Brie
My vision blurs with fast moving bodies and… fur. Lots and lots, of fur.
I stand on the bed, pressing myself against the wall as four wolves tangle with Logan, who’s as black as midnight in his armor, his sleek, dark brown coat barely visible beneath.
But he’s outnumbered. I watch in horror as one of the wolves sinks his teeth into the only soft spot in those impenetrable scales of metal, ripping into his lower back. Logan snarls, thrashing with the two other wolves, ignoring the pain that must be immense.
But the fourth wolf stalks toward the bed, beady black eyes locked on my vulnerable neck.
I should shift. That would be the smart thing to do. But instead of listening to that voice deep within my mind, my wolf, I leap off the bed with a jarring scream that echoes over the waves crashing against the boat and race out of the room, stumbling over the shattered remains of the door. The splintered wood bites into my feet, tearing my skin, but I ignore the sharp, throbbing ache as I careen down the narrow hallway, sliding from side to side with the ship.
Red light ebbs through the corridor as the alarm continues to sound. The air smells like smoke and is heavy with an electrical sizzle that heats my skin and blurs my vision as I trip, landing on my knees with a crunch.
Behind me, I hear another crash and several more snarls coming from my room. A wolf explodes through the doorway, yelping and then going perfectly silent as its back cracks against the windows, shattering the glass.
A shadowed, stumbling figure races out of the smoke coming from the lower level of the ship. I scurry to my feet, gripping the wall for support as the figure staggers down the hallway in my direction, shielding his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his soot stained shirt.
He trips over the dead wolf, shouting a curse as his knees bite the ground, but then I recognize him.
“Ron?” I shout, my voice cracking. “RON!”
Ron, the chief engineer of the yacht who I’ve known for years, looks up in shock. “Oh, my Goddess, Princess Brie. Get up–” He leaps to his feet, riding a wave of adrenaline when he sees me in one piece. “Goddess above, get up, Brie! Go to the upper deck, now!”
I can’t catch my breath. The waves are tossing the silent ship violently as it drifts straight into the storm, leaning violently to one side. I hear furniture scraping across the ceiling above my head and more crashing, thunderous sounds coming from my room.
“LOGAN!” I shout, but it’s no use. My dry, aching lungs are full of smoke, and my voice cracks painfully.
Ron grabs my arm and starts pulling me toward the stairs at the far end of the hallway that leads to the upper deck.
I cough into the crook of my arm, my eyes watering as smoke fills the stairwell. He shoves at the door at the top of the stairs, rattling the handle. We notice at the same time that the lock has been tampered with, jammed.
A shout rings out below, followed by a thunderous growl… then silence once again.
My heart beats out of rhythm as my lungs squeeze for air, but there’s none to be found. Ron steadies himself on the wall beside me as the ship leans to the side. With one hand braced on the wall, Ron pulls a radio off his belt loop and desperately tries to contact Captain Louis, but it’s silent.
He looks down at me, his eyes stained red from the acrid smoke. He looks entirely defeated, and my heart sinks to my bare toes.
I’m going to die here, in this stairwell.
“Move out of the fucking way!” Logan screams behind us.
I scream, startled by his voice but only have a single second to react before he races up the steps, and Ron snatches me away from the door at the speed of light. Logan throws his entire body against the door, spraying blood from multiple injuries, multiple tears in the armor that now hugs his human form.
The door groans, protesting.
Ron pushes me down until I’m halfway down the staircase, and together, he and Logan slam into the door until it pops off its hinges entirely.
Warm, stormy air spiced with ozone rushes in, sending the smoke cloud swirling in a frenzy. The smoke billows toward the fresh air, blinding me. I wheeze, unable to breath at all, and feel my body start to go slack as my vision fails, dragging me into pure darkness.
But then someone grabs my arm just as I’m about to fall backward. Logan pulls me into the fresh, rainy air of the upper deck, catching me around the waist when my legs start to give out.
