“Damn.” Rhona’s jaw fixed in place as she swiveled to search the ocean.
Each and every time the Ghost had encountered a Bullet ship, they’d taken a single course of action: run. While Donnally was too young to remember any of their more narrow escapes, he’d been raised to believe that running was the only way to ensure they survived.
Right now, running was the furthest thing from his mind.
All he could think about was his sister. Had she fired those shots? Or had those shots been fired at her?
Would he ever see her again?
“Rhona?” Donnally’s father asked, coming to stand at her side. “Captain, your orders?”
Rhona’s eyes fell on Donnally. Her gaze was as powerful as the sun, and he felt warmed and emboldened at the same time. He feared for his sister almost more than he could stand, but he smiled for his mother, to show her he was afraid and also brave.
Rhona nodded and swallowed hard. “I’m afraid we have no choice,” she said. “Weigh the anchor and grab your guns. We’re going to fight.”
In the wake of those words, the ship seemed to transform. Commands were shouted in all directions, the anchor clanked in its channel, even the sea seemed to slap at the hull with more vigor than just a moment ago. Rhona swept forward, gathering her son into her arms and holding him tightly. She kissed his head and released him, saying, “Do as your father says. I love you, my brave boy.”
“I love you, too,” Donnally said, and then she was gone, climbing toward the bridge and disappearing inside it.
“Let’s move.” Donnally’s father caught his hand and pulled him toward the quarterdeck, where the rest of the children were being herded by a few tight-mouthed adults. Agnes was there, helping each of them over the side railing and into the remaining bow boat on the water below.
“I don’t want to go,” Donnally protested, fear spiking through him. “I want to stay with you.”
But Donnally’s father pulled him along, stopping only when they reached the railing. “You must go. We’ll come back for you, but for now, you need to get as far from this ship as you can. Head for the Gem. Find your sister.”
In the distance, a deathly crooning pushed through the air, growing closer and louder. The crew of the Ghost had lost all pretense of quiet now. They’d become a different kind of machine right before Donnally’s eyes, one that sounded like bullets snapping into chambers.
“Tagg!” called Agnes. “We’re out of time.”
Suddenly, Donnally was pressed against his father’s chest. “Find your sister,” he repeated, squeezing the boy more tightly than ever before. “Find your sister and live.”
Before he knew it, Donnally was over the side of the ship and tucked into the boat waiting below. There were eight children already aboard. Astra, Derry, Lucero, and Jam sat silently, their eyes pinned to the hull of the Ghost, while the others searched the darkness for the approaching ship. Ares and Lucero, oldest and strongest of the small group, took up oars, and soon their small boat was cutting a shallow path through the water, heading for the same small island as Caledonia and Pisces.
For a few precious moments, there was nothing but that steady wail of the ghost funnel and Astra’s sniffles. Time felt like a vise around their little vessel. Donnally kept his eyes on the dark outline of the island just ahead, wishing they could stay locked in this moment indefinitely. Then, a flare of light. The terrible cry turned into a deafening roar.
Donnally couldn’t help himself. He turned to watch as the Bullet ship closed in on the Ghost.
Red dripped down the nose of the Bullet ship like a bloody gash. Men swung in harnesses, armed with magnetic bombs and roaring with fury. Spikes studded the ship’s perimeter like thorns, bodies in many stages of decay impaled on each one.
Every muscle in Donnally’s body clenched. The little boat was moving faster now, assisted by the wake of the Bullet ship. Behind him, Donnally could hear Ares calling a rhythm to Lucero, keeping their oars synchronized.
In the next minute, the Ghost was in flames, and the children knew speed would not save them.
There was a small but bright part of Donnally’s mind that was as calm and distant as a star. It was the part of him that marveled at how quickly the Bullet ship subdued the Ghost. The seeming chaos of their fury was only an illusion. In reality, they were an expertly conducted choir, striking the deadliest of notes at precisely the right moment. After their magnetic bombs weakened the Ghost and forced half the crew belowdecks, the attacking Bullets easily bested those who remained topside. Donnally watched the battle unfurl with sense and strategy, and slowly, his body began to still.
“Stroke!” cried Ares.
But Lucero’s oar slowed. One thing Bullets knew how to do was find running children, and a bow boat was already in the water, racing toward them.
“Stroke!” Ares cried again, panic making his voice thin. The approaching Bullets pulled alongside, and still Ares kept rowing. He didn’t stop until the Bullets circled them twice, then fired a single shot into the nose of the small boat.
Ares’s fingers tightened around his oar as though he were considering whether or not to fight. His rebellious thoughts were clear: if they were going to die, they might as well take a Bullet or two down with them.
“Two choices, recruit.” The Bullet who spoke had fresh blood smeared across his cheek.
Choices. Live or die.
“Ares,” Lucero whispered from the rear of the boat. In a few short moments, they’d become their own small crew, and every child on this boat now turned to Ares to lead them. Donnally put a hand on Ares’s back, and the older boy’s grip loosened. He shook his head and lowered the oar.
The Bullet smiled. “Good choice.”
The Bullets lashed the children’s boat to theirs and sped across the water toward the ship with the red stripe across its nose. The Ghost slumped awkwardly in the water, smoke curling away from the deck, a hole ripped into one side. The closer they got, the more Donnally’s mind clung to that distant star. He smelled the smoke, heard the screams, and when the gentle thump of a body against the side of the boat made the other children cry, he thought only that whoever it was would probably prefer their watery grave to what awaited the rest of them.
His gaze drifted toward the steel pikes studded around the perimeter of the Bullet ship. One by one, they were plucked from their brackets, like the petals of a flower, and placed on the deck where he could not see. He held his eyes wide as the stakes were lifted once more, this time with the skewered forms of people he loved put on display for them and for any others who might dare evade the Father’s arm.
His heart fluttered in his chest, signaling a great swell of something hard and unfamiliar pushing up from the bottom of his lungs. But in his mind, that star cast a cool, soothing light, and he remained still.