by Rebecca Grey
Juilliard puts out his cigarette against the wooden boards of the ship, leaving a gray ash mark against it. He strolls between Marcello and I, placing his hands in front of him. "Now play nice, the boat is ready."
The boat? Are we not already on a fucking boat? I spin slowly away from them, realizing that the boat has come to drifting still a way away from the shore. These bastards put down the anchors and are sending us to the shore in... in what?
"Judging by the look on your face, lovely, I'll explain." Marcello pats Juilliard on the back and turns me around to face the other edge of the boat. His fingers skim over my shoulders, making me growl in annoyance. He pulls his hands away, hovering but no longer touching and I walk with him to the other edge. Hedda and Juilliard follow behind soundlessly. Soundlessly, except for the noise of Hedda breaking the stale bread with her teeth. "I'm not willing to potentially damage my ship on this rocky shoreline. You can't see it under the waters, but I know large ships such as this one can’t pull up to its shore without scraping along the ragged boulders below the water. So we are taking a much shallower boat."
"We?"
"Our team. You, Juilliard, Hedda."
I nod as if I understand. I don't. Why do we need all of us to go fetch two people? Seems unnecessary, but okay. When we stop at the railing, I lean over the ledge. A ladder has been attached to the wood and thrown over the side of the ship to hang down into the smallest boat I've seen. That's supposed to get us to shore.
"That's capable of holding all four of us?" I deadpan.
"It'll be fine! Juilliard will go first." Marcello claps his hands together.
"Why me? Why not the girl?" His friend snaps and I can't help but give him a sly, smug smile.
"That's right, go on down the ladder and be the good little sidekick you are." The boat rocks below in the waves, water splashing over its edges. It's already moments from sinking, I swear. Better the cranky Elf than the cranky Human.
"If I'm a sidekick, then so are you." Juilliard frowns and stomps to the edge, lifting himself over until his boots roughly hit the ladder and it knocks against the side of the ship. "And just so we are clear, Hybrids are just as likely to drown as a Purist. I can't breathe underwater."
I take a step forward, placing my hands between his on the railing. I keep my voice low, even though I know everyone here can hear what I say. "Does the water scare you, Juilliard?"
"No."
My mouth lifts as my grin grows. In one swift movement, I push my palms against Juilliard's firm chest and mockingly push him. His mouth opens into a wide O and he lets out a yelp as he starts to fall but rushes to grab the rope of the ladder and pull himself back up to the edge of the boat. He bares his teeth in a menacing growl that makes something inside me shrink back. I stand firm, still smiling like a fool. It truly is the little things in life.
"You're evil," Juilliard sneers.
"What a compliment, especially coming from creatures as cruel as yourself."
"Alright, that's enough. We're supposed to be a team. Juilliard, down you go." Marcello slips his arm between me and his friend, ushering me back just a step. Juilliard watches me as he lowers. "You next," he adds when Juilliard's feet hit the boat.
"Me? What if he tries to toss me into the ocean?" I exclaim.
"Well then, I'll tell you to try swimming and get back into the damn boat." His large hand gestures at the ladder and I stare down at the ropes. "You did this to yourself. Maybe you should think about being nicer."
I swallow and smack his hand away from me. The rope is prickly with strands that look like they'll leave splinters in my skin. I hold them tightly, just in case Juilliard does try something as I swing myself over. Conveniently, or not so conveniently, I've left out the fact that I don't know how to swim. It's not like I had much time for recreational activities like that. If a job was posted that required it, and there rarely ever was, I didn’t pick it. For this very reason.
I may have taunted Juilliard for not feeling easy about the tiny boat, but it's my own skills, or lack thereof, that I should be worried about. On the last rung of the ladder, I extend a leg to feel for the boat behind me. The ocean brings it to and from the side of the ship, constantly moving.
My grip on the ropes grow sore by the sharp pricks of the hairs that shoot off it and my hands are clammy, making it wet. You're just stepping onto a boat, Nilsa. Put your damn foot down. Hands clasp around my waist and I scream. Marcello and Hedda lean over the ship’s edge, both of them laughing and watching.
