to you. Let me go.”
The Reject laughs. “The price on your head stands. There’re a few Guardians who want a piece of you. You must have pissed off a lot of people.”
Mistress, my mother. She will not have forgiven me for sabotaging the procedure and endangering Larissa’s life. And Nicolas’s father. He will want to teach me a lesson for kidnapping his son, or so he believes.
“What’s your name?” I ask. If this Reject is going to sell me for credits, his name will be the last curse on my lips.
He shrugs. “I’ve been called lots of things by my masters. A name means scat to me.”
I smile through my teeth as I bunch my fists. “I think I’ll call you Gollum. It’s a favourite of mine.” Gollum, the hideous creature from a book Reader once lent me; despised and cursed for stealing a precious ring. “You look like a Gollum. A handsome, sweet-tempered boy with goodness in his heart.” My words drip with honey. “If you release me, Gollum, I’ll show you where we keep the food. I can cook you porridge. And maybe you’d fancy some banana?”
And when your back is turned, a knife between your shoulder blades.
The Reject nods. “Gollum’s a strong name, better than most. And maybe I will let you cook and serve me before I hand you over to the Locusts. But if you burn my food, Cow-Eyes, I’ll beat you.” He grins. “I think I’ll beat you anyway.”
The noise of banging comes from below deck. “Juliet, please answer me. Tell me that you are alive. The storm is coming. We are not safe. We need to raise the anchor and set sail before it is too late.”
“Raise anchor? I can do that. Then I’ll take you home. There’s a cell in Savage City with your name on it.” Gollum crosses the deck and begins to winch up the heavy chain. He has no meat on his bones, but as he secures the anchor on deck, I see that his arms and back are strong. “Time to head on back to shore.”
Suddenly a rogue wave smashes against the hull of the seacraft. Gollum falls and scrambles to his knees, but the sloop broaches and water sweeps him along the deck. The mast groans against the rising wind.
Laughing like a madman, Gollum crawls down the length of the deck. He clings to the railing as a giant wave breaks over the stern, drenching him in sea water. His satchel is whipped down the deck towards me. I stretch out my foot and trap it. I know I’ve found the knife when it stabs my hand. I pull it out and attack the rope around my waist and my ankles. The wind screams in the rigging and I cling to the mast.
As Gollum reaches me, another wave hits the seacraft, throwing it over on its beam ends. My hands slip; the wind pulls me towards the railing. Before I can be swept away, Gollum grabs me, pushing me against the mast, and wraps his arms around me.
2
THE PIRATE
I stumble out of the cabin onto the deck. Pain slices through my shoulder; the side of my head is caked with blood. I shade my eyes against the sun. There is no sign of land, only an endless stretch of black sea. Hot wind swirls across the deck.
Someone moans behind me. Gollum is curled in a ball around the mast. I kick him in the gut, grab his face and push it down. “Don’t breathe. Don’t move. One sound and I’ll make your face uglier than it is already.”
Tears bite my eyes as the bones grate above my breast. I ignore the pain and tie his hands and feet, and loop the rope around his neck. I wrench up his head and fasten the rope tight to the mast. It’s his turn to be trussed up like a slab of meat.
“Looks like you got hurt, Cow-Eyes. And from the way you’re huffing and puffing, it sounds like maybe you broke something.” Gollum swallows, and moistens his lips. “I need water. Get me some. I’m asking nicely now. Pretty please.”
I raise my arm and the movement makes me gasp. I press the tips of my fingers across my shoulder blade. It is tender.
Scanning the deck, I see that our water provisions are gone, probably swept overboard. Containers are upturned, rope and sheeting turfed out of their boxes.
Banging and muffled cries come from below.
I slam back the bolt on the door to Reader’s berth. He’s lying tied up on the floor with a jumble of books and clothing, staring blindly at the ceiling. I kneel and trace my fingers over the blue-and-purple bruises on his cheek. I think of Gollum’s stinking fists beating this old face. I think of all the things I am going to do to the Reject when I get above deck. When I am done with him, he won’t smirk at me with that broken-toothed mouth again.
Reader jerks. “Juliet, is that you?”
“I see you put up a good fight, old man. Lie still and let me untie you.”
“You sound breathless, Juliet. Are you hurt? Did that boy harm you?” Reader shakes his hands free of the rope and flexes his fingers, rubs his feet. He sits hunched over, his head in his hands.
“Stop fussing. The storm came just as you said it would. I thought it would crush our seacraft or we’d capsize. It’s stopped now, but I think it will be back.”
Reader lifts his head. “The boy took me by surprise. I tried to warn you but he was too strong. I could not bear to think what he was doing to you. I lay here like a foolish parcel unable to do anything. Did he hurt you? Did he?” Tears leak from Reader’s eyes and he sobs.
“I’ve dealt with the boy. He won’t mess with us again. Come, have some water. You’ve drained most of it from your body with all that wailing.”
We climb up on deck. The sea stretches forever. Black glass, cracking. The giant at the top of Jack’s beanstalk is smashing the surface with a hammer, creating sharp splinters and jagged peaks. Waves pummel the hull and the contents of my stomach rise in my throat. I lean against the railing and gag. Water and bile pours out of my mouth.
Reader turns at the sound of my retching. “Juliet, you are ill? Is it the sun sickness?”
I know those symptoms: a hot head, dry mouth, a bleeding rash on the skin. I touch my forehead. Not sun sickness: it’s the choppy sea playing pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake with my stomach.
Cries come from the mast: “I hear you, old man. I hear you.” Gollum’s voice is hoarse. “You’re going to have to untie me. The girl’s hurt. She’s useless. The storm has blown us far from home and you can’t sail this sloop without me.”
“That boy. He is still on board?” Reader moans. “And he says you are hurt. This is bad news, Juliet. I am old and there is little strength in these feeble bones of mine.”
It’s true that Reader and I are as much use as a pair of gloves to a fingerless Reject. I grip the rope around Gollum’s throat. “I could toss you overboard. It’s something I’d enjoy more than anything. But I’ve hurt my shoulder and we can’t sail without your help.”
Gollum arches an eyebrow at me. “Why should I? What’s in it for me?”
Reader groans. “Foolish boy. You must help us, otherwise we will bob around this terrible sea until our water and food runs out. That is if the next storm does not take us to a watery grave. Do you understand me? And when we reach the shores of Mangeria, you will go on your way and leave us in peace.”
Gollum closes his eyes and is silent for a few moments. “Okay. It’s not like we’ve got a choice. So let’s all play nicely until we get home. No tricks – I’ll be watching. Now get these bloody ropes off me.”
“Let the rascal go, Juliet. Then he must bind your shoulder before we set sail.”
The Reject will be watching me, but my eyes are sharper. I untie the knots around Gollum’s hands and feet, and loosen his neck from the noose.
He shakes himself free. “Water, where’s it?”
I point at the hatch and a few minutes later he returns, wiping his mouth.
“You