Hidden Island Chapter 29, part 1 of 3

Hidden Island
Chapter 29, part 1 of 3

The prow of the wrecked ship hit the Kestrel with a sickening crunch. Swabs went to their knees. Riggers hung on to their ropes as they were whipped back and forth by the jarring impact. A few unlucky sailors even found themselves bowled utterly over or found themselves hanging in the air, suspended by their safety lines. Rope burn, splinters, and scraped skin abounded. Those at the front of the ship fared the worst. Danica and Mister Lynch were thrown backward from the prow to the foremast. At the back of the ship, Will rocked in his chair, leaning to the side to see around the mast, hoping to understand better what had happened. All he could make out between the dark and the sea spray was the looming shape of the other ship, briefly given shape by the dancing lanterns.

Danica was glad the deck was still covered in the new ladders Miss Webber was building. The ropes crisscrossing on the floor gave her something to grab onto as the Kestrel lurched again when the ship rocked again, finding its equilibrium after the crash. Her head was ringing. Had she hit it on something? She didn't remember. Maybe she'd clipped the deck or the mast when knocked back. She looked around quickly, reorienting herself.

Movement just off the prow caught her eye. Something splashed into the water. Had they lost someone? She scrambled to the railing and grabbed one of the mounted searchlights. It took her a moment to release the hand clamp that held it in place so she could aim the beam of light downward. The water was churning and dark. She didn't see a person, but she could make out the foam of the water where it churned above the reef.

The reef? Weren't they clear of it? Surprise and worry washed over her. They'd been pushed back into the mouth of the reef! Anyone in those waters was doomed. The churning waves would shred them against the coral. Worse, the Kestrel was pinned. The reef was to either side, and the black ship was in front. They couldn't move or maneuver. Backward was the only option, and it wasn't an easy or good one.

The black ship rose and loomed again. Danica had just enough time to think that it didn't seem possible for the derelict ship to move like that as she dropped to one knee, held on tight, and yelled as loudly as she could.

"Brace!"

She moved just in time. Another dreadful crunch jarred the Kestrel. Sailors barely recovered from the last crash and were sent tumbling and dangling again. More cries of surprise and pain rang out across the ship. The railing Danica held onto snapped, leaving her with a momentary feeling of sickening weightlessness. All she could think of at that moment was the tips of the coral breaching the waters, waiting to strip the flesh from her bones.

The impact force sent her tumbling backward again instead of down into the waves. She didn't have time to do anything but lift her head before a dark shape hit the deck in front of her with a wet thump. Again, the Kestrel had been shoved back with the impact, but this time, it had dragged the ragged black ship with it. Danica could see where the Kestrel's prow had punched into the other boat as it had descended, spearing it on the bowsprit and locking them together. It looked to all the world like the tear in the other ship's shattered hull was a gaping maw eating at the Kestrel's prow.

The large spotlight lantern was still in her hands. She had a moment of panic as her mind registered the heat. It had come free when the railing had broken; somehow, she'd held onto it. The hot reflector dish rested against her leg, and the bright beam created a blinding pillar of light that rose straight up from her lap. Her pants had protected her from being burned for a short time, but it had her attention now. She rolled the awkward lantern off her lap and tucked her knees underneath. Blinking away the bright afterimage of the beam, she aimed it towards the prow to get a better look at whatever had fallen near her.

It was a body.

A wet, pale, human corpse.

No, not a corpse.

It moved.

She watched in slow horror as the pale form twitched.

"Help," it rasped, still face down on the deck. She'd heard a man with punctured lungs try to talk before. The person lying on the deck before her reminded her of that. The sound was wet and forced. Every tiny hair on her body prickled at the sound.

An arm shot forward and slapped the deck, pushing, lifting. The head raised awkwardly, starting from the shoulders with the weight of the skull hanging limply. The pale form raised its head. Dark, dripping hair was plastered down the face. It was a man. His clothes were torn and stained, little more than rags. A horrified expression contorted his expression into a silent scream. His eyes were so distended from his skull that Danica thought they might burst out of their sockets. His mouth hung open limply and wide like his jaw had been badly dislocated. The corners of his mouth were red with infection and caked with the build-up of old scabs that had half-healed and re-torn. Inside his mouth, it looked like his tongue was swollen and rotten or had been bitten off and become badly infected like he had a mouth full of putrid meat. His other hand lurched forward, pushing himself into an awkward, partially kneeling position. One of his arms raised into the air and began waving back and forth like a grotesque parody of a sailor in distress.

