White Fangs (6 page)

"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, looking to the others.

"Really?" Jack asked, dripping sarcasm.

"Have you seen what it is?" Vukovich asked.

Ghost shook his head and grinned at Jack. "Perhaps Captain London recognizes the attacker from his earlier journeys."

"No," Jack said.

"Then we should —" Ghost began, but Jack cut him off.

"
We
will do as we see fit."

Ghost's grin remained, and he raised one eyebrow. A scream came from somewhere, splashing, and then a terrible howl than ended in something crunching. Ghost partly closed his eyes and breathed in, and Jack knew what he was doing.
Relishing the blood
, Jack thought. Even he, a human, could sense the taint on the air — opened insides, ruptured organs.
The others . . .

The others were shifting from foot to foot, breathing heavily, and from one of them issued a low, gentle growl.

"Very well," Ghost said. He turned back to Sabine. "You'll always be safest with me." Before anyone could reply he was gone, sprinting along the deck and quickly becoming one with the shadows.

"Sabine?" Jack said. Though their love was strong and Ghost was a beast, he could not keep a hint of doubt from his mind. It was Ghost who had been there to save her, after all. Not Jack. "Sabine, I should have been — "

"It was my fault," she said. She came to him and grasped his hand. The way she looked at him could not be feigned and Jack was relieved.

"The wheelhouse," he said, while surreptitiously checking them all, and once again it was Vukovich giving him the most concern.

"I'm so hungry," Vukovich said, shaking.

Louis stepped forward and slapped his crewmate around the face.

Jack held his breath and waited for the violence — simmering close to them and surrounding the stricken vessel — to explode. But Vukovich stood firm and stared at Louis, putting one hand on the man's shoulder and squeezing.

"Never . . . do that again," he said softly. Then he smiled, and nodded his thanks.

They headed along the deck, pressed as far from the railing as possible. Jack kept glancing at the river. He expected to see the attackers reveal themselves, rising from dark waters in all their monstrous splendor, and though terrified, he was eager to see. This wildness was something he did not know. He had seen true horrors, and he would prefer to know what new terrors he faced.

"I wish they'd just show themselves," Louis said, echoing Jack's thoughts.

Maurilio agreed. "I want to see what we'll have to fight.".

They reached the external stairs that led up two levels to the wheelhouse. Climbing felt good to Jack, because it took them farther from the water.

"Listen," Sabine said as they reached the next level. They paused, Jack and Sabine in the lead, the others behind them. The river flowed against the steamer's hull, but the boat did not move. The ship's lights had gone out and the passengers' shouts had grown even more anxious and fearful.

"We're not moving," the Reverend said.

"Yet the boat is not trapped," Louis said. "We would feel the vibrations if it were. I think we're being
held
."

"But listen!" Sabine said again. They listened, and the night had grown quiet. No more gunfire, and no more screams. Jack closed his eyes, and when his other senses came to the fore he could still smell blood.

"Whatever is in the water has had its fill," Maurilio said.

"No." Jack shook his head. "They've simply taken the easy victims. If they want the rest of us . . ." He looked down over the railing at the river, and tried to see below its surface, to sense his way down. But he could not settle his thoughts. He was not too disappointed — he had no wish to touch on that void ever again.

"Perhaps they cannot emerge," Louis said.

"Or perhaps they
will
not," the Reverend said.

"We can only hope," Jack said.

"Could be they're just toying with us," Vukovich muttered. "Like prey."

Jack stared at him, hating the idea but fearing it might have merit. These wolves knew something about toying with their prey.

They climbed the steps and arrived at the wheelhouse. Every window was smashed by the abuse the steamer had suffered, and the door swung gently back and forth, creaking slightly. There was nobody inside. The wheel was stuck, and even Vukovich's strength would not shift it.

"I thought a captain would go down with his ship," the Reverend said.

"But this ship's not —" Sabine began. She was cut off by a series of shuddering impacts, transmitted up to them through their feet. Shards of glass remaining in the windows tinkled to the deck, and the wheel began to turn, the steamer drifting so that the view past the bow started to slowly shift. And then another, grinding impact, and the boat was still again.

