Buried In Blue

by L G Rollins

  he first night of the full moon had arrived.

  Elise stared down the two rows of empty jail cells, lining each side of the submarine. Striding down the walkway in the middle, she checked that each was ready.

  With several crew members helping, it had only taken a couple minutes to fit each cell, recently cleaned, with enough blankets and pillows to keep her test subjects comfortable throughout the night. They’d left her alone in the space after stating, more than once, that her test subjects and their aid in running the submarine would be missed for the night.

  Elise rubbed her hands against each other. She was growing more worried by the minute that her test subjects would shift after all. If that did happen, would the crew still feel the same? Working, eating, and playing cards with one another, had scrubbed away the distrust of the early days upon the Gearhound. For the first time in possibly the entire history of mankind, healthy individuals and werewolves alike stood, side by side, in mutual respect and even friendship.

  Would it still be so after the three nights of the full moon?

  A blue glow filled the air in front of her. Elise sucked in a deep breath and took two steps back. The ghost captain strode through the submarine wall and stood inside one of the cells. It looked as though she could simply slam the cell door shut and be safe from him, but she knew it wasn’t so. He could as easily pass through the iron bars as he did the submarine walls.

  He didn’t lift a hand, made no move to attack, but stared unblinking at her.

  “Did you mean it?” he asked.

  He was ready to talk again? Well, that was far better than being nearly crushed by a giant squid deep within the ocean.

  “Mean what?” Like before, she was able to keep her voice level. Though, in hindsight, keeping her voice level hadn’t exactly saved them from his madness.

  “What you said this morning, about not attacking the Kraken. About all life having value. Did you mean it?”

  Elise forced herself to not glance over at her cabinet of chemicals. How fast could she get to it and grab her magnetite if he grew violent? Probably not fast enough. She didn’t have much left, anyways. “You were there?”

  He didn’t answer, but slowly raised an eyebrow as if to say she should have known as much. It made logical sense. He chased them to the surface and then, unseen by all, visited them to learn what they would do next. If she had his gift of invisibility she would have done the same.

  “Yes. I meant it.” She most certainly had, though why he would care she had no idea.

  The ghost dropped his chin to his chest, brow creased in though. Turning, he strode aimlessly through the cell bars, into the next cell, and on through each wall of bars until he came out on the other end, standing near her makeshift laboratory.

  “I ner’ would thought it possible.” He spoke without looking up at her. “A ship that sails through the water, under the waves.” He shook his head. “Preposterous I would have said. Yet,” he waved a hand at the submarine around them. “I can’t rightly deny me own eyes.”

  His gaze fell on her open cabinet and all the jars and vials inside. “And a lady scientist moreover. Things have certainly changed since my day.”

  Elise felt torn between staying where she was, away from the ghost, and walking closer toward him, which would also put her closer to her chemicals and the ladder leading out of the cargo hold. There was a very real chance she might need one or the other, but she couldn’t reach them without moving closer to the ghost, and the thought of doing as much made her skin prickle with goosepimples.

  The ghost spun slowly on one heel until he faced Elise. His brow was creased and his gaze bore down on her. “If you can promise me no harm will come to Hannah, then I’ll leave the lot of you be.”

  “Pardon me, sir.” Remaining polite seemed a good idea. Dealing with a talkative ghost was vastly preferable to a violent one. “Who is Hannah?”

  “You’re diving full into her lair,” the ghost said, ignoring her question with a wave of his hand. “She don’t normally take well to intruders. But she knows the strength of your—” he looked around himself, struggling to find the right word.

  “Submarine, sir,” Elise proffered.

  His brow creased further. “That’s a ridiculous name.”

  “Actually, it is quite an adapt name. ’Marine’ refers to those items related to the sea, and ‘sub’ means under. The name quite literally means—”

  “Shut yer yapper, little lady. I meant no disrespect.” His tone was not harsh, yet his words still raised her hackles.

