Free Storm of Sharks by Curtis Jobling

and
feeling along its length until he came to the door. Snatching the handle, he yanked it
open, stepping out into the corridor.
    He’d been able to make some sense of
the ship’s layout since they’d come aboard in All Hallows Bay, but that had
been when the
Lucky Shot
was travelling unhindered across the sea. She was now
under attack, and as the vessel pitched once more and Drew landed on the staircase, he
realized he was anything but sure of his surroundings. The sound of combat was loudernow, booming down the steps from the decks above. If he were to enter
the fray in this condition, he’d be cut down in moments, but he couldn’t
hide below while Violca’s crew were butchered.
    Scrambling up the companionway, Drew found
the hatch was closed. He put his shoulder to it, only to find it held fast. Beyond, he
could hear the screams of the crew joined by the wild laughter of others: the
Lion’s fleet? Had the Kraken found them? Drew crouched on the steps, reaching up
to tear the bandage from his face. White light flooded his field of vision. He blinked,
willing his eyes to focus, to make sense of his predicament, but the blinding glow
remained. Drew’s eyes were lost to him, but there were other senses he could call
upon. He let out a snarl, his mind racing back to the earliest memories of the beast.
Running wild through the Dyrewood, the sounds and smells of the forest all around him,
his senses on fire. The snarl became a growl, then a roar.
    Whitley ran along the deck through the
pitch-dark night, hurdling tumbling barrels and ducking swinging rigging, three pirates
hot on her heels. Each wore the Red in his own particular style, a nod of homage to
Lucas and the closest any would get to a uniform. One wore a scarlet bandanna around his
head, another a neckerchief and the last a red jacket squeezed over his fat belly. As
she ran, she looked across at the giant black ship that dwarfed the
Lucky Shot
,
ropes and grapples securing them together along her port side. Twice the length of
Captain Violca’s ship, with an additional towering deck, it was a brute beside a
child. The crew of the smuggling shipwere putting up a valiant fight,
but the battle would be over soon enough. If Drew weren’t incapacitated, perhaps
they might have had hope. As things stood, their last chance of victory lay in the hands
of the girl from Brackenholme.
    With each desperate stride, as the trio of
cut-throats closed in, Whitley let the bear into her heart. She leapt towards the
starboard rail, catching hold of a trailing rope from the rigging as she took to the
air, her nightdress torn free by a pelt of rippling fur. The hemp went taut as it held
her weight and Whitley swung out and round in a great arc. As she flew back towards the
ship the three men skidded to a halt and the Bearlady launched herself into their midst.
Whitley’s feet slammed into the chest of one, his ribs crunching as the air was
smashed out of his lungs. Her trailing claws raked another, sending him screaming
towards the rail.
    The last was the fat pirate in the red
jacket. As his companions took the brunt of Whitley’s attacks he found an opening
when her back was turned. His cutlass tore down, slicing into her back. Whitley twisted
and lunged at the man, catching him in the belly with her jaws. The pirate screamed,
striking her face repeatedly with his weapon’s basket handle. Each blow
reverberated through her skull, compounding the agony of the wound to her back, but she
didn’t relinquish her grip. The weapon might not have been silver, but the injury
was critical. If she continued to fight, she’d lose more blood; if she rested, her
therianthropic powers could take over and begin the magical healing process. Instead she
held on with weakening jaws.
    A bestial roar shook the ship, accompanied
by the sound of splintering timber. The pirate struck Whitley’s nose oncemore, making the Werebear finally release her grip. She fell back onto
the deck, a wave of