Wake of the Bloody Angel (23 page)

“I’m getting a little creeped out,” Suhonen observed. His tone was as steady as if he’d been ordering a drink in a tavern.

Jane walked to the starboard rail and looked over it. “She’s riding low. Really low. She must be loaded with something heavy, like Weasely said.”

“That’s Veasely, ma’am,” he corrected politely.

“Whatever. That would explain a little of why she doesn’t move.”

I walked onto the forecastle and looked back toward the quarterdeck. “You know what this reminds me of?” I said to no one in particular.

“A decoy?” Suhonen said. He wasn’t about to let someone else take credit for his idea.

I shook my head. “A set for a play. Like the one you guys put together. I mean, it
looks
like a ship, but nothing really functions.”

“It floats,” Kaven pointed out. He held a short-chained mace in his hand, the kind of weapon you had to wield expertly if you didn’t want to smash in your own skull.

We checked the captain’s cabin, but it was an empty room. No bunks, no tables, nothing. No double
X
on the door. Cobwebs sparkled with dried salt in the corners, and the dust on the floor showed only our footprints. Had the
Vile Howl
’s crew not made it this far, or did the dust at sea simply settle faster than on land?

“Let’s check below,” Jane said. “I’m curious to see what cargo she’s carrying.”

“Should we split up?” Duncan asked. His voice was higher than normal, and he was sweating buckets that had nothing to do with the heat. “I mean, should somebody stay up here in case Captain Clift tries to signal us?”

“No,” I said. “We stay together. If this is a trap, we’re walking right into it.”

Suhonen put a big hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Just stay with me, do what I say, and you’ll be all right. I pissed myself on my first boarding, too, and that was a normal one.”

Kaven and Veasely lifted off the hatch cover. It was not fastened; it was just a big piece of wood covering the square hole in the deck.

Jane lay flat and peered over the edge. Instead of the pitchblack opening I expected, I saw light inside, probably from those huge portholes. “Well, that’s weird,” she said as she got to her feet. “I think you’re right, Eddie. But if it’s a play, where are the actors?”

“Us?” I suggested dolefully.

“Then who the fuck is the audience?”

Jane led the way down the ladder into the hold. I wondered what sort of cargo, one that needed no tending at all, could be weighing down the ship. Treasure? Rocks?

Corpses?

chapter EIGHTEEN

What
we found was . . . unexpected.

On the
Red Cow,
the hold consisted of a big area for the crew, and several smaller rooms for things such as sail locker, galley, and carpenter’s cabin. The captain, quartermaster, and sailing master also had quarters there. The ceilings were low and beams crossed them inconveniently. Below the hold was the bilge, where water and rum barrels were stored.

This ship had none of those. Its hold was one big empty room from bow to stern, and from the deck down to the keel. No bulkheads, no bilge.

The four huge portholes let in plenty of light, but there was little to see. Mold grew in places, and the same heavy cobwebs filled the corners and edges. A few mosquitoes rose from the stagnant water that had collected in the very bottom. A raised walkway, perhaps all that was left of the keelson, ran the length of the hold. A round wooden hatch covered something at the walkway’s center.

The smell was also odd. There was the odor of stagnant water, damp wood, and mildew, but over all this was something I couldn’t quite identify. It was fishy, both literally and metaphorically.

Jane stepped off the ladder and stopped, keeping the rest of us on the steps above her. She muttered, “What the hell?”

“There ain’t nothing here,” Veasely said.

Jane took a few steps down the walkway and swiped at the mosquitoes swarming to us. If they hadn’t fed since the
Vile Howl,
they had to be starving. “Mosquitoes don’t cross the ocean. They must’ve come aboard when this ship was docked somewhere.”

“What does that tell us?” I asked.

She chuckled. “Not a damn thing, really.”

We followed until we all stood single-file along the walkway. The flat ceiling was as featureless as the walls that curved in toward the keel beneath us.

Jane sheathed her sword and scratched her head. “This doesn’t make any sense. With this much open space, the ship should bob up and down like a cork.”

“Maybe it
is
anchored,” I said.

“Where’s the anchor chain, then, smart-ass?” she snarled, then sighed. “Sorry, I just don’t understand this at all.”

Duncan said, “And what do you figure that hatch is for?”

No one answered. Jane and I looked at each other. She eased along the walkway, falling into rhythm with the ship’s slight roll. I looked behind the ladder, where the walkway continued until it dead- ended at the stern. There was nothing.

Duncan looked as pale as the first winter snow. Even Veasely and Kaven were visibly nervous. Only Suhonen seemed entirely unaffected.

“What made those?” Kaven asked. He indicated a series of random, deep scratches in the hull walls.

I examined one. It was about the width of my little finger, and at one end there was a slightly deeper puncture. The wood was gouged away from this hole in one direction, like something had been stuck into the wood, then pulled along. It reminded me of a bear’s claw sign in a tree, but none of the other scratches were parallel, or even seemed remotely related. Was it the mark of some weapon? If so, judging from the vast network of similar marks, whoever wielded it hadn’t gone down without a fight.

“I’m going to fall back on Jane’s standard answer,” I said. “Beats the hell out of me.”

Jane was nearly to the hatch when she stopped and said, “Uh-oh.” We all waited while she knelt, reached into the water, and retrieved a white head scarf stained with water and what looked like blood. She also pulled out a seaman’s dagger and a woman’s slipper. Then she held up the most disturbing thing of all: a child’s doll, clearly the mate of the one we found on the
Vile Howl.
She gently placed it on the walkway beside the shoe.

“That can’t be good,” Suhonen rumbled.