  “You believe telling a lady to ‘shut her yapper’ denotes no disrespect?”

  The ghost chuckled low. With hands on hips he strode toward her. “My apologizes. Seems two-hundred years away from others has nigh on put me to seed.” He tapped a finger against his temple.

  “Apology accepted.” When he wasn’t trying to spear her with flying knives it seemed the ghost was actually rather pleasant to talk to. “Now, what can we do for your Hannah?”

  “She’d rather not be filleted, little lady. So you keep those White-things away from her and I’ll try to keep her away from you.”

  He was talking about the giant squid. “Hannah is the Kraken?”

  “Aye. I once had a parrot. Died poor fellow. But then so did I.” He added the last with a shrug. “Krakens, as it happens, live quite a bit longer. They make better pets for ghosts.”

  He gave her a wink and strolled through a wall of bars and out the submarine wall.

  Elise stared at the unmarred steel which he had just passed through. A pirate ghost with a Kraken for a pet? What wouldn’t she find on this expedition?

  “Doctor Sterling?” Lenton called down from the top of the ladder. “Is it time?”

  Elise shook herself. There would be opportunity to mull over ghosts and their ostentatious pets later. Furthermore, if the ghost was being honest he would keep the Kraken away from them, the chances of her experiment going smoothly would be that much easier.

  “Yes,” she called back. “It’s time.”

  It only took a few minutes for all the test subjects to join her in the cargo hold. It took even less time to find Nathaniel and fill him in on her conversation with the ghost. They both agreed the best course of action was to remain where they were, partially behind an outcropping along the ocean wall, and hope the ghost would in fact keep the Kraken away from them. Elise returned to the cargo hold to find her test subjects awaiting her in their individual cells.

  Elise strode forward, and began securing the iron-bar doors. “You should all be comfortable tonight.” She hoped her voice sounded much more confident than she felt.

  “Comfortable?” Antsy grumbled. “Behind bars? There ain’t no such thing.”

  Lenton’s voice was uncharacteristically stern. “We’ll be safe tonight. Be thankful for once.”

  Antsy only scowled deeper, then turned away and stomped over to the back corner of a cell. The cargo hold filled with the harsh whine of metal doors closing and locking as Elise moved quickly from one to the next. Was this going to work? What if it didn’t? Elise was taut with apprehension.

  Elise finished and moved back to her makeshift laboratory, the ring of keys tight in her fist. Without results the Committee would undoubtedly pull all support. Where would that leave her? Without her research, what would she do? Elise rolled her shoulders, hoping that would ease the tension. It didn’t.

  The test subjects spoke in low tones to one another. But she couldn’t force her mind to focus on what was beings said. Truth was, no matter how hard she tried, Elise simply could not envision her life without her research. She would be nothing short of miserable without it.

  On top of everything else, a part of her unease was unrelated to the experiment or those individuals mulling around their cells in front of her. It was time she faced William and locked him in his room. Elise glanced around. It was only herself and the test subjects. Lord Chauncey would be down soon, no doubt.

 
She could probably slip from the room unnoticed; no doubt, all had plenty on their minds as well. She made her way up the ladder, past the control room, and toward the hallway of bedchambers.

  Elise hadn’t seen William since the Kraken attack. She approached his door and raised a fist. There was no knowing what kind of a mood he would be in this time they spoke. His constant gloom—or worse, anger—was starting to wear on her. She would keep their conversation short. He probably didn’t want company right now anyway.

  She rapped lightly with a knuckle.

  “Come in, Elise.”

  She opened the door and looked inside. Several items of clothing were strewed about, and a dirty plate sat atop a desk in the corner. Apparently, he’d made himself quite at home here. William was lying on his bunk, staring up at the ceiling.

  “How did you know it was me?” Elise asked.

  “Who else would come for me?” His voice sounded hollow.

  Elise didn’t know what to say to that. Best to jump right in to the reason she was here. “The full moon will rise in a couple hours. Is there anything I can get for you before . . .” she couldn’t get the words “lock your door” to come out.

