Seven days since we fought and defeated the leviathan, and Inu and Val’s absences were like wounds that wouldn’t close. I suspected they wouldn’t close for some of us, no matter how many days went by.
Oscar sat on the hammock a few feet away, silently sleeping. The first real sleep he’d had in days. I was careful to make as little noise as possible so that I wouldn’t interrupt this small bit of peace he found. He was a fraction of himself. Barely speaking, barely functioning.
None of us was holding up well. I may not have liked Inu at first, but we’d found a common ground, and then things weren’t so difficult between us. In fact, if we were given more time, I think we could have been something closer to friends.
Val, though–she’d been there since I set foot on the Wraith. She has a quick wit and a sharp smile. I missed her so much, but I was also glad that she found something she cared about enough to die for it. Kit wasn’t doing well after her loss, but he was alive, and that meant he could heal with time.
The cabin door opened as silently as possible, and I turned to see Bash enter. He was pale, and dark circles under his eyes gave away the exhaustion clawing at him. The Wraith was limping–barely functioning. The fact that we were maintaining this pace at all was practically a miracle.
Bash closed the door, eyeing Oscar before placing his hand on my shoulder. I leaned into his touch. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine what my pain was compared to his. Val may have been my friend, but she was his for a decade before that. She followed him everywhere, even when it was a terrible idea. Inu, he’d seen her deeper than her stony facade. They were his friends, and he lost them soon after losing Billy.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“I just don’t know what else to say,” I said.
Because the truth was that I was drowning in guilt. My brother was broken after losing the love of his life, my husband was grieving three lives, and two people–two very good people–not to mention the others of our crew who were now at the bottom of the sea–all that was because of me.
Because I was selfish enough to make a deal with a devil to protect those I loved, and maybe it worked, but the cost was too much.
“Stop,” Bash whispered. “What’s done is done. Now we finish this.”
I turned to face him and knew he was right. Either we did this right, or they died for nothing.
There was no scenario where I allowed that to happen. I stood and offered my hand to Sebastian Jr., who glared at me with beady eyes before crawling up it and into my hair.
“You are sure he will be there?” Bash asked.
He should have just asked the question he really wanted to know.
“I’m sure,” I said.
Because I didn’t know how that was possible except that I was either lucky or I’d listened long enough that my confidence was merely a symptom of madness. This is where we found out which one it was.
“He has waited his entire life for this moment. He won’t wait any longer.” I said.
Bash nodded, and that was enough for now. If I listened too long to the shell and was a bit mad, we’d know and deal with that, but only after we’ve dealt with Edmonds.
I wandered over to the bed where a ball of gray fur lay purring contentedly, curled into a small ball. As soon as I ran my hand over him, he did a big stretch, showcasing three limbs. His right front leg was gone now. Emile swore he didn’t know how to save a cat from dying, but the fact that Blackbeard was here now said otherwise. The makeshift bandaging where his leg used to be was clean and well-tended. As long as I pet him, he lets Emille tend to him.
“He’s healing well,” Bash said.
“Of course he is,” I said, scratching behind Blackbeard’s ear. “He’s a demon cat of a reincarnated infamous pirate who fights sea monsters and lives to tell the tale. I expect nothing less of him.”
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to Blackbeard’s head before turning to see my brother still sleeping.
“I wish I could take it from him,” I whispered.
Bash pressed his lips together, considering. “He wouldn’t let you even if you could. Someday he will take his next breath, but until that day, all anyone can do is drown until one thing, one person pulls him through it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I wished I could be that person, but I suspected that no one ever really got to choose what their anchor was. All I knew was that I missed Inu, Val, and Billy, and I hoped that one day my brother would find himself again.
Bash’s fingers squeezed my shoulder once before he stepped back, the motion careful, like he was trying not to startle grief itself.
“We’re close,” he murmured.
The ship answered for him—an exhausted groan in the bones of the Wraith, a shudder that traveled up the walls like a cough it couldn’t swallow. We’d patched her until she was more stitch than sail. More stubborn than wood. The sea had taken its tithe, and it still wasn’t satisfied.
