This Wicked Fate (This Poison Heart #2)(63)

I bit into the pale yellow flesh and chewed it as fast as I could. The stringy pieces stuck between my teeth, but almost as soon as I’d finished the first chunk I started to feel a little better. I bit off another, wincing as the bitter taste stung my tongue. I didn’t care if it burned out my entire throat, I needed the relief.

Persephone patted me on the shoulder and went back to staring off into the distance from the front of the ship through a pair of binoculars. Circe sat on the short steps that led to the area belowdecks. It was empty down there except for the cages containing the Absyrtus Heart in two of its many forms. I could hear the rhythmic beating even as the constant rush of wind battered the billowing sails.

In the early afternoon, everyone ate but I still couldn’t stomach anything heavier than some fruit and bottled water. Persephone produced four pairs of noise-canceling headphones she’d purchased before we left New York.

“These are the best ones money can buy,” she said, handing us each a set. “Nothing gets in. Try it.”

I slipped them over my ears and immediately the world went silent. I could see Marie’s mouth moving but heard absolutely nothing. I pulled one of the earpieces away from the side of my head and the sound came rushing in like a wave.

“As soon as the rocks come into view, we should put them on,” said Circe. “Persephone will let us know when she sees them.”

I nodded. “What do we do if the sirens try to come onto the ship?” All I could picture was the pottery shard and the figures being pulled overboard.

Circe and Persephone exchanged glances.

“We just have to try and get as close to the shore as possible and in silence,” Circe said.

“Seems like a solid plan,” Marie said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Just be real quiet. Cool. Why didn’t anybody else think of that?”

“I know being a smart-ass is just your way, but it’s not helpful right now.” Circe seemed annoyed. “If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it. If not, I don’t know, you could always just be quiet.”

Marie stayed quiet but she wasn’t happy about it. She pressed her lips together and let her gaze wander to the deck under her feet. The stress of this journey was testing our patience.

I gently nudged Marie. “I have an idea, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Let’s hear it,” Persephone said, shooting Marie a quick glance.

“Auntie—” I stopped short. It had just slipped out. Auntie. A title I didn’t know if Circe wanted or needed or deserved. Not because she wasn’t all the things an auntie should be: concerned with my safety but not in a way that kept her from letting me do things I probably shouldn’t, kind to a fault. But she’d been all those things to me in a little less than a month. It was enough time for me to understand that I cared about her and she cared about me, too. I thought of my auntie Leti and what she might have done in this situation. Circe reminded me of her in a way. Maybe that’s why I’d slipped up. Or maybe it wasn’t a slipup at all.

I looked up and met Circe’s gaze. Her eyes were glassy with tears, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. She was trying her hardest not to cry.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, heat rising in my face.

“Don’t be,” she said quietly.

I could almost hear Mo’s voice in my head. I didn’t have to choose. I could have both. “Auntie, do you have Devil’s Pet in that case you brought?”

She scrambled to her feet and rushed off to get it, batting at her eyes. When she returned, she held a single bloodred thorn. She set it in my hand and I walked to the rail closest to us. As I breathed deep and let the warmth flow through my fingertips, the Devil’s Pet burst to life. An entire gathering of the poisonous vines materialized from the single thorn. They writhed in my palm like the tentacles of some monstrous sea creature, doubling in length and thickness with every breath I took. When they were too heavy to hold, I set them on the deck and they branched out like arms, like fingers. Grasping at the rails they hauled themselves up and over. They covered the outside of the hull in hundreds of thick offshoots, sprouting crimson thorns the size of icicles and serrated purple leaves tipped in deadly poison.

“Why didn’t we think of this?” Persephone asked, staring at Circe, who just grinned.

I let the Devil’s Pet form a protective armor of deadly thorns that encased the entire ship, slithering across the decks and covering nearly every square inch of the exterior.

“If sirens do come up the side, they won’t be happy,” I said.

“They sure won’t,” said Marie. “And I thought I was cold blooded. You got me beat.”

Persephone returned to her perch on the upper deck, and as the afternoon faded and the sky turned fiery, she called down to us.

“We’re approaching something in the water.”

I rushed up the short flight of stairs and she handed me the binoculars. I peered through and spotted in the distance three distinct rocky outcroppings and beyond them, more sea.

“I see the rocks, but isn’t the island supposed to be right behind them? I don’t see anything out there.” I lowered the binoculars. “I know it’s cloaked, but shouldn’t we see … something?”

“Look again,” Persephone said as Circe and Marie joined us on the upper deck.