Page 15

By the time the moon was past its peak, the man’s upper half had been stripped of meat and what was left of his bones and clothes, I tossed into the waves for the sharks to finish.

I was satiated more than I had been in weeks. Despite the fact that the man’s blood had a foul, bitter taste to it, his meat would give me strength for many weeks to come. I stood at the edge of another cliff staring into the moonlit water, rolling my shoulders back as I braided my hair tightly.

I was monstrous. I was monstrous and there was no way around it, nor did I feel a need to deny it. Somehow, Vidar had come to accept me that way and that was all I cared about. Taking a deep breath, I turned, full and content, and headedback into town.

The blood on my hands is

of my soul now

~Unknown

I’d made a mess of myself. I wasn’t used to feeding fully clothed and now I was forced to cover my bloodied shirt with my coat so I didn’t draw any unwanted attention.

I walked back to the square, wiping my mouth and any remaining blood off my lips with my fingers before I sank into the crowds. Luckily, Thorpes wasn’t exactly known for having the most observant individuals and many of them weren’t too keen on asking questions.

Perhaps I was just rotten enough to blend in.

I surveyed the crowd, searching for Vidar’s familiar, golden hair. When I found him leaning against a wall beneath a broken bell, Gus and Mullins by his side, I took a step forward to meet him. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, but the rest of him was casual and at ease in that horrid cesspool of a port. I tooka shallow breath, trying to ignore the stench of piss and ale around me as I approached him.

As I was closing my coat over my bloodied shirt again, his eyes caught sight of me and suddenly I had his full attention.

“What happened?” he asked, gripping the collar of my coat to part the material and get a good look at the stained fabric beneath.

"It’s not mine,” I said.

“Not exactly subtle.”

I cocked my head. “Did you hear the screams?”

He narrowed his eyes and I could hear Gus behind him let out a little chortle. “She’s got us there.”

“Are you hurt?” Vidar said.

“Of course not.”

He took one last breath and then forced a crooked smile onto his lips. He lifted his hands halfway toward my face before stopping himself and lowering them back down. Then, as if trying to find a happy medium, he put one hand on my shoulder like he would with a friend.

“Good,” was all he said.

I watched him for a moment, trying to read his strange demeanor, when a whisp of deep red hair entered the corner of my vision. I glanced over Vidar’s shoulder to see a small figure lifting a hood over her vibrant locks. Her eyes were already on me as if she’d been watching me since I entered the square and a flash of fear sucked the color out of her complexion. Her already big eyes rounded, her full lips parting with surprise.

She knew me. Or at least, she knew what I was. And I had a hunch it was because we were both of the sea. I narrowed my suspicious gaze at her and like a scared rabbit, she spun around and began moving through the crowd away from me.

“What is it?” Vidar asked, following my gaze.

I maneuvered past him, trying not to lose her.

Drunken sailors and rowdy women flooded my path, making it hard to move. I shoved through them, watching the hooded figurebob and weave through bodies ahead of me. She glanced back only once to confirm I was on her tail before ducking into an alley. I jogged forward, following her between the brick buildings until we exited on the other side in a less crowded marketplace. I sped up, using my long legs to make up the distance between us, when the woman put her hands on a tall man in a faded greatcoat.

I wrapped my fingers around the dagger on my belt, coming to an abrupt stop as the woman whipped around the man’s body as if to use him as a shield. My eyes panned upward just as the man turned to find me standing only a few steps away. Moss-colored eyes homed in on me, sharp and attentive. Realizing where my hand was resting, he slid his own to the butt of a pistol tucked into his thick, leather belt.

I heard the hammer on another pistol pull back behind me, drawing the stranger’s gaze.

“I wouldn’t, mate,” came Vidar’s voice.

I tossed him a glance to see him standing only a step away, staring down the barrel of his flintlock at the stranger.

The man barely flinched at Vidar’s threat as he tapped his ring on the butt of his weapon. I watched his jaw pulse at the implication as his free hand slid back around the woman’s waist to nudge her further behind him.