"Relax, I'm fucking helping you! Let go of the rope," Juilliard hisses.
"Don't you drop me or toss me to the waves. You sleep far too heavy to piss me off like that," I threaten.
"I'm not near as nefarious as you are." He sighs. "Now let go."
The skin is stretched tight over my knuckles. I stare at my own grip. Let go, you can do it. Let go. Trust. You can do that this one time. I lift one finger then the next until finally my weight falls into Juilliard's grip and he lowers me next to him.
"I'll never understand why Marcello is fascinated by you. I told him when he found out that you were Human that we shouldn't bring you onto the team, but he said your resume was 'good enough' and here we are." He grimaces and steps away.
"Here we are," I spit.
Inside the small boat, where every wave is a test to our balance, there are two short boards opposite each with room for the four of us to sit on either side. Two paddles are laid inside. Saints, we are going to have to row ourselves to shore.
"Have a seat," Juilliard snips.
"Where are you sitting? So I can make sure that I sit with someone else."
"Here seems good enough." He lowers himself to the board behind him.
I glance behind me and step back to sit on the board opposite of him. But now my view is his scowling face. "This isn't going to work, I'm not staring into your eyes the entire trip."
"It's a five-minute trip! There's nothing wrong with looking into my eyes. And equally, all I have to look at is you." The way he says you is like poison on his tongue, he spits it out quickly.
I exhale loudly and roll my eyes. The ladder smacks against the side of the boat, pulling our gazes up to Hedda as she starts down. No, not starts, barrels. Orcs are quite dense creatures, and every step she takes the old boards groan at her weight and slams against the ship. All we can see is the large roundness of her ass as she lowers herself more.
My eyes snap to Juilliard because I'm suddenly realizing I don't want to be pressed against Hedda's voluptuous form. He must be thinking the same thing as his eyes widen and he drags his attention back to me. I shake my head slightly.
"Hedda you can sit with Juilliard!" I call.
"Ah, no, nope. Actually, I think I'm gonna sit next to the Human. We could use the... the bonding." He doesn't even fake a smile as he says it. Before Hedda can step into the boat he leaps across the space and forces himself into the seat next to me. "Nice try, Purist."
"And this is somehow better?" It's better than sitting with Hedda, but still.
Hedda pushes off the ladder and lands in the boat, rocking us violently. My hands smack into the board under me and I grip the edge to keep from falling out. Juilliard turns white, well, whiter than his already extremely pale skin tone.
"Hedda, sit down!" I lift one hand to point to the opposite seat. "You're rocking the boat so much I'm about to knock heads with Juilliard and I don't want his face anywhere near mine!"
"Do all Humans squabble as much as you?" Hedda laughs deeply, every step she takes toward her seat tipping and tilting us where we sit.
"I'm not squabbling," I hiss through clenched teeth.
She plops down into her seat and Marcello is already at the bottom of the ladder. He steps lightly into the center of the boat, looking to where Hedda takes up the entirety of her bench before he plants himself where he is standing. He reaches for the oars and sinks them into the water on either side.
Juilliard leans away from me, reach
ing to untie the boat from the ladder. When he sits back up, Marcello purses his lips as if he's trying to keep from laughing.
"You two look so cozy. I love this team bonding we have going on." Marcello pushes against the sea and the boat starts toward the shore.
I bite my lip, no longer in the mood to bicker with them. You have to be in a certain sort of mood for that, and I don't think I woke up in that mood today. So I cast my face toward the ocean, trying not to picture what it would be like for these waves to rise up over my head. I twist to look toward the land.
As we make our way over waters I'm certain are riddled with monsters, perhaps as bad as the ones sitting in the boat with me, maybe even worse, the fog clears from over the land. Trees come into focus along with the steep rise of a hill. I can make out the vague impression of a building that looks out over the top of the cliff.
