Of Trails and Snails | Ch. 14: Drop the Bass (Patreon)

The next time Jack opened his eyes, all hints of the sun had vanished from the window. Beside him, the gentle glow of the fireflies warmed Skye’s cheeks and highlighted the gradual rise and fall of her chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Mia or Skye sleep. They usually caught two, maybe three hours to his six or seven, and even then, they could go a full forty-eight hours without rest. Besides, outside of their power naps, they preferred sleeping standing up.

Skye looked like a completely different person when she slept. The frustrated creases at the corners of her eyes were gone, and her wry smile relaxed into a contented line. He lightly brushed a stray tendril of her hair out of her eyes and behind her ear. The nearest antennae twitched with the movement, but she didn’t stir otherwise.

It was strangely sweet to see her like this, and he couldn’t help but feel that she’d allowed it.

‘I’m glad you’re here, Jack.’ Skye’s words circled his thoughts like a roulette table and gave him the sensation that he’d hit it big. Molluscia may not be the place he’d imagined after death, but having Skye and Mia by his side was arguably better.

“Mmh.” Skye yawned and blinked. The blurred world that lay between sleeping and consciousness clouded her eyes, and she smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jack moved his hand to her cheek and skimmed her cheekbone with his thumb. “How do you feel?”

“Fantastic.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked her head underneath his chin.

“You can be like this more often, you know,” Jack teased.

“Shut up. You’re ruining it.” It seemed her conscious clarity had returned.

He chuckled and stroked his fingers through her hair. The single braids she liked to hide near her neck formed smooth sections between the sea of thick locks. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven this time. You earned it.”

Jack rolled his tongue against his teeth, glad that the feeling had returned. He kissed the top of her head, enjoying the sensation of her fingertips wandering down his bare back. Then his stomach growled. He winced.

Skye sighed. “I guess we haven’t eaten since this morning, huh?”

“Damn. You’re being extra forgiving.”

Skye’s stomach rumbled in response.

“A-ha.”

“We all need to eat, Jack,” she grumbled. Untangling her arms from his waist, she raised up from the futon and moved to gather her clothing.

For a time, Jack just watched her. The gentle curves of her waist and the way her muscles shifted and contracted as she moved were hypnotic. When she put on her tank top, he loved the moment where the hem caught on the top of her chest, creating a sensual half-frame over her breasts until she could reach up and pull it down. Something about it made his heart skip every time.

She looked at him and frowned. “If you go outside naked, every snailgirl in a thirty-foot radius will dart you.”

“Just enjoying the show.”

Skye worked her jaw and swallowed the blush that was inches from blooming from her neck to her face. “Get dressed.”

“You must be starving to be this nice.”

She ignored him, turning away to snatch the laces of her corset off the floor. Jack propped his head up on one hand as she laced the top, then the bottom. Then she snaked it around her midsection and hooked the silver clasps down the front. But when she went to tighten the cording, some of the lacing came undone, and she exhaled in frustration.

“Want some help with that?” Jack pushed the blankets back, stood, and positioned himself behind her.

Skye looked over her shoulder and opened her mouth to protest. Her gaze swept from his face to the floor, then back up. She snapped her head forward, cleared her throat, and nodded.

He collected her hair and pooled it over her right shoulder before setting to work on the laces.

“I-I’m surprised Mia’s not back yet,” she said, staring pointedly out the window.

“I gave her money for dinner.” He tightened the cords and tied them into a solid knot.

The bared curve of her slender neck caught his attention, and his mouth was against it before he could give it a second thought. Her perfumed skin begged for his touch; his tongue. The effects of tasting her were immediate. He pressed his chest against her back and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She reached behind her and tugged on his ponytail with a giggle. “If you get us started again, we’ll never leave.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Jack.”

He grazed her shoulder with his teeth and grinned, stepping away to gather his own clothing. While he didn’t need a second pair of hands to help him, Skye held up his vest to slide his arms inside anyway. He arched a brow, and she pursed her lips, her eyes escaping to their corners. Any quip he could come up with would be worse than whatever was going through her head, so he slid his arms through and waited in silence as she buttoned the front.

Skye leaned forward and brushed her lips to his, then nibbled his lower lip. “There. Now we’re even,” she murmured.

“You aren’t making this easy.”

“I know.” A wry smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

Always in control, this one. He took her hand in his and led her out of the room.