  “No.” She’d never heard his voice so devoid of emotion.

  Her unease not lifting, she moved out of the room.

  Before she could close the door, William spoke once more. “Elise.”

  She stuck her head back through the doorway. He seemed relaxed, hands behind his head, one leg out flat and the other bent at the knee. But his jaw was tense and the vacancy in his eyes made her wonder if he was as anxious as she.

  “Whatever happens tonight,” he said. “You need to know that your friendship has been the most important of my life.”

  Elise leaned against the doorway, her heart softening at the sincerity in his voice. What must the past few weeks have been like for him? Still hiding when all werewolves around him were not needing to. Worried that he might still shift, should her experiment fail. Knowing, no matter what, he would still return to the same problems and frustrations he’d left behind. Even if he didn’t shift tonight, he would still be a werewolf. She should cut him some slack.

  “I consider you a very dear friend as well,” she said. Though she meant it, the statement didn’t ease the tension in William’s face. Instead, he turned his jaw slightly away from her, silently ending the conversation.

  Elise moved back out and shut the door. After first making sure no one else walked the hall, Elise pulled out the magnet William had given her. She placed it against the metal door, where it stuck fast, and pushed it to the left. Elise could feel the bolt inside slide in place. After placing the magnet back in her pocket, Elise tested the door. Locked.

  He would be safe, from discovery and the inescapable repercussions.

  Strolling back toward the cargo hold, William didn’t leave her thoughts. Did he realize just how much knowing him had changed her life? Without him, Elise wasn’t sure she ever would have chosen to study werewolves.

  Being friends with William had shown her, at a very young age, that the beliefs surrounding werewolves were twisted and incorrect. She had learned that werewolves were just normal people with a terrible disease. They were people who needed help and protection and understanding—and in that, they were exactly like every other person she’d ever met.

  *****

  Night was fully upon them. Though it was hard to tell while aboard a submarine, Elise knew by the hands on Nathaniel’s watch that the full moon was shining brightly several thousand meters above them.

  She tried not to stare at the test subjects in their cells—truth be told, they were trying hard not to stare at each other. The comfortable conversation of the past few weeks had grown halting tonight, then awkward, and eventually died away all together. Now, they were silent. Some lay on blankets. Some sat in corners. Others paced their tiny confines.

  Nathaniel had come and sat with her for a bit earlier on. Surrounded by a nervous and bored audience, Elise had found keeping their conversation easy, yet professionally impersonal, not difficult in the least. Even with Nathaniel, she could not relax and be herself with so many eyes on her. In the end, he didn’t stay long. Nathaniel had been awake over twenty-four hours, since before the Kraken attack, and she eventually convinced him to retire, but not before giving her hand a reassuring squeeze and a half smile. Even without her explaining, he’d understood what she was feeling.

  Soon thereafter, while denying his yawns and old age, Lord Chauncey followed, headed for a good night’s rest.

  Lenton, who was in the cell closest to her, moved toward the bars separating him from her desk. “What time is it?” Though his voice was low, it carried throughout the entire room.

  “Quarter after eleven,” Elise said equally low, and, because she was still determined to be a better individual, she added a small smile as well.

  His gaze dropped to the floor as a smile spread across his face. “I’ve never gone his late without shifting before. Not a single time since the first. And I was only a young boy then.”

  The smile on Elise’s mouth eased, and fell into a natural arc. Slowly, this being more open was beginning to feel less awkward. Given some more time and practice, she might surprise even her closest friends.

  She’d already begun to surprise herself. As it turned out, allowing herself to be a bit more open brought with it a soft breeze of freedom that helped ease the stress forever knotting up her back.

  Elise rested her elbows against her desk and leaned her head against a fist. “How is it that while everyone else calls it ‘changing’ every werewolf I’ve ever met calls it ‘shifting’?” It was after documenting several werewolves’ accounts and experiences in the hopes of finding a solution that Elise herself began calling it “shifting”.