"We're sinking," Maurilio said.

"How do you know?" Jack asked, and all four men looked at him.
Of course
, he berated himself They were sailors, with many more years on the water than he'd had.

"How deep is the river?" Sabine asked, and Jack was troubled that she could not tell. He shrugged.

"I suspect we will find out soon," Louis said. "We should stay here. Wait."

"For what?" Maurilio asked.

"For dawn," Jack said. "Unless we're forced to move, I agree with Louis. We're safest here, as far from the water as we can get."

"Until the water comes to us. And then we'll get to fight." With that pronouncement of doom the Reverend sat down, sweeping broken glass out from under him and resting his head back against the bulkhead. He sighed and closed his eyes, and Jack wondered what visions he saw.

"We'll take it in turns to keep watch," Jack suggested.

Louis chuckled. "You think any of us will sleep,
mon ami?"

They milled around the wheelhouse, waiting for the night to pass and for daylight to show them what had happened. The steamer started listing to the right, and even Jack could sense the vessel slowly filling with water, the engine room and holds flooding, lower decks awash. He tried not to imagine what might happen to anyone left alive down there, perhaps thinking they were hiding from danger. Whatever had attacked them either could not leave the water, or chose to remain submerged . . . and once below water, those lower decks would be accessible through the rents in the hull.

Several times before dawn, they heard screams. Those hiding were slowly being hunted, found, and killed.

With dawn came more blood.

"It's caught between two rocks," Jack said. "Jammed there. And the force of the river is only pressing it harder."

"How many are there?" Sabine asked.

"Four," Jack said. "Perhaps five." It was difficult to tell, because the bodies had been so badly mangled. The others were staring at the rowboat, their expressions set grim. Jack hated to think how temptation must be torturing them. However, they were remaining strong, even Vukovich, and he felt a swell of pride for these once-monster, now men.

The rowboat they were looking down at must have set out from the stricken steamer while the attack was still underway. Perhaps those inside had hoped the confusion would hide their escape, or maybe it had been an act borne of desperation and terror. Either way, they had not gone far. Whether the slaughter had happened before the rowboat became grounded between rocks or after did not seem to matter. The people were torn and tattered, clothes ripped, eyes wide and disbelieving. Birds landed on the rowboat's gunwale, but strangely the carrion creatures did not seem tempted by the meat. Jack knew that was strange, and he tried probing toward those birds' minds to see what they saw, sense what they sensed. But perhaps he was too tired. In the water below them, and around the listing and stranded steamer, only silence.

"We should get ashore," Sabine said. "The daylight seems to have driven them away."

"Unless they're waiting," Jack said.

"I don't think so." She looked sadly at him, and Jack's heart almost broke. She seemed so lost and pained, and his effort to help her find herself had led to this. Chaos, danger, death. He did not feel responsible, but he did feel the weight of guilt.
I should have been more afraid
, he thought.
I have been here before and it was terrible. I should have been more careful. Better prepared for the mysteries of this place
.

But how could anyone have expected this?

"No one else is trying for shore," he said.

"Perhaps they're waiting for someone to lead them." She smiled, but it barely touched her eyes. So far from the sea, her only touch of water was this cursed river. Jack knew then that she was right; they had to reach shore and move on to Dawson. To stay here might prove to be the end for all of them.

"Something strange . . . ." Louis had been staring downriver at the stranded rowboat for some time.

"Yes," Maurilio said, nodding slowly.

Leaning against the timber railing outside the wheelhouse with Jack, Sabine glanced sidelong at him, frowning.

"Blood," Louis said.

"Of course there's blood," Sabine whispered.

"No." Maurilio turned slowly to look at them, hesitant to tear his eyes from the grotesque tableau. "There's not enough."

"Blood," the Reverend said. His voice was low and deep, a rumble that Jack was sure he felt through the decking. "Blood . . ." The Reverend was gripping the railing and staring at the bodies, and he suddenly seemed taller than before, thicker set. His brow protruded and his nose thickened. Across his cheeks and the backs of his hands, downy hair was turning thick and bristly.

