Page 38 of By the Moonbeam and the Mist
“Because you’re the best with the sundews and all the other trapper plants in Mrs. Wildenberg’s class,” I answered right away. Like she’d said the other day, I really sucked at getting those sundews to do anything more than snap at me, and I didn’t have time to perfect my relationship with them.
Dazmine scoffed. “Right. It has nothing to do with the fact that you don’t give two shits about me, right? Because I don’t see your bestie Emelle anywhere around here, do I? Nor do I see any of your other little friends. You don’t wantthemaround these pirates because what you’re doing is dangerous, but me?” She laughed without smiling. “You don’t care if I live or die, do you?”
I closed my eyes against a particularly nasty throb in my head. Right. Dazmine was right, and maybe that made me the worst person on the face of this island, to ask her to help despite the potential consequences. To let her in on this side of my wall, where everything was cold and dark and deadly. But…
“I have one request,” Dazmine said.
I opened my eyes.
“I trap this Coen Steeler dude for you,” she continued, “and you have to catch me another pirate. Someone I can use for ransom.”
I blinked at her. I knew what she was thinking—hold a pirate hostage until the others decided to give Jenia back—but the idea was absurd. And not just because we didn’t even know which of the shipshadJenia now.
“By the orchid and the owl, Dazmine, it’ll be hard enough to catch Steeler himself. Pirates aren’t like tadpoles I can just scoop up with a net. They’re murderous monsters with fangs and—”
“Fangs?” Dazmine snorted.
“Steeler’s teeth were really pointy when he cornered me in the alley,” I murmured. “Just like those bedtime stories claim.”
Don used to tell me such stories while Fabian listened in the doorway, folding his arms in silent disapproval. For good reason, too. I definitely remembered pissing myself one time when Don whispered theatrically that the pirate captain was a vampire who would suck every last drop of blood from my body if I ever ventured too close to Eshol’s shield. Just a warning to discourage kids from wandering off, but…
A jolt of horror cut through me at the thought that Steeler might be a vampire himself—assuming such creatures were real, of course. Could supernatural lineage explain his pointed canines? Or his unreal speed? Or the way power and rage seemed to ripple off him?
“No extra pirate man with fangs, no deal,” Dazmine said now.
I massaged my temples, already regretting telling her anything. OfcourseDazmine Temperton wouldn’t just help me out of her own good volition. Ofcourseshe’d find a way to use this to her own advantage.
And really… could I blame her? Wouldn’t I have done the same thing if Emelle or Lander or any of the others had been taken?
“Fine,” I said through my teeth. Once I had Coen by the throat and negated his power, I’d… I’d demand him to hand over one of his friends. And if he refused—well, I could start with his fingers. “One scary pirate man coming right up,” I said, offering my hand. “Do you prefer medium or rare?”
Dazmine didn’t smile, but I could have sworn something in her eyes flickered with approval as she stuck out her own hand to shake mine.
The next night, I found myself in the boys’ Wild Whisperer house across the street, trying to ignore the nerves writhing in my gut long enough to focus on a game of mini pentaball:
Wren, Gileon, Lander, Emelle and me versus Cilia, Mitzi Hodges, Norman Pollard, Pierson Kaddor… and Rodhi, who hadn’t mentioned his abrupt departure in the dining hall the morning before. As if he didn’t remember talking to me at all before Lexington’s arrival.
“I don’t know how it’s possible, darling, but you seem to be getting worse every time you play,” he said brightly after I tried—and failed—to bounce my mini pentaball across the game table into the disc on the opposite side. My team had lost three times in a row now, and I knew it had a lot to do with the trembling in my hands.
Hands that would be wrapping around the strong column of a tan throat in about twenty minutes if everything went to plan.
“Well,someof us spend our free time practicing ouractualmagic rather than playing a bouncy ball game,” Wren quipped as Norman stepped up to the table—her way of defending me, I knew, and I shot her my best smile in thanks. “I mean, I don’t know why you’re allowed to use magic in regular pentaball but not mini pentaball.”
“Magic and mini pentaball don’t mix if you want to keep your dick on straight. Or whatever parts you value,” Rodhi added with a half-glance at Wren, who wrinkled her nose back at him. “There’s simply not enough space indoors for all our competitive magic to mix together. You would know that if you’d ever deigned to play with us before now.”
It was true that Wren had never played pentaball before—regular or mini. Only after I’d pleaded with her and Gileon to join us about two dozen times did she finally relent with a skeptical frown.
But I’d had to ensure that all my friends—and Cilia—would be thoroughly distracted when Steeler showed up tonight. That nobody would notice my absence and come looking for me.
“Everyone shut up so I can focus.”
That was Norman. He lobbed his ball with a lazy flick of his wrist, and we all watched its neat, bouncing trek into the opposing disc.
Lander groaned. Wren cursed. Mitzi and Cilia cheered, and Rodhi high-fived Norman with a sloppy grin on his face.
Well, at least he was in better spirits than yesterday morning.
“Now you’re all just getting cocky,” Lander grumbled, stepping up to the table himself. Neither he nor Emelle had mentioned anything about the incident at the Shape Shifting party… which told me slug boy trulyhadn’ttold anyone about what I’d done to him.
