Water Story

Chapter Six

The sailors were shell-shocked. Many had seen violence before. A few had seen wolves before. None of them had seen anything close to this. Not to mention that many of them were injured. One held his shoulder like it was dislocated. Another was curled on his side, clutching his groin, his face in a tight grimace.

"Let me make this plain," Storie said, looking around at them as she pushed the last hairpin into place. "We need to get to Elcott Island for an important meeting. We have done you a favor, saved your ship and your cargo." She laughed as she gestured around. "No one will believe you when you tell them you met werewolves! There's no proof. We could toss these fools overboard ourselves, but it would stain our clothes. You only have one option. Feed this scum to the gaping maw of the Pacific and ferry us on our way."

"Werewolves?" one of them whispered.

"Yes, are you blind?" Storie asked impatiently. She shifted again. Every single sailor flinched away from her.

Storie heard Paloma speaking, so she shifted back and looked to her alpha.

"I fear there may be others aboard that ship," Paloma said, looking at the smaller vessel that housed the boarders.

"You want us to... go aboard?" a man asked incredulously.

"Well, I suppose you could let them go. But I would imagine they have quite a bounty aboard," Paloma said, surprised he hadn't come to same conclusion himself. She cocked her head at him. "If you're scared, I will go with you."

The man just stared.

"Storie, do I have something on my face?" Paloma asked in a hard tone, her dark eyes not leaving the man. She did not like her orders being ignored.

Storie said nothing. She, too, just watched the man.

The man, a lean young sailor with the beginnings of a ginger beard, realized that he was fighting a useless mental war. He looked down at the pirate with the broken arm and walked over to pull his gun free of the holster.

"Please point that in our direction," Storie begged. "I'm still hungry."

The ginger man gave her an alarmed look, but someone laughed.

It was Sam. The man's slender shoulders heaved with overwhelmed, manic laughter as he shivered with fear and agony. Tears poured from his uncovered eye. It was a startling sight.

"And get that one a drink," Paloma said, gesturing to Sam. She grew haughty as no one moved. "NOW!"

Her sudden, authoritative shout jolted the men into action.

Some of the men returned to their duties of manning the sails. Some tended to their injured fellows. Someone helped Sam off of the deck and led him belowdecks. The ginger and three other men worked on stringing ropes to the small boats the pirates had taken to bridge the gap between the larger ships. One man peeled himself off of the wood of the deck and approached Paloma and Storie.

"Joseph Caldwell," he said, offering them his hand. "Captain."

Paloma and Storie both inspected his hand. No rings. Paloma shook his hand first, then Storie.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude-" Joseph began anxiously, still not completely himself in the presence of werewolves. His dark eyes looked out from a weathered, wrinkled face. His gray beard was magnificent. Storie immediately liked the man because he wore the same functional clothes as his crew. Nothing but the intelligence in his gaze marked him as the captain.

"You owe us nothing, but if you are feeling grateful, get us to Elcott quickly," Storie interrupted, pulling out her pocket watch. "Now we are fifteen minutes behind schedule."

Joseph's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, then he looked at the empty expression on Paloma's face and swallowed. He nodded and hurried off, yelling orders to his sailors.

Storie made a face as a spray of saltwater spritzed her cheeks. She looked over to the man nearest her, who was working quickly to tie a rope onto a worn metal bracket on the side of the ship. "You there. Come and fetch us if you're about to get yourselves boarded again, will you?"

The man, clearly anxious about being singled out, nodded silently.

The ginger approached them. "My ladies, were you genuine on your offer to board them with us?" he asked.

Paloma nodded. "I will go." She held her hand out, her eyes on the handle of the gun in his coat pocket. He hesitated for just a second, then handed it to her. Paloma slipped the weapon into her own coat pocket. "Storie, stay here and make sure they don't leave without me."

Storie hated the idea of separating, but Paloma was not asking. "Yes, alpha."

Storie waited until Paloma's dark dress had disappeared into the pirates' ship before she sought out Captain Caldwell. She listened to the orders he gave and was satisfied to piece together, through talk of sails and rigging and ropework, that they were not leaving until after the others were back from the pirate ship.

"How many of you lot are there?" an older man asked, looking up from a small notepad he was referencing as he pointed things out to the men up above in the sails.

"Many," Storie replied.

A flash of something unexpected crossed the man's face. It took Storie a moment to place it.

Respect.

"Good," he said, seeming to be satisfied. He returned to his work and Storie looked out onto the gray horizon, wondering about the man and his strange question.

"My Lady Lovejoy," a soft, accented voice said from behind Storie. She turned to see Sam looking up at her. His left eye was red and swollen. It would certainly blacken. He hunched forward a bit, as though his ribs were injured. He looked so small, so crumpled, crushed by the weight of his injuries.

"Yes, Sam?" Storie asked.

"Thank you," he said, his uninjured eye wide.

Sam was no longer cheerful and goofy. For some reason, this broke Storie's heart.

"Sam," Storie said, a piercing pain in her heart though she had no idea why.

"Yes, my lady?" he asked, as prompt as a schoolboy.

"Would you give me a proper tour of the ship?"

This got a tiny flicker of a smile across Sam's mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but it still heartened Storie.

Sam ducked his head in deference. "Of course."