As I had that thought, my arm gave out and I slumped down onto his chest, smearing his come between us. I looked at the splintered headboard and snickered. I couldn’t help it. We were filthy, we’d broken the bunk, and I felt completely boneless.
Twig’s arms wrapped around me, holding me close. With my ear pressed to his chest, I enjoyed the loud purr that vibrated us both with its force. Was there ever a better sound?
We lay together for a long time, until our sweat cooled and we were in danger of being glued together. I hated when I slipped from his body, yet even then we stayed put. I yawned.
“You okay, Twig?”
When he didn’t answer, I tensed. What if he regretted what we’d done? I lifted my head. I’d never forgive myself if . . .
My dragon was sound asleep, his mouth slightly open, his hair a tangled mess. Aww, he purred in his sleep.
I closed my eyes, contented. I wasn’t like Arwin Keeling. I wouldn’t drown myself because I lacked magic. We’d make a life together. I’d lived most my years without being a wizard and even though losing my magic felt like losing a body part, my heart still beat strong. And it beat for Twig Starfig.
No more feeling sorry for myself. We were going to set this realm on fire. I grinned. In more ways than one.
36
Tensions rode high aboard the Disreputable Prince and throughout our small pirate navy. Couldn’t blame anybody for that. We were sailing into war with only a single witch against hundreds. At least we had Twig’s dragon. Though even he could be overcome given the right spell, enough small injuries, and time.
But would we even make it that far? Five days in and the hostilities aboard ship threatened to spill over. Beckett seemed calm, though aware of the increasing friction and shortened tempers.
The Disreputable Prince didn’t much resemble its namesake. The Dishonorable Princess had been a mighty war galleon, while they built the Disreputable Prince for speed and maneuverability. A frigate with square sails and a deck polished to a high sheen, the ship might not have all the firepower of its namesake, but it still had a ballista deck piled with harpoons waiting to sink unsuspecting prey. The frigate also had two large ballistas on the main deck and smaller ones on the bow and stern.
Twig flew high above, searching for approaching ships, a small dot on the horizon. We were still over two days travel from the Cochfil Cay, and he’d been taking to the skies more and more. Uneasy. Though I wasn’t sure why, but I trusted his instincts.
We’d be relatively safe once we reached the island chain. We’d set our trap and wait. Just needed the winds to remain favorable.
“Oy,” Beckett called to her quartermaster, a large woman who looked like she could give Twig a run for his dyparis in an arm-wrestling competition. “Tell them scallywags to trim the topsails, so we can haul wind. Do I need to do it meself? Let’s make full use of that wind!”
Zak perched in the crow’s nest with a spyglass, following Twig’s progress. Wearing the colorful cropped pants and loose tunic that pirates favored, Zak added his own flair by leaving his tunic unlaced to draw admiring eyes. I’d already talked to him about it, and Twig let the crew know that if any of them so much as put a fingertip on Zak’s person, they’d be answering to a pissed off dragon. My brother didn’t have survival instincts. If we didn’t look out for him, he would be fucked to death before we reached port.
For all that, Zak took to life aboard the ship better than I had. My stomach still remained queasy, and I could do without salted meat and tepid drinking water. I stayed away from the grog altogether, though the other pirates guzzled through their daily rations. At least we still had a selection of fresh and some dried fruit to offset the tasteless and molar-breaking hardtack.
“I don’t believe yer bird, witch.” The pirate, Wheeler ‘Whale-Eye’ Mitchell, who’d bumped into me in the assembly, called as he swaggered toward us. “It be some sort o’ witchy trick. There be no way he belonged to Blackstone Yardley. Yer making fools of all of us. No more, I say.”
Until the interruption, Beckett and I had our heads together talking strategy. Human lives meant nothing to magic, and I feared for the safety of every pirate aboard. Not all of us would walk away from the upcoming battles. Plus, Zigzag had showed up early this morning with another message from Two-Toes. The Lower Isles needed our help. Sooner rather than later.
Pie perched on my shoulder, giving the swaggering pirate a malevolent glare. Trash Panda sprawled across Beckett’s shoulders, pretending to sleep—or playing dead—but I wasn’t so easily fooled anymore.
