Sail
Chapter Fifteen

What could Ellison know? More than I did, that was clear. But how could the ghosts on the Vicio know what she knew? The same way they knew which bedroom was mine on the Nebulous so they could repeatedly wreck it, I supposed. The same way they knew my birthday so they could destroy all my presents. The same way they knew which dog was my favorite so they could poltergeist an ax through it. That one was particularly brutal.

I stood inside the hallway door with my hand resting on the lever. It had been days since I’d heard the ghost shouting about Ellison, days that it had haunted my memories, and I wished I knew what it meant.

Between my cooking, the ship’s heater, and my iron, the Vicio would likely melt from the sky or spontaneously combust. Since that night, I’d been marinating in my own sweat. I had to get out of here and search for iron, Randolph, and hopefully some answers.

I glanced at Mase’s empty stool. He’d come to meals because he had to, but he hadn’t said a word to me or made grabby hands at my body. I hoped his guilt at jilting me was eating him up alive. Then I hoped he was okay and that he’d get over his guilt. Then I just stopped hoping.

I did catch him staring every once in a while, and I wondered at what he might be thinking. That he was sorry? That he couldn’t help it that he was a big tease? Thank me for still keeping the ghosts away?

Because I still did, thanks to him. Every day, he gifted me a small bundle of iron that he left on his stool after every meal. It was sweet.

Despite his rejection, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and not just the way his body felt flush with mine, although yes, there was lots of that too. I thought about those scars and what they meant to him. How they helped define him as a person, and how he’d built them into a sort of armor to reaffirm that he’d survived. It reminded me of my metal corsets, chains, and the iron in my mouth, my own form of armor I hid behind so I wouldn’t have to relive my past. Yet Mase said he remembered his every day. He wanted to remember. He was brave—I’d give him that.

And what was I, standing just inside the dining room door with my hand on the lever? Brave? Or just plain stupid? Because every small pile of iron Mase left me dissolved faster and faster until I started counting down the minutes until it vanished from my tongue.

But I had to get out of this stifling hell or it would choke me. Lips pressed together in a firm line, I opened the door. A blast of chilled air instantly cooled my skin. I dissolved into it with a sigh, pulling up the hem of my sweatshirt to let the chill evaporate the sweat from my body. Sinking my eyes closed at the sensation, I fell against the closed door behind me to let its stored coolness seep into my back. Oh, that felt nice.

Clipped footsteps sounded to my left, and I snapped my eyes open to see Mase coming toward me. Irritated that he’d interrupted my quiet, glacial retreat, I did my best to ignore him. It was hard, though, when his lips parted and his tongue darted out to wet them. A startling wave of heat ignited in his eyes and sparked the air between us that triggered a rush of excitement through my body.

“You’re not doing a very good job of keeping yourself and all your skin covered out here in the open,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Someone will see.”

I didn’t bother pulling my sweatshirt back down. He’d fired me up again, and the sole purpose of coming out here was to cool off. Feozva damn him and the way he looked at me. “You try slaving in there day after day. I’m hot as hell.”

His gaze followed the curve of my neck down to my exposed shoulder before a frown pushed his mouth closed again. “You really see cooking for us as slaving away? It doesn’t seem like you do.”

The question caught me off guard. That’s what concerned him? My feelings about cooking? “No. I don’t see it as slaving. I actually kind of enjoy it.”

“It speaks to you, doesn’t it?” he said with a smirk. “I can tell. You’re getting better.”

I shrugged, not sure where we headed with this conversation. Yes, I enjoyed cooking. It reminded me a little of a chemistry experiment with exact ingredients, step by step procedures, and without the explosions most of the time. It took my mind off Ellison, this ship, and even Mase, if only for a little while. It made me happy when I could transport Mase back in time, pre-scars, with just the flavors I’d concocted. But why would he care if I enjoyed it or not?

“Don’t you have piloty things to do?” I asked, annoyance slipping into my voice.

