Chapter 26.
The
Flames
Among
Water;
Act I,
Part III

ME: Geez, I SWEAR I meant to get this up sooner but I swear I am just not cut out for writing proper romance fluff. Not with my FEELS constantly getting in the way and clouding my senses so much I can barely concentrate. No matter the couple, no matter the story, once love starts getting into my head, I lose all track of time and just daydream, UGH! I am SUCH a GIRL!

Anyways, after this chapter, the story will really be starting to take off, sort to speak. And this month, I am going to do everything possible to stick to 5-6 update schedule just as before; even go through with all-nighters if I must!

I am committed to this story and I shall NOT fail! . . . At least until my urgency is so great that I must start updating my other stories . . .

Anyways, warning mushy fluff dead ahead so please enjoy!

"Whoooh Ooooh . . . Who's that guy?

Whoooh Ooooh . . . Who's that guy?

He came out of the darkness in the middle of the night,
Blazing like a mother with a fist of dynamite . . .

He ain't foolin' no one on that pile of chrome and steel,
Burnin' up the pavement like he was some kind of wheel . . .

He's lookin' for a rumble and some heads are gonna bust,
He's gonna take a tumble with one solitary thrust!

The only thing you guys are gonna do is eat his dust!

Who's that guy?

Where did he come from?

Who's that guy?

Please tell me someone . . .

I never knew anyone could be so cool . . .

Whoa oh oh!

Who's that guy?

He's just amazin'!

From headlight to tailpipe, his burners are blazin'.

Looks to me like he could really fly!

Won't somebody tell me, who's that guy?

Who's that guy?

Whoooh Ooooh . . . Who's that guy?

Whoooh Ooooh . . . Who's that guy?"

"Who's That Guy" – Grease 2

~X~

When Tuff had woken up, he had been surprised to see big, bright orange eyes baring into his falling from anxious worry into relieved annoyance in one fell swoop as small, chilled hands wrestled his arms out from the now slack constricts of the pilot's seat. Were it not for the throb of his now aching neck, he would've gone bright red from the closeness.

What he hadn't been surprised about was the bombardment of questions that begin racing out of their owner's mouth before he could even get one word in.

Questions like what was the matter with him? Was he trying to give her and his brother a heart attack? Do you have any idea how worried we were when you didn't answer back? Are you all right? Did you hit your head? You don't have a concussion, do you?

"Cassie, I'm okay, really. It's just a bump to the head, that's all."

Cassie stopped in mid-step as where she and Tuff had been walking down the hall and propped her hands on her hips. "Oh, really? Okay enough to not walk straight into a corner like you did a few minutes ago?"

Tuff winced. "I'm just a little dizzy from the submarine going crazy."

"Mm-Hm." Cassie hummed. "Dizzy enough to need my help going down the staircase?"

". . . . Yes, I was that dizzy."

"Right." Cassie frowned. "Well, in either case, I'd feel better if you would let me get some ice for your head."

Tuff sighed. He couldn't believe how much Cassie was fussing over him. He had only been awake in barely less than six minutes yet Cassie was treating him just as badly as his mother did when had scraped his knee when he was thirteen. And Maker knows how embarrassing that was.

Against his reassurances, the Small Blonde had been leading the Red-haired Sharkman down to the medical bay with stubborn insistence and an equally strong hand on his arm. Who knew someone so little could be as hard to win over as a Were-Walrus after a full lunch? Not that he'd ever say outloud, of course, lest he wanted a sudden shock from her ripple-patterned tail that gave a light glow in the soft dark.

He couldn't count on Riley to help bail him out because just after Cassie helped him out of the Helm, he immediately went to work on sealing the glass of the window screen, using vast amounts of sealing tape and subtle squirts of Sub Seal. Tuff guessed with the amount of damage the submarine took from its earlier malfunctions, Riley would be up all night bumping out dents, re-adjusting the pipes and who knew what else.