I wanted to defend Beckett and Pie. I tensed, and Pie squawked before I could say anything.
“Don’t be interferrin’, Mister Quinn. Captain Yardley needs to establish herself with the crew. I be surprised it took these picaroons so long to test her mettle.”
“But—”
“It has naught to do with ye, Mister Quinn. Put those thoughts away. Beckett be the proud descendant o’ a long line o’ pirates. When we took back her ship, we knew this would be a price she’d be paying. Don’t ye fret none, she’ll make quick work of this scallywag. I’d bet me eyepatch on it.”
Beckett waited until the pirate drew near.
“Guard yer tongue, Whale-Eye. Yer bellyaching be enough to drive a pirate to walk the plank. Preferably ye.” Beckett smiled, though her eyes narrowed, and she stepped away from my side to meet the angry pirate head on.
Instead of backing off, Whale-Eye puffed his chest and placed a hand on his cutlass. “Ye don’t deserve to captain this ship. Ye want to get us killed going against them blasted witches.”
“That be so? Ye brave enough to put yer blade where yer mouth is?” Beckett patted her own cutlass and then spread her arms in a come-at-me gesture. “Did ye learn nothing from Karn’s descent to Davy Jones’ locker? Are ye feeling the need to visit there yerself?”
“I’ll not be the one added to his locker,” Whale-Eye spat. “Ye think because yer father be a Yardley, that makes ye a Yardley. But ye ain’t. Ye be a witch, through and through.”
“Scared of witches, be ye?” Beckett pointed to herself with her thumb. “It’s true that I be powerful with magic. I don’t deny it. Yet I be as much a pirate as ye or any other person on this here ship. If ye need to be fitted fer chains fer me to prove meself, then so be it.”
“We be seeing about that.” Whale-Eye drew his cutlass.
Beckett’s face gave nothing away, though Trash Panda hissed, then scampered down her back and over to me, quickly climbing to my shoulder and wrapping around my neck. Pie squawked. The raccoon tried to shove Pie off but he clung more tightly.
“Quit, you two,” I said under my breath. Beckett didn’t need a distraction. The immediate crew, noticing the interchange, crowded around.
By the time Trash Panda settled, Beckett had drawn her blade, and the two foes circled each other while the crew loosely ringed them. Before either pirate lunged, money began changing hands. Coin for the blood sport.
Whale-Eye lunged at Beckett using his longer reach to swing the blade in a deadly arc. Beckett might be little, but she proved fierce. And quick. She darted under Whale-Eye’s blade and came up behind him, slashing the rear of his trousers with her blade. Talk about a pain in the ass. Twig would have so appreciated that move.
Whale-Eye howled, while the crew laughed and more coins changed hands.
“First blood to Captain Yardley,” Pie called. Several pirates groaned, though most cheered.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I be fighting an unarmed man. Seems hardly fair.” Beckett switched the blade to her other hand. “There, perhaps now ye be able to get a swing or two in afore I finish ye off.”
“I’ll kill ye fer that, wench!” Whale-Eye rounded on her and charged, hard and fast. Beckett didn’t appear worried, parrying his clumsy strike with her own blade, then bringing a well-placed kick to his knee. Whale-Eye collapsed in a heap.
“I don’t see no killing happenin’,” Beckett taunted. She backed
off and waited. The crew jeered at the fallen pirate, and he flamed a darker shade of red. Rising painfully to his feet, Whale-Eye moved to attack, more cautious this time.
In a battle, the pirate would be formidable, his large size overpowering opponents. Beckett didn’t flinch, however, and seemed accustomed to this tactic. What she lacked in size, she made up for in skill, dancing away from his thrusts, parrying his blows, and leaving small wounds whenever he drew too close.
If she were a dragon, I’d say she liked to play with her food. No wounds she gave were fatal. She clearly mocked Whale-Eye. She wanted to prove a point to the crew and by their expressions, it worked.
Whale-Eye retreated to the edge of the ring of bodies, his breath heaving, his eyes full of rage. Reaching back, he grabbed a belaying pin and threw it at her. She dodged. The other pirates jeered.
