by Linsey Hall
I shook myself, blinking. “Whoa.”
“It just needs a few little nips and tucks.” She bustled around me, pins stuck in her mouth, adjusting and changing. Then she began to sew. She’d made a few stitches when the needle leapt from her hand and flew into the air, hovering right in front of my face.
I squeezed my eyes shut, raising my hands to protect them.
She laughed. “It’s not a threat. We’re really getting down to business, now.”
Wary, I split my fingers apart and peeked through the gap.
The needle had begun to dance in the air, the thread following behind it in a pattern that hung in front of my face, defying gravity. There was some kind of pattern there, but I had no idea what it was.
The Seamstress, however, was a different matter. She tapped her chin as she studied the thread’s design, her eyes bright and considering. She looked like she was having a scholarly discussion and was very interested in whatever the other party had to say. She was even muttering to herself every now and again. “Yes, yes,” and “Ah, I see,” slipped from her lips.
I shot Lachlan a glance, and he was as entranced as I was. I’d never seen this type of magic before. Didn’t even know what to call it.
Finally, the needle dropped out of the air. The floating thread unraveled until it hung limp. Just a normal thread and needle now.
The Seamstress bent and picked it up, then got back to work, sewing the rest of the jacket together. I waited for her to mention what the thread had said to her, but she stayed silent.
I caught her gaze. “Well?”
“A moment, just a moment.” She finished the jacket, snipping the last thread and handing the needle off to the rat who had carried the little leather folder. She stepped back and dusted her hands together, then pointed to the long mirror on the other side of the room. “Well, go look at it.”
I had to admit that I was a bit excited to see it, and I hurried off the stool. I wanted to know what the Seamstress had seen in the thread, but I also wanted to see the magic jacket that she’d created. I didn’t know what it could do, but it clearly wasn’t normal.
I stepped in front of the mirror and grinned. Hey, not bad. The jacket was made of a strong, dark gray fabric that looked fabulous in the short, slim-fitting style that the Seamstress had created. Occasionally, it looked dark as pitch, but from other angles, it shimmered with a dark gray sheen.
“What does it do?” I asked.
The Seamstress chuckled. “I have no idea. Something, definitely, but that depends on you.”
“I get to choose?”
“Not precisely. The jacket will decide how you need it.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t fully understand my new piece of outerwear, but I knew it was special. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing. This was a favor. I would have quoted you a price if you would owe me.”
“Thank you double, then.” I smiled. “But what did the thread say?”
“Ah, yes. The thread. It told me that you seek the Corryvreckan whirlpool.” Her eyes turned dark. “I’d like to advise you against that.”
“We have no choice,” I said.
Lachlan stepped forward. “Many of our friends are at great risk if we do not find the whirlpool.”
The Seamstress sighed. “Yes, I can imagine so. No one ever comes here on a lark.”
“Can you tell us how to get there, then?”
She nodded. “You’ll need a boat and a guide. You can find those down at the docks. A Pike demon named Fearnan will help you. He’s a fisherman whose boat is berthed near the far west end.”
“Do we tell him that you sent us?” Lachlan asked.
“Yes, though he’ll still demand a heavy price. The journey is dangerous. Deadly, in many cases. He’ll have to take your mettle and determine if you’re able to make it across.”
“We are.” Determination sounded in my voice, strong and fierce.
The Seamstress smiled. “I think you might be. And best of luck to you. I believe you will need it.”
“I always need it.” I tugged at the hem of the jacket. “Thank you again.”
“Wear it well.”
I gave her my old jacket in exchange for the new, and we left, turning right out of the shop as she’d advised us. The road slanted slightly downward, toward the water. I could smell it, the scent growing stronger as we neared.
A moment later, Muffin appeared at my side. Nice new threads.
At the mention of thread, I grinned. “You have no idea.”
Lachlan glanced at me. “Talking to Muffin?”
“Yep.”
