with no more effort than if he was flipping a pencil. “If we were to run into any more trouble along our route, you and your bilge-sucking friends are rather defenseless—dare I say useless.” He raised the sword between us before continuing. “So, I’m going to teach you how to hold your own properly. Sunset. On the main deck. We’re going to have a little lesson.”
“What if I say no?”
“Then you can meet me at the end of the plank instead.”
I lifted my chin. Bellamy had always been arrogant, but this surpassed even the Bellamy I thought I knew. “Fine. But I doubt you’d really do that. After all, weren’t you the one who jumped in after me last night?”
“Don’t push your luck, love. I’m less of a gentleman than you think.” With a wink that made my blood boil, he placed the hilt of the sword back into my hand.
As he turned to walk away, he tossed something back over his shoulder. I caught it with a last-minute reflex. It was a paintbrush—a strange, awkward wooden brush with the finest tip—but a brush, nonetheless.
“Old mapmakers’ brush,” Bellamy said, still walking away. “Now as for paint, you’re on your own. But rest assured you won’t find it here.”
With a toss of my head, I turned to go, taking a few scraps of parchment paper from the desk as well. I wouldn’t let Bellamy get under my skin any more than I’d let him get into my heart.
Back out on the deck, I explored the bilge of the ship. I only knew the term because I’d heard the rest of the crew call it that. Down there I found cargo with crates labeled as spices, dyes, and fine silks. Stolen, I presumed. But this seemed exactly like the kind of place I could find something to use as paint.
I took a handful of powdered dye from a crate I managed to open at the corner. Any color would do. I was pleased to see a tablespoon’s worth of deep indigo and red when I opened my palm. I tore a piece of fabric from my sash and dumped the powder in, being careful as ever not to mix it.
Satisfied, I scampered back up to the upper deck. Returning to my spot at the stern, I seated myself on the deck floor with my weird brush and makeshift pigments. I hardly had enough parchment to paint on. But I didn’t care. I just needed the movement of the brush in my hand. The comfort of my strokes creating trails of color. It was the only thing that was still the same.
I needed water to mix with the dye powders. But the late afternoon sun had dried the deck completely. So, I sat there, feeling that, like everything else I tried, this wasn’t going to work. And I suddenly thought of Milo and the warmth of his embrace. I remembered what it was like to kiss him goodnight. I remembered how I’d felt with him on New Years Day, when we watched the fireworks and made so many plans. And how I wish I’d given myself to him that night. If I had known I might never see him again, how I would go back in time—or forward—and I’d have shown him how much I loved him then. Because I was sure now. At least, I thought I was. Until something in me would take hold and make me wonder what reality was in this twisted place.
As I thought of Milo and my confusion, I blinked to catch the tears on my eyelashes. They fell perfectly, right onto the tiny piles of vibrant powder on the deck before me. So, I mixed the pigments with my tears, making just enough paint to swirl across the parchment's waxy surface with my brush. I did my best to create an outline of what I imagined would be a curling wave, but as I looked at it, tracing in the indigo color, the red I tried mixing in looked more and more like blood in the water. It all ran together as the water dribbled off the parchment and seeped into the deck, staining it permanently. As if a representation of the past few days, the perfect image I had before me quickly became a nightmare.
As if on cue, a low thunderous rumble sang out in the clouds. An afternoon rainstorm. Within moments, the rain came sprinkling down, washing away my bloody water painting like it was no more than sidewalk chalk. I decided to find McKenzie and Noah again.
“How’s it going?” I asked shyly, feeling more like myself as I approached them leaning against the masts near the front of the ship. “Are you both okay?”
“As okay as we can really be,” Noah said, looking up at me through the featherlight raindrops dusting his face. McKenzie nudged him. She must’ve thought I didn’t notice.
“I thought I was a beach girl,” McKenzie said. “But this has proven me wrong. I’m sapped. Katrina, how are you doing it?”
“Doing what?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I sat down to join them.
“Looking so refreshed. You look the complete opposite of how I feel. This seems like a spa day for you.”
“I have no idea what you mean. I feel terrible.”
“Drink something.” Noah tossed me a canteen and I chugged, but quickly coughed when the pungent taste of rum hit my lips. When I shot him a look to kill, he shrugged. “There’s not much else to choose from here. Besides, might as well use something to numb the senses here.”
“I know it feels hopeless,” I said. “But I swear, we’re going to find a way back to our time. I’ll talk to Bellamy tonight.”
We chatted more as the sun lowered and the rain clouds cleared. Our conversation felt as hollow as the ship below us. There was still just enough light left to cast a fiery red glow over the water. The deck shone with the glassy shine of a freshly wet surface.
Suddenly a gruff looking crew member approached us. Beneath his head rag he peered at us with dark, sunken eyes.
“Captain’s calling for you three on the main deck,” he uttered.
I glanced at McKenzie and Noah who both wore equally puzzled expressions. “I forgot to tell you. We have sword-fighting lessons.” I sighed.
“Finally, something worthwhile,” Noah sat up with more enthusiasm I’d seen in him probably ever.
McKenzie took his hand as he helped her to her feet. I stayed sitting, dragging myself to get up. I didn’t want to interact with Bellamy anymore. I didn’t like who I was when I was near him. But I knew if I didn’t get up and go to him, he’d come find me. And that would be worse.
