by Kacey Ezell
Over the Night Horizon
By
Kacey Ezell
&
Nico Murray
PUBLISHED BY: Wyld Stallions Press
Copyright © 2020 Kacey Ezell & Nico Murray
All Rights Reserved
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License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it wasn’t purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Cover Art by Angela Lucio Kulig
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Dedication
Always to EZ, the hero of my story. —Kacey
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To Richard and Stirling. Let’s have lots of adventures. —Nico
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Acknowledgements
First and foremost, a thousand thank yous to my co-author extraordinaire. Thanks, Nico, for letting me play in this amazing world of yours. Thanks also to Chris Smith, my stalwart writer buddy, for your eagle-eye and alpha reading skills. As ever, you rock. Finally, as usual, thank you to my husband and daughters for everything. I love you.
—Kacey
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I can only return the thousand thanks to my co-author, for bringing out the best in my writing and being a blast to plot twists and mayhem with. Many thanks to Chris the editor and proofreader extraordinaire, who made sense when we wrote nonsense. A round of applause for my beta readers Chaya and Kirsty, and to my husband Richard and son Stirling, who wait till mom’s done writing one more sentence, guys…
And a very big special thanks to:
Dr. Q, The Doctor Q, Dragon Con’s Alternate History Track, & The Artifice Club, because without, I might have missed this wild ride. Thanks so much for the inspiration and support.
—Nico
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Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”
and discover other Wyld Stallions titles at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Cast
About Kacey Ezell
About Nico Murray
Excerpt from Flights of Fantasy
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Chapter 1
Captain Johannes de Graaf of the NightShip Leeuwin leaned on the brass bow rail of his ship and let out a sigh that came from the depths of his Immortal bones. He rubbed his eyes, then stretched as his muscles protested every move he made.
The wind had finally calmed from the gale he’d fought to ride through the storm, and he could once again pick out the moon’s silver reflection shining on the inky waves below.
“I’ve a good fix, Captain,” his navigator said quietly. The man hadn’t made a sound as he approached de Graaf’s elbow. The captain knew he was there anyway. “We’re no more than a night and day’s sail out from Marinport.”
De Graaf nodded and turned to give the younger Immortal man a smile. “You did good work getting us through that, Gabriel,” he added as he reached out and clapped the navigator on the shoulder. “I thank you.”
“Yes, sir,” the navigator said, tripping over his words just a bit. He hadn’t been Immortal long, and he’d always been a bit star-struck in the captain’s presence. But Gabriel was good at his job, which was why de Graaf had hired him. The young man nodded, gave a small smile, and then turned to seek his quarters below, leaving as silently as he’d approached.
De Graaf looked after him with a smile of his own. Twenty-four hours’ sail would have them at their destination, near the larger port of Rotterdam. He’d be able to sell his cargo for a princely sum. Especially one piece in particular, he thought, picturing the exotic emerald necklace that had been a special request from one of his best customers.
The captain stretched his arms up over his head and seriously contemplated seeking his bed, though it was barely middle of the night. Fighting the storm had taken it out of him…
Boom.
The Leeuwin listed hard to port, and de Graaf stumbled, nearly falling. He grabbed at the polished brass railing.
“All hands to the deck! Report!” he bellowed over the groan of the ship’s engines as she took several hits.
All trace of fatigue vanished in a surge of adrenaline that went to his head faster than the sweetest taste of mortal blood.
Boom. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
A dark shape, nearly invisible against the black sky, streaked across the full moon. The sharp series of pops that followed splintered the deck in a straight line that headed right for de Graaf. He dove to the side, rolled, and came up with sword and flintlock in hand.
“Crew,” he called, his voice striking out with unmistakable authority, “battle stations! This is an attack!”
More of the dark shapes swarmed overhead, heralded by an odd, oscillating whistle, and the unmistakable whine of a steam engine. Below de Graaf’s feet, the deck rumbled as the Leeuwin’s own massive steam engines roared to life. The engines, situated deep in the hold, began to turn the massive screw-type mechanisms located at the ship’s stern. She gave a lurch and began to accelerate through the air on her current course. The change was slow at first, but it would build until the Leeuwin, like the great hunting cat for whom she was named, leapt through the air with a speed no smaller ship could match.
At least, that was the theory.
Of course, the theory would mean nothing if the pirates (they had to be pirates, though what sane pirate would dare take on an Immortal NightShip?) managed to swarm them under with their infernal small, whistling craft.
Another of those whistlers swooped in and came to a hover about five feet above the deck. Up close, de Graaf saw a vaguely box-shaped craft, with a smaller version of one of his ship’s screws spinning on top, hovering five feet above and off the port side of the Leeuwin.
