“Hells,” Kaspar whispered again.
“That was well fought,” Aristeia said. “Clever.”
The woman was breathing hard, still injured herself, yet she’d intervened. For Mors. Violet was, she had to admit, surprised. The two women were a lot alike.
Aristeia motioned to her crew, and they swooped in and picked up Nel. She struggled briefly but gave it up.
The first mate assisted Mors as he rose groggily to his feet, the two leaning on each other. “I truly am disappointed,” she said to Nel. “You could have been great, the kind of officer I’d want to serve with. Unfortunately for you, Mors’ aim with cannon is better than his tavern brawling.”
“Skipper, no!” Kaspar took a step forward, his voice raised in protest.
“Step back, Ensign,” Aristeia glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowed.
Kaspar took another step forward, making a strangled sound, still reaching. For Nel, but she wouldn’t look at him.
You couldn’t stop this last time. Why should this time be any different?
“Ensign Vaughn, I will not tell you again. Step back!”
Nel showed no reaction. Sharpe was the most telling, looking from Nel to Kaspar and back again. Violet could imagine the connection he was making. Saw the words his mouth formed silently. She knew exactly how he felt. Seemed so obvious after the fact.
Would knowing have made any difference?
It would have, wouldn’t it.
Too late now.
Chapter 25
THE CREW OF the Morgana set them in front of one of the wand batteries, rolled back and out of the way to expose the raised port. Open to the black. And there truly was nothing else outside, not so much as a hint of miasma to break the black. And by a fluke of their angle, no stars either. Just black.
“Any preferences?” Mors grinned. “Ladies first or would the condemned like to buy his captain a few precious breaths more of sweet, sweet life?”
Sharpe chuckled, rolling his head so he could look Mors in the eye. “She’s not my captain. Not anyone’s captain.”
“You’ll be going first then?”
Sharpe shrugged. “You talk too much. Always annoyed me. Thought that tap to the jaw might have quieted some.”
“There is no before or after, Mors,” Raines berated him. “Bad enough we’re wasting one sphere on them. There are quicker and cleaners ways to do this. This showmanship—”
“Sets the proper example,” Aristeia growled. “Mors, do it.”
To Nel’s surprise, their restraints were removed. There was no way to take advantage of this fact though, not with half the crew assembled to watch the spectacle.
Might even be more than half, if what Sharpe said is right, about them not needing so many hands. Tough-looking bastards though, marines and shellbacks all of them. All except . . .
“Did you know your brother was aboard?” Sharpe asked her, rubbing at his wrists. They were raw and bloodied from the restraints. Starting to resemble Jack’s.
“No.”
“Feel like I should have known, guessed maybe,” Sharpe said. “I’m sorry. If I’d known . . . suspected . . . I would have said.”
“No reason you should have,” Nel still avoided looking at Dominik. “It’s a big realm out there. Could never have guessed . . .”
Doesn’t even use his name any more. Ha. Guess we have that in common.
“I presume you have a ship out there,” the first mate said. Hard to tell where all the scars and burns and scowls ended on her face. Had to be mostly rage keeping her upright. “I won’t insult you by asking where. We’ll find it. I will ask how you got aboard. I am that curious.”
“Fired a bubble straight at you,” Sharpe told her, before Nel could stop him. “Tell you the truth, lady, had to swim the last part. Wasn’t fun.”
Aristeia’s brows lifted. “Truly? I am impressed. Your ship must be somewhere in the coreward bank then, above us. Thank you, that simplifies the search greatly.”
Sharpe winced, casting an apologetic look at Nel. “Sorry.”
“Idiot,” she told him.
Nel turned away in disgust. Always with the talking, running his mouth. Always!
Her gaze found Violet, the first chance she’d had to really look at the girl.
It was a kick to the guts. The girl was different. Taller, older. Beaten. Hurt. She stood with Dominik, hands clasped in front of her. She didn’t wear colours but her clothes had a military cut to them, Alliance cast-offs, sourced from the slop chest. She was cradling something in her hands, a ball, maybe. Rolling it back and forth. And she wore bifocals now, glasses.