  Lenton shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t know. I guess, once you’re one of us, ‘shifting’ just seems more right.”

  William called it “shifting”. She’d never really thought about it before. Could such a small slip be how Pearl and the others figured out he was a werewolf, too? Should she point it out to him? Elise hadn’t shaken off the lifeless way he stared at the ceiling earlier.

  She didn’t want to think about him. Not now. Not when she was feeling so optimistic. Picking up her notebook and pen, Elise faced Lenton and didn’t bother worrying about the strands of hair escaping her professional coiffure. “Time to check in. How do you feel?”

  “Like a human.”

  She felt a layer of tension ease at the hopeful statement. “There’s still a chance you could partially shift. Or simply shift later through the night.”

  “You told us.” Lenton waved off her concern.

  “Do you feel the same, right now, as you usually do directly before you shift?”

  Lenton’s merriment dropped away, his voice turning suddenly monotone. “There isn’t anything before the shift. And after it’s begun, there’s only pain.” He ducked his head for a moment, and when he lifted it again his smile was back. “Can’t tell you how much I’d love to miss even one night of that kind of pain. What do you say, Antsy? What would you give to skip shifting?”

  Elise turned toward Antsy’s cell. He was sitting with his back against the bars and his eyes shut. “I’d give both my hands”—he lifted them as he spoke, emphasizing his point—“to never go through that again.”

  Antsy worked the wheat fields of a wealthy earl. Without his hands, he would have no means to pay for food or board. The dire statement, intense in its honesty, left a chill in the room.

  She wouldn’t let the despair get to her, though. Antsy was prone to blue-devilment. Elise continued down the small walkway between the rows of cells. She asked each test subject, individually, how they were doing. All reported the same—no shifting, no pain. Though a couple did protest at being bothered to answer the same set of questions, yet again.

  Elise returned to her desk, pleased no one had yet shifted but unnerved by Antsy’s statement.
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br />   Lenton stuck his arms through the bars and leaned on his elbows. “If’n you’re right and we don’t shift at the bottom of the ocean, do you know what I’ll do? I’m going to save every blooming half-pence I can lay my hands on and I’m going to pay Captain Hopkins to take me down here as many times a year as possible.”

  There was no chance he could afford such a venture on his own. Elise tried to look interested in what Lenton was saying, but the fact that he was only accentuating her own concerns wasn’t helping. What would these people do after the experiment? Like William, they would return home, still werewolves. Still facing pain and possible discovery each month.

  “Now, I know you don’t think I can afford it,” Lenton continued. “But if we all pool our money”—he swept a hand toward the others—“we’ll make it work. We’re a resourceful lot, and we know how to get what we want.”

  He stood up straight and pulled his elbows behind him, stretching. “I think I’ll lie down for a bit. Haven’t slept during a full moon in years and I’d hate to miss my opportunity now.”

  Elise turned her gaze to her desk—her workbook, her bottles of chemicals, her vials of BLU Elixir.

  What would the werewolves do if this proved a success? She’d always focused the possibility of her failing. Until today, she had never stopped to consider the repercussions if she succeeded. What if all she was doing was showing them an option no one could ever hope to afford? What good, in all practicality, was she doing in proving they could avoid shifting, but to achieve that dream required them, who were of the lower class, to be wealthy beyond belief?

  As it stood, if this proved successful, they would still have to shift each month. Science would benefit, but not her test subjects. Not truthfully. Their life would be just the same after the experiment as before—only now they’d know more fully what they were missing.

  orning came, and with it cheers of excitement as the test subjects all awoke to find themselves just as they had been when they drifted off to sleep. Even Pearl smiled a little. Elise tried her best to let everyone understand, the experiment could not, as of yet, be called a success—they still had two more nights to go. But that didn’t stop anyone from eating a hearty breakfast.