Are we going to get dinner?
“No. Why do you ask?”
Smells like dinner.
“It smells like old fish. Ah, right. Of course. It smells like dinner. Don’t steal anything.”
Steal? Me? Never.
I laughed as we walked between a couple of old, ramshackle warehouses and stepped onto the wharf. There were a dozen rickety wooden docks jutting out into the sea. A boat was tied off to each, though they were unlike any boats I’d ever seen. For one, they were as creepy as the buildings we’d left. For another, they had faces.
Well, most of them, at least. Garish faces were painted onto many of the boats, their mouths gaping and filled with fangs. One of the boats looked like it was draped in old seaweed, a shipwreck raised to the surface to ride the waves once again. There was a legit pirate ship at the far east end, its mast hanging with ragged black sails and a plank jutting off the side.
Honestly, I wanted to ride that thing to the whirlpool, but we were meant to go to the west side and seek out Fearnan.
As if he knew where we were going, Muffin turned left and headed down the wharf to the east end, trotting quickly along, his little wings quivering with excitement.
“How do you know where we’re going?” I asked.
Don’t. I just smell dinner.
At the end of the docks, we found a demon standing with his back to us, working on something at a waist-high table. As I neared, I realized that he was cleaning a fish, his knife blade flying as he chopped it up.
Muffin jumped onto the table next to him, standing inches from the fish. Hey, good buddy. Whatcha doin?
Trust Muffin to make friends with a demon in return for fish.
“Hello, cat,” the demon growled.
He didn’t answer Muffin’s question, so I assumed he couldn’t understand him like I could. He handed Muffin a piece of fish anyway, which the cat took with a rumbly purr.
Maybe this demon wasn’t so bad after all.
He turned to us, his pale green horns glinting in the light. A ferocious scowl creased his ugly face. “What the hell are you looking at?”
Okay, maybe he was only nice to cats. I couldn’t blame him, though. People sometimes sucked, and cats never did.
I held up my hands in a placating gesture. “We’re looking for help getting to the whirlpool.”
He laughed. “You got a death wish?”
“I’m dead if I don’t get there, so I wouldn’t call it a death wish. More like an imperative.”
“Fancy words.” His scowl deepened. “It’ll cost you. And you’ll probably die.”
“Like I said, I’m dead if I don’t go, so probably isn’t going to scare me.”
“We can pay,” Lachlan said. “If you can take us.”
“Twenty thousand pounds, then,” Fearnan said.
“What?” I nearly screeched the words.
“Like I said, you’ll probably die. I’d probably die if it weren’t for these.” He tapped the side of his neck, and I realized there were gills there. His hands were webbed, too. “There are enough dangers out there that my boat will probably sink. I’ll survive because I can swim back, but I’ll need a new boat. Hence, twenty thousand pounds.”
I glanced at Lachlan, then back at Fearnan. “So we’re buying you a new boat.”
“A replacement boat,” he corrected. “But if it doesn’t sink,
then yes, a new boat. You want to get there or not?”
“We want to get there.” Was this guy really our only hope? That was so much money.
But the docks were empty. Despite the dusky color of the sky, it was daylight here. There should be sailors and fishermen here, but there weren’t.
Just Fearnan.
Our only option.
And we didn’t have a choice. I probably shouldn’t have led with the “I’m dead if we don’t go” bit. It might have made him raise his price. We were desperate, and he knew it.
Lachlan was already pulling his wallet from his pocket. “Do you take card?”
“What does this look like, a shopping mall?”
It sounded weird to hear a demon say shopping mall. The way he pronounced the words suggested that he’d only ever heard of such things, never seen them. Which made sense, given the fact that he had gills. He’d stand out like a sore thumb in a mall.
“We don’t have twenty thousand in cash,” Lachlan said.
“You don’t need it. I know who you are. You stink of the Protectorate.”
“How can you tell?” I asked. “And how does that help us?”