At least this island isn't riddled with drunk and horny Elves. It does have that going for it, in the very, very, very least. My stomach jumps up into my throat as the boat rises over a swell and crashes back down on the other side. Droplets of cold water scatter over the cloak and my legs. I brush my fingers over the beads that shine like rainbows under the sun against my pants. They smear against the material, chilly against my fingertips. The heat dries out the thin streaks of water before we reach the sands. My boots wet in the puddle that is growing at the bottom of our tiny boat as the water rocks over my toes.
The ocean around us grows darker the closer we get to the shore. Inky black boulders and sharp points of rocks only inches under us. Occasionally, a rock will scrape as our boat goes over it. Sometimes the peaks of the rocks even rise above the surface, pointing like swords to the cloudless sky.
My hand reaches almost on its own accord to touch the edge of the nearest one as we pass. Its edge is slimy covered in a moss, but I can feel how easily it could tear through my skin if I moved fast enough against it. These rocks would rip apart boats, but they could also rip apart flesh.
The corners of Marcello's mouth tweak up slightly, but he keeps his gaze fixed on the approaching shoreline. Scraping softly against the sand we glide through the shallowest waters until we stop fixed in the coast. Juilliard stands first, me only a second behind him. Where our arms have repeatedly brushed is warm, and I can already tell the stale smell of smoke is rubbing off on me.
Water splashes around our boots as we all step out of the boat and kick through the last few inches of salty foam. Marcello grabs the front of the boat and drags it further onto the shore, tossing the paddles back down in the bottom.
I stand with my arms against my hips, staring up the large hill to our left. "Is that house where they reside?"
"Yes," Marcello nods and strolls past us all. The hill is lined with a dirt path along its edge where the growth of tall grasses stop. Insects chirp within the twist of brush and vines.
Hedda is the first to follow. She looks happily oblivious to the steep incline of the hill and the nearness of the path to the sudden drop. Juilliard glances back at me with a sigh, then starts up the hill too. I stand watching their backs, wondering if I should make a break back to the ship without them. The farther they get in front of me the more I feel the need to catch up.
"Shit," I growl to myself as I jog forward. Dust off the trail clouds around my shuffling steps and my hand falls to hold one of my daggers against my skin. The other drums softly with every bounce of my body. I stop when I pass Juilliard and Hedda to slow at Marcello's side.
"Thought you might choose to stand on the beach all day long," he laughs.
"Why would I stay there when I could be here with all of you?" The sarcasm in my voice is heavy and makes Marcello hum as his tongue runs over his lips.
My calves start to burn almost immediately as the incline of the hill spikes upward. Fog moseys in between us and the cabin. It strings between us, sometimes so thick I can feel the moisture of it clinging to my skin and beading on my eyelashes.
"It may come as a shock when we knock on their door. They've lived in solitude for years and I doubt anyone else has ventured here, not if they knew what was good for them," Marcello says.
Hedda and Juilliard are only a few yards behind us, talking quietly. I can only imagine what sort of conversation the Orc and the Elf are carrying. Marcello follows my gaze.
"Be glad that's not you. Hedda's been waiting for the opportunity to pick your brain. She loves Human things and now she has her very own Human at her disposal."
"That makes it sound as if she owns me. I'm not at her disposal. I'm barely here." I take a large step and push my arms against my thighs to help me hoist myself up.
"Why are you here?" Marcello arches a brow.
"Who says I need a reason other than the idea that at some point I'll be able to make good on my last job and finally go through with killing you, like you seem to be so concerned about?" I look at him from the corner of my eyes.
"The riches don't entice you?"
"I'm just petty like that." I shrug. The riches would be nice, a particularly good bonus if we actually won, but it's the power I long for. Or rather the shift in power. My own shot at becoming something other than one of the last Humans roaming in this terrible world.
"I don't think you're petty."
Now it's my turn to laugh. "No?" He's so wrong. I'm a petty bitch. And petty bitches run the world. "Well you can't be right about everything."
"I think that you're hurt."
Saints, we have too much more climbing of this stupid damn hill for Marcello to be trying to make this conversation more than I'd ever wanted it to be. I clamp my mouth shut.
