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Authors: Tim Lebbon, Christopher Golden
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almost smiled. A werewolf afraid? The smile never quite reached his mouth, because Jack could see that the others were not unsettled, but alert. The widening of their eyes was the first subtle blooming of their animal side.
"They'll take the whole boat," Vukovich said grimly. He was changing again, deep-buried urges flexing his muscles, shifting his bones. His grimace was one of pain, but Jack could also see that he was keen to let the animal take over.
And why not? Jack thought for a moment. If we need that, why not let it happen?
"Vukovich!" Jack yelled. They all turned to look at him. "You have control, as long as you're a man. If you let the beast back out, you lose that control. You might be able to fight whatever it is that's ambushed us, but when you come across a group of frightened people huddled in a cabin or you find a wounded man leaking blood, what then?"
For a moment, Vukovich's eyes were more animal than Jack had seen them for some time. Then he calmed himself again, nodding.
"But being a man feels so weak," he growled.
"Then you're doing it wrong," Jack said. "Reverend, is that the door onto the starboard deck?" He nodded ahead of them, up the still-sloping gangway.
The Reverend unlatched the door, let it swing inward, down toward them, and they all saw treetops and stars. Moonlight smeared inside, supplementing the weak lantern light.
"Won't we be safer here?" Maurilio asked.
"No." Sabine was already starting forward again. "In here we're trapped."
"And out there we're closer to the water," Maurilio said.
"We're assuming they can't leave the water?" Sabine asked. She was the first outside. The Reverend followed, then the others, Jack bringing up the rear, grasping the door's jambs and pulled himself up and out.
The steamer let out a tremendous groan. The whole vessel vibrated, boards popped, windows shattered with the strain, and then it fell back, smacking down onto the river and sending a huge wash across the rapid current. Jack held on tight, the shifting weight threatening to throw him across the narrow deck and over the starboard railing. As he checked that the others were safe — their shoes shredded, claws scoring across timbers as they struggled to defy the momentum — he heard and saw Sabine.
"Jack!" she cried, even though he was farthest from her. She stumbled backward across the deck, green dress billowing about her as she struggled to regain her balance. Her right hip struck the low railing, and The Revered leapt for her, his big hand barely brushing hers as she tilted overboard.
"No!" Jack screamed, and he let himself go, kicking across the deck toward the railing. He would go into the water after her, he knew. He would dive into that raging, blood-filled, horror-stricken torrent, draw his knife and fight whatever might be down there before he let anything hurt Sabine.
But before he reached the railing something dashed past him, pushing him sprawling across the deck and sending The Reverend staggering sideways. The shadow struck the railing and seemed to flow overboard, silent and graceful.
Jack reached for his knife, fearing that the things in the water were now boarding. That having disabled the vessel they had come on board to take their pick . . . and their fill. He had seen this before with the pirates, and he had fought back. He would do so again.
Even as Jack recognized Ghost's distinctive odor, the pirate captain swung back up on deck with Sabine grasped tightly to his side. He was sweating, his hair and beard disheveled, and his right hand clasped the railing so tightly that it had crumpled and splintered in his grip. He glanced around, eyes settling on Jack for only a moment. As the vessel settled in the water, he released Sabine beside him.
"I will never allow you to be harmed," he vowed.
Sabine was breathing hard. She backed two steps away from him, brushed down her dress, and looked over the side. She whispered, "Thank you."
"We're under attack," Ghost said,
"They'll take the whole boat," Vukovich said grimly. He was changing again, deep-buried urges flexing his muscles, shifting his bones. His grimace was one of pain, but Jack could also see that he was keen to let the animal take over.
And why not? Jack thought for a moment. If we need that, why not let it happen?
"Vukovich!" Jack yelled. They all turned to look at him. "You have control, as long as you're a man. If you let the beast back out, you lose that control. You might be able to fight whatever it is that's ambushed us, but when you come across a group of frightened people huddled in a cabin or you find a wounded man leaking blood, what then?"
For a moment, Vukovich's eyes were more animal than Jack had seen them for some time. Then he calmed himself again, nodding.
"But being a man feels so weak," he growled.
"Then you're doing it wrong," Jack said. "Reverend, is that the door onto the starboard deck?" He nodded ahead of them, up the still-sloping gangway.
The Reverend unlatched the door, let it swing inward, down toward them, and they all saw treetops and stars. Moonlight smeared inside, supplementing the weak lantern light.
"Won't we be safer here?" Maurilio asked.
"No." Sabine was already starting forward again. "In here we're trapped."
"And out there we're closer to the water," Maurilio said.
"We're assuming they can't leave the water?" Sabine asked. She was the first outside. The Reverend followed, then the others, Jack bringing up the rear, grasping the door's jambs and pulled himself up and out.
The steamer let out a tremendous groan. The whole vessel vibrated, boards popped, windows shattered with the strain, and then it fell back, smacking down onto the river and sending a huge wash across the rapid current. Jack held on tight, the shifting weight threatening to throw him across the narrow deck and over the starboard railing. As he checked that the others were safe — their shoes shredded, claws scoring across timbers as they struggled to defy the momentum — he heard and saw Sabine.
"Jack!" she cried, even though he was farthest from her. She stumbled backward across the deck, green dress billowing about her as she struggled to regain her balance. Her right hip struck the low railing, and The Revered leapt for her, his big hand barely brushing hers as she tilted overboard.
"No!" Jack screamed, and he let himself go, kicking across the deck toward the railing. He would go into the water after her, he knew. He would dive into that raging, blood-filled, horror-stricken torrent, draw his knife and fight whatever might be down there before he let anything hurt Sabine.
But before he reached the railing something dashed past him, pushing him sprawling across the deck and sending The Reverend staggering sideways. The shadow struck the railing and seemed to flow overboard, silent and graceful.
Jack reached for his knife, fearing that the things in the water were now boarding. That having disabled the vessel they had come on board to take their pick . . . and their fill. He had seen this before with the pirates, and he had fought back. He would do so again.
Even as Jack recognized Ghost's distinctive odor, the pirate captain swung back up on deck with Sabine grasped tightly to his side. He was sweating, his hair and beard disheveled, and his right hand clasped the railing so tightly that it had crumpled and splintered in his grip. He glanced around, eyes settling on Jack for only a moment. As the vessel settled in the water, he released Sabine beside him.
"I will never allow you to be harmed," he vowed.
Sabine was breathing hard. She backed two steps away from him, brushed down her dress, and looked over the side. She whispered, "Thank you."
"We're under attack," Ghost said,
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