“They pay their debts. I’ll collect from them if you die. If you don’t die, I’ll collect from you when this is all over.” He laughed, as if the idea of us not dying were absurd.
“Okay, then.” I nodded. “Let’s go.”
4
Fearnan was totally convinced that we would die, and as soon as his rickety wooden boat pushed away from the dock, I was pretty sure he was right.
The boat had to be almost one hundred years old, at least. The old fishing boat was about forty feet long with a flat deck. A closed-in wheelhouse would protect the captain from the elements, and the bow was planked in rough wood and looked almost worn through in places.
Muffin stood on the dock, watching us cast off. I’ll come join you if you need me.
“Don’t want to ride along?”
His green gaze traced over the boat’s lines, skepticism flashing within. I don’t have a death wish.
I did, apparently. I waved goodbye to Muffin, then turned to Fearnan, who stood inside the wheelhouse.
The door was propped open, and he turned back to me. “You go to the bow. Watch for dangers.”
“Anything I should look for?”
Fearnan grinned, revealing a mouthful of pointed fangs. “Everything.”
“All right, then.” I joined Lachlan on the bow, standing with my feet braced as the waves rolled the boat around.
The sharp, salty air blew my hair back from my face as I stared out at the gray sea. Whitecaps topped the silvery waves, which stretched on for endless miles. Next to me, Lachlan stood, tall and strong, his arms crossed against his chest.
“You look like you were made for the sea,” I said.
He looked at me and grinned, his hair swept back by the wind. “Aye?”
“Aye. A regular sea captain.” But I meant it. It suited him.
“Hopefully I’ll have a sea captain’s eye.” He turned back to the ocean, alert. “Because there’s nothing good out there, and we need to spot it before it’s too close.”
He was right. I could feel the danger in the air. Not the prickle of dark magic or the stench of evil. Just plain old, regular danger that came when you rode a rickety old boat out into the North Sea while whitecaps crashed on the bow.
After a while, the sky in front of us began to darken. The clouds rolled toward each other, forming a dense black wall that started at the horizon and reached high into the air. Lightning cracked within the clouds, bolts so big that they lit up the dim sky, nearly blinding me.
Thunder rolled toward us a few seconds later, loud enough to make my ears hurt. “That’s not a normal storm.”
As if he agreed, Fearnan leaned out of the wheelhouse and shouted at us. “Bad news! We can’t get through that storm.”
I turned to face him. “We just started! We can’t turn back now!”
“I’m just doing you a favor, lady! We go into that storm, and you die. That’s the only thing that happens when a HellStorm comes at you.”
Frustration beat in my chest as I turned back to the storm. My skin prickled with wariness and the black magic that echoed in the storm. It was closer now, black clouds roiling and lightning striking. The thunder came only two seconds later. Soon, it would be one second. The storm was bearing down on us faster than we were approaching it.
I turned back to Fearnan. “It’s coming no matter what! Even if we try to outrun it, we won’t make it!”
“We can try!” he shouted through the wind.
“I can control weather!” Lachlan’s voice was loud enough to cut over the thunder.
“I have a bit of power, too,” I shouted.
“Weather witches?” Fearnan asked.
“Sort of!” I said. I didn’t know how much good I’d be able to do, but my gift over the environment had been growing. Hopefully I could help Lachlan. “We can minimize the storm. Keep going!”
“Your funeral!” Fearnan steered to boat into the storm.
A moment later, the wind began to whip ferociously, nearly driving me backward. I braced myself against it, trying to stay upright.
“We’ll wait until we’re almost in the center,” Lachlan said. “Save our magic for the worst of it.”
“Okay!” Something hit me in the back, and I jumped, then turned.
Two ropes lay at my feet. I looked up at Fearnan.
“Don’t be an idiot! Tie off!”
It reminded me of the safety harnesses on the buggy.
