Witches of the Deep (The Memento Mori Series #3)

“So why are you here? Was your life in Dogtown that terrible? Was it too boring and you needed a bit more adventure?”


Anger flared in her chest. “I’m getting a little sick of your condescending attitude.”

“Don’t you understand? Most of you will die here.” He spoke slowly, punctuating each word like she was an idiot. “Do you know the kind of men we recruit? They’re desperate to win a spot on the ship. Half the time they murder each other. Don’t come crying to me when the first dead recruit shows up. Unless, of course, the first dead recruit is you, seeing as you can neither swim nor fight, which are pretty much the only two things required of you. Don’t you care that you’re going to die young, or are you moping over a breakup and looking for a little attention?”

She rushed at him, stepping into the cold waters. “No. I’m not moping over a breakup. But I can see Dagon bestowed you with the amazing gift of thinking you know everything when really you’re just full of shit.” The waves surged over her legs as she pressed forward.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“I have a death sentence, just like you do. It doesn’t mean I’m going to waste my life hiding in a goddamn dog kennel while the Purgators light people on fire at fucking dinner parties. ‘Let’s all just sit back and watch people burn while we nibble our canapés!’ ” she shouted at the sky, plunging further into the ocean. “Our world is about to go to war, and I’m not going to cower on the sidelines while people with the power of gods make all the decisions.” She stood inches from his face now, close enough to read the surprise in his eyes, but she wasn’t finished. “You might be content to lie around on a ship of drunks covering yourself in pictures of octopi, but I’m not.”

Lir fell silent, apparently too stunned to reply, and she listened to the sounds of the waves breaking on the rocks. Somewhere on the island, an owl hooted.

Staring at her, Lir scratched his head. “It’s octopuses, actually. The plural.”

“What?”

“It’s not a Latin root. It’s Greek, so if anything, it would be octopodes, but that sounds—”

“That’s all you have to say?”

He smiled. She’d never seen him smile before.

“What are you smiling at?” she asked.

“You’re up to your chest in the drink, and you didn’t even kick up a fuss about seaweed or algae.”

She took a deep breath, staring at the dark waters around her. She hadn’t even felt the dead man’s fingers this time.

A splash caught Lir’s attention, and he turned to the deeper waters. Something moved—a pale-blue flash of hair in the silvery light. “The nippexies,” he said in a hushed tone. “It’s a good omen.” He turned to her, and the silvery moonlight glinted in his eyes. “Maybe you’ll make it through this.”





29





Fiona





She stood on the deck, wearing her usual white shirt and leggings, belted with the scarf. That morning she’d worked up the courage to dunk her head in the ocean, through several hours of sword fighting had dried it into an uncontrollable frizz.

Even if she looked like a mess, she was happy with what she’d learned. Granted, she hadn’t properly swum, but the head-dunking was a step in the right direction.

The crew had drifted out onto the Atlantic in anticipation of tonight’s task, and the Guardians hoisted the sails. Fiona wasn’t quite sure why they needed to sail away from the island. All she knew was that they were supposed to race to the crow’s-nest along the rope shrouds.

At least she wasn’t scared of heights, but she wasn’t convinced she could keep up in a climbing race against Ostap.

On deck, Ives stood talking to the hulking Russian. Catching her eye, Ives smiled, his elfin blue eyes twinkling. He excused himself and crossed to her, a gentle smile on his lips. “Fiona.” He gave a little bow. “You’re looking well. It’s so nice to have a lady among us to add a feminine touch to the ship.”

Fiona bristled. “Feminine touch?” What’s that supposed to mean?

“Oh, believe me, I would not underestimate you, Fiona,” he grinned.

Ah. So that’s why they don’t pick on Ives. He gets people on his side through flattery. If Fiona had had more sense, she would have started off with a little more charm and a little less calling people dicks.

“Recruits!” Nod bellowed before jumping onto the main deck.