Taken With A Grain Of Salt (Salt Series Book 2)

by Aaron Galvin

  “Dolan’s don’t run.”

  “Your father deed. You should too.” Henry lifted his blade. “Or would you ‘ave me keel you now? Quick and painless.”

  Pop’s gone. Paulie hates me. Nuthin’ left for me here but to die. Lenny licked his dry lips with his even dryer tongue. “I’m not killin’ nobody.”

  “No.” Henry put the guard’s key to the lock, popped it, and lifted the board from Lenny’s wrists and legs. “Leave that to me.”

  Lenny pulled his limbs from the stocks. Struggled to stand and shrunk when Henry helped him. “W-whattaya need me to do?”

  Henry’s grin broadened.

  KELLEN

  We’re up next. Kellen watched the final bout of those in the seal cage. Each battle had been to the death and as Kellen glanced behind him, he thought it little coincidence he and three other captives remained. Even numbers for two more fights. Kellen studied their faces as he listened to Tieran auction off the last Selkie winner. Who will it be?

  His companions seemed to have reached the same conclusion, though each handled their fate in different ways. Marrero wore the same dogged expression Kellen saw him don countless times before wrestling matches. Kellen noticed his friend’s knuckles white against the bars, and Marrero’s lips moved in murmured whisper as he psyched himself for the inevitable match.

  Will it be you, Marrero? Kellen wondered. You or me?

  A part of Kellen suggested his best odds would be against Edmund. Yet when the two of them locked eyes, the competitor in him recognized Edmund as the toughest match of all. Where Marrero had the nervous energy of youth, Kellen looked on Edmund seated with his arms folded across his chest. Indeed, the old Selkie appeared the most relaxed of all in the cage. He gave Kellen a slight nod, acknowledgement to a fellow competitor.

  Kellen shivered as he looked on the last of them. He thought it odd he did not know the beefy man’s name, viewing him only as some nameless trucker. Then he realized he preferred it that way and hoped they drew each other to war against.

  The gate unlocked and the door creaked open.

  Use your fear. Kellen glared at the guard studying each of them. Use it to make you stronger.

  “You.” The guard pointed at the beefy man.

  Don’t look away. Kellen fought the flutter in his chest as he listened to the beefy man struggle against the guards. He watched the guard’s eyes pass over him.

  The guard stopped on Marrero. “You.”

  To his credit, Marrero strode from the cage with little hesitation.

  Kellen watched his friend run toward the shoreline like Marrero did at every wrestling match back at Tiber High.

  The crowd roared approval.

  “Your friend is a true fighter,” said Edmund, standing to join Kellen.

  He’s not better than me, Kellen sneered. “He’s a three-time state champion in freestyle.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Edmund squinted. “But this isn’t wrestling.”

  Kellen shifted his attention back to the shoreline. Guards had again restrained the beefy man with a wire noose as they led him toward the water.

  Marrero stood in it up to his knees, bouncing back and forth.

  “All righ’ then,” Tieran called from the stage. “Selkies, don your hoods. Let’s—”

  “Enough with the seal fights already.”

  Kellen searched the crowd for the speaker and found the same broad-shouldered man who had previously bid on the black girl and lost. He lingered on the scars littering the man’s body. Felt a shudder run through him.

  “I’m sick to death of them,” the man said. “This new pup looks Salt worthy. Why not give us a battle we can see?”

  Kellen saw Tieran shrug, turn toward the dais where Oscar sat with the obese man.

  “Ooh, yes, Father,” said Oscar.

  August Collins nodded. “The Crayfish is ever accommodating of his guests’ wants, Master Ishmael. Make it so, Tieran.”

  “You heard the Lord Master,” Tieran said to the guards. “Get ‘em up here, on the double.”

  Kellen watched both competitors led to the dais, the crowd cheering.

  “All righ’, lads,” said Tieran. “Neither of you quits till the other stops breathing! On your ready…”

  Come on, Marrero. Kellen gripped the bars tighter as the guards loosed the beefy man.

  “Fight!”

  The beefy man lunged.

  Kellen watched Marrero dodge, crouch in a wrestling stance. Always moving, circling. Don’t let him get his hands on you. Kellen thought as the beefy man bull rushed Marrero.