Claire maintained her station at the front desk, humming and jotting down notes on her stack of papers.

Is she writing a book? Jack’s curiosity demanded he peek, but hunger won out. This time. “Hi again, Claire. Where around here can we get something to eat?”

Claire looked up from her work and her eyes crinkled in a smile. Even without the sunlight, she was still so bright. Jack wondered if she glowed in the dark. “Well, let’s see… There are just so many to choose from!”

“We don’t need a list,” Skye said bluntly, cutting her free hand through the air. “Just the first one that comes to mind is fine.”

“Oh, well then, the Trebled Bass across the way is wonderful. They bring in fresh fish every afternoon and have a unique atmosphere.”

For whatever reason, Jack hadn’t considered that visiting an underwater city meant fish on the menu. That added even more of an allure to both Pomacea and Haliotis. At last, he’d have a chance to skip the mystery meat and frog's eggs from Lymnaea in exchange for seafood. “Then that’s where we’ll go,” he said.

Skye looked at him suspiciously as they turned to leave the inn. “Why do you sound so excited?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had fish in Lymnaea.”

“Of course not. Do you want to haul a fish from the frog pond all the way back to Lymnaea?”

Jack snorted. “The crane was enough. Not saying I don’t get it, this’ll just be a nice change.”

“Maybe.”

Outside, the luminous whirligigs were doing a good job illuminating the streets and alleys, and additional lanterns in the open doorways welcomed wanderers inside. A few snailgirls without masks and more neutral colors lingered outside the buildings. Outside of their chats, though, it was oddly…quiet. When the sun went down in Lymnaea, the crickets and locusts came out to sing, and there was almost always something rustling in the trees. But underneath the enormous dome, nature existed in the water around them, and the material blocked out any sounds they may have made. It was like standing inside a giant theater, with very similar acoustics.

The Trebled Bass was barely twenty steps away from the Larina. A sign bearing an interesting wood-burning caught Jack’s eye first—it depicted a fish playing a guitar.

“Hm.” Skye looked down at their entwined hands, then at the sign. “You know, I don’t remember if I like fish.”

“No better time to find out.” He pointed at the picture. “Hey, are there any guitar players in Lymnaea?”

Skye wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never asked.”

Jack didn’t know how to play himself, but the availability of musical instruments had never really come up before. Well, beyond Juniper and her attempts at a grass-flute concert in the Achantina. Kris had finally had to bar her after the sound chased away the railroad worms.

“I wonder where we could find one,” Jack said.

“A fish?”

“No. A guitar.”

Skye shook her head. “We are not bringing a new instrument to Lymnaea. Not with Juniper.”

It seemed the grass-flute was more of an epidemic than he’d thought. He laughed. “Alright. That’s fair.”

As it turned out, the Trebled Bass had a multitude of guitars, all hanging on the walls. Different colors of wood—yellow, red, blue, and green from what he could see—were used for their bodies. Some had one neck, others two. One guitar had seven strings laced over the fretboards.

Jack forgot about Juniper and looked at Skye with wide eyes.

“No, Jack.” Skye laughed. “Kris would kill us. Besides, I bet it’ll cost everything we have.”

“I could sing songs on the road. Earn us some Shells back!”

“Do you know how to play?”

“No. But I’ll learn.”

“Do you know how to sing?”

Jack frowned.

Skye shook her head. “You’re worse than a snailet sometimes.”

A woman with black hair and dark brown eyes approached them, wearing a T-shirt that cut wide on the neck and hung off of her shoulder. Gold hoops hung around her antennae and from her ears. Her thick eyeliner and purple lipstick on her unmasked face reminded Jack of the crowd at the few rock concerts he’d had a chance to go to.

“Welcome to the Trebled Bass.” She eyed Jack up and down and grinned. Two golden snakebite piercings glittered on her lower lip. “A two-legs.” She jutted a thumb toward the right wall of guitars. “You know how to play?”

“I can—” Jack began. But there was no mistaking Skye’s glower, even in the low lighting. “I don’t. Sorry.”

“No big deal. We got Trisha tonight.” She nodded over her shoulder. Between the rows of tables and walls of guitars at the far end of the room was a snailgirl with a guitar in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “She’s on a short break, but she’s real good.”

“Fine. You have food too, right?” Skye asked.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Is it just the two of you?”