As de Graaf watched, a black-clad figure leapt down from the contraption. The remaining man aboard the screwcraft did something that made the screw itself tilt to the side, which had the effect of swinging the craft out like the end of a weighted pendulum before the whole thing slid sideways in its hover. De Graaf would have liked to try to figure out the mechanism, but he had more pressing matters. Like the black-clad invader currently charging him with a naked blade.
The NightShip captain parried the charge and twisted to the side, throwing his opponent off balance. He followed that up with an elbow to the face that resulted in a sickening crunch. The attacker howled in pain, then dropped to the deck, to be quickly replaced by two more. Sounds of hand-to-hand combat rang across the ship as the small crew battled
the intruders. De Graaf moved like a whirlwind, relying on supernatural strength and speed as he defended his ship and crew from the pirates determined to take the helm. Another figure in black charged him. De Graaf slashed with his blade, taking the pirate across the throat. The man let out a gurgling scream and collapsed to the deck. De Graaf grimaced as the blood fountained across his boots. What a waste. And what a mess it made.
De Graaf’s world narrowed to the glint of moonlight on steel and the whistling rattle of the screwcraft’s turning apparatus. A rumbling boom punctuated the night and forced de Graaf to step quickly to avoid stumbling into his opponent’s blade. The Leeuwin, it seemed, was fighting back against the swarm, her bow guns roaring. The sound gave him heart. These pirate cowards didn’t stand a chance.
* * *
With the Leeuwin creaking and groaning, de Graaf sailed his ship in, cautiously slow and low, to the Marinport dockyards as he’d done for decades. He and his beloved ship were both injured, and limping into port felt like a surrender. The waiting dockworkers stepped back from the edge as a gust of wind blew the barely controlled ship sideways. The Leeuwin’s crimson airbag hung partially in tatters, and a scorch-marked hole gaped on the side of the hull where the passenger cabins had once been. Thankfully they’d been unoccupied this time. Still, there was plenty of stark, ugly damage to the main deck. Though she technically remained intact, the ship stood in need of considerable repair.
The ship crew and dock crew secured the damaged airship to the mooring masts. The Leeuwin seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she settled, safe in port after days of sailing low.
“Offload the cargo. I’ll arrange the repairs. We depart as soon as they’re complete. Check with Marit if you need further medical attention, check the dock office for the departure notice, and get some rest. Good job, crew,” Johannes said. He returned to his watch on the deck as the small group filed out and off the ship. They should have been jubilant at the promise of shore indulgences, but this last run had been rough, with both the run-in with a pirate crew stalking the route and the bad weather, and their morale was at a rare low.
Still, de Graaf counted his blessings: the ship hadn’t gone down in the attack, and no lives had been lost; that was all that mattered. The Immortal remained at the helm, watching as Marit, his long-serving mortal medic, tended to the injured crew as they prepared to disembark. As the last of them left, she looked up and watched the captain move stiffly. Marit was a professional, and she said nothing until they were reasonably alone on the navigation deck.
“My beautiful ship. You fought hard.” De Graaf ran his hand along the doorframe, his lean fingers brushing over the immaculately polished wood. His ship, his pride.
“She’ll sail again,” Marit replied. “You lost no crew or cargo. A testament to your captaincy.”
Captain de Graaf sighed. “Kind words, as always. Thank you.”
“When you decide to step off duty, I’ll tend to you in your cabin again,” Marit whispered as she left the navigation deck. De Graaf nodded slightly, and she trailed her hand along his uninjured arm as she passed by. Like all his crew, Marit was loyal and had served him well for long years. She now sported a small set of bites at her throat, having offered the smallest sip of restorative blood to de Graaf after the attack. He still wore the sling she had insisted upon, as his injured arm was healing slower than either of them had hoped.
“I’ve a dockside Source waiting. I’ll be fine, Marit, thank you. See to the other crew and set your resupply bill on my desk. I’ll take care of it. Indeed, I’m very grateful we lost no crew in the attack,” de Graaf replied.
Time to go ashore, feed, and recover. Johannes turned over his ship’s care to the port staff, carrying his duffel bag with his uninjured hand as he walked down the gangway to the docks.
“Good evening, Captain de Graaf. We can summon a medic to look at your injuries,” a dock service staffer offered as Johannes stepped down onto the solid wood planks.
“No need. I have my own on crew; she tended to us. I only need sustenance and some rest. Both await me, thank you. I need to see the dockmaster; my ship is in need of repair, and I’d like to see it given priority…before winter sets in,” Johannes replied.
At the staffer’s nod, Johannes strode off down the dock toward the city. His left arm ached in the unfamiliar sling. He kept a brisk pace, wary of the darkened streets that lay between him and his destination.