  Marrero again dodged him at the last.

  “Wearing him down,” said Edmund. “Smart.”

  Kellen looked on his friend with new hope, noting Edmund was right in his assessment. Already, the overweight and out-of-shape beefy man seemed slower, less eager to lash out. And all the while, Marrero circled.

  Kellen watched Marrero feint forward and back, testing the beefy man’s reflexes. At one point, he thought Marrero caught, only to see him duck low and drive his weight into the beefy man’s knees.

  The crowd erupted as the beefy man grunted and fell.

  Kill him, Marrero. End him. Kellen felt adrenaline race through him as Marrero scampered up his opponent’s body and wrapped the beefy man in a headlock.

  “Don’t let him on top,” Edmund whispered.

  Kellen saw his fears confirmed when the beefy man rolled to his side with Marrero still holding tight around the neck.

  “Kill…kill…kill,” the crowd chanted as one.

  Be a man, Kellen willed Marrero. End him.

  The beefy man crawled to his knees and hands.

  Kellen watched Marrero raise his foot and horse-kick his opponent’s leg out from under him.

  The beefy man rolled to the flat of his back as he fell, his weight crushing the younger opponent. Kellen heard the crowd groan as the larger man reached to his throat to unclasp Marrero.

  Still, Kellen saw life left in his friend.

  Marrero wrapped his legs around the beefy man’s and rocked while keeping his death grip around his foe’s neck. The beefy man’s mouth opened and closed, his face purple as Marrero siphoned his life and fight away.

  Kellen heard the crowd cheer moments later.

  “He did well,” said Edmund as guards dragged the beefy man’s body off the stage.

  “Well, well, well,” Tieran shouted. “Quite the fighter, eh? Wish I’d owned him instead of that fat lot he bested. How much will this strong pup fetch? I’ll open him at five hundred.”

  Kellen saw the bidding for Marrero fiercer than any who went before him.

  “A thousand,” said Ishmael finally. “Unless any would care to drive the price up again?”

  Kellen heard no more bids and watched his friend traded over to the scarred buyer. Then he heard the gate swing open.

  “All right, you lot. You’re up.”

  Kellen felt a clap on the shoulder.

  “Whatever happens…” said Edmund, “no hard feelings, pup.”

  No worries. You’re the one who’s going to die, old man. Kellen followed Edmund out of the cage.

  “A fitting final match, this,” Tieran addressed the crowd. “Youth versus experience, which will win out? Should they fight with their hands, or might we spice it up a lil’ bit?”

  “Swords!” Oscar cheered. “Give them swords, Tieran. I should love to see them hack each other to bits.”

  Kellen felt his heart hammering as he stepped to the center of the ring and watched Edmund placed opposite him. But the old Selkie had no love for him.

  Why is he staring at Oscar?

  “Swords bore me,” said August Collins before sampling a cake. “A dagger bout, however. Much more interesting. Makes them draw in closer for the kill.”

  “Daggers it is, then.”

  Kellen heard blades scratching wood as guards slid a blade across the stage to either combatant. He look out into the crowd, saw Marrero nod at him.

 
Kellen focused on Edmund. Time to die, old man.

  “All righ’, lads,” said Tieran. “On your—”

  “You killed my boy,” Edmund glared at Oscar. “You killed my Richie.”

  Kellen recalled the jail. Remembered the young marshal cry out to warn him and the way his body bounced as Oscar’s bullets tore through him.

  “Aye,” said Oscar. “And I’d kill him again if he were here now. Might be I’d even make the two of you fight it out.”

  Kellen thought back to the last time he’d seen Oscar. He knelt to pick up his dagger. Remembered the last thing Oscar had said. I’ll ask you one last time. You should be happy with your decision after all. Are you certain in your wish to come with us?

  Kellen clasped his fingers around the dagger hilt. Noted the coldness of it as he rose. He sneered as he looked on Oscar Collins. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.

  “Slave,” Tieran addressed Edmund. “Pick up your blade.”

  Edmund did not. “He killed my boy.”

  Kellen glanced back to Marrero in the crowd. Focused on the noose around his friend’s neck and pictured Bryant and the other captives led away by owners.

