Shipwreck Souls

by Kendra Moreno

"Stay back, woman, they're savages!" he hissed. His full beard and mustache covered his mouth so I couldn't even see his lips when he spoke.

  "Savages? These wounded men?" I flipped my hair over my shoulder and strolled toward the man and his savages. "If they're savage, it's probably in response to being beaten by the likes of you," I snarled as I stared at the men in front of me.

  None of them made a sound. The man threw his hands in the air and mumbled something that was so muffled by his beard I couldn’t quite make it out.

  One of the men in front of me held my gaze when my eyes met his. His head cocked with a question, even as his lips quirked in a smile. He continued staring until the man beside him smacked him in the arm. He dropped his gaze to the deck. The others avoided eye contact. I eyed the one who'd been amused with interest. He was taller than me in this form, but not by much. His hair was short, close to his scalp, and scars were patterning his forehead. My fingers itched to trace them, but I resisted the urge to go to him. I had a feeling it would cause more trouble for him than anything.

  "What the bloody hell is going on here?" Captain Donovan's tone made everyone present flinch. Everyone except me.

  I turned and smiled sweetly up at my host and bowed my head politely. "Captain, these men are injured. Do you always treat your captives so poorly?"

  "Excuse me?" he sputtered, one hand on his hip and the other resting on his chin. "I'm sure I don't need business advice from a child. These men are wild, from an uncivilized place, girl. They get punished when they forget they are no longer in their home country. I expect everyone aboard my ship to have manners," the captain snapped.

  "Oh, I'm sure you know best," I purred as I stepped toward him. My hand rested lightly against his chest through his embroidered waistcoat. "I only worry that they won’t serve whatever purpose you intended if they’re not properly cared for." I gazed up at the captain, my eyes round and innocent.

  "Hmm." He tapped his lips and turned on his heels. "Continue the exercises, Liam. And Miss Gia, you will be dining with me in my quarters this evening. I won't force you to dine with the crew. As I said, I expect everyone on my ship to have manners."

  I smirked but turned around, examining the men while they moved as Liam instructed. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against a crate.

  "They exercise the men to keep them fit," a feminine voice whispered behind me.

  I inclined my head to the girl, waiting for her to continue. Her dark hair was swept up and hidden beneath a bandana. The dress she wore looked like it used to be colorful but had long since faded, leaving behind only oranges and browns.

  "If they aren't in good shape when we make port, they won't sell well. The masters in America want strong men to work their land, miss." The young woman's eyes darted behind me, and she bowed her head, scurrying away before I could speak.

  I turned to see who'd frightened her and found Johns whispering to Liam as the Africans were led away. One man looked over his shoulder as he stumbled forward, flashing a bright white smile in my direction. I smiled at the scarred man and wiggled my fingers in a wave. A man, whose name I hadn't learned yet, shoved the scarred man forward down the stairs. I narrowed my eyes on the man in question. Dark hair, medium build. I made sure I'd remember him.

  "Enjoying the view?"

  I jumped at the sound of Johns’ voice. He'd gotten close without me realizing it.

  He snickered at my reaction and started to walk away.

  "Tell me something, Johns," I murmured, causing him to pause in his retreat. A smile curved my lips as I took my time looking from his body up to his face. "Why did you jump in after me? You don't strike me as the selfless type, now that I've had the pleasure of actually talking to you." I half sat on the crate with one leg dangling over the edge, and one leg still supporting me on the deck.

  Johns’ eyes went hard and all humor fled from his face. He strode toward me, stopping when his face was inches from my own. "Didn't want a pretty lady drowning in the middle of the ocean. Don't make me regret it, Miss Gia. And what was your family name again? I’d hate to address you ill and cause offense."

  “Clearwater,” I hissed. He was up to something, that Johns. I could sense it. The lie I’d told should hold up aboard this ship at least.

  “Miss Clearwater.” He turned to leave, but I gripped his hand until he turned to look at me.