“No good with a blade. Even less with a pin. And ye call yerself a pirate,” Beckett taunted.
He dropped his cutlass and crouched, charging Beckett once again, trying to barrel into her and take her to ground.
Beckett reacted swiftly, plunging her cutlass into his belly as he tackled her. She rolled backward as they fell, using her feet and their momentum to send him flying over her head, and then somersaulting back to her feet. I couldn’t help it. I clapped. I mean, wow!
The defeated pirate lay groaning on the deck, a spreading pool of blood beneath him. Beckett approached and without hesitation wrenched her blade from his belly. He moaned, a trickle of blood running down his chin.
“Ye don’t deserve a merciful death, traitor.” Beckett wiped her blade on his trousers, nicking him as she did so. Trash Panda scampered off me, across the deck, and returned to her witch, surprisingly agile for a creature that looked more than half-dead. She slung herself around Beckett’s neck like a ratty stole.
Beckett spun in a circle, looking each crewman in the eye before going to the next. “Any other mutineers? Me blade’s feelin’ warmed up now, so iffen ye all want a go, now’s the time.”
A collective step back from the crew meant no more fighting. Then, with one last gasp, Whale-Eye pulled a dagger from his sleeve and threw it at Beckett’s unprotected back. I yelled a warning, and Pie launched himself from my shoulder. Before Beckett could react, Trash Panda leapt between Beckett and the blade.
A horrible squeal split the air and Beckett spun, gasping as the raccoon fell to the deck, the dagger lodged in her chest.
“TP!” Beckett sank to her knees. I hurried to her side while Pie squawked in alarm overhead. I fumbled for Cookie in my tunic pocket. Beckett placed a hand on the raccoon’s midsection. It was lodged deep.
“Ye can’t die, ye scurvy beast.” Pie landed next to the fallen raccoon, nudging Trash Panda’s ear. The little raccoon wheezed once, placed a paw over Beckett’s hand, made a last mewling sound, and went still.
“No!” Beckett pulled the blade from Trash Panda. “Quinn, help me!”
I placed Cookie gently on Trash Panda. Cookie chirped, then broke into the most mournful song I’d ever heard. A dirge.
Beckett placed her hand mirror near her familiar’s mouth. Nothing.
“She can’t die. Not this way.” The crew melted away as Beckett’s face crumpled.
I pulled her to me as she sobbed. While pirates didn’t have familiars the way witches did, more than one pirate captain cried over the loss of their parrot.
Pie cursed up a storm, including some phrases I’d never heard before. When Cookie’s lament finished, Beckett quieted, and Pie hung his head, his words dying away, too. I rubbed my face against Cookie in thanks before returning her to my tunic.
Pie nuzzled Trash Panda. “She t’were a fine familiar, Captain Beckett. I be honored to have served wi’ her.”
Beckett held a hand in front of her face, gazing at it like it didn’t belong to her. “My magic’s gone. At least until I bond with another familiar.”
“I know.” We’d lost our only witch.
Beckett carefully scooped up and cradled TP to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
I didn’t know whether she spoke to the raccoon or more generally. Pie fluttered to her shoulder and leaned against her cheek, offering what comfort he could.
We sat on the deck together until Twig approached with Zak on his heels. He must have just come from his reconnaissance. By his grim expression, we wouldn’t like what he had to say.
Zak kept blinking and rubbing his nose. Twig carried a large square of silk in his hands. It had been one of his favorite tunics. “I thought we could use this to wrap her in.”
Beckett nodded and stood, gently placing the little raccoon in the tunic. Twig wrapped her with quiet respect. Once done, he handed her over. Beckett held the tiny bundle for a moment before looking up at Twig.
“A burial at sea is what most pirates want. She seemed to take to this life.” Beckett forced a smile. “I’d appreciate it if you’d deposit her in the water. I don’t want to just drop her overboard, you know?”
Twig nodded and stripped and then launched himself from the Disreputable Prince, transforming into his dragon form with ease. His glittery, fairylike wings fluttered, holding him in place as he waited for Beckett to relinquish Trash Panda.
She kissed the bundle before placing it in one of Twig’s large talons. Twig nodded and swooped away from the ship. Pie cursed from Beckett’s shoulder and we both spun around.
