“Or something.” I frown. “If you aren’t here to enjoy the tale of The Pirate Queen, move along.” I peer out the side window in the booth and see the ship is about to dock. “The people behind you would like to get on our last tour of the day.”
“One ticket.” He flashes his phone over the card reader. “You are Delphini Fields, aren’t you? Cause you look just like her. Figure, curls, and all. My boss has been trying to track you down for weeks now.”
The ticket spits out of the printer, and I mark it with two pink heart stamps before handing it to him. Since I started working at the booth, I have used the stamp a total of three times now. Once when a dad shouted at his family and another time when a small bachelor party thought doing this tour drunk would be a great way to start their festivities. Generally, the crew are pretty tame with their melodies, but when they get the stamp they know they can really feast. Double stamp means they can absolutely go ham on this guy.
“I have other people to serve. Please wait in line to start the tour.”
Completely ignoring his questioning is not the safest option; lying would have been more correct, but I need this guy out of the fucking way so he can be siren food. Also, I need to get all these people to buy their tickets so I can close up the booth, cash out, and be on board before the final tour sets sail. The last thing I want is to be further away from Orthia when I don’t need to be. Plus, any extra time I can get to track down those two fucking randoms who Audrey and Miles paid off, the better. I’m running out of options other than loitering at the yacht club, waiting to see if they work another event there.
Because I can’t remember the name of the security company we’d hired and the club only offers a list of approved services, it is a guessing game trying to find these guys. My emails are basically useless, just the list forwarded to the Fields event manager. It’s not like employees are listed on company websites. There are a few I crossed off because I straight up called and asked to speak to accounts under the guise of being my dad’s financial assistant. It’s not great for a security team to give me that information, but I won’t be mad about it. There are still two companies who wouldn’t fork over any information to me. Client confidentiality bullshit. They know what they are doing, meaning the guys definitely work for one of those places.
The last customer buys five tickets for their family, making this final tour officially sold out, so I start my shutdown process. I turn off the exterior display board, lock up the window, and begin counting bills. Tens, twenties, and debit receipts bundled up and shoved into a bank bag, I turn off all the internal shit. Pouch in hand, I lock up the booth and turn to see Aiofe walking over to me.
Perfect.
The selkie and I have a tense relationship. Respectfully distant since that first meeting on the deck ofThe Despairis how I describe it, but I get the impression from Nargol that is how she is with everyone. I hand the bank bag over to her without a word and we start walking towards the ship.
“What’d he do?”
“Asking the wrong questions,” I say, assuming she knows about the double heart stamp on that creep’s tickets. “His shoes are all wrong, too.”
Aiofe nods in acknowledgement and doesn’t question me further on it. I take a deep breath through my nose and breathe out through my mouth as we walk up the gangplank to the ship. Less than two minutes from solid ground to our void, sweet void. There is no reason I should get seasick in that time, but the swooping feeling always makes my knees feel unstable as we walk down the steps to the lower deck.
Orthia leads the tours across the main deck, with Joanie taking up the tail end to keep the stragglers from touching things they shouldn’t. We make eye contact, my fingers flexing around my cup as she stops the group near the stairs below deck. Already I feel warmer, despite my stomach threatening to riot against me by being on the ship with her. One hand she keeps casually rested on her sword, her hip jutted out enough to make sure it’s fully pointed away from the crowd. Her other rests by her side.
The side facing me.
Oh. My. God.
We are going to brush hands. I don’t care what happened last night. This is going to be the hottest thing she has ever done to me, for me. I switch my cup to my other hand and wipe the condensation off my palm. I’m lost in the moment, in the vision I’ve created in my head. Orthia in her glorious dark teal jacket, her long sword, her sun-bleached red scarf expertly tied around her elegant neck; it’s perfection.
“Delphini!” Someone shouts my name, and I turn without thinking, half a smile still on my lips.
A camera flashes and I flinch. Goosebumps erupt across my flesh and my blood turns to ice. My vision twists from my soulmate’s glory to a hideous white leather couch, to people I never expected to hurt me like they did. Hands grip my arms and when I try to shake them off, I see their faces. The two men whom I have been looking for. Rage burns in my memory as I try to commit what they look like; blue eyes, brown hair, nose shape, anything. I have to remember this now: I am going to find them. My matcha slips from my fingers and spills across the main deck.
The crowd jumps back and the man with the bad loafers lowers a camera. Everyone swoops into action before I can blink the pink haze from my vision.
“Feel it, sweet one. Embrace your anger. Feed it, feed us,”Love growls, their voices reverberating through my body as my fury spikes.Attack, lunge, thrust.
My chest heaves as I drag in ragged breaths, staring the man down. He isn’t leaving this ship. I don’t care what anyone says or who the fuck he is. That man is mine.
I take a step towards him, ice crunching under my boot, but Orthia’s hand on mine stops me. She nods when our eyes meet, before cocking her head towards the crowd again. Aiofe and Joanie are taking the man below deck and Neela has brought the mop upstairs already. The crowd stares at us.
“He ruined our moment,” I whisper.
Orthia pulls me down while also rising on her tiptoes until her lips brush against my cheek. Sweet warmth erupts from the spot and slows the rushing inside of me.
“And we shall ruin him together,” she whispers before pulling away to announce. “Now, let’s get on to the Captain’s quarter, and then we can get back on schedule.”
I pace in front of the cell. Nargol has set up a chair next to the door and watches me. I’ve changed out of my uniform and into my pink tennis outfit. I know it’s ridiculous, but this is my shield. I need it right now. This fucker is going to tell us literally everything he knows. Orthia is going to pry it out of him in whatever fucked up way she can. I’m sure she has done this plenty of times before.
For a while, I busied myself with trying to find pictures of the men online, even ones of guys who looked remotely like them, so if I had to ask around, I could present people with a visual, but I found nothing that felt close enough. They are average white guys, but that didn’t make finding a picture easier. After about twenty minutes of searching, I gave up and took up pacing.
Every once in a while, the guy throws himself against the door. Each time, the metal rings out, but doesn’t shudder. Nargol slams her fist against it in response just to hopefully scare the guy because when she does it, the door rattles.
“How many pictures of me did he have?” I ask again.
His camera and his phone were both confiscated before he was tossed in the cell. It’s much nicer being on this side of the door. I hope he is shitting himself in there.