The hells?
The glasses had a tint to them, pale red, almost pink. Rose.
Seen those before. Violet, lass, what happened . . .
I left you.
That’s what happened.
“You look tired, my friend,” Aristeia said to Mors. “Let me save you the effort. We’ll dispense with our usual practice. They can retrieve their own tender. From out there.”
Mors frowned, looking down at his own hand. It was shaking. Reluctantly, he nodded.
Aristeia waved to her marines. “Do it. Throw them to the black.”
“Wait!” Raines stepped forward, holding up his hand to forestall the marines. “A moment, a moment yet.”
Nel looked to Sharpe. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the look of distress on his face before it bristled into anger.
Anger. That’s new.
It was the Kitsune, the captain, seven-tailed. Which was . . . impressive.
“Raines,” she heard Sharpe mutter beside her.
Raines pushed his way through the crowd of sailors. Or rather they parted ways for him, if grudgingly.
“What is it, Raines?” the first mate asked. Nel caught a touch of irritation in her voice.
“This one,” Raines pointed at Sharpe, “this one is mine. I still have a use for him.”
“I ain’t yours, you shifty little weasel.” Sharpe was visibly restraining himself. Wands were already levelled at him. A decent shot and he’d be knocked straight out the gun port. Nel was in no rush to experience the black again so soon. Inevitable as it seemed right now.
“He’s done,” Aristeia told Raines. “And you’re done with him. Caused enough trouble, the both of them.”
“Got you good, didn’t he?” Nel grinned, drawing a dirty look from the scarred mate. Hells, can’t resist either, can I? May as well get our shots in while we can.
Raines was in no way deterred by the first mate’s objections. “You are going to throw them overboard? Again? Fine, fine, I am not objecting to the what, merely the how. I want my protégé to do it.”
“This is absurd,” Mors told him.
“Then take a moment to appreciate that,” Raines said. “Now I believe I gave you an order, Aristeia.”
Dark storms on the first mate’s face. He’s not in control here. Someone doesn’t like it. Bad look in front of the crew? What does Raines have here? And his protégé? Does he mean . . .
“The girl used to serve under this woman,” Aristeia said pointedly.
“Exactly,” Raines clasped his hands together, eyes fever bright. “That is exactly who she used to be. Let us see who she is now. Come here, little one.”
Violet walked over, obediently. One hand fell to the side, still holding something. Nel saw Dominik’s hand reach for her briefly, snatched back of his own accord. There were things going on here Nel couldn’t take into account.
How much longer can this drag out for?
Raines was speaking with Violet, and the girl looked past him, towards Nel and Sharpe. It was impossible to meet her eyes through the glasses.
“This is bad,” Sharpe said.
“Wait,” Nel told him. “Let them.”
“Yeah, sure.”
The bell was ringing again, footsteps, but too loud for any one person to make. It would take a whole squad marching in perfect step to make the walls ring like tha
t. The marine crew turned with Nel, watching the door as it squeezed through, turning sideways with barely a pause in step.
“Godsdamnit.”
Onyx, still dark as the black. Headed for them. Headed for her.
That thing holds grudges.
“And here we are,” Raines pronounced happily.
The crew were not so happy, wary glances exchanged, weapons held raised and ready. Mors and Aristeia faced the golem together, both to the side of Raines.
The hells is going on here?
“Crew’s still jumpy,” Sharpe explained. “Big rock tore through the ship last time.”
“How?” Nel asked.
“Violet. She’s . . . in control.”
No. Didn’t wanna believe it but . . .
“It’s not Violet.”
“If you would all humour me for but a moment longer,” Raines announced to the crew. He put his hand on Violet’s shoulder and pointed towards Nel and Sharpe.
“Kill them.”
The golem thundered towards them, shaking the ship with every step.
The first mate was good. So too was her second, in fact the whole damn crew. Most of Nel’s attention was fixed on the golem, the thing trying to separate her head from her spinal column. It hesitated when she and Sharpe darted in opposite directions, giving Nel a moment to check her blindsides.
