The Crew (Captains & Cannons Book 2)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  As Ethan gawked, Zoey took him by the arm and whispered into his ear. “That’s him.”

  “Who?”

  “Azrael.”

  Ethan blinked, and in that infinitesimal amount of time, Death went from being several dozen yards away, leisurely walking toward them, to standing but a pace away.

  “Master Ethan!” Azrael said, his voice full of energy and his face lit with excitement. “How splendid of you to make such a grand entrance at the last hour. I see the tattle regarding you is nothing but poppycock, not even fit for the breath of a whore. Told every last one of those vagrants and vagabonds you’d show in time to register, and not one of them believed me.”

  Death shifted his attention to Zoey. After a theatric gasp and an even more theatric bow—one that saw his tricorne hat sweeping through the air—he addressed her. “And my dear Lady Zoey, you look as lovely as the day we first met. It warms my heart to know the life you live here is a full one, and I look forward to renewing our duel. Unless, of course, you’re ready to go home?”

  Zoey scowled as she squared off with him. “Never. You’re not taking my kids.”

  “One day, my good woman,” Azrael replied as he flipped his hat back atop his head. “One day.”

  Ethan extended his elbow to Zoey, and she promptly wrapped her arm around it once more. “A pleasure,” Ethan said as he started forward. “Now then, if you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.”

  Azrael stepped to the side and gestured with his arms for them to walk by. “By all means, Master Ethan. I was only coming to admire the new ship that’s graced us with her presence and to pay my compliments to whoever captained such a fine vessel. In fact—”

  Death cut himself off so abruptly that Ethan stopped as well, unsure what to make of it. Azrael then shook his head, laughed, and then quickly recomposed himself. “Pray tell, Master Ethan, is that actually Lord Belmont’s ship? Up until a moment ago, I’d have sworn it was one of her sisters, but I’ll be damned to the bottom of the abyss if that’s not her.”

  “She was Lord Belmont’s ship,” Ethan corrected. “Once he lay down to rest, she became mine.”

  “Ah, I should have guessed,” Azrael said with a chuckle. “He never would have willingly parted with her. I must say, I’m eager to see her sail in the regatta.”

  “Um, thanks,” Ethan replied, not sure what to make of his continued politeness.

  “Then, of course—” Death paused, cocked his head, and after a perplexed look crossed his face, he raised his right hand and slowly moved it to and fro, as if he were painting the Victory from afar, all the while keeping his eyes closed. “Interesting,” he said, opening his eyes and lowering his arm. “I believe you have something special there—or horrifying, as the case may be.”

  Ethan retreated a few steps, eyes widening. “What are you talking about?”

  Azrael chuckled, and his face filled with pity as if he were a curator trying to explain art to a patron who could never appreciate the work he currently stood in front of. “I hear her call,” he said. “It’s one I haven’t heard in a long, long time, but it’s definitely hers.”

  Ethan waited a moment, and when Azrael went no further, he prodded. “And she would be…?”

  “She’d mean nothing to you, but everything to your lovely first mate, though she’d not believe me if I gave it,” he said.

  Zoey crossed her arms over her chest. “Try me. Or are you simply playing games?”

  “No, no, my dear,” he said, chuckling. “I’m quite serious. I suspect if you look hard enough in the captain’s cabin, you’ll find your answer.”

  “What am I looking for, a stowaway?” Ethan asked.

  “No, she’s definitely not a stowaway,” he replied, chuckling once more.

  Ethan twisted his mouth to the side, drumming his fingers on his side. The tone and certainty in Azrael’s voice for all of this told him that Death wasn’t lying. Not in the least. It also told him, much to his own frustration, that Azrael wouldn’t be providing any further details.

  “Should we go back and look?” he asked Zoey, throwing a glance to the Victory.

  The vampire hesitated. “Not yet,” she finally said. “Let’s get registered first. We need to get to the office before it closes.”

  “A wise decision, if there ever was one,” Azrael said, clapping her shoulder. “Oh, and before I’m accused of lacking when it comes to manners, tonight, Captain Ethan, if you would take a seat at the Sword and Spear promptly at nine, I’d be much obliged.”

  “What for?”

  “Tradition, my good man,” Azrael said. “For tradition.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Invitations

  Sword and Spear.

  A cozy tavern and inn at the edge of New Port Royal, if there ever was one as far as Ethan was concerned. Sure, the rock and brick walls that formed the three-story structure groaned against the slightest breeze, and yes, he did find it a little strange that more than one window was missing glass, and more than a dozen vines took advantage of those missing panes by snaking their way inside. And then there was the whole unsettling air outside the place that made it seem as if one were to walk in and just happen to stumble upon a few corpses slumped over, that would be business as usual. But all of that, Ethan told himself, simply added to the charm of the establishment.