"Help!" he groaned again. Louder this time and slower. The sound was somewhere between a moan and a gurgle. He took a step towards her, still waving and staring. Something about his gait was utterly wrong.

Was it a disease? A curse? Necromancy? What was wrong with this man? Horrid possibilities flitted through her mind.

Another body hit the deck behind the first, landing with another sickening wet thump. Then, a third fell somewhere outside the light. They, too, lurched to their knees with unnatural movements that alternated between too slow and fast and started waving their arms back and forth. Without thinking, Danica began scooching backward, dragging her dented lamp to keep the light on the horrible-looking people abandoning their ruined ship for hers.

The first hideous man followed her. He tried to rise to his feet, but the rocking of the ships caused him to fall as soon as he stood. His legs buckled strangely, bending wrong. He did not attempt to catch himself or roll with his fall. He toppled, his whole body crashing to the deck like a sack of meat. Danica watched his head bounce off the deck, but he barely noticed. He didn't even close his eyes. He just pushed himself up again as soon as he hit the deck. Or, instead, he tried to. His lurching surge was not successful. After the second fall, he lifted himself to his knees again and pulled forward with his arms. He used his hands in place of feet, his legs flailing and twitching behind him, trying and failing to find purchase.

Had he broken his legs? Hurt his spine? What was wrong with his eyes? What was that thing in his mouth?

Question after question flashed through Danica's mind as she backed up in horror, slowly picking up her pace as much as possible. She wasn't in a good position for speed but didn't fully realize it. She was crab-walking backward on the wet deck of a lurching ship in a storm while dragging a giant spotlight. A primal fear gripped her mind, and all she was concerned with was backing up.

The other bodies began to move, dragging themselves forward with the same awkward, shuddering scramble the first one had started. Again, their legs didn't seem to work correctly. They were indeed trying to get to their feet. One even managed a few steps before losing its balance. Falling barely slowed them. It was almost like falling was an intentional part of how they were moving forward. Their gape-mouthed, bug-eyed stares bobbed in the light and moved forward with horrible speed, rasping and screaming for help the whole time. Wet thuds announced the arrival of more of their kind.

Danica nearly managed to reach her feet, but the rope ladder across the deck caught her heel and brought her back down. She swore and scrambled back, but the horrid men bearing down on her were faster. The closest one was getting far too close for comfort. "Get back!" she called out, knowing as soon as she said it that her panicked words were meaningless. The pale, scrambling figure in front of her did not reply. Instead, he lurched and rolled his body like he was vomiting. A thick, ropy tendril erupted from his mouth and launched toward Danica. She flinched back and raised her arms to defend herself, lifting the lantern simply because it was in her hands. The tendril crashed into the lamp with a heavy crunch, hitting hard enough to rock her and push her back into the deck. Her eyes focused on the dim light and realized she was looking at a wicked-looking white spike.

It quivered and twisted, reaching for her, trying to shove its way through the lantern. The spike had punched through the reflector dish, but the knot of flesh just behind the spike didn't fit. Instead, it pushed the dish back into her hands with surprising strength. A drop of an oily clear liquid began collecting on the tip of the angry spine.

She shoved hard, locking her arms and holding the lamp like a shield while scrambling backward, using her legs and back to awkwardly push herself across the deck. The thick ropes beneath her hurt, but she kept going.

The man-thing continued to come after her. The spike retracted, and the tendril slithered back into his mouth, only to erupt with another vomitous heave.

This time, the spike slammed through the lower half of the reflector dish and into the oil reservoir behind it.

The lantern burst in her hands, showering her chest with oil and flames. The ruined lamp jerked out of her hands and left a trail of spattered flames from her to the creature in the dark. As the tendril retracted into the man's mouth, the hot reflector dish hit him squarely in the face, throwing fire and oil all over him and the surrounding deck. The firelight was enough to dimly illuminate the broken lamp as it clattered to the deck in front of the creature. His head was tipped back from the impact, staring at the sky with bulging eyes. Then, his head tilted forward again. The damaged reflector had hurt him, leaving a long gash down his face. Dark blood poured down his white skin, but he showed no pain nor any fear of the flames spreading across his ruined clothes. Danica had started to try to slap away the splatter of fire across her blouse, but she was forced back into a mad scramble as the hideous pale man moved again. His bulbous eyes locked on Danica again, and he began another lurching lunge forward. His yawning mouth opened wider, beginning to disgorge his spiked tendril again. Danica's heart rose in her throat, and she threw herself to the side, hoping to dodge the grotesque stinger.