She continued to the hatch. The lip rose about two feet above the walkway. The hatch itself was round, a yard across and hinged on one side. There was no apparent latch.

“Man, this stinks,” she called. “I don’t know what’s under here, but it must be nasty as all get-out. Come on and help me open it.”

Veasely and Kaven exchanged a look. Duncan sat heavily on the lowest stair as if he might pass out. I looked at Suhonen. “I guess she means you and me.”

He looked disdainfully at the others. “Someone has to guard the way out, I suppose.”

“Exactly!” Kaven almost yelped. “We’ll make sure the path to safety stays clear. Right?”

“Let them try to get past us,” Veasley agreed. I didn’t press him on who he meant by “them.”

I scanned the bilgewater as we walked and saw other scraps that spoke of previous visitors. It certainly wasn’t enough for the whole crew of the
Vile Howl,
let alone the other ships that had turned up crewless. But someone had been here and met with serious trouble.

Jane was right. The smell grew almost unbearable by the time we joined Jane at the hatch, and I recognized it:
vomit.
The vomit of someone who’d lived on nothing but fish for quite a while. But there was no sign of puke anywhere on the ship.

We stood around it in silence. Kaven called, “Do ye think it’s going to open itself, then?”

“You’re welcome to help,” Jane said.

“Take your time,” he replied, extra magnanimously.

Finally I said, “You sure this isn’t like a bathtub plug? If we open it, it might sink us.”

“I don’t think so,” Jane said. “It’s hinged, but it ain’t locked. And that smell ain’t pure, sweet seawater. I’m betting the source is under there.”

“Garbage?” Suhonen suggested.

“You throw garbage over the side; you don’t keep it in the hold,” Jane said.

He nodded at the relics she’d recovered. “Dead bodies?” “Does it smell like dead bodies?” she shot back. “No,” he had to admit.

“Arguing about it isn’t going to tell us anything,” I said.

Jane lifted the edge, and it rose about an inch before she stopped. “Someone wants this to be easy to open.”

“Nobody makes a trap hard to get
in
to,” Suhonen said.

She took a deep breath, then lifted the hatch all the way.

The smell that surged forth made us gag. Jane and I stepped back, and even Suhonen stepped off the walkway and into the bilgewater. Except for the smell, though, nothing emerged. Water didn’t gush in to send us to the bottom.

Suhonen set the hatch aside, scowled, and said, “That’s really unpleasant.”

Jane, holding her nose, said, “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

I didn’t hold my nose, but I tried to mouth-breathe as I pointed to the hatch. “Look.”

On the underside was carved the same double
X
.

“What does that
mean
?” Jane seethed.

“Maybe ‘gotcha,’ ” Suhonen suggested.

Then the three of us peered down into the round chamber the hatch had covered.

For a long moment we were silent. I heard someone down at the ladder vomit into the bilge as the odor hit him, and assumed it was Duncan. Kaven called, “It smells like a vegetarian’s outhouse! What the hell is in there?”

That was a good question, because even though I was looking right at it, I couldn’t answer.

A round mass of pink, veined flesh was stuffed into the opening. It was puckered toward the center. The wet surface gleamed. It looked almost as disgusting as it smelled.

Finally Jane said tentatively, “Is that—?”

I shook my head. “It looks like . . . well . . .”

“An arsehole,” Suhonen said. “It looks like a giant arsehole.”

“I’m married to one of those,” Jane said wryly. She drew her sword and gently, tentatively poked the disgusting rippled flesh.

The orifice spit out a stream of thick, chunky liquid. At least two of the chunks were fish heads that sailed past me to splat against the wood. We jumped back as a big, hard disk emerged edge- up, then split in half—it was an enormous, razor-sharp
beak.
It sliced the air with a sound like a pair of gigantic shears.

Then the entire ship rocked to one side, knocking us all off our feet. Something slammed into the hull beneath us, and the huge beak extended up on a fleshy shaft. It bent to the side, snapping toward Jane, who scrambled to stay out of its way.

As I took in all this, the room fell dark. The portholes were now blocked by the tips of gigantic writhing tentacles that slithered in from outside, growing thicker and larger as they extended and showing no sign of stopping before they reached us. Something scraped and rattled along the bottom of the ship, and there was no mistaking its source: the links of a heavy chain. A
very
heavy chain.

I admit, the obvious connection between all these things escaped me until Jane bellowed,
“There’s a goddamned sea monster chained to the bottom of the ship!”

chapter NINETEEN

I
knew about the octopus, the squid, and the cuttlefish, all disgusting pulpy creatures with long arms laden with suction cups. I’d even seen squids as big as a man attack a horse that had fallen off a troop transport. But whatever lurked below this nameless ship bore about as much resemblance to those creatures as my boot dagger did to a battering ram.

The arms poking through the hatchways were already as big around as I was, and those were just the tips. They reached unerringly for the puckered flesh and enormous beak, seeking the source of the sudden pain. For the moment the path to the deck was clear, and Kaven made a break for it, clattering up the stairs and shrieking like a girl. He’d just reached the top when something knocked him back, and he landed across the walkway with a thud. The ship swayed back and forth, rolling his limp body into the stagnant water. The tentacle that had smacked him now filled the hatch entrance, blocking our escape.

I glanced at Jane. She was flat against the curved wall, slashing madly at the tip of a tentacle. It withdrew with each cut but resumed its attack at once. Suhonen, meanwhile, had pinned the tip of one beneath his boot, and as I watched, he sliced off a good six feet of it. The ship rocked in response, and the stump covered him with a spray of blue-tinted blood.