I shrank. “I was planning to tell you, but then we were in such a hurry and I?—”
“Tell me what?”
“It wasn’t real. I mean, I thought it was just a dream. A nightmare.”
“Jesus, Ziara.” The alpha stormed toward me, his eyes glowing with anger. “You told the enemy where we are?”
Rust swore and looked away. The hurt radiating off Mack felt like a punch in the gut. His focus locked on me, his big brown eyes full of betrayal.
The alpha loomed over me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Start at the beginning.”
“I… I….”
A shrill shout sounded from above, interrupting the thoughts I fought to organize. More shouts of alarm joined the first. Dad turned and looked out the porthole, swearing.
The dragon!
Heart pounding, I leapt to my feet and peered around him, scanning the horizon.
But it wasn’t the dragon.
An enormous creature darted through the water, shooting toward our ship like a missile.
“Brace!” Dad shouted.
Before I could move, the creature rammed us. The Fiery Stormbird pitched to the port side, flinging me away from the starboard porthole. I went airborne. Flailing, I reached for anything to break my fall. Rough canvas slammed into my shoulder, and I caught myself on a hammock and held on tight. The starboard porthole, now entirely submerged, was under my feet and water gushed in. The ship was on its side.
Wood groaned, and we rolled again. I held onto the hammock for dear life. Canvas dug into my hands as the vessel righted itself with a bone-shaking splash. Pain erupted across my tongue, and my mouth filled with blood.
Dad and Rust rolled across the floor before springing to their feet while Mack clung to the hammock beside mine, his expression wild with fear as the starboard porthole darkened. Orange and black scales slithered past it, blotting out the light. Snakeskin grated against iron and wood until the port side window was also covered. It had wrapped around the ship, leaving us in unnatural darkness, with all external sounds muted.
At least the water had stopped pouring in.
The ship groaned and rocked again. Dad staggered to the starboard porthole, raised his rifle, and squeezed the trigger, unloading a three-shot burst into the creature. An ear-piercing hiss bounced off the walls, followed by more rocking of the galleon. More shots. One ricocheted off the iron bars and whizzed back into the cabin. My stomach lurched, but the shot slammedinto a storage box. Dad released his rifle to hang from its sling again and staggered to the nearest hammock.
A high-pitched screech sounded from the front of the galleon, followed immediately by the stench of fire and burnt reptile. Wondering what fresh hell this was, I tightened my grip as another ear-splitting screech accompanied a hissing bellow. The ship lurched. The scales blocking the porthole shuddered and writhed, letting in flashes of light. On deck, the fishmen shouted what sounded like a rallying cry in their strange language.
A third screech made my ears ring. The ship rocked so hard I thought we’d capsize for sure. Firey scales lit up the port side window, followed by a pained bellow. The snake rolled again, and a loud splash sounded. When the flames flickered out, the monster was gone. Slowly, the ship’s rocking ebbed, splashing less and less water into our cabin. I scanned my team, assessing the damage. Rust had a cut over his left eyebrow, already stitching itself shut, and Mackiel’s face was green.
“Don’t throw up in here,” I told him. If he blew chunks, I would follow suit, and the cabin already smelled nauseating enough.
He swallowed and nodded. “I’m good.”
He didn’t look good, but I didn’t blame him one bit. The jerky I’d had for breakfast was steadily creeping up my throat.
But we’d survived. Something had fought off that gargantuan snake, and I wasn’t about to question a miracle.
Rhythmic thumping shook the ceiling. Feet pounded in unison against the deck above us.
“What are they doing?” I asked.
The alpha’s expression curdled. “Getting us underway, I’d imagine.” He kept his grip on the hammock, so I kept mine. Rust and Mack held on without being told.
Smart, as it turned out.
Instruments joined the stomping, sounding like guitars that had been wound too tight, bright and twanging. The tempo climbed. Voices layered in. The fishmen’s song startedlow and reverent before building in speed and volume until the melody became a frenzy. The hammock swayed. The hull groaned. The entire ship vibrated with the music as if it were trying to match the rhythm beat for beat.
I shot a glance through the porthole, and my stomach dropped.