It made his head hurt just thinking about the amount of damage they took. Again, not that he would admit it outloud. Especially not to her. "Cassie, I'll be fine, I promise. It's nothing a little sleep won't cure." Tuff said. "I'm more worried about the bump that you got on your head."

Cassie tilted her head at him with a hum, one ear up and the other down. "Hmm?"

Tuff smiled despite the want to scold. "Don't give me that, Cassie. You know what I mean." He tapped two fingers to his forehead. "You cut your head on something, right? You were bleeding an awful lot from what I could pick up earlier from the Speaking Tube."

Cassie mimicked him, two fingers grazing the now scabbing wound under her bangs. It was still tender at the touch but it was bearable. "It's alright, it doesn't sting as much as it did before now that the bleeding stopped."

"And your concussion?" Tuff said with a raised eyebrow.

"It's slow going but it'll heal quickly. Rapid healing abilities, remember?" Cassie reminded him.

"As I recall, you didn't heal as fast back on Pound Island." Tuff pointed out.

Cassie crossed her arms with a small huff. "I was infected by a mad were-dog's magicked bite, that was not my fault. But no dodging the subject, I'll be fine. I'm certainly not letting a little cut slow me down. And I certainly don't want a concussion to slow you down either."

"It's not a concussion, it's just a simple headache that needs a little aspirin and some sle–" Tuff's voice derailed softly when Cassie's hand reached up and pressed at his neck. "– Ah."

Cassie didn't notice his quiet exclamation; she was too busy looking at the area of his head surrounding the bump. She kept her touch light as her fingers skimmed over his skin, being careful to not aggravate anything other wounds that might be. "There's no harm in putting some ice on it, just in case. I'd really wish you wouldn't be so stubborn."

Tuff's made no comprehension about what she said. He didn't even notice the muscles in his shoulders tensing sharply or the heavy bloom of heat boiling in his cheeks. All that he could even get through to his mind was the feeling of a soft, gentle hand brushing just below his hairline.

The sensitive skin tingled with electricity at her touch as a ball of nerves would itself tight in his stomach. It didn't help that when her thumb ghosted over the hinge of his jaw, his heart suddenly started to play hopscotch in his chest, making it hard to breathe. An odd feeling of pleasure rode through his nerves like a shock, something that would've surely made him groan outright if not for the tight lid of self-control he had.

Unfortunately that couldn't stop him from launching into a deep, hot puddle of confusion. What was up with him all of sudden? Why was Cassie's simple nursing getting something like . . . Like . . . Like This out of him? He couldn't make heads or tails out of this alien feeling bloating in his brain like a croaking frog.

Or maybe he could if only the shy human parts of him – And some slightly attracted Sharky parts – Would just shut up for two minutes so he could concentrate – Ohgeez, her thumb just brushed my ear . . . !

Cassie, of course, was oblivious to the hormone-originated symphony of muddled incoherence revolving inside of the Sharkman's head. All her attention remained on the said bump that made its home on the cuff of his lower head. Both ears lowered in concentration, she sifted her fingers into his messy locks of wild red and felt around the docile, throbbing swell. "Hmm . . . Well, it doesn't look too bad now. I don't see anything bleeding. You might have cracked your skull a little, though, so you shouldn't be doing anything strenuous for a while."

Tuff, still dazed and confused, simply mumbled an unintelligent yet high-pitched "Uh-Huh."

Cassie noticed his timid response with a twitch of her ear. She silently gasped at the red clouding his cheeks. "Tuff, is something else bothering you? You're not getting sick, are you?" Her fingers then moved from his neck and pressed against his forehead to test his temperature.

Just like that, as swiftly as it came, the spell that had paralyzed Tuff was broken. Leaving a racing mind and even more bewilderment for the Quillotian Half-Blood.

