Page 48 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
At last Feral said, “It’s growing late. Would you stay and have dinner with me?”
“Have you told me everything I need to know about the race?” she countered.
“I’ve said all I can.”
“Then I must say good evening.” Mai hopped up from the chair. “I have things to plan.” Her mind was buzzing already, altering her existing concept for the racing ship to accommodate the new information.
Feral’s scarred mouth stretched in a smile that was almost as charming as it was predatory. “Sometimes a good meal and good company can produce better ideas.”
“I don’t think so. I often skip meals when I’m working, and I prefer being alone.”
The Captain laughed, a rich, rugged sound that sent a faint thrill through Mai’s belly. He stepped into her space, blocking her path to the door.
“You’ve either been seduced so often you’ve become immune, or you’ve never been seduced at all, and you don’t know how to recognize it,” he said. “Tell me, little scientist, which is it? I suspect the latter.”
“None of your business, Captain.”
Anger flickered through his eyes, but it dissipated quickly, and he stepped back, pulling open the door of the cabin. “Our business is concluded, then. For now.”
“For now,” she echoed. “Thank you, and—good fortune in the race.”
She hurried out of the cabin, only looking back once to find that he was still staring at her, with a look of surprise and hunger on his face.
Mai could see Flay’s racing ship in her mind. She could lift it, rotate it, slice off a cross-section, add and subtract elements. She could run a mental simulation of water and air along its shape.
To do all of this, she had to be perfectly still and quiet. Back home, she used to steal away to the back garden for hours, sitting sometimes in the shed and sometimes on a grassy plot between the garden beds.
For the purposes of the competition, Flay had secured a large warehouse with bay access. One whole side of the structure was hinged and could be lifted with cranks, opening the warehouse to the bay. A couple of rickety plank walks branched from the warehouse floor and marched on spindly posts over the rippling surface of the sea, partially concealing the deep watery space between them.
It was a good place to build a racing boat. But first Mai had to develop the design. And she needed to do it quickly.
At first Flay hung around her, curiously inspecting each piece of the design as she sketched it. Finally she asked him to go play with Kestra, and he said, “Don’t mind if I do,” with a slanted grin that made Mai shake her head.
He must have warned the others to give Mai her space, because no one else entered the warehouse that day—except for a tall figure with flowing indigo hair and enormous eyes, who slipped quietly out of the gloom at the back of the building. Mai was sitting cross-legged, surrounded by notebooks, with the south side of the warehouse open to the sunlight and the sea. Rake came up to the line on the floor where the shadows ended and the warm sun began, and he settled there, awkwardly folding his long limbs.
He did not speak—in fact, he barely moved. He seemed to relish stillness, too. Mai loved that about him. Much as she herself needed to move, to be frenetic and restless, she hated it when other people talked, tapped their fingers, popped their lips, or shifted restlessly when she was trying to work.
The part of her that had reacted to him under the water seemed very far away—so far that she could not imagine it ever existing. She could not remember the feelings she’d experienced, nor did she try. The only thing in existence was Flay’s racing ship.
After a couple of hours, Rake finally moved. He flipped through some of her notebooks, inspecting the designs for weapons and mechanical hands. Then he picked up a graphite stick and a piece of paper, and he began to draw something.
His movements were a little clumsy, but when he was done, Mai could tell what he had drawn. He had adjusted her design for the underside of the boat, the shape of the hull beneath the water. He’d changed the rudder design, too.
A swell of irritation surged in her, but the longer she looked at his changes, the more she thought he might be right. He’d seen ships from beneath, which she never had. During the voyage she’d learned much about theWind’s Favorand its structure, but she’d never viewed it from that angle—the angle of a mermaid.
She looked up at him, into the glimmering depths of his immense eyes. The angle of the light caught his face, turning it more sharply beautiful than ever—and a bolt of delighted shock raced through her heart. Her lungs squeezed tight, her breath shortened, and her pulse fluttered faster.
A quick nod was the only thanks she gave him. He dipped his head in response, the light flashing on the jewelry along his pointed ears.
Beautiful monster, her heart whispered.
She swallowed hard and kept working, adjusting her design, finalizing it. Flay could set the crew to work on the new ship tomorrow. It would be simple, clean, exquisite, and maneuverable. For the hull, she’d copied the hollow structure of bird bones—a double layer with reinforced struts between. Lightweight but sturdy. Hopefully it could withstand a blow from one of those tentacled monsters.
Rake rose and stalked past her, a silent shadow. He stripped off his loose tunic and pants, leaving on his undershorts and the gold belt. Mai watched the shift of his back muscles beneath his pale skin as he swung himself lightly off the warehouse floor and into the shimmering saltwater.
She fought the urge to put on a belt of her own and join him. Swimming as a mermaid had been the most fascinating event of her life. She ached to examine all the facets of mermaid biology. Perhaps, after the Race, there would be a little time for her to inspect Rake’s mer-male form more closely.
Her skin heated at the thought. Biting her lip, she returned to her work.
