For Ransom

Chapter 25: Pandemonium

Soraya 

The wind of the approaching winter muffled her ears as she sprinted towards the Praying Manta's ship, blending into the night in her all black-attire. There were only a few people roaming the port and none gave her a second glance. Anyone out at this hour was never up to any good.

Remus had confirmed Darlene's husband, Charles, walking towards the ship just a couple hours before, when he had filed in behind a couple of other cult members carrying some supplies. Soraya skidded to a stop, her silent feet aching at the effort of the halt. She peered up at the nearly full moon, her stomach turning with an unease she hadn't felt in a long time. It's eerie white light cast a deep shadow on the side of the vessel, making it almost monstrous in appearance. Soraya inhaled deeply to rally her wits, already dreading the fact that she had no choice but to step inside of it.

"Princess." The prince had reached for her hand before she left that evening, his tan skin unusually pale. His fingers had gently intertwined with hers, their matching rings grazing in the small, but meaningful movement. Gentle, the prince was always gentle with her, even tentative. As if he was afraid she would shatter beneath his touch and he would never see her again.

"Come back to us."

"Of course, I will. Don't look at me like I'm already dead."

"Don't joke about that kind of stuff. I'm serious. Stay safe."

"Oh, stop. I'll be fine, prince. Don't worry yourself sick," She had said as lightheartedly as she could, adjusting the strap across her chest so she didn't have to continue looking at Remus' anguished expression.

The prince had pulled her into an embrace, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She could still see Tom's face as he had observed them with that unreadable look on his countenance, the slight raise of his brow the only sign of his disapproval. She knew she shouldn't have hugged Remus back, especially not as tightly as she had. But how could she not? Soraya involuntarily touched the spot on her shoulder where he had whispered a foreign prayer, likely one from his native language. His accent had soothed her restless nerves, as it was doing now. What was happening to her? She chuckled to herself. If she survived the night, perhaps she would tell the prince how she felt. For now, Soraya would not let herself get distracted by these strange thoughts, not let them cloud her thinking. She couldn't afford to make a mistake tonight.

Soraya scaled the side of the ship, the metal ladder making it relatively easy to make it onto the deck, not even needing to use her specialized climbing gloves. She swung herself noiselessly onto the planks, making eye contact with the man patrolling the decks as soon as her shoes touched the ground. But Soraya was ready, and the man had barely taken a step towards her before a knife flew out of her hand, thudding squarely into his throat. He tumbled over the side of the ship, a small splash the only indication he had fallen into the sea. Soraya exhaled, the knot in her chest loosening slightly. Phase one done. Next was the most difficult part of her task: locating where Darelen's husband slept. On a medium-sized ship like this one, crewmates usually slept in hammocks on the third level. The Miracle had been a good deal larger, allowing for a dozen cabins for her committee leaders on top of the normal sleeping quarters where the rest of her crew slept. Soraya peered into the entrance of the open hatch door. Immediately, the stench hit her, a peculiar combination of sweat, piss, and what she hoped wasn't rotting flesh. Soraya gagged, but held her breath and lowered herself down. It was pitch black, preventing her from distinguishing anything of use, forcing Soraya to switch on her dim flashlight.

The corpse of a half-eaten woman stared back at her.

It hung from the ceiling only a couple feet away, her sunken eyes and torn mouth forming a spine-chilling grin, her limbs completely gone, leaving only a torso. Soraya held in her scream as she stumbled backward.