Tuff looked down and grew even more flummoxed. Cassie had leaned in close enough for their chests to touch in her haste to reach his forehead due to their stark height differences. If given the chance, he could've easily tucked her head under his chin comfortably from this angle. Sea salt and flowers permeated the air around her like a morning fog . . .

He snapped out of that so hard and fast that it almost made his brain snap. Seriously, the HECK?!

Tuff's face turned even hotter at the said mental image now forming in his head and nearly shook his head in a fluster. He took a polite, yet quick, step back and tried to appear composed. Tried being the operative word. "N-no! Nonononono, I no sick – Ach, I mean, I'm not sick! I feel fine! Great! Fit as a fiddle! Couldn't be better! Yessiree, no problems here whatsoever!" Oh, god, someone just kill me now . . .

Cassie looked at him. During his ruffled fluster, Tuff grew peculiarly animated, grinning poorly and swinging an arm in half-hearted cheer. The blush only added to his strange behavior, making Cassie cock her head at him curiously. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought?

Tuff took one look at that expression and felt his heart quicken. Uh, oh. He knew that look; the one look that was imminent to a barge load of questions. Don't just STAND there! DO something, you idiot!

Cassie opened her mouth. "Tuff, we really should probably –"

"Callitanight?ITOTALLYagree!It'sbeenalongnightand,WOW,amIbeat!CanyoucheckonRileybeforebed?I'dsureappreciateit. I'ddoitbutI'mjustgonnagoandmaybesoakmyheadandreadforabit,thanksalotCassie,NIGHT!"

The speed that he shot away down the hall at – and spoke to her at – would've put the expression "Gone in a blink of an eye" to shame. Tuff's voice was shrill enough to where he couldn't even recognize it. He couldn't recall how fast he ran throughout the corridors of the submarine and how far away from Cassie he went. He didn't even know what door he shot through before he slammed it closed so hard it should've unhinged.

The room was empty and he was alone. His heart was pounding like a rabbit's when running for his life. His chest was heaving and his breaths were coming out in pants. He couldn't think. He couldn't think. It was all he could do when he propped himself up by his hands, leaning heavily on the metal door.

He was quiet for one minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Four minutes. Finally, he muttered to himself with cherry-tinged cheeks, ". . . . Oh, cripes."

~X~

Silence hung over her as Cassie stood alone in the hallway, the nervous and warm-faced Half-Shark once standing next to her a single second ago now a brief shadow fading in the metal of the walls. Belated, she folded her arms with a frown. ". . . Huh."

Well, that was a little stranger than usual.

How was it possibly for one man to act so strange because of a blow to the head? Vince certainly never acted like that as much. True, he always tried to write it off as nothing and go about his way but that was common with Were-Sharks; the only species with hard enough heads to go through blood-thirsty battalions with missing limbs and missing organs and still keep going with strength and stamina to spare.

But Tuff and Riley weren't Full-Blood Sharks, they were Half-Bloods. Cassie's best educated guess was that it could be that maybe the Human blood and Shark blood mixing together in the twins had an adverse effect on their moods. And their speech patterns. And quite possibly their mobility. Then again, she wasn't a biologist or anything like that so her opinion was probably as amateurish as it could get.

She shook her head with a sigh. Okay enough of that, what could she do now? Going after Tuff wasn't an option, with the odd, agitated state he was in. She let out a puff of air through her lips. Hopefully, he would take her advice about his bump after he took some time to come to his senses. And maybe some flu medicine to cover that odd fever he seemed to be developing . . .

She could go back to bed, but her nerves were still a little shot from the mayhem of their submarine's little re-enacting of a Ping-Pong game and the aching in her arm and head weren't planning on going anywhere just yet. Plus, she wasn't sure she would going to sleep anyway, not with both the Luck Brothers up and about doing what they can to keep the Penguin afloat. Cassie was certain that all she was going to do was stay up and worry about them until –

Cold liquid met with the heel of her foot, halting her thoughts.