“It is.” Jack looked up. Outside of the lamps surrounding Trisha to spotlight her, there were dozens of white and blue flickers that moved along the ceiling like stars. “What are those?”

“The lights? Different morphs of luminous whirligigs.” The hostess’s smile widened. “This must be your first time in Pomacea.”

Jack shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”

“And we’re quickly starving to death,” snapped a hangry Skye.

“My bad. This way, please.”

Outside of the shells and lack of chairs, Jack couldn’t shake the familiarity of a restaurant back home. There were a small handful of obvious two-leg influences back in Lymnaea, but nothing like this. And the last place he’d expected to find a guitar-filled restaurant with a hostess straight out of Hot Topic was under water.

Two of the other tables had snailgirls standing beside them. One was a party of three, too deep in their conversation to notice newcomers. The second had just one snailgirl whose intense stare followed them across the room.

Jack was used to similar in the Achantina, so he pushed it away and settled in beside Skye at their table. Outside of Lina—and apparently Isabelle—no one had darted him without at least a quick warning. Besides, Skye was always ready to come to blows if she tried.

“I’ve got a chair for you in the back, friend. I just have to dust it off.” The hostess passed two pieces of parchment to Jack and Skye, freshly dated and packed with a list of options.

A menu? Kris rarely bothered with them. At best, seasonal options were scrawled on the single chalkboard that hadn’t moved since Jack had arrived. But everyone in Lymnaea had a ‘usual,’ and generally ignored whatever new dish was up there.

“If it’s a pain, don’t worry. I can stand,” Jack offered.

“It’s not a problem. Anything to drink while I grab it?”

“Dew for both of us,” Skye said as she skimmed the menu.

“And water. Please,” Jack added.

“Sure thing. Back in a wink.”

Jack looked over his own menu. Ghost shrimp, cutlip minnow, slippery chub—he snickered—long-eared sunfish, algae salad, spotted killifish…

“I don’t know what any of these are,” Skye said.

“I can only guess for most of them. What about this? You order one, and I’ll get a different one. We can share or trade.” He pointed to her menu. “But if you get the algae salad, you’re on your own.”

Skye frowned. “You know I don’t like my food cooked.”

“Then order a few different things. We’ve got the Shells.”

Her frown deepened. “And you know how much I hate wasting food.”

“Then choose one and we’ll buy a guitar instead.”

She punched his arm. Behind her, Trisha lifted her sea green guitar and started strumming. Jack had half-expected Freebird to come out of those fingers, but it was a melody he didn’t recognize. Fast and catchy, and it seemed the words were her own. It made for much easier listening than Juniper’s grass flute.

The hostess returned with a tray of drinks in one hand and the stool in the other. She set the chair on the floor and divvied up the four cups on her tray. “Water and dew. Ready to order?”

“I think so. Can you cook the fish?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, of course. Some of us prefer it that way.” She winked at him. He could feel Skye’s growl vibrate down her arm.

“Great. I’ll try the sunfish, then.”

“I want the killifish. And the minnow.” Skye pushed the menu forward and snatched Jack’s arm. “And cook mine, too!”

“Coming right up. I’ll check on your drinks in a bit. In the meantime, enjoy the show.” She gestured to Trisha and disappeared behind the door into the kitchen.

“You want yours cooked, huh?” Jack teased.

Skye huffed a breath and took a long drink of dew. She set her cup down and tightened her grip on his arm. “So we can share.”

Jack nodded and nearly emptied his water glass in one go. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. When he set it back down, a movement on his left caught his eye.

The woman who hadn’t stopped watching them since they’d stepped through the door was making her way toward their table.

“I think we have a guest for dinner,” Jack murmured.

“Over my dead fucking body.” Skye followed his stare and scoffed. She narrowed her gaze. “Why does she look so angry?”

“Five Shells says we’re about to find out.”

“Well, I don’t think she wants to dart you.”

Jack noted the intricate tattoos that crawled from her wrist, wrapped around her strong forearm and thick bicep, and seemed to end above the mask she wore on her cheeks. “No. But I’m pretty sure she could snap me in half.”

“I’ll bring this place to the ground before that happens.”

Jack finished his water and touched the hilt of his cutlass at his hip. A good old-fashioned bar brawl wouldn’t be the worst outcome, but he’d do his best not to hurt the guitars.