Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I think they believed him. I expected them to badger me with the same questions, but they dropped the subject after that. What I really wanted was to ask about their journey to find the Syrens, but I didn’t want to call attention to myself when they seemed satisfied with Abe’s answer.
Strangely enough, our destination and mission haven’t been brought up that often. Here and there, I’ll hear a crew member talk about the island, and I assume they mean Roche Island. Some will talk about whether we’ll find trouble in the Strait of Magellan, but nothing more than that.
It’s fine with me. I can handle a strained yet cordial relationship with the lady of the ship. I’ve noticed that Ramsay is very protective of her; if I even stare at her for too long, he gets gruff with me, so I’m not about to try and win her over.
Besides, I know how to keep my place and when to bow my head. Now that we’ve been sailing for a bit, I’m getting rather used to being on the Nightwind. It reminds me of the comradery we had at the monastery, or at least in those later years when we had more humanity. After being stationed alone for so long, or with Abe’s sole company, it has been nice to actually be around others, especially blood-drinkers. I know I’m different, and there’s a bit of trepidation and curiosity from the others, but we’re all birds of a feather.
Though I suppose I’m the only one who has ever had wings.
“Mew.”
I startle and turn around to find an orange cat standing on the rack of pots and pans. I’m in the galley with the cook, Sedge, as he prepares tonight’s meal. He’s the other human here, other than Maren. A mute, but that’s fine with me; I learned some basic sign language when I was at the monastery, taught by the monk Pedro Ponce de Leon to aid us when we had to live in silence.
Who is that? I sign to Sedge, moving my hands in a clumsy manner. I’m still rusty, and Sedge hasn’t exactly learned the language I have, but the longer I’m with him, the more he’s teaching me to adapt to the way he communicates. While I could talk to him, because he’s not hard of hearing, I think he appreciates me signing.
Skip, Sedge says, spelling out the letters. Ramsay’s cat.
The cat stares at me with piercing green eyes, its tail waving back and forth.
Skip mews again, tilting its head at me.
“Mew to you too,” I say, tipping my imaginary hat.
Ships are great for cats, Sedge explains, his fingers moving so fast that it’s hard to keep up. They take care of the rodents.
Do you have a lot of rodents? I try to ask, though my attempts are awkward.
Sedge nods gravely. The blood.
Ah. The blood.
I look back down at the food he’s preparing, chopping up fresh-caught tuna into steaks. No wonder it caught the cat’s attention.
We eat well on the ship, even though we don’t need to eat food. Sedge is a good cook, and he has to make meals for Maren and Thane’s son, Lucas, who hasn’t become a Vampyre yet and won’t need blood until he’s thirty-five, so Sedge often insists on cooking for all of us blood-drinkers, plus the humans in the hold.
Suddenly, the back of my neck prickles, and I breathe in a scent that reminds me of Larimar, making my heart skip a beat.
The cat mews, and I swear it raises its paw in greeting.
I turn around to see Maren standing in the doorway to the galley.
“Aragon,” she says in a clipped voice with a tight smile. “Might I have a word with you in private?”
“Of course,” I say. I nod at Sedge and walk with her out of the galley. From behind, I hear the cat drop to the ground and follow us.
“It’s really good of you to use your sign language with Sedge,” she says to me, her hands clasped at her front, but I don’t believe the demure act.
“I learned it at the monastery. We had to live in silence for many years as part of our training. It’s nice to be able to use it again.”
“Mmmm,” she hums as we walk down the stairs to the lower deck, her gold dress sweeping behind her. “I have to say, most of us were…apprehensive about having a man of the cloth on board. A Vampyre one, no less. But the fact that you haven’t tried to tell any of us that we’re bound for hell has been refreshing.”
“As you know, I was a priest. I’m not anymore.”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “Ah, yes. Why is that?”
I frown at her. “Because I’m not fit to be one. You know what I did to my congregation.”