Cassie looked down. A glistening sheen traced a wet, fresh shadow on the floor from the natural preserve of bioelectric light attached to her body. Her mind instantly assumed the worst. Oh no. There was water in the submarine. Was the hull cracked too? Were they starting to sink?

She did a quick scan of the walls. Hmm. No suspicious cracks set in the metal. Nothing sounding like water pressuring down on them. She looked up at the ceiling. Uh-uh. Nothing dripping from the ocean into here so far. No odd sightings of fins or gills wriggling around in the cables. Yep, everything looked still looked to be in one piece.

She kneeled down to the spot, her tail rising up and over her head like a lit canopy. Where could this have come from? If it wasn't a leak then what . . . ?

A chill ran through her body. Her fingers reached out. The tips traced over the cold spot slowly, the dips and slopes of its outline piecing together perfectly. The familiarity of it both warmed her and unnerved her in close sync. After all, Vince always made the same footprints after a rainy day when he forgot to wipe his feet and tracked mud everywhere he went.

Only his weren't as three times the size of her hand. Also, when she spanned her fingers out, they weren't two and half inches more in width.

Cassie abruptly felt faint.

A Were-Shark had been in the Penguin.

And these footprints were still fresh. So, whoever it was, it was still here and it had big feet.

Which meant big claws.

Which meant big teeth.

Which meant big trouble.

Cassie pressed her fist to her mouth, not to cover the urge to scream but rather just to keep her grounded as her thoughts raced in her head.

Should she go get Tuff and Riley? No, they both had enough problems as it was.

How did a Shark even get in? Maybe one of the airlock chambers crashed open from when the submarine was bashing around the sea floor so much, giving it an easy way in.

Why would a Shark even be in here? Neither one of them was hurt enough to attract one. Unless that scab on her head opened up again. No, she would've noticed all the blood if it did.

Cassie groaned. Ugh, she was just giving herself more questions than answers. In other words, getting herself nowhere with this footprint. At least, until she spotted another spot on the floor matching the first. Then another. Then another. Then another. A whole trail of wet footprints leading from the hall connecting to the loading ports and airlock chambers and to the ladder leading to the Bottom Decks on the other end of the hall.

Cassie felt worry gnaw at her. If this Shark was still here, and if it was hungry, which was often if not always the case, it need only follow its nose to the emergency food reserves that they kept in the cargo hold. If not dealt with it, the brute could probably clean them out in five, six minutes tops.

If there was one thing that Cassie knew for certain about Sharkmen, Half-Bloods, or not, it was that they were big eaters; she had seen Vince scarf down a fully-grown Peacock in one sitting once when she was twelve. She also remembered the massive stomachache he got afterwards. She repressed the need to shudder.

She stood up. She had to deal with this, but how? Just stroll up to a possibly dangerous Were-Beast by herself with no sweet but annoyingly protective Sharkman with lethal swords to watch her back?

No, no, no, that would be foolish . . . . . . . At least, not unless she had some sort of protection herself.

She looked around. Back on Pound Island, Tuff and Riley had given her the Grand tour of the Penguin as they had helped with re-supplying it with food and other necessities. Riley had been loose about it and flourished everything within the Submarine's interior with odd, far-fetched details here and there, – Mostly pertaining to some of what were, according to him, the best spots for a "little rendezvous". The emphasizing he gave her with wiggling eyebrows and a flirty wink had only been recompensed by an oddly Cherry-red Tuff's solid whack to his head. – While Tuff had been straight-forward and professional, skillfully describing all important areas in detail and answering her questions when she was curious about something here and there.

Cassie's feet began carrying her down the hall. She remembered asking about what they had for emergencies. Riley had answered that for her by taking her hand, quite literally slipping them both out from Tuff's peripheral vision and leading her by a pull of her hand. The steps they took re-emerged themselves in Cassie's mind, down the hall to the right past the ladder . . . A turn left once you reach the corner . . . Another left and . . . Ah-hah!

