We sat across from each other at the galley table. Neither of us spoke. She’d already signaled the other ship—with my guidance. I hadn’t even seen the thing, since walking out onto the deck would spell my certain death, and I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted that yet.

But that’s what we were here to discuss.

“I think it really is up to you, you know.” She said finally.

“What do you mean? Don’t you think that’s irresponsible? What happened to me getting you to let down your guard?” I demanded, mostly out of pure shock.

“I think we’re well beyond that now,” she mumbled. She was avoiding my gaze—had been, for a while now.

I folded my hands on the tabletop, and stared at them for a moment. “How do you figure it’s my choice, anyway? Isn’t it obvious what I ought to pick? Of course I should want to live.”

“Is it obvious?” she shot back. As she did, her eyes finally snapped toward me, critical and serious. “I mean, are you certain?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Think of what your life will be if you come with me. If I smuggle you aboard that ship—and I’m afraid I will do that, if you ask me to. I’m afraid I haven’t got the heart to deny you anymore.”

I knew she hadn’t. I knew I’d worn that down far beyond repair. It was a decision I’d have to make on my own, and I was beginning to see her point. It wasn’t going to be an easy one. “If I come with you, I’ll hunger for blood forevermore.” I said slowly.

“The creature you were born from hadn’t the strength to keep from feeding for the journey. You’d have me, so there’s that, and our journey ought to be shorter than that creature’s was going to be. So let’s say you make it to land. Then what?”

“I suppose I could live off animals,” I posed. She nodded at that.

“I suppose you could. I believe you could, but I haven’t the slightest idea how strongly your craving for the blood of men is. Once more, the creature who created you was not satisfied with the blood of beast alone.”

“No, he wasn’t.” I tilted my head back, looking up at the ceiling as I pored over the options. “So you’re saying even though I would be saved, I would be doomed.”

“That was my thought, I am afraid.”

I waited for her to beg me to come with her. I waited for myself to decide that I would rather be with her and brave the hunger than die in the sun alone, but the thought of perhaps hurting her—or anyone else—was unbearable. I remembered how afraid of me she had been, and she’d had the right. Even as I’d held her in my arms she had been intoxicating, and tempting. Never in danger—I would not have given in to my desires if I’d ever thought, even just for a second, that she had been. But what if there was someone in our future who I did not care for as I cared for her? Someone who I could justify hurting?

It scared me that I could see a future where I did that.

The fact that there was even a possibility made it feel inevitable. The very idea was unacceptable, I realized. And I would make her culpable, as well, for daring to trust me.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

I could not even risk it.

I looked back down at her. I nodded sharply.

“Go without me.” I said.

I could see her heart drop. I could see every thought that passed her mind as clear as day, by the way her brows scrunched and her mouth twisted, and eventually tears sprang to her eyes.

“I really hoped you wouldn’t say that,” she said with a forced laugh.

“But you knew I would.”

“I suppose I might have.” She wiped away a tear as it escaped her eye and tried to run down her cheek. Her laughter seemed to be out of frustration at her own reaction. “God, I thought you would. I thought you’d be noble and clever enough to make a decision like that. Brave enough.”

“If I die as a noble, clever, brave man in your eyes, then I’ll die happy,” I told her. That made her cry harder.

“Stop,” She muttered. “Stop talking, you make me want to shoot you again just so I don’t have to look at you.”

“If that’s what you want,” I started, and she shook her head violently.

“I couldn’t.” She said.

“Then I suppose you better get packed. I figure they won’t be long.”

She sat up straighter. Took a deep, shaking breath. I reached across the table and wiped the last few tears from her cheeks—god, I wished she wouldn’t lean into my touch like that. She was killing me now more than a bullet ever could. I had never felt pain like I felt in that moment.

But I had to do it. I had to let her walk away. I had to wait there for hours and hours. She didn’t come back, and I understood why. I didn’t try to find her for the same reason. I couldn’t face her again.

I heard the noise above me when they came for her. I felt relief when I heard it, and relief when it stopped. I waited for hours more. I was used to waiting, at this point.

Eventually, when I knew she was gone, I wandered the ship once more. One last time. I stopped at my old bunk—some of my things were gone. Nick’s fiddle. My journal. One of my shirts. I went to the brig and saw the lock was gone. The green dress was laid out over the blood-stained straw.

Finally, the time had come.

Mercifully the sun was still out when I opened the hatch. Immediately I felt it sear into my skin, not ablaze yet. I almost threw the door shut again—but no, if I waited til tomorrow, she wouldn’t be able to see me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Carmen

I stood on the deck staring back the way I had come. The sailors of the Prudence did not speak to me much. They knew I had been through something awful, I had explained to them that much. I would open up eventually, a little. I still had to come up with exactly what I would say.

I would have to explain how a whole crew and two passengers had died, yet I had lived. I would have to explain why my hair was shorn short. I would have to explain why the ship we’d just departed had spontaneously burst into flame.

The men around me cried out in surprise when it happened. I won’t say I stood stoic and without shock—even though I’d known it would happen, I still let out a cry of my own. It wasn’t of fear, though, it felt like I had been stabbed. Or shot.

I didn’t turn away, though. I felt like I owed him as much.

I had watched him die a dozen times before, but this was the only time I cried for him.