Page 25 of Virelai’s Hoard (The Dagger & Tide Trilogy #1)

Calla

Calla was sinking, the caressing pressure of the water on her skin soothing her senses.

Finally at peace, she stared up at the suns, the harshness of their glare smoothed by the gentle ripples of the sea.

She hated how good this felt. She hated how much her body had been craving this.

The thought startled her into reaching up, intending to swim to the surface, to the world that would never feel like home no matter how desperately she wanted it to.

And then something else startled her even more. In front of her, a hand clawed at the water. Her human hand.

Calla looked down at herself, and she didn’t see her selkie form, but her human form.

Something was wrong.

A whisper at her back made her twirl in the water, facing the deep rather than the surface.

The bottom of the ocean was shrouded in darkness, nearly visible, but something glinted in the shadows and it was all the push Calla needed to forget about the suns and swim to the depths.

She barely had to even make an effort. A turn of her head, a flick of her limbs, and the water all but swallowed her, the currents dragging her deeper into the sea’s embrace.

The lower she sank, the lighter her limbs became, the suffocating pressure on her chest easing bit by bit until no trace of it remained.

Calla breathed in deeply. The water flowed through her lungs, filling them deliciously, soothing the dryness of her throat. Breathing had never felt this addictive.

With her approach, the shadows at the bottom of the sea let up along a narrow path. Calla followed it, tracking it until the sand and coral and algae got cut off by wooden pavement. From up above, Calla looked down at her crew.

Or what remained of it.

Their bodies writhed on the floor, feet kicking, nails clawing at their throats.

They tried to breathe, but the water was poison for their lungs.

Draven drew her attention, a mute scream tearing at his throat, the water coming out of his mouth as pitch black ink.

Near the border of the shadows, Eryx was crouched down, head clutched between their hands and eyes squeezed shut as they desperately tried to keep at bay the sight and sounds of the crew dying at their back.

In the midst of them all was Sable. Safe. Terrified. Calla had never seen her scared before, had never seen her not in charge of herself, not in control. Horror twisted Sable’s face as she stared at everyone, clutching something in her fist. Something that glinted.

Ignoring Eryx, and Draven, and the sorry sight of the rest of her crew, Calla made for Sable. Her hand shot for her wrist, eyes locked on what she just knew was there. The Heart of the Abyss. It was the only thing that mattered. Nothing could stand in the way, save for Sable’s clenched fist and–

Sable’s eyes pierced through her, full of so much hatred they stole Calla’s breath away. She flinched. And suddenly she became aware of the pain. All around her. Pain she caused.

“I see you.”

Calla twirled in place, facing the voice at her back.

Riley stood there, her expression even, head tilted to the side. No signature smirk, no hint of mischief. “I see what you are.”

Calla woke up gasping, air scratching down her throat. Her sheets were soaked with sea water.

***

When Calla made her way on deck, a faint tremble lingered in her hands.

She clenched them at her back to keep it at bay.

The rest of her crew was on edge too, every pirate gathered in a makeshift circle, their hands and voices all over the place as they gestured at the sea, at each other, at the fog covering the view to Wraithspine Isle.

They’d made it here last night, and Calla had thought it wise to wait until morning before taking their dinghies out to explore for the next clue to the treasure.

“I heard my mom calling me from the island,” one sailor said. “My fucking mother. She’s been dead for nearly a decade.”

Another shivered. “That’s why it’s called that, isn’t it? It must be full of ghosts. Vengeful ghosts. Your mom surely has a bone to pick with you.”

“Don’t say that. Why would you say that!?”

“It was just a dream,” Merrow cut in before they started bickering, but his gaze was fixed on the fog. “There are no sounds coming from the island. No sounds at all.” The last sentence was spoken quietly, as if to himself.

“Didn’t one of Haddock’s stories say the reef around this island is made of bones? Not coral. Not stone. Bones. Leviathans. Sea dragons. Men. Ancient things, still dreaming things. We must’ve stumbled upon their dreams. We’ll never rest if we die here.”

A low murmur rippled through the crew at that, and Calla set her sights on Haddock.

The old man placidly nodded his head as the pirates around asked whether that was true, and said nothing.

Maybe she should start keeping a closer eye on him.