At first glance, it was nothing but a patch of wall. But Riley had proved her wrong with a crouch to the floor and three small but swift knocks. With a small smile, she mimicked him. The wall echoed her petite knocks before opening a panel with a click. She pushed it down, revealing a cabinet filled with first-aid kits, reusable oil lanterns, spare rope and, just as she remembered, an up-to-date, Quillotian-furnished, industrial strength fire extinguisher.

She grabbed it and weighed it in her hands. Cassie hummed in approval. Yes, this would do nicely. If aimed at just the right angle, it could definitely give some good cranial damage. Or shatter a mega-sized shin and give her some time to get away if need be. Or give someone a case of temporary blindness if she decided to just use the nozzle.

Somewhat excited at the notion in her head, Cassie gripped at the pressurized lid in resolve. 'Okay, Miss Blue. You took a licking and kept on ticking. You may be the only line of defense the guys have right now. You're going to be going up against a possibly hungry Were-Shark on your own. And you're armed with the best defense a girl can get on short notice.' She gave herself one short affirmative nod. 'Let's do this!'

She turned on her heel and started on her way to the ladder –

". . . I'm here. Sorry, I had to take a tiny detour . . ."

Her right ear flew up in attention. What was that? A voice?

". . . Came out of nowhere. I barely managed to grab onto the hull in time . . ."

Cassie turned her head in the direction of the voice. It sounded like a man's. No, it wasn't Riley or Tuff. Even from a distance she could tell the voice was deeper, older. Where was it coming from?

She kept both ears up and erect, her feet growing tentative with each step the further and further she went. Cassie, in spite of herself, felt cold, raw nervousness crawl through her body. Her tail, seemingly reading her the paranoid flux of emotions pulsing within her began to dim its fogged stripes, drawing what of the metallic world she could see into shrouded darkness. She trusted her hearing to guide her as her absent hands rung the lid of the extinguisher. The occasional cool that pooled the bottoms of her feet kept her from going astray. Her arm ached dully.

". . . Had to do a little handiwork before I got of there. No, thankfully there was no need for that this time. Just a little patch job, that's all." He had paused between sentences, like someone else was spoken after him. Was there someone else? No, she would've heard another voice.

A glimpse of light. Cassie tentatively stepped closer towards it. Moonlight from the night sky above peeked in from the open hatch, a chilling breeze drifting in and leaving goosebumps on her skin. She bit her lower lip. She needn't guessed on who or what could've opened it.

Her suspicions were confirmed as something shifted from further up. Something very, very big.

". . . Well, I couldn't just leave them like that! When I see something broken, I have to fix it, you know that! . . . I certainly do not. And I don't quite care much for your tone."

Cassie slowly gripped the cold metal bar of the ladder tightly. Hoping beyond hope that she did not drop the extinguisher in her one free, and now clammy, hand, she began silently scaling up. It was a little bit of a challenge climbing a ladder one-handed, but it definitely would not be the craziest thing she's ever done.

At least, not in the last few weeks.

". . . Yes, yes, I realize we're on a deadline. . . . Yes, I know you're drenched like a wet blanket by now. You've been nagging me about that all night. . . . Well, maybe if you had just waited back at our room like I offered – Okay, okay, you don't have to shout!"

Cassie held her breath as she peeked out the hatch. Instantly, her heart dropped past her feet and she came dangerously close to letting go of both the ladder and the extinguisher. Good mother of god, this . . . This thing was huge.

The moonlight covered the Were-Shark in a deep silhouette, the expansive, bold outline of it's form imposing and powerful. It's shadow towered over the hatch, the sight of the near-full moon vanishing from sight. It's back was to her so it couldn't see her, being much too busy talking to the air with a giant paw or hand pressed to his ear. Some streaks of light cut over its head allowing her only the faintest of glimpses of the large dorsal fin and enormous tail skimming the hull only inches from her own head.