“They killed everyone downstairs,” Ron pants, snarling and spitting as he tries to clear the smoke from his lungs. “The engine room is on fire–”
“Brie?” Logan groans, rolling me over on my side, his hand braced on my upper back. “Stop trying to breathe. Your throat is scorched. Give yourself a minute. Breathe through your nose–”
I tremble, blinking to clear my smoke-fogged vision. Logan kneels over me as the ship groans while it pitches dangerously to the side, sending one of the couches tearing across the floorboards in our direction. He takes the brunt of the impact without so much as making a sound.
I turn my head to blink up at him. He looks… wild. Bloody, torn to shreds, but otherwise whole. But his eyes are dark with mingled rage and worry as the ship tilts to the other side, sending even more furniture slamming against the railing, a few chairs disappearing into the angry, unforgiving sea.
I hear Ron run back in our direction. “There’re two lifeboats.”
“We need to find the captain,” Logan rushes out, rising and lifting me up with him.
“I can walk,” I whisper painfully, my throat burning like I’ve never experienced before. Logan sets me down but steadies me with an arm around my waist as we follow Ron across the deck to the metal staircase leading to the top of the ship. A cabinet fixed to the staircase is open, its metal doors snapping open and shut as the ship tilts. It snaps against his arm as he reaches inside for what should be a life vest… but there are none.
The look he gives me is telling. This attack was planned down to the most minute detail.
We aren’t meant to survive.
But why?
Ron shouts from above us, and within a matter of seconds, we’re standing in the narrow hallway lined with doors that stretches toward the cockpit.
The stewardess with bright red hair is lying face down in a pool of her own blood, bite marks and slashes from claws trailing down her back.
I close my eyes, stifling a sob.
Ron pauses at the entrance of the cockpit, hanging his head. That’s when I know that Captain Louis is dead.
But a groan echoes from the second room to the left. Logan doesn’t let me go as he picks his way down the hallway, carefully stepping over the dead stewardess before turning into the second officer’s room. It’s not big enough to house more than a bed and a few cabinets on the wall. Second officer Charlie is lying on his side, bleeding profusely from a wound to his neck.
“Oh, Goddess,” I cry out, trying to kneel. Logan stops me, reaching for the officer instead with his free arm and manages to haul him upright.
Charlie’s head bobs but his eyes open to slits.
“You’re going to live, you hear me?” Logan shouts, shaking the man. Charlie nods as best he can, gripping his throat to try to stop the bleeding. His hands are swollen and bruised, his nails slightly elongated like he tried, and failed, to shift in time to prevent an attack.
Down the hallway, I hear Ron screaming, “Mayday! Mayday!” into a radio, followed by our coordinates.
The feeling in the air is heavy, however. The storm rages as heat begins to creep from the bottom of the boat where an epic fire is spreading.
We’re going down. We’re going into the water in minutes.
I look at Logan, unsure what to say, or do, except, “I’m sorry.” He’s never going to get his boat. He’s never going to make it home to Emberfyll, his life's mission. It’s over.
His eyes meet mine, holding there for what feels like an eternity. “Never say that to me again.” He yanks me and Charlie out of the room in time to meet Ron in the hallway.
“We’re going to the lifeboats now. We only need one with the four of us,” Ron stammers, fear glazing his dark blue eyes. He’s my father’s age, at least, a man old enough to have seen and experienced the terrors of the sea during his long career. Seeing him scared is alarming and only adds to my own despair.
What is Maeve going to do without me? She’s not ready. She’s not ready to be queen.
“The life vests are gone,” Ron continues, shaking his head, “and the boat is getting into the storm as we speak. We can’t fight it. We have to go and hope for the best.”
“I’m not leaving–leaving the boat,” Charlie stammers, mostly out of it. His head bobs against Logan’s shoulder.
“Take him,” Logan tells Ron, passing him the half-dead second officer. “Let’s go.”
Logan turns for the stairs, taking me with him. He hasn’t let me go at all, his arm still wrapped around my waist and lifting me to the point only the tips of my toes brush the ground.