She saw the crew’s reaction.
There was a brief moment when an object passed through the envelope at speed. A half second of warning when sound returned. Most of the crew heard it, an unmistakeable sound once you’d experienced it, of incoming fire. The first round hit the hull, further up-ship, the sound rippling out, followed immediately by a rainstorm of other impacts.
Then the real fire began. The heavy-bore weapons salvo arrived and the ship rocked, caught at an angle and set into a slow spin on its axis. Nel lost her footing, falling flat on the floor with all limbs spread. She was lucky. The next impact threw everyone else, including the golem, off their feet.
Mors was covering Aristeia’s body with his own, then helping her up. No time for pride under attack. Mouths were moving but Nel couldn’t hear the words. The crew responded without orders, rushing to guns and stations in other parts of the ship.
Violet, where’s Violet?
Thrown off her feet like everyone else, facedown on the deck. The girl picked herself up, one hand cradling her face. The glasses had survived, cracked maybe. The girl staggered to her feet, staring at something in her hand. Nel saw it now, a globe, one she’d seen the captain with.
Horatio. My captain. Our captain. Vi, that belonged to his daughter, why did he . . .
Dominik was there, by Violet’s side. Hands on her shoulders, helping her up. Violet stumbled as he lifted her, dropping the sphere. She grabbed for it and missed, and Dominik caught it where it rolled on the ground and her hand closed over his. Sparks flew where they touched, then not just sparks but a bright sheet of light, blue and white and crackling. And it didn’t stop.
Sharpe grabbed Nel, throwing them both into the shadow of Onyx, which had fallen and showed no signs of getting up. The expanding wave of thaumatic energy, unmistakeable as anything else, washed over the deck. People cried out in pain; the metal under them buzzed with stinging electricity.
The two of them, her and Sharpe, peered over the chest of the golem. To her relief both Violet and Dominik were alive, centred at the nexus of what had just happened. Violet looked dazed, almost out on her feet and only held up by Dominik. Her brother was smoking. Parts of his uniform were charred and crisped, thin tendrils of smoke wafting but he seemed mostly unhurt.
How long has that bauble been leeching her? Just caught the edge of it and everything’s quivery. Don’t know if you meant it for that, Captain, but thank you.
Sharpe nudged her. “And now?”
“Same plan as before, get Violet!”
The golem stirred. Nel and Sharpe both scrambled away from it. Onyx caught sight of them and smashed one hand down on the spot where Sharpe had just been. Drunken and uncoordinated but no less dangerous for it.
Nel searched for and found Violet. The girl was fixated on them, and Nel could see the eyes now, even through the glasses. She saw murder in those eyes.
“Go!” Sharpe yelled at her, narrowly avoiding another swipe. He’d acquired a broken pipe from somewhere, a few feet of torn metal. His battering didn’t do much against the polished rock skin but he was keeping it focused.
Nel covered the distance between her and Violet. Dominik was shaking her, yelling at her. Nothing seemed to have an effect.
“Violet!” Nel yelled at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. The girl shook like a rag doll, head rolling atop her neck like it was barely attached. Nel glanced behind her, saw Sharpe backed into a corner. He had nowhere to go.
She slapped Violet. Hard. The girl’s eyes widened then focused on her. Narrowed.
“You,” she snarled. The voice was ugly. Mean.
Hells, not Violet.
“It’s no good,” Dominik told her. “She can’t hear you, not when she’s like this.”
Gods, when did he . . . he was so little last I saw him.
Can’t think that now.
Violet, not-Violet, grabbed Nel by the throat. And squeezed. Nel grabbed at her hand, still the stronger of the two, but she felt nails digging into her throat.
“Give me that.” She snatched the globe out of Dominik’s hand. Pulled her arm back.
“Sorry, Vi,” she managed, before slamming it into the side of the girl’s head. Violet’s eyes rolled back, her body spasmed and collapsed. Dominik caught her before she hit the deck.
