The Savage Blue - By Zoraida Cordova Page 0,26

places a hand on my knee and offers me a smile.

I point at the card game and the mess of things collected at the center—gold coins, a pack of cigarettes, rusted gold rings, a jar of pickled frogs, and a small barrel labeled “Wind.” I pick up the barrel, and Thalia warns, “Don’t let it out! We need that to get back home.”

I set it back on the table. “Is this all your winnings?”

Gwen, who’s been studying my face, thumbs at Layla. “This one here took the pirates for everything they were worth.”

Layla reluctantly smiles at Gwen. “Tristan taught me.”

I dip my head in a little bow. “This place really cleared out. What time is it?”

“Nine,” Thalia says. “Reggie says there’s a curfew. Says too many strangers have been appearing. Not just the champions. Ships seeking refuge from terrible monsters out at sea.”

Reggie rings a shrill bell. I cover my ears to stop my head from pounding. “Go on, you festering sores. Last call.”

The remaining stragglers get up and stumble out into the night. Reggie gives the girls a black sack to throw all their loot in. Kurt shoulders it and I want to ask if merpeople have a Santa Claus, but the words just won’t come out.

I get up and lean against the bar. “Bit early, even for a curfew.”

“Mayor’s orders. Nine p.m., we start closing up shops.” Reggie takes a sip from his mug. “Ten p.m., everyone in their beds until further notice. For everyone’s safety. Last week, we had an attack. Came in the dead of night. The night men that keep watch couldn’t get a good look at them. They were searching for something. When they couldn’t find it, they tore apart whatever they could. Tried to get into the cathedral as well, but we’ve got our own protection for that.”

“The entrance to the oracle was through there,” I say. “Wasn’t it?”

Reggie nods once but doesn’t elaborate. Gwen pushes the double doors open, letting in the cold.

“Best if you get back to your ship.” The troll man salutes me. “Fair seas to you, Mermutt.”

•••

The farther we get down the hill, the darker the town gets. The yellow glow of the street lamps casts long shadows. I see faces where there aren’t any and hear whispers that shouldn’t be there. I wonder if it’s the lingering effect of the well memories. I concentrate on the cobblestones beneath my feet. The coolness of the stone. The daylight hours away. Hands, warm small hands, grab onto mine and squeeze. She leans her head against my arm, and for a terrible moment, I realize I’ll keep my promise to the nautilus maid just for this.

“Is that fire?” Thalia breaks into a jog.

Layla and I drop hands and sprint ahead. We follow the light of the moon on the water and the crosshatch of lit apartments until the pier comes into view. Our ship is bobbing in the wind alone. A blue flame crackles in the crow’s next.

“Where are the other ships?”

“Where’s Arion?” Thalia yells.

It’s too dark to see where his ropes lead, but Arion is missing from the masthead. Our footsteps are a stampede down the pier and onto the ramp. The deck is empty. “Blue?” I unsheathe my dagger and it hums frantically in my hand. “Arion?”

“There’s no one here,” Gwen says.

“That’s not possible.” Kurt throws the black bag over his shoulder and onto the deck. “Arion can’t leave the ship.”

In the wind I pick up the smell of the oil feeding the small lantern flame atop the mast. The ramp connecting us to the dock splashes into the water. The sails billow like clouds against the wind and I fall back, nearly toppling overboard.

Red claws snap at me. A merrow is climbing up the side. Its face is all teeth and red gums chomping at the air. It levels up to me and takes a snap at my face. I swing my dagger out, cleaving its head right off. Black blood oozes all over me, and before the merrow can decompose, I push it overboard.

We form a circle at the center of the deck. The Vanishing Cove is a dark mound in the distance.

With the dying wind, I can smell them perfectly. Dirt and decay and death and the stink of rotting fish. They’re climbing over the sides of the ship, waiting along the ledges, merrows and mermen alike.

Kurt’s shoulders are right against mine. “Twelve, I think.”

I shake my head. A figure steps forward from the shadows. “Make

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