Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
And un-useful.
Literally, life ending.
Swimming onward, I continue guiding my light over areas avoiding the translucent creatures in my path and respectfully fucking off when spotting anything that feels remotely unfriendly, an action that veers me a bit off the planned course, but not enough to consider myself lost.
No longer tracking the exact pre-planned lines allows me to recalibrate my focus on what I already know.
Like which fish live where.
Enjoy the habitat of displaced items such as sunken wood.
Sunken wood perhaps from a ship.
An old ship.
Accelerating my speed is pushed by my increasing curiosity of the broken chunks some of my fin bearing underwater associates have made themselves fans of.
One piece turns to a few.
A few shifts to bigger ones, only for the trail to abruptly go cold.
At least, I initially think it does.
Spotting the faintest piece of wood sticking out of the sand pushes me to gently shoo away the fish to read a barely legible piece of a title.
-nité.
As in… Éternité?
As in… Écume de mer Éternité?!
Quickly tipping the tiny piece over, I aggressively dig and dig and dig, hope racing around my ribs.
My frantically beating heart.
All I need is a piece.
One.
Teeny.
Tiny.
Piece.
Something from the wreckage to prove when we know where it is, where to keep searching.
Yeah, I have this hunk of wood, but that’s not enough.
I know that won’t be sufficient.
Burrowing more frenziedly and feverishly is a high risk – due to increasing the chance of suffocating from using too much oxygen at the wrong time – however the possible reward is worth it.
Keeping Zero alive is worth it.
Fuckme…keeping us all alive and together is worth the potential broken ribs from the CPR I’m probably gonna need.
An unanticipated resistance unexpectedly reveals itself prompting me to move around more sand.
Search the immediate area around it.
Find and locate the perimeters of the small unseen object until I can be more certain about removing it from its gritty home.
One tug is thankfully all I need to completely unveil the small, round, gold signet ring I’ve stumbled upon, and one closer look reveals to me the royal Hoalkey emblem that seals our fate like the signet itself would a decree.
I fucking found it.
I fucking found the shipwreck.
Chapter 20
Zero
I’m great with computers.
Code.
Fashion.
Animals.
Orange crackers.
Even being someone’s favorite dirty little, never talk about, perfect for blackmail secret.
The shit I’m not great with?
Patience.
I would be a terrible big cat unless I was in the Chester camp.
Well, fuck.
Now, I want a Cheeto.
“Relax,” Garcia emotionlessly insists between sips of tequila, eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle he’s been occupying himself with. “Ella está bien.”
“You don’t know that,” escapes alongside me spinning on my heels to pace in the other direction. “You don’t know that she’s fine.”
“I do.”
“You can’t know that she’s fine.”
“She is.”
“You’re not clairvoyant.”
“Telepathic.”
“You’re not that either!”
“No,” his eyes finally shift up to mine, “but I am aware of Salay’s skills.”
Pausing my movements absentmindedly occurs.
“I was aware of them when we hired her.”
Irritation pushes me to fold my arms defensively across my chest.
“That’s why we hired her. That’s why I went looking through my past to find her.”
My lips pull to one side in discomfort.
“I wouldn’t have gone to those lengths, took that high of a fucking gamble risking my relationship with her father – the police chief of Spike Village – if she were a liability, I had to be concerned about.” Sternness steeps into his stare. “If I didn’t think she were capable of doing what we’ve asked, I wouldn’t have wasted her time or yours.”
At that, my shoulders threaten to soften.
“Now,” Garcia indulges in another small sip, “be a good boy,” his pinky points at my feet, “and deja de hacer un agujero en el suelo de tanto caminar.” An amused, arrogant smirk slides onto his face. “Sí?”
I roll my eyes, turn my body, and redirect my focus back out into the water.
I’m not “wearing a hole into the floor”.
I’m just not not doing that.
I can’t be his level of calm in this situation.
Not when this is our last chance.
Not when their lives – as much as my own – are on the line.
One tiny piece of treasure is literally the difference between life or death.
Treason or freedom.
And that spec of shiny hope she’s searching for has to be found on a very tight schedule because some old royal dude can croak at any second, but more importantly because oxygen tanks at the level she’s diving only last so long.
And I’m pretty sure she’s at that point, if not past it.
Rather than say another word to the unworried man behind me, I lean slightly forward to get a better view of the water she should be arriving in and scan it as if I suddenly have x-ray vision.
“If I don’t have superpowers, neither do you,” teases the tequila connoisseur from behind me.
Mirth fills my expression pushing my face to angle itself over my shoulder to respond when all of a sudden a loud, wet, thud appears on the opposite side of the ship.