Nel checked on Sharpe. Still alive, putting space between him and Onyx. The golem was frozen, like she’d hoped. No, not frozen, already stirring, turning to face them.
Face her.
“Vaughn.”
The voice was Violet’s but laced with pure hatred. Nel met the eyes, grabbed the hand clawing for her again.
“Get out of her, Scarlett,” Nel growled. “You get out and let my girl go.”
Lips pulled back, feral grin. Unsteady on her feet but no lack of determination. Violet reached up, pushing the glasses into place.
Had enough of those too.
Nel hit her again. Square to the face and cracked the frame of those damned rose-tinted glasses. Violet’s head snapped back and she gave a cry. That sound tore at Nel. She held the girl up by the wrist.
“You hit me!”
That voice could have been either one of them. Nel wanted to believe who it was.
“Vi?”
“Get down!”
Her brother tackled her to the ground, and Onyx crashed over the both of them, catching her in the ribs with a passing leg. Nel’s whole side went numb and she curled around it, swearing. When she looked up Violet was back on her feet, supporting herself by clinging to Onyx. The glasses were gone but the look on her face was no less ugly for it.
So much for that idea. Nothing is ever that easy.
“That’s enough,” Violet snarled, reaching for Nel one more time. But this time she wasn’t trying to throttle her. There were blue and white sparks wreathing the girl’s hand—she was reaching for something else. Nel twisted her head, trying to see what would come flying her way.
Dominik threw himself forward, and Nel thought he was trying to tackle Violet or knock or her out like her own failed attempt. Instead he grabbed Violet by her outstretched hand.
No, not grabbing, what’s he got there?
It was the sphere, the captain’s sphere. Dominik shoved it right into Violet’s outstretched hand and her fingers closed around it reflexively. All that miniature lightning coalesced around the ball, drawn to it. And unlike last time, Nel realised, it had no direct connection to the metal hull. It had nowhere to go except back into the two people touching it.
Dominik and Violet were thrown apart, explosively and with a flash of light that seared Nel’s eyes. She caught her brother, or more like
he collected her on the way. They both skidded to a stop along the metal floor. Dominik groaned in her arms, and she held on protectively. His skin was hot and shocked to the touch.
“You alive there?” Sharpe appeared over her, holding her head up. “Both still breathing, that’s something.”
“Violet,” Nel pushed herself up.
The girl was on hands and knees, cradled under the crook of the golem. Her golem, Nel realised. Because it wasn’t really Violet. Hadn’t been for a while.
“Damnit,” she said. She saw the knife on Dominik’s belt. That would do.
“Wait, Nel, what are you doing?” Sharpe called out as she took long strides towards Violet.
“You are never going to beat me,” Nel called out to Scarlett, her voice grim, not slowing. “Not with that damned golem, not with your stolen body. Not ever.”
Scarlett wiped away blood from a mouth that wasn’t hers. She stared at it distastefully, unhappy with what she saw. “I think, Vaughn,” she said, the voice sounding nothing but wrong, “that so long as I have this body, you lose.”
“Then I’ll fix that.” Nel held up the knife. Scarlett’s eyes widened and her golem stepped between them. But it was slow, groggy, like her. Nel ducked under its lumbering arms and kept going for her target.
“Nel, stop!” Sharpe yelled at her, getting between them too. Nel hit him with a back-fist, the knife’s pommel to his temple. He veered away, clutching at his head. Scarlett could only back up now, faltering steps. The face, the eyes, the cry she made.
It’s not her.
“I’m so sorry, Vi,” Nel whispered. She grabbed the girl by the shoulder with her free hand. And stabbed forward with the other.
“Skipper,” Violet whispered. Her eyes were big and wide. Disbelief. Confused.
Hers.
Nel looked down. There was hot blood running over her hand. Red and vivid. Two hands clutching hers. A body doubling over, falling to their knees.
Hells.
“I told you to stop,” Sharpe looked up at her.
He collapsed at her feet, both hands wrapped around the knife buried in his side. Violet cried out, clutching at him, blood staining them both.
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