Storm of Sharks by Curtis Jobling Page A

perhaps – caught Drew in the face,
sending his head to one side, his nose bursting with the impact.
    ‘Gerroff ’im, you rotten
sod!’ snarled a deeper, youthful voice. A stick struck Drew across the temple, his
head bouncing the other way as he relinquished his hold. He was nauseous from the
unexpected blows, each catching him utterly defenceless.
    ‘Hit ’im again!’ shouted
the first voice. ‘He nearly tore me leg off!’
    ‘Leave him be!’ A feminine voice
spoke now, equally young, followed by a scuffle of some kind. Drew growled as he shook
his head, trying to clear away the disorientation and bring forth the wolf. The stick
whacked him hard in the breastbone, sending him collapsing back. He landed on some kind
of rough pallet, obviously what had passed for a bed while he’d slept.
    ‘Growl one more time, pal, and
we’ll whale on you like you’ve never known,’ said the second voice,
clearly itching to deal out more pain.
    ‘Skipper said don’t hurt
him,’ said the girl’s voice, ‘so keep your stick to yourself,
Gregor.’
    ‘He might call himself Skipper but
that don’t make him the boss o’ me!’
    ‘Keep your voice down,’ the girl
hissed. ‘Hackett will hear you!’
    ‘Please,’ gasped Drew, raising
his hand in supplication, ‘I’m not looking for a fight; I just want
answers!’
    ‘Hush,’ said the girl, her hand
going over Drew’s mouth. ‘The last thing we need is Hackett’s men
coming knocking.’
    ‘Take your hand off his mouth,
Pearl,’ said Gregor. ‘You don’t know where he’s been.’
    ‘We know exactly where
’e’s been,’ said the boy Drew had originally grabbed.
‘Rottin’ on this mattress for the last two days. How ’is wounds
ain’t killed him, Sosha only knows!’
    ‘Wait,’ said Drew.
‘I’ve been here for two days?’
    ‘Near enough,’ said Pearl.
‘Thought you were gonna bleed out, number of wounds you had.’
    ‘You looked like shark bait.’
Gregor laughed. ‘I’ve seen chum with more life than you when we pulled you
out the sea.’
    ‘Skipper said we should bring you back
here, keep you safe,’ said Pearl.
    ‘Who’s Skipper?’ asked
Drew.
    ‘Jumped-up little squirt,’ said
Gregor. ‘Thinks he can boss us all around.’
    ‘He ain’t bossing nobody,’
snapped Pearl. ‘He’s trying to keep us alive, stop Hackett and the
Krakenguard from tossing any more of us into the tide.’
    Drew waved his hand, trying to attract their
attention. They went silent.
    ‘Would it be all right if I sat up?
Can I expect any of you to kick, stamp or
whale
on me?’
    ‘Get up, mister,’ said Pearl,
clearly the most level-headed of the three.
    ‘But no funny business,’ added
the first boy, with about as much menace as a puppy.
    ‘Off your high horse, Kit,’ said
Pearl, admonishing him.
    Drew laughed.
    ‘What’s so funny?’
    ‘Kit,’ replied Drew, sitting up
and rubbing his jaw. ‘I had him down as a Pup.’
    ‘Wouldn’t laugh too loud if I
were you, pal,’ said Gregor. ‘If Hackett’s men don’t find and
kill you, we might just leave you to Kit. He’s pretty handy with a
knife.’
    Drew winced as the boy suddenly poked him in
the back with his stick.
    ‘He could finish whatever job those
wounds started on you.’
    ‘Stop playing stupid games,
Gregor,’ said Pearl quietly, her voice drawing close to the Wolflord. ‘He
ain’t gonna cause us no harm. You’re blind, ain’t you?’
    Drew nodded, staring ahead into a white
world of nothingness. ‘I was burned some days ago, a brand to my eyes. I
haven’t seen since.’
    ‘You’ve really been in the wars,
haven’t you, mister?’
    Drew managed a smile. ‘That’s
the second time you’ve called me “mister”.’ How old do I appear
to you?’
    ‘Into your third decade?’
    ‘I’ve seen sixteen
summers,’ Drew replied.
    ‘Sweet Sosha,’ said Gregor.
‘Your ma must’ve given you tough chores!’
    ‘He ain’t much older than us,
then,’ said Kit.
    ‘No fooling