As the wind buffeted us and rain began to pour, Lachlan and I each looped the ropes around our waists and secured them to a cleat near the bow.
When the waves began to grow, reaching fifteen feet in height, I looked at Lachlan. “I’m starting to think this wasn’t a great idea.”
“It was the only idea.” Rain dripped off his face and hair, but his expression was determined.
And he was right. It was really our only option.
We stood, side by side and holding hands, then faced into the wind. I could barely see through the pouring rain, and every time the boat plunged down into the trough of a wave, my stomach pitched. The thunder was striking almost simultaneously with the lightning.
We were in the heart of the storm.
“Now!” Lachlan shouted.
His magic surged on the air, the scent of a forest so strange against the sea salt air. The wind howled slightly less, the thunder cracking less often. Still, the storm raged. Massive waves crashed against the bow, sending water rushing around our legs. I nearly lost my footing, but Lachlan clutched my hand.
I joined him, calling on the elemental magic within me, focusing on the water that surrounded us. I gave it everything I had, pushing my magic out into the waves, making them calm just before they reached us.
They were still massive, but my magic made them slightly smaller. I pushed more of my power toward the clouds. They were made of water, so maybe I could control them.
That was harder. While it was easy to get a grip on the ocean—it was so big it was hard to miss—getting a handle on the clouds was a hell of a lot more difficult. They kept slipping through my grasp, continuing to pour rain down upon us.
Lachlan was minimizing the thunder and lightning. It struck less frequently, but it still continued to shoot bolts into the sea. One blast hit so close that the thunder made me go temporarily deaf.
Lachlan shouted at me, but I could hear nothing.
Then the wave came. While I’d been trying to control the clouds, I’d lost my hold on the waves. The huge wall of water plowed over the bow, knocking my legs out from under me.
Panic made my stomach drop. I slammed into the deck, the wall of water surging around me and tearing my hand from Lachlan’s. The water stung my nose and eyes. I gasped, choking on seawater as I scrabbled on the deck, trying to get a hand on something.
I found nothing.
The wave washed me overboard. I plunged into the sea, the water closing around me, freezing cold and dark.
Fear iced my veins as my heart thundered. I kicked upward, reaching for the safety line that was still around my waist. The water tore at me as I tried to drag myself up the line. The boat was still moving, so the current hauled me backward, making the job ten times as difficult.
My lungs burned as I struggled to pull myself up the rope, fear making my limbs tremble. Finally, my head burst free of the ocean. Rain poured against my face as I gasped in air. The current at the side of the boat was fierce, nearly forcing me back under.
No way in hell I was going to let that happen.
My muscles ached as I pulled myself up the rope. I was halfway out of the water, reaching for the side of the boat when my line snapped.
I felt it give, so fast and abrupt that I couldn’t even scream.
They never find you if you fall off.
I’d heard the boating fact somewhere, and in that moment, it blazed so intensely through my mind that I knew I was dead. If you fell off a boat in an ocean like this, you were dead.
I could control water, and maybe I could still save myself, but the thought echoed in my mind, strong and fierce.
I plummeted back toward the water, gravity pulling me downward so that the sea could claim its prize. Desperate, I stretched my arm out, reaching for the boat.
But it was too late.
A strong hand grabbed my wrist, jerking me to a halt. Elation flared. I looked upward. Lachlan had my arm. He pulled, and I helped, scrambling up onto the boat. I tugged off the remains of the safety rope and threw it aside, then collapsed on the deck.
“Holy fates, you’re a lifesaver,” I said.
“Just a timesaver. You’d have gotten yourself out of that, but this was quicker.”
“Better for my mental health, too.” Maybe I could save myself from an enormous, angry, deadly ocean. But I didn’t necessarily want to find out.
Still, the storm raged.
I stayed crouched on the deck, wedging myself against a piece of metal machinery to keep from going overboard again. Even if I still had a safety line, I clearly couldn’t trust it.