  "Oh, I plan on making you regret lots of things, Johns," I whispered, letting the magic stir in my fingers. His eyes clouded as his lips turned up in a sheepish grin. Whatever anger he'd been feeling would be gone now, leaving only desire.

  His hand rose, and he brushed his knuckles across my cheek, the softest gesture I'd seen aboard this ship so far. His fingers trailed down my neck and swiped my hair away as he looked at me. I couldn't stand the feel of it. I knew evil when I saw it, and this man was evil, but he had a part to play.

  "Tell me what happened with the girl, Johns," I purred.

  "What girl?"

  "The African woman who went overboard."

  "She jumped ship." He shook his head as if trying to clear his mind. "She wouldn't listen, wouldn't do as she was told. She was a beautiful woman, much like ya'self, but proud. In the end, she chose her own fate. Zuri. Her name was Zuri."

  His eyes fell to my body and I flinched.

  "Did you drive her to it?"

  "No." He shook his head. "I would've loved to have had her, but I never touched that one. The captain had his eye on her since the day we brought her aboard the ship."

  I narrowed my eyes on the man and released him from the spell. His eyes cleared and he stumbled backward, muttering under his breath. "What was that?"

  "What?" I offered him a stunned look, eyebrows raised.

  "You watch yourself, girl," he grumbled as he stomped away.

  I covered my mouth with my hand and looked to the sky from where I sat. I leaned back on the crate and watched the crew as they worked. Another set of men had been brought up from below after the first were led away. I watched Liam exercise them. That term bothered me—it was as if this crew thought of these people as cattle. Now, I thought of humans in general as cattle, something that existed to feed the sea. But these humans honestly thought something made them better than the other humans they were holding captive. They’d called them savages. I snorted at that and watched Liam sweat through the exercises.

  All men are savages.

  My mind drifted to Zuri. Images of her serene face passed over my lids as they fell shut in the mid-morning sun. I laid my head back on the crate, and my thoughts drifted to the sound of Johns shouting orders to the rest of the crew. He was the first mate, apparently. I shuddered at the thought of him being in control of other people.

  What kind of a mess have you gotten yourself into now, Ligeia? I could almost hear my father's voice.

  I ignored it and focused on the image of the smiling, scarred man. I wanted to speak to him. For whatever reason, I was curious about this ship and its inhabitants. I wanted answers before we passed the next atoll.

  I yawned as sleep crept in, hugging my body like a warm fog. I wondered how my sisters' trials were going. Hopefully, they were having an easier time than I was. Coi was probably already home, she was always the best at everything. I was always in trouble, and she was always perfect, or rather, she was always good at not getting caught. Even if she refused to study anything we learned in our schooling. I drifted off, amused by the strange fact that somehow, I was the responsible one.

  Chapter Two

  I woke to someone gently shaking my shoulder. Sitting up with my eyes still closed, I swatted at the hand.

  "Sorry, miss," a young, feminine voice murmured.

  My eyes cracked open, and I studied the girl as my vision cleared. It was the same one from this morning. I yawned and stretched my arms over my head, nodding.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. What do you need? And what was your name?"

  "Kesia, miss. I was going to let you know that I
cleaned your dress, and it's been hanging all day if you want to wear it to dinner with the captain tonight." The young woman enunciated her words carefully, speaking the same language as the sailors. I’d understand her no matter what language she spoke, thanks to the song inside me, but she didn't know that.

  "Kesia," I repeated. "That's a beautiful name. Can I ask you some things? Feel free to answer in your native tongue, if it's more comfortable for you."

  The girl's eyebrows pinched together, but she nodded.

  "How long have you been aboard this ship?"

  "Nine years," she murmured in the same language we'd been speaking.

  "And how old are you?"

  "Nineteen. I worked this ship under its old captain, and I’ve seen many different crews come and go. They die, they get freed, but they never stay." Her words changed to a more lyrical language.

  My ears noticed the difference in inflection, but her words still came across as clear as if they were spoken in the old tongue. I nodded, thinking before I asked my next question, mimicking the language she'd spoken.