He chuckled, and it bounced down the hall in happy leaps. “Piloty? Is that a word they taught you at school, college girl?”

“Yes. In Defense Against Boring and Endless Discussions 101,” I said, pulling my sweatshirt back into place.

“Well, that’s it then. I’m going to have to find a way around their ‘no frustrating pilots with dirty boots rule,’ because this class sounds right up my alley.” He infected me with his stupid grin, and a laugh tripped out of my mouth. He watched, seemingly transfixed.

It almost seemed like we’d reverted back to flirty times without really thinking about it. Almost.

“That’s a really nice sound, Absidy. You should laugh more often,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a lot to laugh about these days, so…”

He cleared his throat. “I have some news that isn’t very funny. I’ve searched this ship from top to bottom, and I’ve taken apart everything I could, but I’m afraid this,” he said, rooting inside his pants pocket, “is it.” He sifted a pile of various iron pieces through his fingers into my palm.

This was it. Ten pieces, enough to maybe, maybe last until afternoon. That icy knot of truth tightened in my gut and chattered my teeth together. I held my arms against my chest to lock the cold out, but the wintry feeling came from inside, and there was nothing I could do about it. There was nothing I could do.

Panic flared across Mase’s face at the expression he must’ve seen on mine. He grabbed my arms and pushed me back into the dining room where the warmth there did little to thaw me.

“I’ll keep looking. I’ll find more for you,” Mase said as he rubbed his hands up and down my arms.

He’d find more for me. My throat squeezed at his kindness, both spoken and otherwise.

I looked up into his face and focused on the eye that held the color of what I desperately needed more of. “And I’ll look for answers.”

The corners of Mase’s eyes tightened. “You mean you’ll—”

“No.” I shook my head, emphasizing that definitive word. “I won’t do that. Even if I run out of iron, I’ll…I’ll find another way to repel the ghosts.” Somehow. Though I knew from years of experience that nothing else would work. Pop had even tried an exorcism of our house on Wix. “But Mase, the Vicio doesn’t exist. I checked on the Ringers database, and there isn’t one called the Vicio.” Unless Moon had found something out, but I couldn’t contact her with my simple phone.

“What? Of course there is. The captain bought this ship.”

“Then it’s not registered for some reason. Or it’s not supposed to exist.”

Mase spread his hands out and looked around the dining room. “And yet here we are, flying in the Vicio.”

“Unless…it’s not really called the Vicio.” My eyes widened. The gears inside my head began spinning faster, clicking things together the more they whirled. “Can you come down the hallway with me? I want to show you something.” Without waiting for an answer, I took his hand, so rough with its scarred creases yet soft at the same time, and dragged him into the hallway.

“Hey, whoa,” he said, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he slid a gentle thumb over my knuckles that powered a buzz down to my toes. “Do you mind telling me what’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

“You have to see for yourself. It’s just down the hallway.” I marched us past Randolph’s empty room and the rest of the crushed doors to the last one, scandium, the only one not smashed in.

Mase’s strong grip, his presence, gave me the strength I needed to keep going forward since the last time I’d been by that door, something on the other side had triggered the strongest sense of dread I’d felt in a long time. As long as we kept the room closed, as long as I had the last bit of iron Mase had given me, as long as Mase stood next to me… I swallowed as we came up on it. Well, we’d at least be a tad more knowledgeable than we were now. Hopefully.

Even as we stood in front of it, that feeling of unease strengthened to full-force and rushed goose bumps up my neck. I backed away, my vapored gasps breaking apart in the air before they reached the door.

Mase squeezed my hand, concern wrinkling his forehead. “Absidy?”

“The door. Go look at the name on it.”

He glanced at it then back at me before pulling away from my vice-like grip. With cautious, soft footsteps, he moved toward it with no problem, like he didn’t feel the evil bleeding through its cracks.

“What name? I don’t see anything,” he said.

I glanced up at the light above the door that was usually broken, but Nesbit must have fixed it again. “The light has to shine on it a certain way. Can you break it? Umm…” I rooted through my pocket for the ice pick then held it out to him. “With this?”