Cassie never felt so small in comparison. No, it wasn't just this Were-Beast's size that was getting to her; there was something else. Something that was making her body spark with anxiety from the mere presence of this Shark. A tingle rushed up from the tip of her tail to the top of her head, the fibers of her being growing tighter and tighter with the urge to just keep away from this thing.

Her readiness from only minutes before instantly turned to jelly and her knees were actually shaking from the ladder rungs. Cassie's hand clutched at the extinguisher lid tightly enough to bend the metal if she wanted to, her sore arm screaming in protest at the tension. Her forehead rested against the top rung as her heart struggled to get her breathing under control. Her scabbed temple rubbed awkwardly against the cool.

". . . Just head back to the shore. I'll find the closest current and meet you there. It can't be more than three miles off . . . Well, for me, at least."

Cassie shivered. Good lord, This Shark's voice. It was the exact one she'd been following.

Mother of God, how can something that big and terrifying sound so . . . So normal?

". . . Okay, fine. Go on back to our room then; while you're at it, make sure Nefi didn't leave another "surprise" on the carpet again. The last thing we need is a cleaning bill on top of everything other one we got with the boss."

It's tone was gruff but calm, like it was trying to placate a friend who was annoyed with it. Wait, shouldn't it be him? Maker, she didn't know what to think, except for maybe that she should get off the ladder and find Tuff and Riley and their swords before –

Clank!

Cassie's breath staggered to a halt. The extinguisher had bumped against the hollow, metal frame of the ladder, now hanging limp in her hand. The Shark fell silent above her. Oh, crumbs.

". . . . I'm gonna have to call you back later."

Cassie barely even stepped down one rung before something shifted again. In a single breath, bright emerald stones behind thick curtains of red appeared right before her, curiously blinking.

Cassie choked on a scream. On impulse, she let go of the ladder and fell back. She swore she heard soaring in her ears and the crash of dark cold waves below her before her backside landing brought her back with a painful thud. The fire extinguisher crashed into a careening roll just an inch from her. Despite the pain in her now bright, throbbing and ink-blotted pattern tail, she scrabbled back from the ladder as much as she could.

The Shark turned its snout, his snout, geez, she didn't know what, at her with peculiarity. If Cassie weren't certain if her body wasn't trembling and her heart wasn't roaring into her ears, she'd be giggling at the oddity of the sight.

Something only he would do. Her brain registered that thought and acted on it the second it came. "Vince . . . ?" She breathed. She immediately felt stupid. Why'd she say that? She knew it wasn't him.

The Shark cocked his, it's, agh, head at her but remained silent. Half a minute went by in silence. He shifted above her and, without making a single sound; he dropped through the hatch with ease onto the floor on the heels of his feet. His huge, bowed, lethally clawed feet.

Her tail lit up brightly on its own, her breaths coming out in quiet pants. In the light, now she could really take all of him in. And there was a lot of him to take.

The Shark was roughly the size hailing between a fully-grown lion and a Jabberwocky. His ashy gray skin turned to a opaque silver from the light, the lighter inner half a near white sandy blend from the underside of his stocky snout, mammoth arms and what rippled pectoral she could see peeking out from the dark covering his barrel-sized torso. Clear, healthy claws the size of steak knives connected to beefy, calloused paws that were tucked against his chest. His tail, as wide and as powerful as she thought, swept around his large, muscular bowed legs. With the amount of pure muscle and power packed into his frame, it was extraordinary that his ankles didn't snap from the sheer weight of him altogether. Cassie would've been grateful for that, if she would most definitely need to run away at top speed like Tuff had not too long ago.

But, now with the both of them so close like this, Cassie noticed something . . . Something kinda off. And she choose not to think too hard on the sleeveless dark top that stretched across his upper body or the hilariously bright orange pants that took up his lower half.