His head exploded.

A fraction of a second later, the thundercrack of the rifle registered in her ears as the body thumped to the ground, still twitching and shuddering. The spiked tendril landed limply on her legs instead of stabbing into her.

She scrambled more, shoving the disgusting thing off of her, and looked over her shoulder. Mister Lynch gave her a nod and began reloading his massive gun with practiced efficiency.

Danica took a shuddering breath as a wave of relief passed over her. Her attacker was dead. She ripped open her blouse to clear the fire of her body and squinted into the dark. There were still two more of those... things coming towards her, but now that the lantern was destroyed, she couldn't see them. That wasn't very reassuring, but she wasn't being actively attacked yet. She had a moment or two. She yanked at her blouse again, untucking it from her pants and pulling it free of her body. The following two disturbing boarders pulled themselves into the dim light. She could faintly make out more falling to the deck behind them. They were little more than flickers in the dark and thumps on the wood, but she knew what that meant now.

With the smoldering remains of her blouse balled into one hand, she scrambled to her feet and ran.
With quick, balanced steps born of years onboard the Kestrel, she dodged through swabs, which were brandishing weapons, and gathered together for the coming fight. She wove past roped-off crates and barrels and tossed her ruined shirt overboard as she went. She didn't know if the fire would spread much. It seemed extinguished, but she wasn't about to leave anything smoking on deck. She had momentary thoughts of anger over the loss of her favorite blouse and another of exasperation at standing on the deck in her undershirt, but she disregarded them as soon as she had them. There were more important things to focus on. She surveyed the deck.

She could hear Coleman and Reeve bellowing, directing the crew to repel the boarders. The riggers were staying up top for now. The Captain and Colin fought to regain control, but their efforts were in vain, as the two ships were stuck together.

"Danica, report!" came the call from the helm above her.

"Boarders, Captain! Weird ones. Scorpion tails in their mouths!" Danica called back.

The Captain took that information in stride. "Gross. We lost the forward lights when that ship hit us; what happened? What are we stuck on?"

"The other ship!" Danica called up again. She ran up the stairs.

"You sure?" Captain Vex asked as she approached. "We're not on the reef?"

"Not yet! I watched it. Our bowsprit speared right into the other ship's prow! We're right in the mouth of the reef, though; if we go port or starboard, we're going to be grounded!" Danica said quickly.

"Ah, fuck me," Captain Vex glowered. "Colin, stand down." The big man released the wheel and sighed heavily.

The wheel rotated a quarter turn, twitching back and forth under its power as the helmsman stopped fighting the waters. Colin looked pale and was breathing slowly and deliberately.

He wasn't as recovered from his head wound as he'd claimed.

"Dany, get one of the rear lanterns from the aft rail and fix it here. I need to see what's going on," Captain Vex ordered.

"Aye," Danica nodded.

"Careful of all the witch stuff," Captain Vex reminded her.

Danica looked behind the Captain at the glowing circles, the naked woman, and the enchanted mirror roped to the mast. "Right. Witch stuff. Hope whatever she's doing works."

The mirror exploded.

Janie's head was swimming. Her vision blurred. Focusing was hard. She tried to stand up, but her body felt sluggish. "Ow," she said absently. Her voice felt like it was coming from somewhere else. She blinked and focused, forcing her eyes to work better. Caine was pulling himself out of a Caine-shaped hole in the wall, extracting himself from splintered wood and crumbling plaster with an angry scowl. He met her eyes while rubbing the back of his head. "You alright?" he asked. It took her longer than it should have to register what the words meant.

She nodded, and her vision swam. "I think I hit my head," she said, still feeling a bit distant from her own body.

She tried to get up, but Caine held up his hand.