  I’m not going out like that. Kellen clenched the dagger’s hilt. No one’s taking me again.

  “Slave,” Tieran shouted. “Pick up your blade. Now!”

  Edmund shook his head. “He killed my Richie.”

  A host of guards moved to take Edmund at Tieran’s whistle.

  Now!

  Kellen rushed the dais, knocked Tieran off balance. He heard several in the crowd cry alarm and a whip crack behind him.

  Missed. Kellen witnessed panic in both Collins’s faces as he ran at them. Oscar hopped up easily. His father struggled. Kellen kicked him square in the chest and watched the Crayfish’s fatty arms jiggle as he fell backward off the pier, cannonballing into the water.

  “Father!” Oscar cried.

  Kellen thought to jump, but hesitated when shapes emerged in the water, swimming to aid their owner. Other seal heads poked above the surface. Growled at him. Can’t go that route.

  “Get him!”

  Kellen saw the guards’ intent change from Edmund to him.

  “How dare you strike my father,” Oscar said. “I’ll have you—”

  Kellen yanked Oscar toward him.

  “Get back!” Kellen yelled at the guards, positioning his hostage in front of him with the dagger to Oscar’s throat. “I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

  Give me a reason, Kellen thought as the guards looked to one another, each uncertain what to do next. He felt Oscar tremble in his grip. “You brought me here,” Kellen whispered. “Now tell them you’re taking me home.”

  Oscar nodded.

  “You lil’ fool.” Tieran rose and unfurled his whip. “I’ll have your head on a pike ‘fore the day is out.”

  “Yeah? Make sure you have two.” Kellen jerked Oscar’s head back. “I’ll carve his head off before you get to me.”

  Kellen heard laughter in the crowd. Applause.

  “You spoke true, Tieran.” Ishmael ceased clapping. “This is a rare lot you’ve brought.”

  Kellen watched Ishmael tug on Marrero’s collar and lead him toward the stage. He glanced down at the water. The Crayfish had gone, but Selkie guards still remained to block his exit. What am I going to do?

  “Boldness, Tieran,” said Ishmael. “I like that. How much will you have for this young bull?”

  Kellen heard shouting as August Collins walked up the stony shore, sopping wet and warding away any who tried to help him. He stopped short upon noticing Oscar held hostage.

  “You!” August’s face reddened. “Unhand my son this instant or—”

  “How much, Tieran?” Ishmael asked again.

  Tieran’s gaze flickered to his master.

  “No,” said August. “I won’t sell this one. Not for any price. I’m going to—”

  “Three thousand,” said Ishmael. “Will that do?”

  Judging August’s slack-jawed expression, Kellen gathered it would. August recovered quickly, however, and shook his head. “I-I don’t know if—”

  Ishmael stepped forward. “Sell him to me, Crayfish.”

  “I want him dead.”

  “Oh, he’ll die, of course,” said Ishmael. “In the fighting pits, it’s only a matter of time for a Selkie. I’m willing to risk this one will line my pockets first. Now, will you have me line yours today?”

  Kellen felt Oscar shake. “Father…please…”

  “Fine,” said August. “Take him then. For three thousand.”

  “Done.” Ishmael tossed a leather pouch to Tieran that jingled when he caught it. Ishmael glanced at Kellen. “Best release him now, pup.”

  No one’s buying me. Not going out like that. Kellen shook his head. “I’m going home.”

  “You’ll never see home again, lad,” said Ishmael quietly. “But come with me and live another day at least.”

  Surrounded. Kellen took in the situation. His hand shook at Oscar’s neck.

  “Let him go,” said Ishmael. “Fight for me and it might be I let you buy your freedom one day. You and your friend.”

  Kellen glanced at Marrero. Saw him nodding. “You won’t let them kill me?”

  “No.” Ishmael stepped closer to the dais. Showed his back to Kellen that he might address the guards. “This lad belongs to me now. Any of you seadogs reach for your whip when he looses the Crayfish’s pup…you lose the hand.” Ishmael glanced at Kellen. “Now, let him go.”

  Kellen took the blade away from Oscar’s throat and shoved him away.

  Ishmael chuckled. “Bold.”

  Kellen watched Oscar run to join his father.

