Deadwater Kings • Part I ✓

24. BURY THE HEART

"And?" Lin crossed her arms. "Magic's weird. There have been witches strong enough to do something like this before."

Razo hissed out a sharp breath. "Yeah. Those were the ones who brought on the deadwater and ate up the world. Heaven help us if they've come back."

She scrunched up her face and focused, her sigils swimming and warming against her. The magic had changed. Shifted in the night. Where it once flowed like the water it came from, this time it pooled. Threads of power gathered like silt in the air, patches of it whirring along the water or tangling up in the sky. Her sigils refused to give her any hint as to why. There was no jolt of opinion or command, almost as if Greymark had ordered them silent. Which he wouldn't do.

She brushed the magic away. Her sigils cooled. This was someone else's problem. This was Grey's problem, she wanted nothing to do with it.

"Does it interfere with us getting to Mara's?"

"Shouldn't," Razo said. Lin clapped him on the shoulder as if she could physically shake him back to normal.

"Great. Let's get going, then. I'm gonna clean up and then get ready to kill some rich people," Lin said with a smile. Her eyes slid to Cortez. "And I want you there."

Cortez blinked. He'd backed up to the wall as Lin had been prodding Razo, leaning there as though he could vanish. "Wh -- "

"Don't ask questions," Lin snapped. Her attention slipped past him and she walked back to the living area. It wasn't really a living area, she had no idea why she called it that. Hadrian glanced up at her, having acquired a book, as she trotted past him and rifled through a stack of crates. They were grimy -- not dusty -- and heavy enough that her sigils whispered to life and helped her lift them. She hummed and cocked her head, squinting down at one of the boxes.

It was newer than she'd expected. Razo had a habit of keeping spoiled water on the ship, but the crate of bottled water looked to be relatively recent. She plucked a glass bottle out of the dozen offered and hummed.

"What are you doing?" Hadrian asked.

Lin shook the bottle. "Cleaning up. I'm a mess, or didn't you notice?"

"Not really. Just thought you always looked like that." The comment didn't have any bite. He gave her an equally tepid smile and turned the page of his book. It looked like one of Lin's. She scoffed and turned her search to a towel.

She scooped one up off the floor, hoping that it had been washed at some point, then proceeded to the cargo area. She slammed the door shut in her wake.

It smelled even worse than the rest of the ship.

She grimaced and dampened the towel, scrubbing at her face. The slice in her cheek – long since healed – smarted as she scraped fabric over it. She was an old hand at cleaning herself in this exact situation. The towel was practically crusted with dirt and blood by the time she tossed it to a dark corner.

Lin doused her hair with the rest of the water, running her fingers through the locks and dislodging as much of the blood as she could.

It smeared uselessly, but it wasn't completely matted at least.

Giving up, she twisted her hair into a braid and left it.

She was still mad.

Killing the witch had done nothing to sate her anger, the tension that had been pushing at her skin since she killed Alekhine. It thrummed in her knuckles and up her back, almost painful in its constancy.

Losing Janus had reignited it with a fury. Greymark being Greymark only made it worse. Everything else turned it into an all-consuming static that clung to her mind. She hissed out a breath and sat down on one of Razo's crates. The only light came from a flickering lightbulb in the corner, painting shadows across the walls in gold. Sirenita moved smoother than Lin had ever known her to, the slight rumble of the engine like a soothing purr.