The creepy, chilling feeling was still there, but this Were-Shark didn't seem as savage looking. In fact, he looked rather laid-back if not keenly interested in the blonde, short, blue-skinned woman with the glowing tail-fin in front of him.

Cassie's eyes wandered to his face. Despite the scarf he had over his snout and the large hood on his head, his eyes were clear and bore straight at hers, a sign that he was coherent and lucid as any other human being. She had seen enough of Vince's sudden berserk streaks to recognize the black bottomless oblivion eyes that thirsted for blood spilt. She had even seen it somewhat back in Tuff's own sea green eyes back at Pound Island.

She bit back the uneasy chill and peered at the Were-Shark's eyes. Sea Green. Huh. The emerald irises she saw were a close likeness to the Lucks' own. But from their perch above the scarf, they were just a shade darker that reminded her of the deepest reach of the green waters of a bayou pond or a sunny lake. Not too murky and clear enough for her too see what was there. Light-hearted fire clashing with the wizened age and worry seemed so compelling to look at.

Cassie was startled out of the trance when the abandoned fire extinguisher was placed at her feet with a gentle clang. She blinked. Oh, right, she'd forgotten about that. She didn't even notice him pick it up. She looked at the Were-Shark as he gestured at it with an offering look and a huge steady paw. Getting his offer with no words, she took it and held it close. She frowned at herself, so much for her so-called protection.

The Were-Shark's snout gave a soft chuckle at her. It was a deep hum-like sound that Cassie found much more comforting than intimidating. So much so that she didn't shrink back when his paws, no, no, his hands came up to pull at his scarf.

A bemused smirk greeted her. "No, I'm afraid not." His voice was ripe with age, ginger humor and subtlety found only in men in their prime. Cassie, for some reason felt her heart slow and her face warm at the same time. Nope, this guy was definitely not Vince. She rubbed at her arm, the throb egging her to no end.

The Were-Shark noticed this with a raised eye-ridge. Self-conscious, Cassie drew her arm closer to her. Why though? His eyes . . . There was something about them that seemed familiar but what?

The touch of his hand to her hurt arm hit her with great sensations, feelings hard and fast enough for both ears to fly up at once while astounded warmth pooled at her cheeks. Soothing warmth like sun-drenched sand, a cup of cool water dripping on skin, gentle-skimming breezes flying, soft warm soil turned freshly from the earth . . .

Cassie looked down. The blunt differences of their hands were ridiculous; his massive gray appendage was a literal rock beneath her own blue and petite one. He lifted it on and cradled it on his candle-sized digits, as though the hand was of porcelain and not of flesh and blood like his own. Cassie was amazed by the amount of gentleness this giant was putting into such a simple act. "Why . . . ?"

The Were-Shark smiled as though her befuddlement was charming. He gave a short courteous bow of his head. "Don't worry. I'm sure as you heard, I'm not looking for trouble. I'll be out of here in a few moments." He said. His tone was as smooth as silk and sincerity was clear in his gaze.

He slowly raised their hands to his mouth. Cassie fought back the urge to yank back her hand at the numerous gleaming teeth grinning gently behind his oddly suave smile. "I'm just a shark looking to rest his fins before moving on with the next wave . . ."

Cool, nonexistent lips pressed respectively into the skin of her hand. ". . . Little Lady Blue." A wink of pure sea glass followed swiftly after.

Cassie's checks darkened a heavy navy blue. Refreshing easement rushed up her arm and into her brain. Good lord, for a man of the most violent race on the Archipelago . . . She hated to admit it, but he was pretty smooth.

A chuckle floated for a heartbeat.

Another heartbeat, his hand slipped from hers.

Another and he was simply . . . gone.

Cassie's heart skipped in shock. WHAT?! She whipped her head around. He was gone. Just like that, he was gone. She swerved her ears blindly for the odd Were-Shark with familiar green eyes and easing smiles. Nothing but silence.

Cassie couldn't believe it. Where could he have gone?! People like that don't just –

The hatch.