The stairs are slick with rain. Wind rips across the deck, ripping against my thin nightgown that does nothing to protect me from the biting, glass-like droplets of water spraying sideways.
The boat tilts dramatically to the left and a wave crashes over the deck, soaking us to the knees.
Ron drags Charlie toward the opposite deck where a lifeboat slams repeatedly against the side of the ship. Smoke rises in a funnel of black from the lower staircase.
“My phone,” I rasp, squeezing my eyes shut. “My family doesn’t know–what if I never see them again?” I look up at Logan, desperate, my heart shattering with every second that passes. He holds my gaze and looks so… broken by my words.
“You will. You will see them again, I promise,” he says, and he means every word. There’s no teasing glint to his voice, no rough edges or attitude like usual. He’s serious. Composed. Ready to battle whatever comes next.
And what comes next is in the form a battered wolf racing from below deck, its coat singed from the fire, teeth gleaming with blood as it sprints through the smoke in our direction.
Logan tosses me toward Ron, who slips as the boat tilts to the opposite side. He drops Charlie with a crunch, and the lifeboat gives way, one of the ropes holding it tethered to the boat snapping.
Ron grabs the lifeboat, not bigger than a small skiff, using all of his strength to hold its side while trying to slice through the other rope with a pocketknife. The lever apparatus that’s meant to lower it has been purposefully jammed, of course.
But my eyes are on Logan. The wolf tackles him, hackles raised. They roll across the deck with Logan’s arms around its neck, squeezing while the wolf tries to bite his head.
“LOGAN!” I scream as a wave rushes over the deck, sending them sliding back in our direction. “LET HIM GO! WE NEED TO GO!”
Flames start shooting from the lower stairwell. The boat groans, and a popping sound erupts all around me as the floorboards start to crack under the pressure of the building fire beneath and the the force of the waves breaching the deck.
I hear the lifeboat drop into the waves, and Ron screams, “PRINCESS!” while extending his hand to me, motioning desperately for me to come to him.
“LOGAN!” I screech, hurrying to my knees, trying to find my footing on the slippery ground.
A strangled yelp sounds from the wolf. Logan’s completely still beneath it with his arms still squeezed around its neck, holding tight.
“Logan?” I whisper, falling to my hands and knees as another wave crashes into the side of the boat, sending us spinning in a violent circle. “LOGAN?”
His arms drop to his sides before he shoves the wolf off of him, dead and still. He rises, panting, his eyes meeting mine in the stormy, lightning hued night sky whirling all around us. “Go to Ron, get on–get on the lifeboat–”
“You’re hurt,” I cry out, noticing the blood pooling out of his armor, across his chest.
He points weakly to the boat before bending to brace his hands on his knees.
I feel Ron grab my shoulders and yank me back. He’s holding the rope to the lifeboat for dear life, and Charlie isn’t on the deck anymore, so he must have been dropped inside.
I’m next.
I just can’t go without Logan.
“Logan, hurry!” I shout, but Logan’s swaying, unable to fight the pitch and roll as the waves batter the boat into submission. I feel my feet sliding as Ron drags me back toward the railing.
Logan looks up at me, nodding, “I’m coming–”
But my eyes are locked on the massive shadow thundering toward us on the horizon. My stomach flips, lifting against my heart as the yacht dips dramatically down. I feel like I’m floating as the shadow builds, and builds, while we sink into thin air. Lightning erupts overhead, highlighting the massive, otherworldly wave not yet reaching its peak.
It’s three times the size of the yacht.
We’re dead.
Ron gasps, loosening his grip on my shoulder in shock.
My body reacts before my mind has a chance to catch up, and I lunge forward, sprinting across the deck at the very moment Logan turns his head to look up at the wave.
The boat tilts to the side for the last time… rolling, falling into the water as the wave collapses over the top of us.
My arms wrap tight around Logan’s waist. I feel him curl around me, dragging me to what’s left of the ground… and then pressure.
Leagues, and leagues, of wet, endless weight.