Storm of Sharks (12 page)

Whitley fought to keep her
composure – the man did not know Drew’s identity. ‘One of my
father’s men, from Brackenholme, sent to protect me,’ she replied.

‘Now, I might have believed that, but
he didn’t do a particularly good job, did he?’

‘What do you mean, you might have
believed that?’ she exclaimed, the starched ruffles around her wrists shaking.
‘I’m telling you the truth.’

‘If you think you can outsmart
–’

The crystal decanter smashed into the
man’s face, carving a bloody ravine across his temple. Whitley had hidden the
bottle in the voluminous right sleeve of the hideous dress, releasing and catching it by
the neck before swinging it at her captor. The brute staggered to one side, crashing
into the bedpost as Whitley tried to dash by.

Stunned though he was, the man still managed
to throw out a hand as she ran past. His forearm was around Whitley’s throat now,
quick as a flash, holding her tight from behind. The other hand reached down, snatching
the heavy bottle from her before she could strike him again. He tossed the decanter on
to the bed, lifting his hand to her neck. She felt his rough fingers firm against her
throat as he brought his face over her shoulder alongside hers.

‘You’re telling lies again,
little lady, and lies make Captain Deadeye very cross,’ he whispered into her ear.
‘My men from the
Hellhound
who boarded that boat came upon an unexpected
assailant. One said it was a wild dog, another a big cat like one might find in Bast.
Some said it was a bear, my lady.’ He laughed. ‘Imagine that: a bear aboard
a boat! Present company excepted, of course.’

His laughter died away, the only noise that
of the timbers creaking and the sea beyond the portholes. He turned her, holding her out
before him by the throat. His torn face wept dark blood, but his voice remained calm and
controlled.

‘Now tell me, what beast was that,
tearing around the
Lucky Shot
, taking chunks out of my crew?’

‘Perhaps Violca had a dog aboard. I
never saw all of the ship, I stayed in the cabin –’

‘A dog that wore a sword and scabbard on
its hip? That’s a very sophisticated dog you’re speaking of, my
lady.’

‘I can’t help you,’ said
Whitley, growling. She was tiring of Deadeye’s badgering and bullying. His black
eyes bulged as she snapped at him, and he held her throat that little bit tighter.

‘This creature with the sword was last
seen being run through by a number of my men with spear, cutlass and harpoon. He was
thrown overboard eventually, much to my annoyance. I’d have liked to inspect that
body as it reverted back to human form. Still, therian or not, the White Sea will have
claimed him by now. Come, my lady, stop this silliness. Put your teeth away and tell me
who that poor soul was.’

Whitley cried out as her jaws cracked, the
skull of the bear taking form. She thought of her father and her brother, and all those
who’d wronged her family. A rage was growing inside as she imagined
Deadeye’s men slashing and hacking Drew before throwing him into the freezing sea.
They’d killed him.

‘Perhaps your stay aboard the
Hellhound
as my … 
guest
will jog your memory, Lady
Whitley. Think on, my dear. See if you can recall seeing anything. Little details like
that can save a man’s – or a woman’s – life.’

‘Take your hand off my throat, you
ogre,’ she snarled. Her hands came up to swipe at him but he stepped back swiftly,
his reach strong and long enough to keep her at arm’s length. Instead her shifting
claws raked at the skin of his forearm, trying to puncture the flesh. She kicked out,
but he lifted her, banging her against the mirror. She felt the glass crunch where her
back hit it, her feet coming up and lashing out in vain.

‘I could be a friend to you.
You’re a long way from your home in the forest. Terrible things can happen at sea.
If you stay by my side, you’ll be safe. No harm shall come to you, not so long as
I protect you.’

‘In return for what?’ Whitley
growled, the bear still rushing to her aid.

‘A partnership,’ he replied.
‘Marriage,’ he clarified, before darting forward with his other hand. Both
of them were around her throat in an instant, and for a moment Whitley was convinced he
meant to throttle her. Instead she felt something cold against her skin; then she heard
a sharp snap and a crunching sound as a metal collar was fastened around her neck.

