Before he rose, Godwin cast her a terrified look, and she nodded, urging him on. Dagon had to take him.
Shame twisted inside her. She liked Godwin, and here she was, hoping he’d get murdered by a sea god so she could save her own skin. Definitely my father’s daughter.
In the misty darkness, she could just make out the boy’s bright-red hair and the outline of his body. His legs trembled at the edge of the plank, rattling the wood. A low moan rose from his throat, and then a strangled sob. Something splashed in the water, and then he straightened.
A hollow opened in the pit of Fiona’s stomach. He was going to make it. And that meant she was going into Dagon’s hell.
As her heart galloped in her chest, Godwin called out into the darkness, “Lila?” His body swayed as the end of the plank. Fiona held her breath, watching as Godwin crouched down for a moment before launching himself off the plank in a high arc. His body plummeted, plunging into the Atlantic with a loud splash.
Around them the air hummed with a deep buzz, like a swarm of large bees. The hair rose on the back of Fiona’s neck. Dagon had slaughtered the nicest guy on the ship.
She let out a long breath. She could still die, but at least it wasn’t guaranteed. And if she was going to feel any guilt over her relief, she’d have to think it over later. Right now, she had to force herself to walk the plank.
She shot a nervous look at Captain Nod, who pointed to the wooden board. Tentatively, she stepped to it, her shoulders tightening. If Dagon was showing people the truth about themselves, she had a horrible inkling of what she might see.
Her thoughts raced, and Estelle’s voice rang in her mind. Cut from the same cloth…
She reached the end of the plank. Death fires sparked above, and she hugged herself tight. Suddenly dizzy, she closed her eyes, trying not to think about the demonic waves beneath her.
From the center of her mind, a voice rose, deep and resonant. “Cut from the same cloth, you two.” Her grandma.
An image flashed before her eyes—two feet, kicking—someone being dragged over deadfall in a forest, and then a victim’s face. The man’s auburn hair matched the burnt-orange leaves. It was Godwin, a rag muffling his cries and his hands bound behind his back. Fiona’s father was dragging him through the woods.
Danny tied him to a tree, ripping the cloth from his mouth with an angry tug. From a small leather bag, he pulled out a set of pliers, a screwdriver, and a knife. Godwin screamed—but it was no longer Danny standing before him. It was Fiona, plunging a knife into his cheek. “I wanted you to die,” she snarled.
Godwin’s face transformed, and she watched herself ripping the knife through Mrs. Ranulf’s flesh while the Purgator Queen wailed. Fiona smiled, though the amusement didn’t reach her dead eyes.
The forest was gone, and on a moonlit beach, she dragged another body toward the sea, its face blown off with a shotgun. She looked closer at the ravaged head, and with a flood of nausea, she recognized her mom’s blond curls running over the wet sand. Her mouth tasted of ash again, as it had when she’d heard the news. Death was all around her.
Her eyes snapped open again, her body frozen in place as she stared at the placid water below. The word monster screamed through her head. Dagon had shown her the truth, and the truth was that she should die. Her body shook violently, rattling the plank.
Taking a deep breath, she edged closer. It was as if the whole world had gone quiet. Even the sea itself had stilled.
The calm, glassy surface looked like an inviting resting place. Dagon was calling her home.
“Told you she wouldn’t make it,” came Lir’s gravelly voice, breaking the silence.
Fiona’s head whipped around, and she saw his raised eyebrow and the smug look on his face. Anger surged inside her. She wanted to rip the stupid hoops out of his ears.
Blinking the tears from her eyes, she balled her hands into fists. The buzzing sound died down, and the waves rolled again.
She would live just to spite him. What did it matter if a monster lived a while longer among the criminally insane? Clutching her stomach, she suppressed a strong urge to vomit and stumbled off the plank. She stepped directly in front of the first mate, who stood with his arms crossed.
She forced out the words: “I choose Lir.”
Lir stared down at her, his expression unchanging.
An image flashed again in her mind—blond curls dragging on the sand. She ran to the side of the ship, heaving up her goat stew into the choppy waves below.
Behind her, Captain Nod addressed the new recruits, but she was gripped by another wave of sickness. Her arms shook by the time she’d finished, and she wiped a hand across her chin. She wasn’t likely to impress anyone right now.
Footsteps clapped over the deck, and when she looked up, Lir stood by her side, shoving a pewter cup at her. “People like you are not cut out for this.”