I ended up on the port side of the ship, in a bar—preciously named Arpeggio’s—where some of the non-Warden guests and crew were still gathered. Tables and chairs had been righted. There’d been some minor injuries, but not even a broken bone, remarkably. I supposed we’d gotten off light, unlike the crew of the Abigail.
I bellied up to the serving bar and perched on one of the high chairs. There were three guys behind the bar. One was cleaning up broken glass. The other two were taking orders. A lot of people were drinking. I didn’t blame them at all.
“What’ll it be, miss?” the server asked me, and gave me a smile so even and white that he should have been in a commercial. It faded quickly. Even across the other side of a ship the size of a small city, word traveled fast, and it clicked in quickly who—or what—I was. The room went quiet. He cleared his throat nervously. “Anything to drink?”
“Cyanide?” I was trying to be charming, but I could see from the alarm in his eyes that I was somehow missing the target.
“Fresh out, miss,” he said weakly. “Some other poison, perhaps?”
I gave up. “How about a vodka tonic?” That was my sorry-for-myself drink, and this seemed an ideal place to throw a ten-minute pity party. He turned away, mixed the drink, and put it on the coaster. I sipped. It was excellent. “I’m surprised the bar is open.”
“Anything to keep people calm.” There was more than a touch of febrile panic in his eyes now.
“Be sure to save some for yourself.” I smiled, with teeth. “You’re going to need it.”
He poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed it without a pause, then fled, leaving me in possession of the entire bar’s contents. I sipped my vodka tonic and took a self-assessment as pretty much everybody else followed the bartender’s lead and got the hell out of Dodge.
My back didn’t hurt anymore. It also wasn’t numb. It felt normal, natural . . . and as I angled around to get a look in the still-intact bar mirror, I saw the shadow of a black form under the new skin.
A torch, embedded instead of tattooed.
Much, much larger.
One or two of the ship’s staff hadn’t fled with the rest. One stern-looking woman poured me a second vodka tonic without being asked. “On the house,” she said. “If you can get us out of this and home, you’re welcome to drink the place dry.”
I drank it all in a gulp, and said, “Two things. First, if I want to drink this place dry, you definitely haven’t got a thing on board this floating sewage plant that can stop me. Second, you’re not going home. Get used to the idea.”
Then I tossed a twenty on the bar and resumed my stroll. I paused at the big, flat stern of the ship to gaze out over our churning gray wake. Nothing in sight, not on any side, but open water and storm.
I leaned on the railing and opened myself up through the darkness, searching. It didn’t take me long to find the wellspring of that black flood. It was directly to starboard, and close.
Maybe a day away, if that.
“I’m coming,” I whispered into the dark. “You’re getting what you wanted, you evil old bastard.”
I felt Bad Bob’s chuckle inside me like lips against skin. “Knew you wouldn’t let me down, little girl,” he said. When I shut my eyes I could see him standing beside me in ghostly outlines. “You bring me the ship and the Wardens. That’s a good start to our work. From then on, no limits. No limits at all.”
“On my way,” I said, and broke the connection with him. I used my Earth powers to lock out the computer controls of the ship and put in the destination.
Then I went in search of more vodka.
By early morning, the black torch mark was a bold swirl beneath my skin, stretching from the flame at the nape of my neck to the elaborate scrolled cap, just below the flare of my hips. The flames at its top weren’t just black ink anymore. They were real fire, moving silently beneath the translucent covering of my flesh. It was the ultimate tribal stamp, declaring who and what I was to anyone with the courage to look.
It should have frightened me, I guess. Instead, I admired it for a moment, then picked up the hair dryer and began to make myself presentable for the day.
An hour later, I strode out from the cabin—perfectly put together. My hair was curly and tumbling glossy black down toward my waist. I wore a skimpy aqua-blue top with cap sleeves that bared most of my midriff, and low-rise jeans that hugged every curve. David had stocked the closets with anything I might want, for any conceivable mood or occasion.
I decided today was Seduction Day.
I ran into Cherise and Kevin in the hallway. They were talking with that suppressed urgency of two people trying to keep a secret, and they stopped when they saw me.
“What?” I put my hands on my hips and raised my eyebrows. “Not enjoying the three-hour tour, Mary Ann? Of course, that makes him Gilligan. It fits.”
Cherise didn’t smile. I’d never seen her not-smile at a Gilligan’s Island joke before. “We should talk,” she said. There was a faint quiver in her voice, and I saw her take Kevin’s hand for support. “Maybe back in the room?”
“Maybe you should get out of my way and stop bothering me,” I said. I let it lie there for a few seconds, then lightened it up with a grin that felt strange on my lips. “I mean, you’re between me and breakfast. You know how dangerous that is.”
“Don’t,” Kevin said.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t you fucking dare threaten her. She’s trying to save your life.” Kevin stepped in front of her, or tried to. Cherise hauled him back and gave him a look that would have frozen Lake Michigan. “Sorry.” Insignificant as she might be, Cherise wanted to fight her own battles. Well, I could have told him that.
“I just want to talk,” Cherise said, returning her attention to me. “Please.”
She didn’t demand anything, and I knew that if I pushed it, she’d back down. And I was tempted to push, very tempted, not so much because of her—Cherise really wasn’t on the radar anymore—but because the simmering, furious violence in Kevin was addictively delicious. All I had to do was hurt her, and I could drink my fill.
Not yet, I told myself. Don’t enjoy yourself too much.
“Please,” Cherise repeated.
“Jeez, okay, don’t beg,” I said. “Just you, though. Not him.”
Kevin held up his hands in surrender, a sour look on his face. “Dude, like I want to spend time coddling your self-involved evil-turning ass.” His glance at Cherise said something different, though. “Be careful.”
“I’m going to hurt her? I’m not the one with the body count, Kevin,” I said. He flinched, just a little. “Why don’t you loiter out here looking menacing while you wait? Maybe you can beat up cabin stewards, just to keep in practice.”
He flipped me off, but that wasn’t original for him. I took Cherise’s arm, and we headed back to the cabin.
She locked the door behind us. I raised my eyebrows as I settled on my unmade bed. “Oooh,” I said. “Is this going to be hot girl-on-girl action, or what?”
“Shut up.” Cherise hugged herself and stayed where she was, between me and the door. “Something’s really wrong with you.”
“Oh yeah? You think?” I leaned back against the hard cabin wall and crossed my arms. “You’ve been drinking Lewis’s Kool-Aid about how bad I am, boo-hoo. But I understand why you’d go that way. He’s still got an open position for girlfriend-slash-wife, so hold out for the brass ring, kid.” She gave me an uncomprehending stare. “Wouldn’t be the first man you’ve screwed for fun and profit.”
“Would you shut up? God, you can be such a bitch! Since—since your back thing happened, you’ve been changing. Slowly at first, but then it got worse, and now you’re—” Cherise made a helpless gesture that encompassed everything about me, from head to toe. “Look at you.”