The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)(5)

The sound of gunfire split the air as Bee leveled her revolver. The creature flailed, slamming a tentacle down at her feet. Boards splintered, but she stood her ground to reload until another arm reared up and knocked her backward. Bee rolled across the deck, her gun tumbling overboard.

Another tentacle swung past me to grasp the stem of the wheel. Slate stomped on it, swearing, while Bee wrestled with the arm winding about her torso. Billie danced across the deck, ripping into a coiling limb. But the stern sank lower as the dark bulk of the thing rose up from the water, looming through the fog.

Eyes bigger than my head gleamed in a flash of electric blue as the creature poured over the bulwark. It was enormous—the body alone taller than I was. There was another crack of thunder, and Kash cried out as one hand slipped free; he swung by his fingers as the ship tilted on the rising sea.

Waves drenched the deck. Another minute and the monster would capsize us, dragging us all down to the ocean floor. But it was like a hydra—each time I swung the blade, another arm appeared. The knife felt like a toothpick in my hand as I stared into the creature’s eyes, the pupils flat like a goat’s.

The eyes . . . the eyes. A thought . . . a memory came to me, something I’d read once: Hawaiian fishermen killed octopus by biting them between the eyes. Why was I hacking at the limbs? With a grimace, I drew back the knife and plunged it hilt-deep into the bulbous head.

A gout of black fluid washed the deck, darker than blood; the tentacles writhed like a nest of snakes. One caught me across the stomach, flinging me back. Dazed and gasping, I stared up as the arms fell slack around me. Was that a patch of night sky through the fog?

Relief came in a wave. If the mist was clearing, that meant we were nearly safe out of the Margins. As I lay there, the beast slid off the stern, limp and liquid, and sank into the deep, and the ship rose in the water. Pushing myself to my knees, I sucked in a breath. Then I staggered to the rail, ready to pull Kashmir up from the ladder.

He was gone.

For a moment I couldn’t make sense of it. I stared, stupidly, at the empty ladder, at the churning wake, at the thinning fog.

No.

No, no, no, no, no no no—

I didn’t stop. I didn’t think. I vaulted off the stern, hitting the dark waves like a hammer. The shattered sea collapsed over my head, but I fought the water, struggling upward, kicking frantically, finally bursting into the murky air.

“Kash!” I choked—my first call was drowned by the next wave. I spat. “Kashmir!”

Where was he? The ship had slowed in the storm. Still, it was sailing on faster than a man could swim. The fog swirled around me—I couldn’t see farther than my fingertips—but that was good, that was good. We were both still in the Margins.

Salt stung in my wounds like the tail of a jellyfish; there must be blood in the water, and not only mine. Was there another monster lurking in the dark, drawn by the flesh and the fray?

Through the mist, someone was screaming my name—my father’s voice. I swam in the opposite direction. Beside me, something large splashed on the surface. I shrieked, but it was only a buoy thrown from the ship. I slid my arm through the center and carried it with me as I swam. How long was the rope? Glancing back over my shoulder, there was nothing; the Temptation had vanished in the tattered fog . . . or out of it.

I had to find Kashmir before I followed.

“Kash!”

He had to be here. Or had the creature taken him under? I slammed my mind on the question, like the door to a tomb.

“Kashmir!”

Something brushed my leg and I bit back a cry. It was only the rope, wrapped around my ankle. All around me, the fog was clearing. I ducked under to loosen the loop from my leg, and when I resurfaced, I heard his voice.

“Amira!”

I whirled around, splashing. Kashmir’s voice was faint over the shush and roar of the waves, but I kicked toward it with a single-minded purpose. I had to reach him, now or never. Throwing my shoulder forward, I cut through the water, dragging the buoy along. I dreaded a tug on the rope. What would I do if Kash had drifted beyond my reach?

The answer came to mind immediately; I would let go of the buoy. If the Temptation left the Margins without me, I might never see her again—nor Bee and Rotgut, nor my father. But I kept swimming, and at the top of the next wave, I saw him in the watery valley.

“Kash!”

“Amira?” In his wide eyes, relief chased away the panic.

The wave dropped and he was closer; he kicked toward me on the next swell and I toward him. I pushed the buoy into his hands and just like that, he was in my arms. “I’ve got you!”

“I thought I—” he sputtered, gasping. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’m here,” I said, pulling him close just as the rope on the buoy stretched taut. “I’ll always be here.”

He stopped trying to speak, but I could feel his hot breath in the crook of my neck and the thunder of his heart against my chest. The dark sea had calmed, but I held him fiercely. We floated up the next wave and down its back. We might have drifted forever, storm tossed but safe in each other’s arms. But the fog around us was melting into the night air, revealing the Temptation. My father was at the stern, hauling on the rope with all his might.

Bee threw down another rope for Kash; I looped it around his torso before sending him up the ladder. Water sluiced from his clothes, and there was a long strand of seaweed wrapped around one leg. His arms, usually so steady, shook as he climbed, so I stayed close behind him, murmuring encouragement.