"Reverend!" Jack said, surprised, because the man had seemed so in control up until now. "You've come this far!"

"And every step an agony . . . ." the Reverend said. His voice was as low and quiet as ever, but it seemed filled with a barely constrained rage that Jack had never suspected in him at all.

"Don't do this." Louis stepped forward, hands held out, and Jack expected a repeat of the slap he had dealt Vukovich during the night. But he was too slow. The Reverend lashed out and Louis went flying, bouncing from the wheelhouse structure and sprawling on the wooden deck at Jack's and Sabine's feet.

"Not now," Jack snapped, and it was not only fear for the Reverend. If he changed now, he would give them all away. Terrified, most of them probably now armed, the passengers and crew would not think twice about trying to undertake their own slaughter. And then the wolves would change and take them, murdering innocent souls and undoing every step they had taken toward humanity.

The Reverend leapt down the staircase to the lower deck, and Jack could see how he was still changing. He heard bones straining and cloth and flesh splitting, and as he ran the Reverend cried out, a pained and exultant shout. He ducked into a doorway and disappeared.

Maurilio glanced around in confusion. Jack and Sabine helped Louis to his feet.

"And now?" Louis asked.

"Now we leave him and run," Vukovich said.

Maurilio hesitated, ready to rush after the Reverend. "Leave him?"

"We can't just — "

A scream rose, high and loud. It ended quickly, replaced by the sound of something being battered against a wooden bulkhead.

"They're still here!" Maurilio said, beginning to panic. "Just waiting for us, around every corner! Maybe we're the last ones left alive, and — "

"Lost one of your dogs?" a voice called.

Ghost.
Jack watched as the pirate captain emerged from the doorway the Reverend had disappeared through, dragging the Reverend, who was now a man again, behind him. Blood flowed from the human-shaped nose, and he was pushing with his feet, trying to stand. Ghost moved quickly and did not give him the chance.

Jack looked around, but could see no other eyes upon them.
They're all hiding
, he thought, and he could not blame the other passengers.

At the bottom of the ladder Ghost paused and looked up. His gaze rested on Sabine, and she glanced away, backing against Jack and grasping his hand in hers. Ghost shrugged slightly, then dropped the Reverend.

"You want to catch some bullets, let your natures free," he said. "You want to be hunted and blamed for this . . ." He waved a hand behind him, indicating the ship and the river. "Then let yourselves go, you dogs. Close your eyes and smell the blood." He did as he said, making a great show of breathing in, his big chest expanding and a grin splitting his face. "It's good. But it's wrong. Something so wrong, and we're not here for this. Any of us. Am I right, Sabine?"

Sabine looked away from him and did not answer.

"Jack?" Ghost said. "Am I right?"

"You're not wrong," Jack said. "But we're still our own crew, Ghost."

"Aye," Ghost said. "But lucky for you, I'm always less than a step away, eh?" He pulled the Reverend to his feet, clapped him on the shoulder, turned him and pushed him toward the stairs. The Reverend climbed, looking both sheepish and furious.

"Eh?" Ghost asked again. "Always less than a step away, Jack. Sabine. And soon you'll appreciate that. Now I'd say we need off this wreck. I've been — "

"We don't need your advice," Louis said.

"Well, Louis, I'm standing here talking to myself, then. Just musing upon my own options. If you don't want to hear, you'll need to close your ears or go elsewhere."

I do want to hear
, Jack thought.
Because he's as strong as any two of these men, and more intelligent than all of them together
. He glanced and Sabine and she looked almost peaceful, the fear and sadness gone and replaced with something calmer. She was looking to the north. Perhaps she was already off this boat mentally, Jack thought, and travelling toward the revelations Jack had promised her.

"I've been down to the engine room, and it's flooded, the coal fires doused, paddle wheel shattered. And all around those lower decks . . . remains. A few dead people, but mostly just parts."