She couldn’t breathe, her airway shut
off even as he let go and she collapsed to the deck. She scrabbled across the cabin,
clawed fingers raking at the floorboards as she gasped for air. It wasn’t just the
collar that strangled her.
Marriage? To this gruesome beast?
Her skin crawled
with horror, and ripples of fur raced across her body.

‘Relax, my lady,’ said Deadeye.
‘Relax and you may yet live. Control the beast.’ The captain watched as she
writhed along the floor in agony.

‘Come, little princess, you should be
able to control this creature by now,’ he said, his crooked smile revealing those
terrible teeth. ‘How silly to run away from the safety of Brackenholme without
first mastering control of your therianthropy. Prove your worth, not just to me, but to
yourself, Lady Whitley. Only the strong survive the White Sea.’

Whitley bucked and squirmed, her eyes
bulging as she
fought to control the Werebear. She tried to imagine
her home, her room in Brackenholme Hall, curled up beside her mother, head in her lap.
She imagined Duchess Rainier’s gentle hands caressing her face, brushing her hair.
Gradually she felt the beast recede, the coat of dark fur replaced by her pale,
sweat-slicked skin.

‘There,’ said Deadeye.
‘I’m impressed. You’ll make a worthy addition to the
Hellhound.
I sense we’ll achieve great things together, Werelords of
both land and sea brought together.’

The captain set off towards the door, his
heavy feet making the floorboards rattle beneath Whitley’s face.

The door slammed shut. The Werelady
struggled to her knees, crawling across the cabin floor until she came to the base of
the dressing table. She gripped the table’s edge, her claws having vanished, and
hauled herself to her feet. A dishevelled face stared back from the mirror. Whitley
pulled her bedraggled hair to one side, examining her neck.

A silver chain encircled her throat, the
skin scored and scratched by her struggle. She leaned closer towards the fractured,
polished glass, running a finger along the collar’s thick, solid links. She turned
it around her throat, drawing and dragging it where it sat flush against her skin. A
padlock held it together, the ugly thing fastened tight. She stifled a sob. Drew was
gone, murdered by the crew of the
Hellhound
, his body tossed to the deep. She
shivered at the touch of the silver against her fingertips. She belonged to Deadeye
now.

Drew let out a cry. His body screamed with
the memory of the battle aboard the
Lucky Shot
, each and every wound on fire,
awakening him from his troubled sleep. Initially he imagined he was still dreaming,
trapped in an awful nightmare. As he bucked and writhed, he felt the attacks anew: two
sword blows to the chest, a crushed right shoulder blade and a searing pain through the
guts where a harpoon had skewered him. His eyes flew open, but his vision remained
flooded by the blinding, bright light. He flung his arm out, reaching for something,
anything, that might tell him where he was. The world was no longer rocking: he was on
dry land,
but where
? He heard something move close by, his fingers reaching in
the direction of the sound. Warm flesh – a wrist? He grabbed it as the owner
tried to pull free from his feeble hold.

‘He’s awake!’

It was a child’s voice, raised high in
alarm. Something hard – a boot, perhaps – caught Drew in the face,
sending his head to one side, his nose bursting with the impact.

‘Gerroff ’im, you rotten
sod!’ snarled a deeper, youthful voice. A stick struck Drew across the temple, his
head bouncing the other way as he relinquished his hold. He was nauseous from the
unexpected blows, each catching him utterly defenceless.

‘Hit ’im again!’ shouted
the first voice. ‘He nearly tore me leg off!’

‘Leave him be!’ A feminine voice
spoke now, equally young, followed by a scuffle of some kind. Drew growled as he shook
his head, trying to clear away the disorientation and bring forth the wolf. The stick
whacked him hard in the breastbone, sending him collapsing back. He landed on some kind
of rough pallet, obviously what had passed for a bed while he’d slept.

‘Growl one more time, pal, and
we’ll whale on you like you’ve never known,’ said the second voice,
clearly itching to deal out more pain.

‘Skipper said don’t hurt
him,’ said the girl’s voice, ‘so keep your stick to yourself,
Gregor.’

