When Whitley winds up on the top of a pirate hit-list thanks to her con-artist father, she must hide her identity and board another pirate ship, trusting in one shape-shifting pirate named Bluff to help her escape. Too bad you can never, ever, trust...
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Whitley
A white light shifts, swirling in dark water, glowing brighter then weaker. Shadows meet the swirling light, twisting together in a strange sort of dance. I feel my body shifting with their movement.
I blink and I'm balancing on two feet, but only barely. Every shift of the boards beneath me, every rock of the ship almost pitches me over, and would if not for the set of hands on each arm. Scaled and webbed hands, glistening in the sun.
I feel so... heavy. My head is fuzzy, everything spins. My stomach is uneasy. Where am I?
I try to force my mind into focus, but all I can register is that I am on a ship. And I really want to lay down and sleep.
A strange feeling pulses through my veins. Like the rush of the ocean waves. I can even hear it. A purr of moving water. That makes the voices floating around me even harder to comprehend. Who is holding me? What is happening?
Where am I?
Where is he?
I can't even think of who he is, just that he should be with me. What is his name? I search my mind.
I can feel him though. That bit of magic is smaller. A golden drop within the darkness.
"Whitley?" Someone says, approaching. His voice is familiar but unwelcome. My stomach shifts uneasily. With so little of my other senses working, I must rely on instinct. I wince away from the man the voice comes from.
"Whitley," he whispers, closer now. Soft fingertips glide against my cheek. "Are you okay?" he asks, his concern is believable. I shouldn't believe him though. He never cared about me.
I force me gaze up, to meet his eyes with mine. He steps back, terror clouding his entire expression.
"Father?" I hate him. I don't remember why—I have no memories—but I feel the anger. It simmers within me, building.
"Yes!" he says in a gasp. "I... I'm so glad you're okay."
I huff out a bitter laugh, but it takes so much energy. My mind almost succumbs to the darkness. I blink it back, concentrating. Then I look him straight in the eye again, and use the anger building to send my hand through the air. It hits his cheek with a resounding crack.
This action doesn't take my energy. This fuels me.
Several laughs resound, and a feeling bubbles in my chest. Power.
I like it.
"Yeess." A slithering voice whispers in my ear. "He is man. He will pay for what he's done."
For one moment that feels right. That's feels good. But another feeling mixes in. Shouldn't you pay, too? I want to say to the voice. But I don't know what she's done.
A conversation commences around me now. My father doesn't approach or speak again. I'm grateful. Though I do wish I could understand more of what was happening around me.
"Where is the boy?" A rough and unfamiliar voice echoes. "You brought the girl, but without the boy she is useless."
A tall woman next to me chuckles out a laugh. "He will come. Don't you worry about that."
"If he doesn't?"
"Then we have everything we need to force him here." She places a scaled hand onto my shoulder. I clench my jaw. I do not like that.
"Do you even know how this works? Can you make her call him?"
"Trust me. We will not need to. He will come on his own. But if it comes to that, we may have to experiment. Fear is as much a motivator as pain. One of the two will work."
The bearded man smiles in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. "In that case." He nods to a red headed pirate next to him. "Maybe we can speed the process up a bit."
The red pirate pulls out a knife that glints in the sunlight.
