Page 68 of Of Magic and Rum
“Of course, it bloody well is.” Jack snaps his gaze to Ragnar. “Even you?”
Ragnar shoots a glare at Mary. “I’ve beenpersuaded.”
“For the love of—” Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. “Anne? Are you alright with this?”
The imp gazes up at me with eyes to put a puppy to shame, his ears drooping toward his chin.
“Heispretty adorable, Jack.” I tilt my head.
Jack huffs a breath through his nose. “Fine. But he’s not staying inmyquarters, and you lot are in charge of feeding, watering, or doing whatever the hell else an imp needs.” He turns away but swivels back to face them with a lifted finger. “And for God’s sake, give him a name. I’m not calling itimp.”
“Aye, aye, Cap,” Red says, at the cheery imp creature as he settles contentedly into Truffles’ fur behind him.
Jack holds his hand out to me. “Anne, my dear, shall we retire?”
I take it and let him lead me to his cabin, exhaustion weighing heavy on my body. We settle into his hammock, and I drift to sleep thinking about our newly recruited imp crewmate and mentally preparing myself to make a deal with a sea witch.
The sun has barely risen, and I’ve gotten no more than an hour of sleep, but I’m restless. The run-ins with the Charybdis, the encounter with Nøkk, and the impending meeting with Morgana, the sea witch, have my stomach in ever-tightening knots. This unintended journey started with me fending formyself,and now, it has blossomed into harboring an entire crew under my fins. I’ve never been responsible for this many mortal lives at once. It puts my uncle’s job, the immense pressure on his shoulders, in perspective.
Jack lies motionless beside me in a deep slumber, the low rumble of his snores vibrating the top of my head. He looks too peaceful to interrupt, and genuine rest comes so infrequently for him that I don’t dare. Slipping from under his arm, astonishinglynot flipping myself to the floor, I tip-toe out of his quarters, frowning as his body’s warmth fades from my skin.
Like his cat dad, Truffles is curled up on his back with his front paws in the air, snoring away. Despite the creaking floorboard, he doesn’t stir when I sneak past him, and I successfully arrive on deck. Squid’s feet hang from the crow’s nest, and Aranck sits on a barrel, organizing herbs. Everyone else still sleeps, and I rest my elbows on the ship’s side, letting the cool breeze and sea mist calm my nerves.
My eyes are closed but fly open when I hear a tiny voice humming a shanty and crunching—loudcrunching. The imp is walking past, having not noticed me despite my being triple his size. I clear my throat, and the imp freezes, cradling several biscuits in his arms. When he turns to look up at me, crumbs surround his mouth, and more fall out when he grins.
“Hungry?” I pinch back a smile.
The imp swallows the chunk of biscuit with a loud gulp. “Been long since real food. Master only ever fed us oats.”
Damn. Poor thing.
“I can understand that.” Squatting to be more at his level, I hold my hand out. “But we have portion rations for a reason. Can’t have any crew starving to death, can we?”
The imp frowns and hesitates. But eventually, three biscuits rest in my palm. He’s busy licking every crumb from his fingers, and I offer him one. “I suppose one extra won’t hurt. But it’ll be our little secret, yeah?”
The imp’s eyes brighten, and he receives the food with both hands. He takes the tiniest bites I’ve ever seen in hopes of savoring it. “Thankful.”
“Did you already have a name?”
The imp feverishly shakes his head. “No. Master only use numbers. But have new name now.”
“You do?” My head jerks back. “What is it?”
“Laust,” the imp answers, grinning with cheeks full of biscuit.
Tapping my knee, I squint against the sun. “Oh, yeah? And who named you that?”
With a chunk of biscuit still in his grasp, Laust raises his arms skyward. “The big, grumpy one with the foggy eye.”
“Ragnar?” A light laugh bursts from my throat because I’m delightfully surprised by this.
Laust blinks a few times and nods. “Yes.”
Now I realize Laust and I have something in common. We stowed away on Jack’s ship, hoping it would lead us to better places. Given his reasons were to escape servitude to a cruel master, and mine were far more selfish by comparison, a brief flash of guilt prickles the base of my neck.
“You know, Laust,” I conjure sea bubbles to my palms, flashing the scales through my skin and holding them to his eye level. “I, too, am born of myth.”
Laust’s orbed eyes widen, the sunlight above us casting a brightened glint. He’s lost interest in the biscuit, a chunk falling from his gaping mouth and landing on the deck. He reaches a clawed hand toward the bubbles, wincing before finding the courage to touch them. His ears fold backward, pressing to his head, and a delighted smile follows. “What are you?”
