SEVENTEEN
IF THE ENGINEroom smelled of oil and coal dust, the cargo hold smelled like a pair of socks after a four-hour ride.
All sorts of supplies were stored in the belly of the ship, from kitchen provisions to passengers’ items too big to be kept in the cabin. If my theory was correct, the lamia should be nestled here. The last time we’d been searching the cargo hold, Rennie’s chin had been perfectly shaven. If the lamia had seen him and copied his style, then it meant its nest should be around. Yes, it was a deuced feeble thread, but I didn’t have any other ideas.
Rennie walked in front of me on the balls of his feet to be quiet. He needn’t have bothered though. Noises rumbled in the packed space. There were metallic groans that made me worry the ship was going to be split in half, and dull thuds, like air pressed inside a pipe. I jolted every time steam hissed from a valve. Our oil lamps were the only source of light. I released a breath when we arrived at a silent portion of the hold, my ears throbbing from their previous misuse.
“We’ve checked this place quite a few times,” Rennie said. “I’m not sure we’ll find anything.”
“We’ve checked theentireship quite a few times. Yet the lamia must be somewhere.”
“Fair point, Miss Fitzwilliam.”
“Thank you, Lawrence.”
He flashed me a cheeky grin that, in better circumstances, would have distracted me. After an hour of creeping along narrow passages and smelling buckets of onions, my morale wasn’t so optimistic any longer. Perhaps my idea was nonsense. I plonked down onto a wooden crate filled with potatoes, according to the label.
“I’m ready to admit defeat,” I said, throwing a hand up.
Sighing, Rennie sat next to me. “It was worth a try.”
As we remained silent, a soft, chirping noise reached my ears. I gazed around.
“Are there birds trapped down here? Poor things.” I rose and focused on the muffled noise.
“Birds? I don’t hear anything.”
“Shush.” I tilted my head.
The chirping came from my left where piles of fruit were stacked. I went to rush in that direction, but Rennie grabbed my arm.
“Wait,” he said.
“What?”
“What if it’s a trick of the lamia?”
A sudden chill crawled up my neck. “Let’s have a look,” I said.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
The chirping came again, sad and painful, as if the beasts were desperate or hungry.
“Just a peek.” I shrugged free and tiptoed closer to the noise.
It took a bit of rummaging through mysterious boxes and crates of dried fruit before I found it. It was a nest. It emitted a faint white glow and was made from pieces of straw. Inside it, there were the most adorable, fluffy creatures I’d ever seen, something between a white kitten and a tiny bunny. Large blue eyes stared up at me. Pink button noses sniffed the air, and rounded ears twitched. Tiny paws clawed the air.
“Oh, my goodness.” My heart melted at the sight of those little balls of fur. There were five of them. “What are they?”
“Bloody hell.” Rennie scratched the back of his neck. “They look like bloody kittens.”
“They’re so cute.”
Footsteps padded behind us. We both spun around. The lamia, in the form of Rennie’s hideous tutor, walked towards us, its nostrils flaring and its eyes turning fully black.
“Do not touch them,” it hissed.
Rennie’s hand slipped under his jacket where his gun was sheathed. A lump swelled in my throat at the thought of harming those lovely darlings.
