It’s chaos.
At least a dozen Sea Wraiths are circling over the boat in the night sky—half creature, half shadow, all deadly. Each one is the size of a large man, swooping from above onto the crew who are all battling for their lives.
I scan the ship, looking for her.
My Calista.
There, my wolf snarls when we see her on the bow of the ship swinging that long emerald sword at the dropping monsters.
I take a step toward her and a Sea Wraith drops without warning.
It comes right at me, swooping down in a cloud of black shadow like ink spreading through water. I lean back with a wince, barely missing its sharp claws.
It’s close enough to see its horrible face. It looks human. Almost. Maybe it used to be human with that rotting skin hanging loose, eyes like holes burned through parchment, a mouth with no lips and an extra row of sharp, crooked, jagged teeth. Its body is cloaked in dark wispying shadows, but I see its hand—long gray bony fingers reaching out to grab me.
I know from the old stories that Sea Wraiths are trapped between worlds. They’re the souls of evil drowned pirates that were denied entry into Ulissa. They’re neither living nor dead, but deadly just the same. They wrap their ice-cold fingers around you, sucking the warmth out of your chest as they drag you off your boat and drown you in the cold, dark water.
Another woman with long blonde hair like my Calista—only hers is tied into pigtails—comes rushing over with an arrow in her bow. The sharp arrowhead is made of a glowing green emerald.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” she says, aiming the cocked arrow at the Sea Wraith. It hisses at her and quickly flies away.
“Where’s Calista?”
“The Captain can take care of herself,” she shouts. “Get back inside.”
She releases the arrow at a diving Sea Wraith and it hits it right in the shadowy chest. It instantly vanishes with a scream.
“Go!” she shouts when she sees me still standing here.
I grab my aching ribs and grunt in pain. “I’m not leaving her.”
She rolls her eyes and pulls out a small emerald dagger from her belt. “Don’t get yourself killed,” she says, shoving it into my hand.
I look at the beautiful green blade and the intricate carvings on the handle, and when I look back up, she’s gone.
My frantic eyes scan the ship, searching for my mate.
It’s a chaotic battle with dozens of Sea Wraiths hunting from above. I spot a large guy—probably the biggest of the whole crew—cowering beside wooden crates, sobbing as he covers his ears.
The rest of them are fighting bravely with emerald weapons. A thin young man is thrusting an emerald-tipped spear at a Sea Wraith who keeps diving at his head. Valther, the muscular man who appeared in the doorway with two emerald daggers, is swinging them viciously, cutting through any Sea Wraith that comes close. He hollers out a battle cry as he sprints into the cluster of them on the bow.
The girl with the bow and arrow is firing arrows with a speed and calm focus that would impress the best archers in my father’s guard. She tracks a banking wraith and lets her arrow go. She’s already onto the next one as her arrow sails through the air—ahead by a heartbeat—and lands straight through the wraith’s torso. It lets out a bone-chilling screech as it plunges down and vanishes into nothing.
My heart races when I can’t spot her. My wolf is going absolutely berserk.
Find her, he roars.Find her now!
“I’m looking,” I hiss through gritted teeth. I’m just as desperate to find her as he is.
I force myself forward, onto the deck, into the chaos. The ship is rocking violently on the ocean, which makes it even harder to move.
A wraith sweeps low and I duck, feeling the coldness of it pass over the back of my neck—a cold that has nothing to do with temperature, that goes straight into the bone. I straighten up and keep moving.
I limp past the big guy who’s wedged between two crates, his knees pulled to his chest, his eyes squeezed shut, mouthing a prayer. He’s enormous and completely useless and my anger flares at seeing him cowering instead of protecting his captain.
I go to grab his shirt and yank him up to get into the fight when a scream from above yanks my attention away.
A tiny old man in the crow’s nest—small and white-haired, with thin arms and legs—is being lifted. A wraith has him by the shoulders, its pale hands carrying him up into the dark as his little legs kick wildly.
