The most exciting part is that he thinks I’m weak. Granted, I’m not the most stable on these legs, but I doubt he would be prepared for my century of hand-to-hand combat lessons with a master swordsman. I’m going to start strength training.
A hurried knock follows a smallthudoutside of my door. I stand up quickly, only swaying slightly this time. When I peek outside, a large paperback book is lying on the floor. I would’ve squealed if I could’ve. I glance around, but the hallway is empty. The captain must be reinforcing his hands-off order.
I snatch the book up and close the door as quickly as possible. I’m kneeling on the firm mattress in a second, tangling my feet and legs into the soft, polyester blanket. The book has worn edges and a cracked spine. Whoever it belongs to must have read and reread it.
When I was younger, my father enchanted books for us to read so they wouldn’t get ruined underwater. Hallie and I used to write each other notes in the margins, and I wonder if I will find any notes in this story. My fingers brush against the cover,The Worth of a Man.
I’d never read this before, but I could recognize human literature when I came across it. The crew seems to be made of only humans, so that makes sense.
Cracking open the spine, I start at the title page. Written in clean, evenly spaced letters is:
Property of Henry Erikson. Keep your filthy hands off, or else!
The “or else” has been underlined twice. I can’t help but smile. This must belong to the crew member who I cornered earlier. Human names all sound so similar, though I do like the sound of the name ‘Henry.’ My mother chose H-names for all of her children.
Eager to do something other than come up with mindless pranks for my dangerous pirate escort, I start the book.
The first paragraph is underlined. “Humans. What are we? Are we our thoughts? Perhaps our words? Or do our actions, the things we do daily, define us? Leland Allen Porter certainly thought that actions were the key definition until one day…”
The rest of the chapter details a man who tried his best to be a good person until one day, he couldn’t deny the blatant discrimination and exploitation his magical overlords were subjecting him to. He decides that what he has been through and what happens to him is just as important as what he does. It is action-packed and exciting, and I gasp when a bit of romance enters at the mid-way mark.
Together, he and his super-smart partner decide to fix things for humans. I smile. I like the philosophical tone of the book.
* * *
It’simpossible to know precisely how much time has passed with my nose buried in the crook of the book, but my neck hurts, and the words are blurring. I expect my skin to itch without water… but my mortal form doesn’t have that problem. The deck above me is pounding with whatever fight training the crew is holding. This book is massive, but my sorry ass is making quick work of it.
I get up, desperately needing to stretch my legs. Perhaps I can find something to eat. I tentatively open the door, checking the usually empty hallway. It appears this ship has a decent-sized crew, so it is odd that I never manage to run into anyone down here.
To the left, there is the bathroom. Directly across from me is another door that I’ve never seen anyone use, and to the right are the stairs leading to the mess hall. Behind them is where the rest of the crew sleeps. I haven’t returned to the main deck since I arrived.
Grabbing my pen and paper, I slip out and stop at the bathroom first. I take a look in the mirror. My gray skin looks pale and unnatural under these lights. My hair hangs in tangles around my shoulders, and I desperately try to comb through it with my fingers. There is a box in the corner, near the shower. Necessity gets the better of me, and I rummage through it, looking for a brush. All I find is a small comb.
It will have to do.
I rake it through my tangles and then tie them into a bun at the back of my head, tucking the ball of hair in. It is loose, and I try to remember how Elva showed me to make it tighter all those years ago. No luck.
Shrugging, I duck back into the hallway, grateful my hair is no longer a disaster. I creep up the stairs and see no one in the mess. Despite the empty room, the distinct aroma of food wafts from the back. My stomach grumbles. I wander through the open area, taking my sweet time looking at the ocean. When the bartender pops out, he sees me, pales, and then hurries back inside.
My brows knit together, and I squint my eyes in the direction the man disappeared off to.Hemust’ve told them to avoid me. The captain had said that they believe I am bad luck. I scoff. There is no way anyone alive is still that superstitious. I can’t believe the irony. Here they are, living and working on this top-of-the-line ship, and they still believe old wives’ tales.
Angry, I scribble a note.
It isn’t very “respectful” to make everyone hate your guest, you know.
I fold it into the shape of a heart, write Erik’s name, and then lick the back and press it to the window until it sticks.Perfect.
At the opposite end of the room is a nice, carved wooden door. I would’ve bet good money that this is the captain’s office. I consider going in, but I still have quite some time to irritate him. By my best estimates, we will be on the water for at least a month. Best to leave a few options open for a rainy day.
I spot the stairs that go up to the deck and move up them with the same slow caution as before. When the sunlight hits me and the sea-salt wind fills my lungs, I feel like I am home again for a moment.
My head pops out of the hull. At least two dozen men are moving around quickly. They are shouting orders to each other, and several are brawling in a nearby ring blocked off by crates. I spy the man I had cornered earlier to force him to get me a book. I wave a toned arm at him, and he pauses.
His eyes widen when he sees me, and he hurries forward.
Again?!My fists clench at my sides. This is beyond rude. I am tired of not fighting back, sitting like a good little prisoner. No one else pays me any attention or even notices me, so I sit on the steps and write five different notes.
As I do, I can’t help but listen to the men as they talk.