Cassie flew to her feet and up the ladder in an instant. Her littlest toe banged against the no longer important extinguisher on the way, sending it down the hall, but she ignored the pain.

In no time at all, she found herself once again looking out the entrance hatch of the Penguin, days ago she had just been here feeding her feathery friends without a care in the world. Right now, that felt so far away.

A small splash on her right. She snapped around to the sound and peeked over the surface of the hull. She felt strangely hopeful. Would she see this strange Shark again? Would she . . . ?

A fading ripple was her only response. Cassie deflated and blew a puff out her lips. Great. Just great. She rubbed at her arm in thought. How was she so disappointed? The Were-Shark wasn't even supposed to be in here in the first place. So why was she – ?

Her arm didn't hurt. Cassie's hand flew up like it had been burned. Her arm didn't hurt anymore? The once throbbing muscles felt perfect, like she had just gotten out of bed. The bruise on her elbow had vanished like it was wiped away. For true certainty, her hand pressed to her temple, the smooth skin there felt like it had never been broken. Heck, even her dull concussion was nothing more than a bad memory.

Cassie was floored. Was she dreaming? She quickly pinched herself. Ow. Nope, she was awake. Wide awake.

Her hands mussed in her hair in a flurry. Totally confused wasn't even beginning to describe how she was feeling right then and there.

What was going on here? Who was that Shark? Why was he here? What did he do to her? How did he get away so fast? Where did he go? What was going on?

"W-What . . . What in the world . . . ?"

During her mental tirade of confusing and crashing thoughts, not once, not even once, did the blue-skinned girl even think to make notice of the small rivulets of water flowing peacefully down her arm and dripping off her elbow.

~X~

Totally confused wasn't even begging to describe how Riley Luck was feeling right then and there.

How could this have happened? When did this even happen?

Riley was back in the engine room, his task of repairing the window screen in the helm finished after a surprising deal of quick yet careful handiwork. Now that the ground beneath their feet was stable, in a manner of speaking, he could focus on his original job; taking care of the momentarily calm engine so they don't end up as a burst of combustion and fire in the middle of ocean.

Regaining and reassessing his toolbox back together proper, with no threats of skin-boiling steam plowing into his face from the valves or the cable-covered floor ensuring a swift yank of his feet, Riley could easily squeeze through the small panel door set in the engine's surface and get to work. Seeing nothing out of sorts with the vast network of wires and clockwork-like gears, no spliced copper sticking out with sparks, no rusted knots or broken nuts laying shattered as a novice mechanic would've expected; it wasn't too much of challenge to figure what was the problem.

Except that the problem had already been solved. Which was what was Riley held in his hand. Which just lead to a whole new problem.

The Heart Crystal was the keystone in the design of a Submarine engine, it powered everything from the vital parts of the Submarine such as the main propellers to the inconsequential ceiling lights in the bathroom. A small sliver of rock stored with concentrated amounts of magic, anyone from a dim mechanic to a seasoned sailor would tell you that a Submarine without a crystal was like a human without a heart. It by itself was the heart of each of the grown magicked mechanical transporters that were as alive as the Archipelago itself. All that said, Riley knew within an instant what had happened with the Penguin when he had plucked the rock from its perch.

The Heart Crystal had been fractured. Had. But now, as he saw it with his own eyes, a strip of duct tape was taken to it, holding the fragile pieces together. The wilting magic lingering inside each would be just about enough to get him, Tuff and Cassie the last few miles to Score Island.

But Riley still needed to know. Who in the hell was it that got in here and fixed the Heart Crystal?

ME: Gee, I DO wonder who it could've been? ;)

Plus, sorry for the day late update, I had finished this last night and I really did NOT want to have to go through the difficult process of updating a chapter on two sites when your Microsoft Word is one of the later model programs.

But after this, I promise updates shall be quicker than quick, I'm praying on it!

'Til the next time!