Page 96 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
The sailors muttered amongst themselves. Mai caught a handful of words like “scrawny female” and “no bigger than a shrimp,” but she also saw them eyeing the bodies on deck.
Among whom lay Flay’s brother. Shot through the head.
The reality of it eluded her. She could only focus on the current threat. She was vaguely aware of Rake beginning to stir nearby, wheezing and gagging, but alive.
Voices lifted among the sailors, a shout of, “The champion! Let the champion take care of this.”
A figure shouldered through the others—the handsome Sky-born who had battled Rake. He wore a voluminous cloak that covered his wings, protecting them from the rain. As the other sailors moved aside to make way for him, he looked up at the stormy sky, wincing.
Mai narrowed her eyes. “Stop there, or you die like your captor.”
“Feral promised to set me free if I fought well as his champion,” said the Sky-born. “He said I could work for him until I earned enough money to pay my passage back to my home isle. Then he would drop me off at a port and I could find a place on a ship going that way.”
“So you were working for the man who captured and enslaved you?” Mai cocked her head aside.
“I’m no longer a slave,” the Sky-born said, frowning. “I’m a paid crewman. I fly up to the rigging and help with the sails. I carry things.”
“Why not fly away?”
“Because my kind dare not fly long distances over water. Our wings are not waterproof, and when they become wet, they are heavy. If it rained while I was flying, I would fall into the sea and be dragged below to drown.”
“If you help us,” Mai said, “Captain Flay will pay your passage home immediately. In fact, knowing him, he might take you there himself.”
The Sky-born’s eyes swept from Mai to Rake. “Does this human Flay keep his word?”
Rake nodded. “He does.”
“You spared my life, so am I honor-bound to return the kindness. And you offer a better deal than Captain Feral did.” The Sky-born clapped a fist over his heart. “You have my help.”
He turned, grasping two sailors by their throats, his curved talons pressing against their vital arteries. “Do you swear to serve the Sea-Spawn and this tiny warrior-woman, or would you prefer to be fed to the Mother Ocean?”
One of the sailors was Allan, the first mate. He kicked violently, squawking, “I swear, I swear!”
Rake got to his feet beside Mai. “Good,” he said hoarsely, baring all his glittering teeth. “Glad to see some of you have the sense not to defy us.”
The Sky-born cast Rake a quick smile—the mutual understanding, exchanged between two predators. “Now let’s head below, out of this cursed rain, and see who else is willing to change their allegiance.”
29
For a full hour, Kestra tried to persuade Flay to turn the ship around. She swore at him, threatened him, lectured him so thoroughly her mother would have been proud.
Finally she stopped, because she heard herself, and she didn’t like the way she sounded.
So she walked away from him. Went straight down to the galley and ordered the cook to get out in a voice he didn’t defy. And she began to make something.
She wasn’t sure what it was at first, but the ingredients around her took shape, and the knots in her chest began to loosen with every slam of her fist into the dough. When she was done, she’d made large dumplings, more like stuffed buns, really—with a filling of potatoes, melted cheese, and a thick gravy made from pork fat. She bit into one, and it was delicious. Warm, gooey, savory.
Sailors began to shuffle past along the hallway, side-eyeing the kitchen. They had heard her argument with Flay, and they were too nervous to beg for a taste outright, so she filled a tray and carried them around belowdecks, doling out one to every man.
Finally Kestra put on a cloak and climbed up to the quarterdeck, where Jazadri was steering while Flay stood nearby. Both men were heavily cloaked, rain dripping from their hoods.
Kestra put one of the warm dumplings into her captain’s hand and said simply, “Please.”
“Blossom,” he said. “Are you trying to bribe me with food?”
“No. I’m telling you that if I can make something this good with the rubbish I found in that galley, you and I can make good out of anything. Your brother won’t kill us, Flay. I truly don’t believe he will. And if he tries, maybe we can stop him.”
“But my crew,” he said. “They’re trusting me to protect them.”
