Cape Storm

There were more sharks coming. I’d drawn them here, and now there really was blood in the water—mine. My wounds were pumping out more all the time, and the shark I’d destroyed was functioning as bait too. The next one to arrive wouldn’t be so tentative. He’d just rip me in half.

I wondered if it was shock that was making me so fatalistic about that.

The lifeboats were all heading off to the horizon now.

All except one, which peeled off and turned back.

I was unconscious before it arrived.

I woke up lying on the floor of the lifeboat, with two Earth Wardens healing up my bites as best they could.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Cherise, Kevin, Cho Chu Wing, and the remaining crew were on this lifeboat, as well as the Grand Paradise ’s Captain Miller, a sturdy gentleman who retained his military dignity despite his waterlogged uniform. He didn’t say much. I didn’t suppose he was regretting not going down with his ship, but maybe he was thinking about all the inevitable paperwork.

Or, if he knew I was responsible, he was thinking about finishing up what the sharks had left undone.

“We need to split up the boats,” Lewis was telling the captain as I drifted in, out, and around consciousness. “We’re like ducks in a shooting gallery out here on the open water.”

The captain nodded, but not as if he really understood or cared. I didn’t think he cared about much anymore. “I’ve already sent out distress calls,” he said. “Six freighters are heading our way, including a Saudi tanker. They’ll start rendezvousing with the other lifeboats within the hour.”

Lewis nodded and walked over to take a seat near me. The benches were fiberglass, with cushions that doubled as flotation devices. Among the supplies already broken out were insulating blankets, one of which was already wrapped around my damp, shivering body, and boxed drinks. They were trying to coax me to drink apple juice, but I couldn’t choke anything down. Not yet.

I’d learned a startling new lesson: no matter how badass you think you are, having a shark latch on to your body and break a piece of you away will put a dent in your self-confidence.

Cherise was playing Red Cross nurse; she draped a blanket over Lewis’s damp shoulders and handed him a juice box, which he mechanically sipped as he stared down at me.

“What?” I asked, and tried to smile. “You never saw somebody trying to kill you get their ass kicked before? Because I know you have.”

No answer.

“You want some advice? Pull the Wardens together. If you split them up between the rescue boats, you’re screwed.”

“Thanks for the tip,” he said. “Wardens stay on the boats. I want them protected in case you and Bad Bob decide to play Battleship.”

I almost managed a shrug. “Hazards of the sea. They all know what could happen.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m sure that’ll be a great comfort to their kids back home. I want Wardens behind us, guarding our retreat, as well as with us, guarding our asses up close. You got a problem with that, take it up with —oh, nobody, because at this point, you’ve got nobody.” He raised his head and fixed me with red-rimmed, fiercely focused eyes. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

A week ago, if he’d asked that question, it would have been with an undertone of longing and some heavily suppressed fantasies involving schoolgirl uniforms. Not now. He was looking at me like I’d looked at the shark that had bitten me.

“I can still get you to Bad Bob,” I said. “If you want.”

“I can’t trust you.”

I winced and closed my eyes as one of the Earth Wardens laying hands on me did something particularly painful. “I’m serious. I will take you to Bad Bob. I need to get there myself.”

“Why?”

I opened my eyes and locked stares with him. “Because he left me to die in the ocean and get eaten by sharks. Because you came back.”

“Bullshit.”

I blinked.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart. I can see you didn’t. You’re just pissed that he didn’t keep his promises to you. The enemy of my enemy is not my friend.”

I closed my eyes. I was too tired, too hurt, and too sick to care about his philosophy right now, and the darkness inside me ached, impatient with my body’s weaknesses. Soon I wouldn’t be vulnerable. Soon I’d be like the storm itself—unstoppable, unfeeling, a force of nature.

Lewis had chosen his healers well. They did their job, whether they wanted to or not. It took time, and I slept in between the exhausting bouts. I could feel the lifeboat moving, but I no longer cared where it was going. It didn’t matter. The storm would follow me, pouring power into me, filling me with darkness.

When I woke up, really woke up, the Wardens had finished their work.

I was healed.

I looked at my jeans, which had a ragged hole ripped most of the way through them, and beneath the bloody cloth, my leg was mostly there. Scarred, yes, but it would heal. The new muscle and flesh felt weirdly tender.

I looked up and saw them all watching me.

“Thanks,” I said, and tried to stand. It wasn’t as hard as I’d expected. I actually felt fairly good. Better, as the storm above us purred and rained down its darkness into me, reminding me who I was. What I wanted.

Lewis was right not to trust me, but I knew I didn’t need to tell him that.

“Jo,” he said, “sit down.”

I didn’t. I looked at him. There was a tingle of fire in my fingers, and as I rubbed them together, I saw sparks jumping. “Time to change course,” I said. “I’m taking the boat. The rest of you—you can either come along and shut up or I can leave you behind. In pieces.”

He took in a deep, resigned breath. “I didn’t save you just to fight you.”

“No, you saved me because your delicate conscience couldn’t stand thinking about me getting ripped apart by sharks,” I said. “Your mistake, man. Not mine.”

“You don’t want to do this.”

I smiled. And he saw that I really, really did.

Kevin wasn’t surprised. He was grimly staring at me with a bleak expression, as if he’d known it all along. Back at ya, punk.

“You’re not going to hurt anybody else,” Lewis said. “I’m not going to let you.”

That made me want to prove him wrong. “We knew this was coming,” I said. “So go on. Try and stop me. It’s time for the lightning round, Lewis. Go for the actual lightning. It’s a small, enclosed space, but some of them may not die right off. The sepsis from the burns, that’ll probably kill them in the end.”

He didn’t move. “Don’t make me. Please, I’m asking you, don’t.”

I called fire in my hand.

Lewis grabbed my arm, but instead of fighting me power for power, as I’d expected, he yanked me close, pinning me against his body. Putting my palm directly against his chest.

“Please,” he said. There were tears in his eyes. “Jo, I know you’re in there somewhere. Please stop.”

“No,” I said, and let the fire go. It flamed through his shirt, charred his flesh.

And I felt nothing.

Lewis let out a soft, agonized moan, but he didn’t let me go.

“I’ll kill you,” I growled, and I meant it. “Every one of you if I have to. But I’m taking this ship.”

“No.” Lewis grabbed my face in his hands and—kissed me. There was desperation in it, and fury, and pain, and anguish . . .

. . . and death.

I felt something go very, very wrong in my brain.