"Don't move," he said. Something in his voice cut through her dazed state, and she stayed still. She watched as Caine freed himself from the wall and stood up with a groan. He was naked and covered in a fine layer of plaster dust. He trudged through the wreckage of the alcove and put his fingertips on Tonya's neck. She was stretched out on the small round table, her arms and legs hanging limply off the edges. The sigils are drawn on her chest, still glowing with a white intensity that lit up the swirling plaster dust in the air. He lowered his face to hers, tilting his head near her lips.

"She's alive. No obvious damage," Caine said. He quickly moved past Tonya and knelt next to Janie. He scanned her body, then looked intently into her eyes. "Don't move. I will check your neck and the back of your head."

His fingertips were gentle, barely touching her at first, then probing a bit more firmly as he ran his hands over her neck and the back of her skull. When he was done, he looked at his fingers and turned them around so she could see the blood on them. "Don't think your skull is cracked—just a gash.

You're going to have a goose egg and a headache for a while, " he gently leaned her forward and ran his fingers down her spine. "Can you wiggle your toes?" he asked.

Janie was relieved to find she could. "Yes."

"I don't feel anything obvious—just a few more scrapes and cuts. I think you just hit your head, which isn't great, but you aren't going to die," Caine offered her his hand. She took it and tried to stand, but her head throbbed, and her vision swam again. "Take your time," he said.

Janie's nod was slow and ginger. She decided to take a few more moments where she was. "What happened?"

"Not sure. It sounded like a thunderclap. My ears are still ringing," Caine said.

Janie carefully and painfully got to her feet. Standing let her find a dozen new places that hurt, mostly on her back, though her left elbow was currently in second place after the growing pain in her skull. Now that Caine had mentioned it, she also noticed the ringing in her ears. It had seemed like part of the overall disorientation, but the mention of the thunderclap jogged her memory. "The containment rings failed. I think they overloaded."

"What does that mean?" Caine asked, moving back to give Tonya a more thorough inspection.

"Um, well... " Janie was having trouble thinking clearly. "The rings are like a drain on the floor under a bathtub.

They catch the spill-over."

"Don't bathtubs usually have drains in the tub itself?" Caine asked.

"For this metaphor, the drain in the tub is the mirror. If anything spills over, the floor drain is there because the tub drain isn't fast enough. Usually, there isn't much, but... I don't know. It seemed like a whole bunch of energy got added simultaneously."

"Like tossing a whole bunch of water into a tub that was already mostly full. We overflowed the tub, dumping so much water onto the floor that the drain couldn't handle it." Caine nodded with understanding.

"When magic overflows it-" Janie began.

"Goes boom," Caine finished, nodding to himself. He gave Tonya the same gently probing head and neck inspection he'd given Janie and then cradled Tonya's head with one hand, slowly and carefully rolling her onto her side so he could run his hand down her spine. "I don't think she's hurt at all."

"What the hell was that?!" Chance said, bursting through the curtain with a handful of staff and prostitutes in tow. Janie winced at the sudden burst of noise. Chance balked for a moment, seeing Caine's naked state. He was used to seeing nude people, but not Caine. He gave his head of security a fierce, quizzical look.

"Not sure," Caine said, ignoring his nudity and Chance's apparent surprise. "Tonya was working a ritual with
Bella uses the mirror as a conduit.

Then something happened. Felt like being struck by lightning."

"With Bella? She's not even- Through the mirror? Wait-. You've been struck by lightning before?" Chance asked incredulously.

"Yes," Caine said flatly.

Chance's brows rose briefly; then he rolled his eyes as he realized he shouldn't be surprised at that information.

He focused on the wreckage.

"Anyone hurt?"

"Just a few bumps and bruises. I think we'll all be fine, but until Tonya wakes up, we won't know for sure," Caine said, gently lowering Tonya to her back again and moving her hands onto her stomach.

"She's glowing," one of the girls in the doorway said, fascinated and worried, staring at the pulsing sigils drawn on Tonya's body.

"Yeah," Caine said. "Not sure why."

"We'll talk about all this once you have it sorted out. I'm going to check for more damage," Chance said. He pushed through the crowd in the doorway and checked the surrounding alcoves and windows.

"Can one of you go get Cerise?" Caine asked the cluster of faces jockeying for position in the doorway.

"I am already here," a lightly accented, exasperated voice came from behind the crowd. "Move, you bunch of hens."



To be continued