Page 37 of Valour

On the deck of the Intrepid yellow and red flags swooped and stabbed the air.

“They say they have her. But—” Winston swallowed and whispered, “No sign of life.”

Fliss’s wails increased in volume, and she pressed her forehead to the deck where she knelt, her whole body shaking. Charlotte crouched next to her, wrapping an arm over her back, Mei doing the same on the other side. All Charlotte could think was how it was surely all her fault. All her fault for asking Hester to bring her here. And now that bright light was gone, and along with it, all of her hopes and dreams.

Charlotte tore her gaze from Fliss over to the Intrepid, to see the figure hauling Hester’s limp body up the ladder, handing her to the crew as he swung himself onto the deck and knelt down.

Red and yellow flags flashed again.

“No breathing. No heartbeat. They’ll attempt to revive her,” Winston said, his voice breaking.

Hester stood on the deck of the Intrepid, an odd scene playing out before her. Septimus, wet all over, his hair and beard dripping with water, skin almost blue, was leaning over—Hester’s own body.

She frowned.

Her own lifeless body was laid out on the deck.

“What on Earth?” she asked, but no one seemed to hear her.

She turned her hands over, staring. They were transparent, the colour leeched from her skin. A heavy weight, not wholly unfamiliar, pulled at her back, and out of the corner of her eye she saw golden feathers. She turned her head further, eyes widening as she took in the feathered wings that sprouted behind her.

From her own shoulder blades.

This was all very confusing. “Well, I surely wasn’t expecting this.” She spun to try and get a better look at the wings. “An angel? Surely there is some mistake.”

She surveyed the scene before her again. Septimus pinched her nose and blew into her mouth.

“Excuse me!” she said indignantly. “And where, pray tell, is—” She sighted Victor, his blonde hair sticking up from where he’d raked his hands through it.

Septimus sat back and growled at the bosun, “And you said she was beyond saving. You would not go in after her, you coward.”

“Look at her, my lord. She is dead, and you could have died also,” Victor snapped.

Angel Hester narrowed her eyes. “You would not go in to save me?” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep afloat that part of her that sank.

“I could have died, yes. I did not,” Septimus said, then blew into Hester’s mouth once more.

Angel Hester bared her teeth at Victor and splayed her wings wide. “Oh, I will have fun haunting you, Victor. Oh ho, yes. Wait. Are angels allowed to haunt?”

Charlotte held her hand to her mouth as the red and yellow flags flashed again, and Winston broke down. “They’re giving up,” he bit out. “She’s gone.”

Charlotte and Arnold lurched forwards as Betty collapsed in a faint, catching her just before she hit the deck, and Fliss gave her loudest cry yet, the awful sound ringing in the air.

Winston removed his woollen hat and clutched it to his chest, his face lined with anguish as he walked to the stern to lower the ensign flag to half-mast.

Charlotte collapsed next to Betty.

It was all her fault.

All of it.

13

IN WHICH PIGS MIGHT FLY AND THE RUM STOCKS ARE SORELY DEPLETED

Angel Hester watched the scene unfold in front of her.

Her body lay still and lifeless on the deck. The Intrepid’s crew had gathered round, faces grim. At least she still looked absolutely stunning in death.