  August Collins glared up at him and Ishmael. “Get out of my cavern. And don’t ever bring that pup back unless—”

  Kellen heard screams in the crowd. Panic erupted as all rushed out of the bleachers, trampling any in their path.

  “What in the blue blazes…” August said.

  Kellen saw black smoke rising and fire sweeping over the bleachers.

  CHIDI

  Where are they taking me? Chidi wondered as she followed Quill.

  Beside her, the Silkstealer had become a Sea Lion, but Chidi noticed he still struggled with controlling his new body. His constant weaving back and forth, up and down, made Chidi question whether he wrestled with the seal mind, or marveled at his newfound ability to swim in a way no mere human could ever experience.

  She noticed Watawa patiently followed him, never once giving the Silkstealer a rebuke. Chidi caught herself staring at the streamlined Salt bodies of both Nomad brothers. She thought their tails resembled crescent moons, both a blue so dark they almost looked violet to Chidi’s eyes.

  Neither had fully transformed, but both grew their dorsal and anal fins. Chidi presumed the extra fins helped slice through the water as she struggled to keep up with Quill. She had heard others count Makos among the fastest Nomads in the Salt. She saw why clearly now with Quill frequently needing to slow, and even circle back, to allow her and the Silkstealer to keep up.

  “Faster,” said Quill. “We should have been gone from here already.”

  Those are his gills. Chidi enviously studied the five slits on either side of his neck that fluttered whenever he talked. Wish I could breathe Salt.

  Chidi reeled in his wake as he sped ahead with a sideways swish of his tail. She thanked the Ancients the Nomads did not seem intent on hunting her. The thought of hunting made her glance back the way they’d came. The rocky island had all but disappeared. So, too, had her thoughts of Henry surprising her.

  The speed at which Quill flew through the water, his determination at obtaining her from the Crayfish, and Ishmael’s sudden reluctance to fight Quill, made Chidi feel strangely safe in the Nomad brothers’ company. Even now, Watawa seemed more coaching the Silkstealer rather than shepherding him faster.

  Indeed, the quieter of the two seemed to notice her watching him. She wat
ched his tail swish and then he sped toward her. Chidi fought her seal mind to not panic as the predator swam up alongside her. She watched him open his mouth, drinking in Salt, and noticed his teeth long and slender.

  “Forgive my brother his impatience,” said Watawa. “He has waited to find you these many years.”

  I wonder if he can hear me? Chidi directed the thought to him.

  “Yes,” said Watawa.

  You don’t need earrings?

  “A Nomad breathes Salt. I have no need for your Maker’s gift, or even the mind voice. The Ancients in their wisdom allowed us Salt Children to hear your voices that we might listen and learn.”

  Chidi nearly snorted. A Salt Child listen to a Selkie?

  “Aye. There is much and more for all in the Salt to learn from one another if we would only listen. Others name me half-breed. Relegate my kind as Unwanted. My brother and I have more in common with Selkies than you know.”

  Chidi doubted it. Still, the Nomad seemed willing enough to speak with her, more than Chidi could say of any other she’d crossed paths with. She chanced another point. You said your brother searched for me…

  “Aye,” said Watawa. “He seeks a treasure lost long ago. The Ancients woke me to their calling that I might help him find it. They led me to Crayfish Cavern and sang your face to me.”

  But I’m only a slave, Chidi said. I don’t know of any treasure.

  “Nor shall you. Each of us swims our own current. It’s not for us to know what awaits us on distant shores, or in the darkest of depths. The Ancients give us clues, but never allow us the full sight of their map. They gifted me some few visions, but even I know not where we go. For that, we had need of a guide. A compass.”

  Me?

  “Aye.”

  But how can I guide you to something I don’t know about?

  “Does the compass know all its master wishes of it?” Watawa asked. “No. It provides only truth. Direction. When my brother calls, you will know the way to point.”

  Chidi kept back her true feelings as the Sea Lion swam to join them. She thought he seemed to have a better handle on swimming now, though the Silkstealer still occasionally dipped and spun. Chidi recognized the moves for one new to their coat, a way of allowing himself some little joy in his wakening to a new world. Chidi scarcely recalled her first experiences of changing.