  "Why do they treat the captives so harshly?"

  Kesia blinked. She seemed shocked, but she recovered quickly as she glanced around us. "White men think they're superior because of their religion, their skin, their technology." Her face twisted in anger for a moment before it passed. "You haven't seen this where you live, miss?"

  I looked away. I didn't want to lie to her. I had a soft spot for women, they deserved much better than men in most instances. I sighed and shot her a wink.

  "Where do you come from?" she asked.

  "You wouldn't believe me," I began.

  "They found you in the water," she gasped, rushing the words. "You didn't come from a ship, did you, miss?"

  I smiled at Kesia and shook my head as I jumped down from the crate. I took her hand in mine, looking over her shoulder at a few members of the crew. I should have guessed I’d be found out sooner rather than later. Seafaring people the world over knew about my kind, but believing was a different story. Some things were believed in just to make sure all the bases were covered.

  "I can trust you, can't I?"

  "Will you help us?" she whispered as she nodded.

  "I can try," I hedged. I didn't want to promise until I was certain. This ship was going to sink. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday soon.

  "That's all I can ask for." She patted my hand and turned toward the stairs that led to the crew’s quarters. "Follow me, miss," she called out in the tongue the sailors used once again. I bit my lip and followed.

  Several of the crew leered as we made our way through the narrow passage below decks. I narrowed my eyes at a few of them as we passed, taking note of who made my skin crawl the most. Kesia's body tensed the farther we walked down the hall. Finally, she turned into a room on the right and pushed the door closed. She lowered a wooden lever that barred the door, and I raised an eyebrow.

  "Do you need that often?" My finger extended toward the door, and she shrugged. I bit my lip and nodded. "Who?"

  I pulled the blouse over my head and began stripping out of the breeches while I waited for an answer. I pretended I didn't notice the way her eyes slid down over my breasts to the curves of my hips. Glancing, instead, at the room I found myself in, I bit back a gasp. It was tiny. Shelves lined the walls with what I assumed were personal objects, and a tiny bed rested on the floor. It took up almost the entire space, as small as it was.

  "Doesn't matter," she sighed. "Nothing I can do about it. I was raised for this life—"

  "Oh seas, no, you weren't. Don't you ever say that, Kesia. You are a woman—albeit a human woman—and women are goddesses by nature. Do you understand that?" I took one short step toward the younger woman and gripped her chin, forcing her to look in my eyes.

  Her eyes filled with tears and she didn’t answer.

  "It doesn't matter. Every man on this ship is going to feed the sea soon enough so they won't be bothering you anymore. But if you make it off this ship, what would you do with your life?"

  Kesia blinked away her tears. I couldn't tell if she was frightened of me, the idea of dying, or if she was upset, I knew what she'd been enduring. She grasped her left elbow with her right hand and shut her eyes.

  "Tell me, please," I whispered. My voice was softer, more welcoming. I honestly wanted to know.

  "Well, I guess if I make it off this ship, I'd like to be a cook." Her brown eyes bored into mine, drawing a smile from me. There was more than sadness in those deep, brown depths. There was heat, passion.

  "Are you a good cook?" I inquired, changing the subject to something lighter as I turned and grabbed my dress off the bed. I slipped it over my head and pulled it down over my hips.

  "I think so. I've been helping with the food since I came aboard. It’s my favorite thing aboard ship, even if the wares I have to work with are awful."

  “Is it that bad? Do they have better food on land?”

  “Oh yes!” Kesia laughed, covering her mouth. “There are fruits and nice, juicy meats, fresh from the field. I’m limited to dried meats and bad fish here. There are some luxuries for the captain, but nothing like what’s available on land.”

  Her eyes twinkled with joy instead of tears now, and a weight lifted from my chest. I hated thinking of the things this girl had endured. She was only a couple years younger than me, and she had been through so much in her short life already. The worst part was that, as a human, her life was short—it was extremely unlikely she’d have much time to make up for the horrors she'd been subjected to.

  I raised my eyebrow when Kesia held out a strange piece of cloth to me. "What is that?"

