Page 91 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
Mai was not there.
Rake’s blood pounded through his body, beating frantic in his mind.
She’d been angry last night, the angriest he’d ever seen her. Maybe she—
Maybe she was hiding somewhere aboard.
He walked quickly, hunting from stem to stern, searching the rain-soaked decks and then the crews’ quarters, until Kestra noticed his frantic pacing and stopped him.
When he told her he couldn’t find Mai, Kestra’s dark brows pulled together, but she looked only mildly concerned. “I’m sure she’ssomewhere. Where could she go? She can’t handle a dinghy by herself.”
“With the tail, she can swim.” Rake charged past Kestra, racing to check Mai’s sleeping closet again.
Some of her things were gone. Taken out of her satchels, probably to be stowed in a waterproof bag while she went away—away fromhim—
A thump of boots in the corridor, and Rake turned, facing Flay and Kestra. He could feel the muscles of his jaws twitching, aching to stretch—a snarl was building deep in his chest, and he had to swallow it down several times before he could speak.
“She went to Feral,” he said.
“What?” Kestra stared. “No. She wouldn’t.”
But Flay paled. “You saw it yourself, Kestra. On the beach yesterday. When he gave her a choice, she hesitated.”
“But she’s my—she’s more than a cousin to me.” Kestra was trembling. “She’s like my sister, Flay. We need to get her back. We have to turn the ship around.”
“It’s hours past Feral’s deadline, Blossom. If we go back, he’ll shatter our masts into bits. We’ll be stranded or sunk.”
“If you don’t turn this ship around right now, Flay, I swear I will never sleep with you again.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, love,” Flay said, and caught her hand when she tried to smack him.
Rake hated seeing them fight. He spoke, firmly and loudly. “I will go and get her.”
He marched past Kestra and Flay, ignoring their protests and questions. One quick stop in his room for a bag, and then he climbed up on deck, where the sky had darkened even further, releasing a chilly shower of rain.
Rake’s hands went to his pants, releasing the buttons.
“Rake!” Kestra gripped his arm.
He met her gaze, and for a moment all he could see was her, standing with him at the top of the Kiken sea-wall, right before he leaped into the churning sea to die with his Queens. He was about to take another leap, for a much dearer cause.
“Bring her back.” Rake’s ears caught Kestra’s whisper through the fall of rain.
“I will.” He dropped his pants and released the golden belt. Once his tail took shape, he tucked both the belt and the pants into his bag and slung it around his torso. With a two-handed grip on the railing and a practiced lunge, he was over the side.
Like a knife he sliced into the sea, opening his gills, finding the rhythm of underwater breathing. And then he shot away into the dark.
Long he swam under the surface, until he could taste his nearness to the ruined city in the water—corroded metal, fresh green sea plants, the faint bitterness of decay. He breached the liquid edge long enough to scan the waves. The rain was pounding heavily now, shattering the surface, clouding his vision. The view was clearer beneath, so he ducked under again and swam until he saw the black hull of theAscendantanchored up ahead.
He had to approach carefully, since the great ship was bobbing on the choppy waves. Looking up at it reminded him of looking up at Kiken’s sea-wall, a daunting dark expanse. And this time he had no grappling hook.
But theAscendantwas covered in bones.
Rake took the golden belt from his bag and clasped it around his waist. When his legs reformed, he began to climb.
Where he could get a grip on the bones, he did, and where he encountered wood, he drove his claws into it for leverage. He pulled, clawed, struggled for handholds, footholds.
I will reach the top.
