The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)(4)

“My fate! My fortune.” He staggered toward me as the deck rolled, a manic light in his eyes. “I die in Honolulu, in 1868. Joss saw it happen!”

“But Dad—”

“Fire!”

Another rifle volley came, lower this time. Bullets sang in my ears. But Slate shouldered me aside, gripping the handles with white knuckles. “Give me the wheel and get down on the deck. I won’t die without seeing your mother again.”

A mighty gust of wind whipped my hair across my cheeks as I hesitated on the quarterdeck. I didn’t want to leave him, but I didn’t want to wrestle him for the wheel, either. Besides, he was still the captain; it was my duty to obey. And we were nearly safe in the Margins—or were we?

The fog ahead had darkened, and lightning flickered in the lowering clouds. A wave burst over the port side in a white plume of foam. Tahiti shouldn’t have been difficult, not like this. Over the crash of the water, I heard the officer’s shout. “Ready!”

Slate only laughed. “Do your worst!” he shouted into the wind. “I dare you!”

“Aim!”

The fog curdled, darker still, and thunder grumbled a warning. What was worse, the storm ahead or the ship behind?

But then Billie scrambled toward starboard side, barking furiously. There, in the bank of fog, turbid tendrils of mist were twisting up from the surface like fingers—like tentacles. The water seemed to boil as something dark and heavy bodied rose from the deep.

A cry went up from the crew of the steamer, and I risked a glance back. Order broke down as men aimed at the shadows, firing at will. They were close enough that I could see the wide white panic in their eyes.

Bullets zipped in the air like bees; I crouched at my father’s feet as the mist of the Margins swallowed us whole. Then Slate cried out—I blinked up at him in the sudden darkness. His face was pale in the gloom; he clutched his left side.

Blood was leaking through his fingers.

“Dad!” I sprang to my feet, reaching for him . . . as something fell to the quarterdeck beside me, thick and heavy as the mast.

But it glistened—and moved.





CHAPTER TWO


Black flesh like wet leather—and underneath, rows of suckers the size of saucers. The tentacle writhed and coiled over the boards. Then it lashed around my ankle like a whip, and I screamed.

Billie raced across the deck to sink her teeth into the creature’s flesh, but the tentacle only tightened; a dozen suckers ripped at my skin. I scrabbled at the stem of the wheel, but the creature dragged me across the deck.

“Amira!” Kashmir ran after me, his long knife shining in the gloam. With one slash, he severed the tip of the tentacle. In its dying throes, it curled around my leg, but I scooted backward, kicking, and it fell away. Billie dragged it off with a growl as the rest of it flopped and twisted, slithering back into the roiling sea.

Breathing hard, Kashmir reached for me. I let him pull me to my feet, his hand so warm in mine. “Are you all right?” He murmured the words into my hair; I could smell the clove on his breath.

“Fine,” I said, dizzy with fear and relief and the closeness of him. “But Slate—Slate’s hurt.”

Kash glanced at the captain, a furrow forming between his dark brows. In an instant, his expression changed to surprise as another tentacle slung over the rail to wind around his waist. Lightning flashed, and odd colors rippled over the creature’s flesh. It pulled—and Kashmir’s hand slipped from mine.

His knife clattered to the deck as he disappeared over the side.

“Kash!” Thunder rumbled, drowning out my scream. I rushed toward the rail, ready to leap into the dark water, but something grabbed me roughly by the arm and hauled me back.

My father.

With a cry, I shoved him away. He reeled, still reaching for me with bloody hands; the ship spun like a weathervane with no one at the wheel. “Nixie,” he gasped. “He’s gone!”

The words hit me like a slap, but Billie started howling again, and before I could respond, I was thrown to my knees. The Temptation bucked like a wild thing as another tentacle heaved onto the deck.

It wound like a vine around the foremast. With a crack, the boom snapped, and the wet sail dropped over the squirming limb. Rotgut shouted curses from his perch in the crow’s nest as a second tentacle shook the main mast. A third wrapped itself around the captain’s right arm. Slate snarled like a dog, sinking his teeth into the monster’s slick flesh. The thing flinched, releasing him, and my father reached out for me. But I scrambled to my feet, swearing. “Just take the damn wheel!”

He stumbled back toward the helm as another wave hit us—this time over the bow—sending white spray high overhead as the tentacle undulated on the deck. Leaping over it, I pressed myself against the bulwark, ready to follow Kashmir over the side—but there he was, clinging to the rungs of the ladder embedded in the stern.

“Kashmir!” My voice was thick with relief, but he could not respond; the creature had a tentacle cinched around his chest, crushing the air from his lungs as waves crashed over his head. “Hold on!”

Fumbling on the deck, I grabbed his knife and wrapped my hands around the hilt. I leaned out over the bulwark, slashing downward, but the blade bounced off the monster’s leathery skin; had I swung with the dull edge? I changed my grip, but the creature released him to reach for me. Screaming, I hacked at the thing, and it wriggled away. Gritting his teeth, Kash hooked one elbow over the rail. Before he could pull himself back to the deck, the beast yanked him down again.