  “I still think we should go back to the Victory and make plans there,” Zoey said, her face wrinkling in disgust as a foul odor wafted through the air. “I mean, I know you’re curious to see why Azrael invited us, and you probably want to explore the world, but this place is practically a hole in the ground—literally. I swear, three weeks from now, the foundation is going to sink another ten feet into the earth.”

  “All great historical places are like that,” Ethan said, trying to put a spin on things he could get behind. “Think of it like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

  “No, it’s more like a dilapidated Kehoe House.”

  “A what, what?”

  “The Kehoe House?”

  Ethan paused long enough to throw her an inquisitive look before plopping down on a stool at a small table, shrugging as he did. “I have no idea what that is.”

  “You don’t?” she asked with genuine surprise. “It’s only one of the most famous haunted houses in the United States, or the world for that matter.”

  Ethan continued to look at her with a blank face.

  “In Georgia?”

  Ethan shrugged again. “Still not ringing a bell. How do you know about it, anyway?”

  “It’s in Georgia!” she said with a bit of a laugh as she sat down across from him. “I told you when we first met, I love Georgia.”

  “No, you said you loved peaches. I’m the one who said they came from Georgia.”

  Zoey rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I clearly had a lot on my mind at the time,” she said. “Now stop arguing with me on this and just admit this place is a dump.”

  “Dump or not, I like it,” Katryna said, pulling up a third stool to join them. “Rum flows. Drinking tunes are awful. And I’ll bet you each two shillings at least two fights break out before the top of the hour.”

  Ethan snickered. “I honestly don’t know which of the three you’re going to enjoy the most.”

  Katryna flashed a grin back at him. “Me either.”

  “Well, before any of you get sloshed, shatter ears, or start swinging, what say we take a look at the race and plot our course?” Zoey said, pulling out the map they were given after they’d registered and paid their entry fee.

  “Probably a good idea, but I think we can at least get a start on the sloshing,” Katryna said, drumming her hands on the table. The woman then stood and stuck a finger in each side of her mouth and blasted a whistle to rival a locomotive, silencing the tavern. “Barmaid! There’s no rum here!”

  “And there goes not attracting attention,” Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples.

&nbs
p; “When did I promise not to do that?” she countered. When Ethan didn’t react, let alone answer, she jabbed him in the shoulder. “Relax some, Captain. Live a little. It’s not good to be so tense.”

  “Last time I relaxed at a tavern, things did not go well.”

  “Should’ve had me around then. Or Zoey, for that matter. I promise it would’ve been much different.”

  Zoey cleared her throat, clearly wanting to avoid delving into the topic. “Right. So, I took a peek at the map as we were walking, and I think our course is fairly straightforward if we want to take advantage of our shallow draft.”

  “I didn’t realize we had one.”

  “Compared to Azrael’s ship, the Griffin, we absolutely do,” she said. “Since he’s the reigning champion, any strategy that doesn’t focus on defeating him is moot.”

  “Makes sense. What’s he sailing? Nothing too dreadful, I hope.”

  “It’s not too dreadful if you don’t mind going up against a sixty-something gun frigate,” Zoey said.

  “Crap.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “But at least it’s not his flagship. That thing’s a monster’s monster.”

  Ethan cringed. “Do I even want to know?”

  “Beyond knowing it can pulverize a first-rate ship of the line, probably not,” Zoey replied. “But back to the race. I think we need to decide upfront whether or not we want to sail to Little Bargadine. That’s going to matter on the route we take.”

  “Little Bargadine?” Katryna repeated. “What in the name of the eleven seas does that place have to do with the race?”

  Zoey spun the map so she and Ethan could see it better and dropped her finger on its location. “Little Bargadine is where this year’s bonus treasure is,” she said. “It’s a small island a few hours off course. There’s an old abandoned fort there, and inside its chapel is wind in a bottle.”

  “Like, actual wind?” Ethan said.

  “More like a storm, but yes,” Zoey went on. “Usually, it’s enough to make up for lost time, but sometimes they stuff a little more tempest than usual. No one really knows until they use it.”

  “So going there might not convey much of an advantage,” Ethan said, shrugging. “What’s the point? Because I’m assuming there’s only one, so if we get there after someone else does, we’re screwed.”

  “You assume correctly,” she said. “But as I said, it’s considered the bonus treasure, which means, if you cross the finish line with it, or in this case, even just the bottle sans wind, your prize is doubled.”