When she’d taken him on board, she’d never expected the old man to start filling her crew’s ears with such nonsense.

No wonder they’d ended up having nightmares.

Kittredge wrapped her arms around herself, still favoring her left foot as she stood, though she’d gotten rid of her crutches days ago.

“I was locked in the bilge. Something was pounding at the hull, cracking the boards, making the whole ship shudder.” She seemed to hold in a shudder of her own as she talked.

“Water trickled, and then it burst in, flowing and flowing until it drowned me. I saw the shape of something huge and dark before I passed out.”

Gadrielle scoffed. To Calla’s keen eye, she too looked uneasy, but she hid it well.

“Just a dream, Kit. Just fucking dreams. I’d expect this from Riley,” she flung her hand towards the woman observing from the edge of the gathering, who widened her eyes in surprise at being called into discussion, “not from hardened pirates such as the rest of you.”

As the crew kept on arguing, Nyxen noticed Calla observing them. “You also had one, didn’t you?” he asked.

His voice was calm, but carried, and a hush came over the group. They turned to hear their captain’s reply.

Her first instinct was to lie and deny, but thankfully her wits had not yet deserted her.

Claiming no dreams when every other pirate had them would’ve been suspicious.

She couldn’t afford unnecessary suspicion.

A sharp nod answered Nyxen’s question, and flickers of curiosity rose in her crew’s eyes.

She stomped them out with a sharp, “Gadrielle is right. It’s not befitting hardened sailors to get all riled up by dreams.”

Before her crew could protest, she put a hand up in the air.

It was still trembling, too faintly for anyone else to see.

“Yes, we might’ve all had eerily distressing dreams, but that is no surprise if you think about it.

We’ve been anchored near the island the entire night, alight with anticipation and worry about what is going to happen today.

We’ve been feasting on creepy stories, anxiety, and fear.

Our brains have regurgitated all of those and fed them back to us. That’s it. No more, and no less.”

“You’re worried?” Eryx asked, looking straight at her.

Calla met their gaze evenly, pushing down the guilt twisting her stomach into knots and the surprise they were talking to her at all.

“Of course I am,” she admitted freely. “If half the stories are true, Wraithspine Isle is dangerous. Only a fool wouldn’t worry.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it control me. And neither should you.”

Draven jutted his chin at her, a challenging look in his eyes. “I never dream.”

“It’s true!” Venn interjected. “But tonight he did. If that’s not creepy, I don’t know what is. Surely this all means something.”

Eryx looked like they wanted to say something, but thought better of it when they met Calla’s cold gaze.

“Only dreams my arse,” Ignatius grumbled.

He was the most superstitious member of the crew, and of course he wouldn’t be keeping his mouth shut. Calla tensed, trying not to curl her lip in distaste. This was getting out of control.

The one-eyed gunner gestured at the fog surrounding the island.

“We’re in uncharted seas, barely just survived a coven of sirens, and as soon as we reach this famously cursed island, we all have the same damn visions.

It’s a warning, captain,” he spat the honorific, and punctuated his next words.

“We should heed it. Let Haddock put together some charms. He’s been at sea for longer than most of us have been alive. Or hell, let Eryx -”

“ Enough !” Calla snapped, loudly and harshly. “Whoever’s too scared to come with me can stay here and guard the ship. I won’t hear any more of it.”

The surrounding pirates startled. Calla’s knot of guilt twisted tighter. But intended or not, she reached the effect she wanted. Mouths clamped shut around further dream discussions.

“Come with you?” Sable asked.

Her second-in-command finally making her voice heard made Calla’s irritation spike.

Her first mate was frowning, more confused than challenging, but Calla already knew where this would lead.

She couldn’t take one damned step without Sable intervening at every turn.

Back when her head wasn’t pounding from too many nights of too little sleep and when her skin wasn’t itching like this for the water’s embrace, Calla used to see her first mate’s interventions as a good thing.

Sable would keep her questioning herself, would keep her honest, would keep her from crossing lines she shouldn’t be crossing.

But now Calla couldn’t fucking stand it.

She didn’t have the time or the patience for it.

Every moment they wasted, the sea’s call grew stronger.

Calla needed to reach the Heart before she succumbed to it, or it would be everyone’s ruin.