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“What sort of daimon are you?” I asked, trying to get a read on him. It wasn’t always obvious, but generally we could pick up a vibe of some kind that gave us a clue. Arsène was a total mystery, though.
He gave me a look so resentful that I regretted asking. “Pothos.”
“No shit?” Bullet replied, all curiosity. “I’ve never met one of those.”
Arsène grunted, squinting out over the water as lights drew closer. “Perhaps you should go in the cabin, agathos. If someone questions us, you are the only one here who can’t lie.”
“Right,” Grace agreed, throwing another uncertain glance at the dark water. She clearly didn’t feel great about being out at sea in general, let alone stuck in a room below deck.
“I could join you?” I offered before I could stop myself. It felt so instinctive to soothe her, but was that just the bond pushing us together? “I have alotof embarrassing stories about Riot that would make excellent distractions.”
Riot narrowed his eyes at me. “You might want to think about some of the more embarrassingdaresyou took on before you start telling stories.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I laughed, reaching out my hand and hoping Grace took it. I felt like a blushing schoolboy, trying to hold my crush’s hand, but I had to start somewhere, right? Whenever I felt like I was getting closer to Grace, life had spectacularly gotten in the way.
“I will show you your room,” Arsène said, gesturing to follow as he led us down past the steering area—captain’s wheel? Whatever, I didn’t know shit about boats—into the surprisingly wide space below deck. He grabbed a smaller flashlight as he went, chucking it to me, while shining his ahead so we could see where we were stepping, all of us ducking down slightly to avoid the low ceiling.
“Bathroom,” he grunted, illuminating a closed door on the right. “Kitchen. You can cook here. I have some canned items, and we will fish,” he added, waving at the small cooking area with a tiny gas stove and sink. There were long bench seats down each side with a fold down table in the middle, and two more doors beyond.
“There are two cabins. This is mine,” Arsène said, showing us the smaller one, packed to the brim with stuff. “This will be yours. No one has used it in many years. Once, other daimon friends lived on board with me, but they are… gone now. Make yourselves comfortable.”
He shrugged, stomping back through the dining area, shoulders hunched over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.
“Daimons living together?” I muttered. “That’s weird.”
Arsène looked to be in his sixties. Daimons in his day weren’t exactly out there making buddies.
“I think it helps to remember that we’re the first generation of successful experiments after a string of failed ones,” Grace replied wryly, giving my hand a quick squeeze. “The Fates have wanted to bring agathos and daimons together for a long time. What is a Pothos daimon?”
“I’ve never met one before, but they’re sort of the dark side of love,” I admitted, feeling bad for the guy. “Longing, yearning, that kind of thing.”
“Oh,” Grace breathed. “That’s so sad.”
We both ducked our head to enter the cabin, which was basically just an odd-shaped sleep space. I shone the flashlight around, getting the feel of the wood-paneled room. Thin mattresses were arranged on a wooden platform like a puzzle to form an almost W-shaped bed, built into the curved shape of the room. It was definitely too small for all five of us, but we could probably fit three quite comfortably. There was a hatch in the center of the roof, which was the only space with slightly more headroom, and I assumed could be opened to the deck above. A couple of narrow shelves overhead was the only storage space. I couldn’t imagine someone actuallylivinghere.
“Hold the flashlight up and I’ll put the sheets on the bed,” Grace instructed, kneeling in the doorway beneath the hutch, the only floor space in the cabin, and unfolding a pile of off-white flat sheets. She worked quickly, tucking them in around the odd angles, and setting out the thicker blankets for us to lie under. All of our own blankets were wet, and unlikely to dry any time soon with how dark and cold it was.
“Done,” Grace breathed, climbing onto the bed and pulling a blanket over her bare legs before patting the spot next to her.
“Is this okay?” I asked her as I shut the door behind me, suddenly aware of how small this space was. “I can get one of the others—”
“No, it’s okay,” Grace assured me quickly. “I want to spend time with you, Dare. And you mentioned a distraction, and I could really do with one.”
I nodded, able to sit upright under the hutch, perched at the edge of the mattress.
“You’re not claustrophobic, are you?” I asked, propping my thigh up on the bed. Grace slid her blanket-covered feet under my knee, tucking them underneath for warmth.
Cute. She was so fucking cute.
That wasn’t the bond, surely. I found her cute because shewascute, didn’t I? I hated not being able to trust my own judgment.
“I don’t know if I’m claustrophobic. This is my first real test,” Grace replied, glancing warily around the cabin. “I’m pretty confident I hate sailing, though.”
I laughed unexpectedly at the completely flat way she’d delivered the words. Grace was almost always sweet, polite to everyone, constantly battling to see the bright side in all the darkness that had been thrown her way.
But apparently she drew the line at sailing.
“All my past boat trips involved me being drunk in the sun. I don’t know how I feel about this,” I admitted, absently resting my hand on her shin and rubbing circles into her leg with my thumb. “Obviously, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened today, but we don’t have to talk about that,” I added quickly as Grace’s face fell.