"I think this life hasn't been so kind to you, so you lash back out at it with every chance you get."
"Yeah? And what about you?" I snap at him, breathing heavier as the air grows thinner and my body tires. It's a tired I could work through, though. I've fought through fatigue many times before and I'll do it now. "Are you hurt? What could be so bad in your lush life in The Oasis where everything is perfect and everyone shits butterflies and damn rainbows?"
"You can't push me away like you push everyone else away. I won't allow it. I'm too stubborn."
"Marcello, I've known you for less than a week, we aren't fucking friends. It might be hard to accept, but not everyone is waiting to fall at your feet and worship you. Particularly me." I try and count the steps between us and the cabin. I try and equate that into minutes. How long will I have to endure this conversation? I could always fall back and talk to Hedda or Juilliard... but that doesn't seem enjoyable either, so I keep my pace.
"While I find that most people find me charming and utterly Saint-like in appearance, you'd be surprised how many aren't that fond of me. I'm no stranger to rejection, Nilsa."
I stick out my bottom lip in a mocking pout. "Did a girl break your heart?"
"No." His smile falters. "My father did."
What he says shocks me. It makes my feet drag a little bit more as I lose focus on forcing myself to keep climbing. Hybrids like Juilliard... Hybrids like Marcello... I'd never met any that were so open about the things that make them feel more Human. It's in all of their blood. Every time they talk like this... like they can relate to me...a rush of heat fans over my skin. Outrage boils just under the surface. Every time they speak in this way it feels like a slap to the face.
We are not the same, he and I. No matter how he tries to unite us in the name of teamwork for the upcoming Games. I don't ask for him to elaborate, but he speaks anyway.
"There was a girl, at one time, yes. She didn't break my heart, though I loved her very much. The issue was that I was already betrothed to someone else. I still kept seeing her though... still kept bedding her. I tried to talk to my father about breaking off the engagement and told him all about my lover in hopes it would sway him."
This is some true love bullshit. "Why are you telling me this? I don't care."
He sucks on his teeth for a second, glancing at me before he starts to talk again. "Telli
ng my dad was clearly a mistake and in hindsight I should have known that, since he has such terrible problems with rage. Anyway, he found my lover. Hanged her in front of me at dinner like it was an evening show. When I tried to stop it, took out five of my father's personal guards in the process, he punished me. Took my hand." He holds up the robotic appendage. "Kicked me out of my home. He said such vile things about me for the sake of his own reputation that even... even my friends started to believe I was as terrible as my father was making me out to be."
"Banished from your prestigious circle. How terrible." I sound bitter, even to myself. I am bitter. If this is all the problems that Marcello has... if losing a father who didn't even sound as though he cared about his son is it... then he'll be fine. Clearly, he's fine.
"Messed me up for a while. Had me living on the streets where sometimes a small group of people would get a hold of me and try to kill me."
"Why the fuck would they kill you for having an affair? I'm not sure any man in The Bend even knows how to commit to someone. Affairs are like side dishes to your main course."
"Not in The Oasis they're not. And being cast out from my home, from my mother... that fucked me up for a while. I'd loved my dad. I'd loved him fiercer than anyone else, even my lover. I'd just pushed the boundaries too far for once. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back."
My throat feels dry as I force myself not to empathize. Not to think back on how much I loved Arron and how his death had and still does affects me. I know he wouldn't want it this way. Arron was always so joyful, he saw the good in things when I never could. Arron was the only light I had in this world and in one night the glow of his goodness had been extinguished. How would I have felt if he'd finally given up on me after all the failed attempts at learning to be as strong as he was? How would I have felt if he'd cast me aside and told me he wouldn't care for me anymore?
It would probably hurt more than his death. Most days I am not sure that I know how to love anyone else ever again, most days I'm not sure that I want to. So I don't. Marcello still found the courage to care, and that speaks volumes. Volumes that I refuse to acknowledge. That I refuse to allow to sway him into my good graces.
