Filed To Story: The Saltwater Curse Book PDF Free
The audacity.
“Do not test me,” I growl, peeling my lips back.
This time, when it moves, I pounce, tearing Cindi’s potential attacker to shreds until it’s littered over the sea floor. It was not a worthy opponent.
Satisfied the threat has been eliminated, I straighten to stare down my nose at the plank. “If you want blood, you will see blood.”
23
Cindi
Surfing would be a lot more relaxing if I didn’t have to keep an eye out for Vasz the entire time. The fucker likes to graze his teeth over my foot.
Whenever I’ve been sitting on my board for too long, he likes to take a nip. It scares the shit out of me. He hasn’t done it in a week, but I don’t trust the little prick one bit.
When I get mad at him, he acts like I’ve cussed out his entire bloodline. He has a pair of killer puppy dog eyes he shoots me with every time I tell him off. It makes me feel like a complete ass after.
It’s unnerving how almost humanlike he can be.
I check the surrounding water again before letting my eyes drift shut, bobbing along to each wave.
Aside from the constant fear I may lose a limb because of Petroleum Jelly’s boredom, I’ve been stuck on this island for five weeks, and I wish I could say I’ve hated every moment of it.
My arm hasn’t felt so goddamn good in years. With the relaxed island lifestyle combined with whatever it is Ordus’
suckers do to me every night while we sleep, I’m reminded the baseline for the amount of pain a person should be in is zero, not five.
Assuming I’m not calling in a sick day—which has been happening far too often lately—I’ve got a routine down pat: wake up in Ordus’ many arms, eat, surf, read, eat, surf again, eat again, maybe workout, maybe tinker away in the workshop to try to rebuild the boat’s engine.
If I’m not doing any of that, I’m making the island my own.
I’ve tried planting some fruits and veggies to see if I can get something to grow, but I’m not an agricultural specialist, and I’ve never had much of a green thumb. I’m trying to build an irrigation system to see if that does anything as well. My efforts are probably pointless because of the whole Curse thing. Still, I like the challenge.
I also have plans to explore some type of renewable energy source. Somehow, Ordus managed to find me a book on it. So far, without a lab to make half the stuff I need, I’ll need to go really old school and summon my inner Faraday.
Even though my arm is better, I haven’t been pushing it too much. I’ve been coming up with ideas of things to make, like a swing, hammock, shelving, and other random stuff, and then Ordus puts it together.
Ordus has been giving me my space—Vasz most definitely has not. He’s the definition of a Velcro dog. Whenever I lounge around the beach, he drops a coconut on me to throw. For hours. He literally doesn’t stop. Ever. If he’s panting to the point that he’s foaming at the mouth, all he needs is a ten-minute nap, and he’s rested and ready to go.
The Coconut Princess has developed this new thing where he refuses to chase fish through the underwater tunnels for his meals. He now requires all fish be prekilled and served to him by me on one of my plates, and he refuses to start unless I praise him first.
Some days, he requires I pretend the raw fish is actually my dinner, so I have to take a fake bite then give it to him.
He might be a little shit, but he’s starting feel like my little shit.
A fin pokes out of the water and starts swimming toward me. I lift my legs out and cross them on my board, watching him closely.
Vasz sticks his head out, a long stick between his teeth. He growls when I reach for it, and I roll my eyes. “Wow, Vasz.” I pat his head, entertaining his need for constant praise. “Look at what you’ve got there. Good job.”
He chuffs, all cocky, as if confirming that it is, in fact, a good stick, then dives beneath the waves, swimming off to God knows where.
It’s on my to-do list to ask Ordus why they’re currently giving each other the cold shoulder, or they’ll argue with each other to the point that Vasz barks, and Ordus says something that sounds a lot like “She’s not yours.”
But he’s not really talking to me much.
Sometimes he huffs and gives me shit for encouraging Vasz’s spoiled ass, but hell, sometimes I just want to dress the shark-dog up like a hula girl or something.
I drop onto my stomach and paddle toward the oncoming wave. A smile pulls at my lips at the flash of red and yellow gliding through the water alongside me. He’s always around somewhere.
The stage-five clinger sleeps with me every night, so I have approximately half an inch of breathing space at any given moment, with Ordus on one side and Vasz on the other. Sleeping while touching someone took some getting used to—I’m not even sure I am used to it yet.
Vasz races me back toward the shore, doing loops around me when I slow to a stop, patiently waiting for the next wave that tickles my fancy.
I crane my neck toward the beach, hoping to see Ordus somewhere, but, as usual, he’s nowhere to be seen.
Other than the forced sleeping arrangement, Ordus gives me more breathing room than I expected. He’s normally lurking around somewhere, but without fail, he’s always there for lunch and dinner, only really speaking to ask whether I’ve eaten enough—which I most definitely have.
Otherwise, our communication consists of me talking at him, ordering him to get this or that, hammer a nail here, set the wood at that angle there—a little higher on the left, nope, too high.
The few times I’ve covertly tried looking for him, I found him at the workshop, either making improvements to the shed or creating something. Every two or three days, he’s gone for long stretches of time, returning with food, water, and random knick-knacks from the mainland and sea life he’s hunted for us.
Space from Ordus was good at the start.
I don’t find it so good anymore.
I miss the mainland. I miss interacting with people. I miss feeling like I’m not the only person in existence.
Vasz is great, but not quite enough.
Tipping my head up, I spot the angry storm clouds in the distance and internally grumble.
Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning. That old sailor’s adage was utter bullshit. It was nice and blue when I woke up today.
If I had known the weather was going to turn, I would have spent the entire day reinforcing and adding more rainwater traps so I don’t have to take really pathetic baths in the blow-up kiddy pool Ordus brought me.
Ordus promised to get me a proper bathtub one day, but my current digs suit me just fine. At the start, it was a little demeaning to use it, but then Ordus brought me a bottle of vodka, and one day, I got loose and limber and started feeling like a mermaid in that thing. Ever since, I’ve been kind of fond of it.
Plus, it’s not like I’m staying here forever.
It’s just temporary, until I feel ready to venture back out into the real world and go back to jumping at my own shadow. Or until Ordus gets bored or tired of “running around” for me and takes me back.
Some unpleasant feeling churns in my gut at the thought.
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