A bright, white light expanded on the deck until roughly the size of a human. Yet no human appeared. A ghost stepped through the light. An elderly woman with hair hacked short and wearing a tunic and leggings. She floated onto the deck as if this were a normal occurrence.
Pirates yelled in alarm, though I didn’t take my eyes off the ghost, wishing again that I had magic at my disposal. Not that she seemed particularly harmful. However, looks could be deceiving.
She smiled. Her gaze indulgent. Gentle even. She waved in a come-hither gesture. Only not to us. Another bright light appeared at Beckett’s feet, this nimbus much smaller. Beckett stepped back, spooked.
An eerily pale Trash Panda scrambled from the light, looking around the deck. A ghost. She chittered when she saw Beckett, but then noticed the other ghost and chirped excitedly.
“Come, little one, your job here is complete. You did well.” The old witch’s voice sounded like a faint echo, yet we all heard her. The raccoon ran on all fours toward the other ghost, stopping just short. TP turned, and if a raccoon could be said to look sad, she managed it. The familiar ducked her chin at Beckett in a very humanlike gesture, and then she chittered something at Pie, before jumping into the ghost’s waiting arms. Trash Panda snuggled against the old woman’s chest, tail swishing, radiating happiness. The ghost laughed and said, “I missed you too, lovey.”
“That’s her witch,” Beckett whispered. “Her first one, I mean.”
I nodded. Too dumbstruck to say anything.
“Yer familiar asked me to watch after ye, Captain Beckett,” Pie choked out.
“Thank you, Beckett, for caring for TP,” the old witch said, even as their forms became less distinct. “This little one’s been waiting a long time to come home.”
“No, thank you. She was a lovely familiar.” Beckett tried to smile. Instead, she sniffled.
The old witch held up a hand in farewell as they faded out, Trash Panda chittering happily.
That’s when the other light appeared.
37
“Another one?” Zak said disbelievingly. “Is there something about this place in the sea? A pooling of ghost magicks?”
“I don’t know.” The new light didn’t match the other. A misty smoke color, cloudy, dark. Ominous.
Twig stepped in front of us, protective. I startled. When had he returned? I swallowed my irritation. I didn’t have magic to defend me like he did. It grated though.
As the light expanded, another figure stepped onto the deck. Beckett gasped. But it was Pie who squawked.
“Captain? That truly be ye?�
� Pie stiffened on Beckett’s shoulder.
A short, yet still imposing ghost materialized. He gave a sweeping bow, danger radiating from his eerie form. I looked between Beckett and her great-something grandfather. The resemblance was uncanny. He sported dark dreadlocks that fell below his waist, a thick, shaggy beard, and all-too-intelligent eyes that examined us.
The textbooks made Blackstone Yardley sound bigger than life. What he lacked in stature, he sure made up for in aura. Even as a ghost, he radiated menace, his form more shades of gray than white. At his waist he displayed an ornate but deadly looking cutlass. His clothing resembled other pirates’ attire, though he’d added a large hat with a feather. Were those pieces of bone woven into his tresses and beard? Rings glinted on all his fingers, his belt buckle bejeweled, and his boots laced with glittery thread.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, holding out his arm like a perch, he whistled.
He was calling Pie home. Beckett and I realized this at the same moment.
“Pie, you’re free. I-I don’t know how, but he’s waiting for you.” Beckett stepped forward, her eyes riveted on Blackstone. “Captain Yardley, sir, I know ye don’t know me, but I be one of yer descendants.”
His sharp eyes landed on Beckett and after a tense moment, he smiled, his grin making him look less severe. He held out his other hand and opened his fist. A handful of rune bones lay in his palm. He nodded and whistled for Pie again.
“Captain!” Pie launched from Beckett’s shoulder toward the ghost. He landed on Yardley’s arm like he belonged there.
Yardley brought Pie close to his face and let Pie nuzzle his beard. I could swear there were tears in Yardley’s eyes.
Pie suddenly pulled away.
“A moment, Captain.” Pie looked back at us. “Ye all be the best mates I could ask fer. Ye’ve made me time and me life better fer knowin’ ye all . . .”
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