‘He might call himself Skipper but
that don’t make him the boss o’ me!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ the girl
hissed. ‘Hackett will hear you!’

‘Please,’ gasped Drew, raising
his hand in supplication, ‘I’m not looking for a fight; I just want
answers!’

‘Hush,’ said the girl, her hand
going over Drew’s mouth. ‘The last thing we need is Hackett’s men
coming knocking.’

‘Take your hand off his mouth,
Pearl,’ said Gregor. ‘You don’t know where he’s been.’

‘We know exactly where
’e’s been,’ said the boy Drew had originally grabbed.
‘Rottin’ on this mattress for the last two days. How ’is wounds
ain’t killed him, Sosha only knows!’

‘Wait,’ said Drew.
‘I’ve been here for two days?’

‘Near enough,’ said Pearl.
‘Thought you were gonna bleed out, number of wounds you had.’

‘You looked like shark bait.’
Gregor laughed. ‘I’ve seen chum with more life than you when we pulled you
out the sea.’

‘Skipper said we should bring you back
here, keep you safe,’ said Pearl.

‘Who’s Skipper?’ asked
Drew.

‘Jumped-up little squirt,’ said
Gregor. ‘Thinks he can boss us all around.’

‘He ain’t bossing nobody,’
snapped Pearl. ‘He’s trying to keep us alive, stop Hackett and the
Krakenguard from tossing any more of us into the tide.’

Drew waved his hand, trying to attract their
attention. They went silent.

‘Would it be all right if I sat up?
Can I expect any of you to kick, stamp or
whale
on me?’

‘Get up, mister,’ said Pearl,
clearly the most level-headed of the three.

‘But no funny business,’ added
the first boy, with about as much menace as a puppy.

‘Off your high horse, Kit,’ said
Pearl, admonishing him.

Drew laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Kit,’ replied Drew, sitting up
and rubbing his jaw. ‘I had him down as a Pup.’

‘Wouldn’t laugh too loud if I
were you, pal,’ said Gregor. ‘If Hackett’s men don’t find and
kill you, we might just leave you to Kit. He’s pretty handy with a
knife.’

Drew winced as the boy suddenly poked him in
the back with his stick.

‘He could finish whatever job those
wounds started on you.’

‘Stop playing stupid games,
Gregor,’ said Pearl quietly, her voice drawing close to the Wolflord. ‘He
ain’t gonna cause us no harm. You’re blind, ain’t you?’

Drew nodded, staring ahead into a white
world of nothingness. ‘I was burned some days ago, a brand to my eyes. I
haven’t seen since.’

‘You’ve really been in the wars,
haven’t you, mister?’

Drew managed a smile. ‘That’s
the second time you’ve called me “mister”.’ How old do I appear
to you?’

‘Into your third decade?’

‘I’ve seen sixteen
summers,’ Drew replied.

‘Sweet Sosha,’ said Gregor.
‘Your ma must’ve given you tough chores!’

‘He ain’t much older than us,
then,’ said Kit.

‘No fooling you, is there, Kit?’
replied Gregor. Drew heard the sound of a playful smack from one boy to another.
Just what Trent and I might’ve done in happier times,
he mused with a
sigh. Perhaps these boys, too, were brothers.

‘You say you pulled me out of the sea.
What happened?’

‘Gregor found you,’ said Pearl.
‘It’s him you need to thank for saving your life.’

‘Thank you,’ said Drew.

‘Don’t be so quick with your
gratitude, pal. I don’t much like you being here, right?’

‘How did you come across
me?’

‘You were
foul-hooked – found you tangled up in my nets.’

‘
Your
nets?
You
have
your own fishing boat? But you’re only a boy.’

‘Said yourself you ain’t much
older,’ said Gregor defensively. ‘Besides which, we do what we’re told
since Ghul rounded all the older folk up.’

‘So now I’m your
prisoner?’

‘Well, you certainly ain’t going
anywhere.’

‘Skipper says we’re to watch
over you until you get better,’ added Pearl.