After a few stabs at it, the cord popped loose from the ceiling, and the light dangled just like it did when the ghosts came through here.

“Vicio.” Mase traced the faint remnants of red letters and deep scratches on the door with a fingertip.

“See how it’s off center?” I asked, my teeth starting to chatter again.

“I do, yeah. What genius stenciled these—” He stopped and turned at my sudden gasp. “What?”

“Genius. Gen-i-us,” I said again to draw out the sound. “Us. I. O. U. S.” The letters fit. If someone were to stencil ‘us’ next to Vicio, the ship’s name would be perfectly centered. “Not Vicio, Mase. Vicious.”

As soon as the word left my mouth, terrible screams ripped steel claws up my back and reverberated the ship. Inhuman, pained, and malevolent-sounding. I covered my ears.

The lights blinked out all up and down the hallway, choking it in complete darkness. The assault of gloom and shrieks shattered my senses into confusion. I reached out and tried to hack away the night.

“Mase?” I shrieked.

The screams stopped, and the sudden silence solidified the darkness into a slimy black ink that constricted inside my chest. I formed my mouth around Mase’s name again, but nothing came out. Why hadn’t my fingers brushed him yet? He’d been standing right by the door. Wherever he was, he made no attempt to call my name. I couldn’t even hear him breathing, just a deep, penetrating silence that shivered my bones.

Had Mase gone inside the Vicious room? Dread needled up my back as I took a single step toward it. Even if he’d gone in, he wouldn’t be able to see anything. So why would he go inside in the first place? I’d left my flashlight and phone in my coat in the kitchen. Did I trust myself enough to come back if I ran to get them? I had to. For him, I had to.

As soon as I backed away from the Vicious door, my senses on high alert for any sound, the iron in my mouth evaporated. I groped for my pants pocket, but a cold, rough hand slid into mine.

“Mase,” I breathed and fumbled for my pocket with my other hand. “Where did you go?”

Something creaked behind us, and frigid air crept up my neck. Mase caught my other hand in his and pulled me toward the direction of the Vicious room.

“No, let me go. I have to get more iron.” I dug my shoes into the titanium since every hair on my body stood on end, but he wouldn’t release me.

“What are you doing? We can’t even see anything. I’m not going in there without light,” I said.

He yanked until I tripped over my feet and had to follow.

“No!” But even as it hissed between my clattering teeth, reason screamed at me that something was terribly wrong. Yet everything felt wrong contained in the four walls of the room I knew I now stood inside.

Copper and a mix of cleaning solutions invaded my nose. My hands were locked in a death grip, and I was led farther into the room. No amount of struggling would release me.

“Let me go!” I demanded.

He finally freed me as a heavy thud, thud sounded from somewhere nearby. I fished in my pocket and threw several pieces into my mouth.

Gritting my teeth, I slashed my arms through the darkness in an attempt to find the door when the broken light sputtered to life in the hallway and swayed in a breeze that came from nowhere.

Thud, thud.

“Absidy!” Mase shouted. From down the hallway. Not behind me.

I turned, my heart thrashing in my ears.

The red-headed woman stood feet away, her gaze pointed forever downward because of her broken neck.

Terror flooded through my body, and I shrank back with a cry.

She raised a dark-skinned arm and pointed at the ceiling. Between the flashes of darkness at my back, dozens of translucent bodies appeared hanging from thick ropes. The monsters with their shiny gray scales, too many arms, and glowing green eyes that stared vacantly.

My breaths turned to gasps, and I backed into the hallway, shaking my head.

Something slammed to my right, so loud it jarred a scream loose from between my clenched teeth.

Mase stumbled out of the vanadium room, panting, then made a frantic grab at my hand, his eyes ringed with white. “Some kind of force pushed me in there.”

I opened my mouth to say something, to scream again, but the truth drove everything back down my throat to choke me.

I wouldn’t be able to hide behind my metal armor forever.

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