Thankfully it wasn’t far to the small private inn, where a room and a familiar mortal awaited him. De Graaf had no immediate need of sin, but many of the city’s professional Consorts were eager to provide the sustenance he needed as an Immortal; a bite at their neck, a rush of blood, and vitality. In return the Consorts received the orgasmic Bliss and a few coins for their time and trouble. It wasn’t a bad system, but de Graaf definitely preferred to be a repeat customer to a few select Sources, Matthias most of all.
He’d sent a note with the first of his crew to disembark. Fortune willing, Matthias would be the one waiting for him with open arms and warm, luscious veins.
* * *
Matthias sat at the docks in the small rough-built shelter where the Sources waited, hoping for clients to appear and summon them away to warm beds out of the cold wind blowing off the ocean. It was time to reconsider this trade, but there were few options for a Source. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, return home to his former career at the Naval Academy, and he wasn’t yet desperate enough to join the Eventides. Maybe if it was a few degrees colder, but not yet.
He’d missed the arrival of the Leeuwin whilst deep in a haze of whiskey. Matthias had only awakened moments earlier with his head on the table in front of him. His bleary eyes could just make out the massive airship settled in its berth being offloaded, and his client nowhere in sight. Matthias hugged his threadbare coat around his shoulders and looked around. The ship had clearly just arrived, and while Matthias was fond of watching it sail in, this time he’d missed it. The hull was marked with a gaping hole, fragmented wood, and scorch marks. As Matthias watched, workers rolled a large, thick cloth tarp down over the hull and lashed it tight.
From down the docks, footsteps clomped along the wood. Captain Johannes de Graaf strode down toward the Sources’ meagre bunkhouse and Matthias. A light rain had started, soaking de Graaf’s short-cropped blonde hair to his head. It didn’t seem to bother him. The Immortal man’s face broke into a smile when he saw Matthias waiting. De Graaf looked a little worse for wear himself. Matthias sighed with regret for his own state of inebriation; the captain would be ravenous.
“Captain, my apologies for my absence upon your arrival.” Matthias rose, his height almost matching Captain de Graaf’s tall frame. Captain de Graaf looked over at the small hut, saw Lisette there, and bowed to her out of courtesy.
“It’s quite all right. I went to the inn, but they said they hadn’t seen you. I thought perhaps you’d be here…and I was right. Are you available for hire, or are you too hungover?” de Graaf asked in a forthright manner.
Matthias faced Johannes, staring back at the captain. De Graaf stood there in the dim light, his dark hair and dark eyes a contrast to pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and long jawline. The captain, by most measure, was a striking man. Matthias let slip a sly smile.
“I’ve no clients tonight, Captain,” Lisette spoke, not looking up from her book, “in case Matts here is indisposed.”
Matthias turned to throw a dirty look at Lisette. “I’m fine. Quit trying to horn in on my bed for the night. Find your own. Several other ships arrived tonight; you’ll be well occupied and dine like royalty for the next month on the gold you earn.”
De Graaf let Matthias go and laughed. “Two mortals? Well, perhaps next time I’m in town, or some other night. Come along, sir.”
Matthias grabbed up his satchel and fell into step alongside Captain de Graaf. To Matthias’ surprise, de Graaf headed back to the Leeuwin. De Graaf paused to watch as the workers bustled around the Leeuwin, and a dockma
ster called over to talk quietly to the Immortal captain with a sheaf of parchment documents in hand. Matthias watched as the captain dealt with the business before him and gestured for Matthias to board.
“Not back to the usual inn, sir?” Matthias asked as he followed Captain de Graaf up the gangway. Matthias cast a quick glance at the few crew who remained on board, including the ship’s day steward, Florian. The crew nodded in familiar greeting back to Matthias.
“I just need to retrieve documents from my cabin,” de Graaf replied to Matthias and Florian both. Matthias scrambled to follow Johannes through the warren of halls below the ship’s main deck and into de Graaf’s cabin. Matthias had been onboard more than a few times before on the nights where it was far too stormy or too close to day to make their way to the inn.
“Dare I ask what happened to the Leeuwin? And to you?” Matthias asked as he spotted the damaged hull and the cuts and injuries evident on his Immortal client.
“You may. We were fired upon by pirates. I was injured in the attack, and I find myself exceptionally ravenous as a result. Let us make haste; the nights are not so long as we would like.” Johannes stepped into his cabin and strode over to the small wooden desk. He rifled through papers as Matthias looked around in polite curiosity.
At first glance, it was the very room of a long-lived, globetrotting packrat. Matthias found the image amusing as it perfectly described Johannes de Graaf. The man simply couldn’t resist picking up little objects d’art.