  "It's undergarments, miss," she explained with a giggle.

  "Undergarments? Why would you put something under your garments?" I huffed, snatching the piece of fabric from her hand to hold it out in front of me.

  "The English ones call them bloomers," she laughed in her native tongue.

  I narrowed my eyes at her and put my hand on my hip. She bit her lip to hold back a laugh, and I sighed. She would’ve fit in well in the sunken city. Kesia was a troublemaker.

  "I absolutely will not be wearing... whatever these are."

  "They cover your bottom." Kesia's voice fell flat on the words.

  "My dress covers my bottom!" I screeched. Why would I need two things covering my ass?

  "I can see your teets through the fabric, and the crack of your ass is as visible as the curve, miss." She covered her mouth with her hand, but her eyes twinkled, giving away her amusement.

  "Perfect. I don't see the point in these clothes anyway. I never make any effort to cover myself at home, and it's not an issue." I glared at the fabric and threw it on the bed in disgust. "Whoever heard of a modest siren, anyway?"

  Kesia's eyes widened, and she shook her head with a chuckle. She walked toward me, pushing me down onto the bed. I cocked an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation but I soon had my answer. She grabbed a comb from a crate masquerading as a dresser and began detangling my hair. It had dried while I laid out in the sun, but it was a tangled mess. I winced as the comb hit a snarl. It was never this bad underwater.

  Her face was very close to mine. I could finally make out all the tiny details of her eyes; they weren't just brown, there were gold flecks around the iris, and the color became darker as it moved outward. I brushed a finger over a tiny pale scar near her hairline, wondering how she got it. My stomach turned. She shouldn't be scarred by these animals.

  "All better," she whispered.

  My eyes snapped to hers again, and this time the heat I found wasn't a passion for life. I slid my hand from her forehead down her cheek. My fingers slipped behind her ear, brushing over the coarse curls that had slipped from her bandana. I pulled her closer, inhaling the breath between us before my lips brushed softly over hers. Kesia melted against me, leaning into my touch, into my kiss. The kiss was soft . . . slow . . . patient. We sipped at each other's lips for a long m
oment, her hands never leaving my hair.

  My tongue slid along the seam of her lips, begging entrance. Kesia sighed and parted her lips. I tasted her over and over again. She was like the sea in my mouth and something orange. She sighed against my lips, and my fingers dug into her hair under her bandana—

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  We jumped apart, chests rising and falling with our quickened breath. I searched her face, but it was clear she didn't know what was going on either. Jumping to my feet, I strode to the door and waited for her.

  Kesia laid a hand over her breast and muttered something under her breath I couldn't quite catch—a prayer maybe—before she quickly gathered the clothing I'd dropped on the bed. She laid the bloomers on the crate beside her bed, but I shook my head, pointing to the pile of male clothes she carried. She snickered and tucked them into the pile. I lifted the wooden arm from the door and sat it in the corner once again, opening the door carefully. No one seemed to be waiting. I peeked my head out the door and glanced either way down the hall; the sound of feet scuffling up the stairs was all I found.

  "Thank you," Kesia whispered, her eyes round. The fingers of her free hand traced her lips over and over.

  "You're welcome, I think." I smiled. "And no more calling me miss. You know what I am and I'm no lady who needs fancy titles, am I?"

  Kesia glanced at me as she passed through the door into the passage. "Alright then, Gia." She’d slipped back into her lyrical language.

  I preferred the sound of it on her lips, it reminded me of a song. The language spoken aboard The Lady Rose was more guttural than I was used to. The old tongue sounded like magic itself, and Kesia's native tongue was similar. She dropped her eyes as we walked shoulder to shoulder down the hall. I peered into every open door we passed as we made our way to the staircase

  "They keep the captives below here?" My eyes swept the wooden floor for a way to spy down into the cargo hold without actually going down into it. I fully planned on visiting the captives—and the smiling, scarred man—tonight, but I wanted to wait until there were fewer sailors up and about.