  Katryna’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

  “So do I, but it also means we’d have to be winning to have a chance at it,” Ethan pointed out. “I can’t imagine being far behind and being able to take the time to lay anchor, row ashore, find the damn thing, and whatnot.”

  “Most likely,” Zoey said. “Still, something to keep in mind.”

  “Right. What about this bit with our shallow draft you mentioned?”

  “That’s something we can definitely take advantage of,” Zoey said as she pointed everything out on the map. “Here, here, and here are all places with miles of reefs we could sail through that he can’t. It won’t be much, all things considered, but we could gain a couple of hours if we dart through these coastal islands instead of going around them.”

  Ethan nodded, easily following along. “Sounds easy enough.”

  “It will be,” she said. “That said, our best place to make a sizeable gain will be near the final leg,” she went on, tapping the map. “It’s the Isadora Strait and amounts to nearly a full day’s shortcut on average. Not everyone will be able to use it, but we can.”

  Ethan whistled and leaned over to get a better view of what she was directing his attention to. Near the finish line, a winding channel separated the mainland from a large island that extended far to the west. While it looked narrow, it didn’t look impossible, assuming the map was even remotely drawn to scale. “What’s the catch?”

  “Catches,” she corrected. “First, there are plenty of rocks and sunken ships hiding right below the water. It’s a risky run on that alone.”

  “And second?”

  “And second, there’s hardly any room to maneuver. That means if anyone follows us in—like someone else who also wants to beat Azrael—we’re potentially looking at a brutal knife fight that’ll do us both in.”

  “Sounds exciting,” Katryna said, taking both bottles of rum from the barmaid who’d just arrived at their table.

  “Sounds desperate,” Ethan said. “Are you sure this course would even be legal? It doesn’t seem right that we can just make up our own route when it comes to a race.”

  Zoey poured herself a drink in one of the crude glasses provided and downed half of it in a single shot. “I’m sure,” she said. “As long as we take no hostile actions at the start and finish line.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Lighthouses mark the safety zone at the start of the race,” she replied. “And there are buoys that mark the safe harbor zones at the finish. Pretty simple and not a lot to remember.”

  “Other than we still need to cross the finish line first,” Katryna added, tipping her own glass at them both before enjoying a drink of her own.

  “Yeah, with the ship, I might add,” Zoey added. “That means the captain has to personally be touching her with colors raised. Otherwise, it doesn’t count.”

  “I thought that was implied,” Katryna said, rolling her eyes.

  “Thought I’d mention it before Ethan gets too creative with his planning and suggests we just turn into bats or ravens or something and fly there,” she explained. She threw him a gin. “You know how you get sometimes.”

  Ethan shrugged unapologetically in return. “Never said I don’t, but on that note, I think maybe later tonight, you should be my tutor and give me a private lesson. You know, make sure I really know the rules and whatnot.”

  The tip of Zoey’s tongue flicked across her lips, and she toyed with her pendant. “Oh, that has possibilities,” she said. “Who knows where that will take us?”

  “For the love of all,” Katryna said with a groan, lolling her head to the side. “Want me to get you two a room?”

  “Here? No,” Ethan said, shaking his head. “But I’m ready to ditch this whole tradition thing if you are.”

  “Would be more fun to start our own tradition,” Zoey replied.

  With a stir in his groin, Ethan popped off his stool. “No time like the present.”

  Zoey giggled, and he took her hand and tried to lead her away. He didn’t get far. One blind step away from the table had him slamming into something large and unyielding. His face bounced off a short-haired, leathery hide rippling with muscle, and as he stumbled back, a rough hand twice the size of his head grabbed him by the collar. The next thing he knew, he was hoisted into the air and was staring at something with dark, narrowed eyes and a wide set of black horns jutting from its head.

  “Jumpy little runt, aren’t you?” the minotaur said with an explosive snort. “Do you sail your ship so recklessly?”

  In a flash, Katryna leaped to her feet and drew her sword, but before she could swing, Zoey clamped down on her forearm. “Relax, it’s fine,” the vampire said. She then turned to the minotaur. “Hello, Sedra. Mind letting go of our captain, or are we about to get ugly?”

  “I doubt either of you can get anymore wretched than you already are,” Sedra replied, grinning and snorting again before swinging Ethan over to his stool and dropping him back in it.

  Ethan hit the seat with a thump, and once he did, he got a better look at the creature before him. The minotaur stood nearly eight feet tall with shoulders as wide as a broadside. Long, unruly hair fell from the top of his head, and other than rags cinched around his waist and thick iron bracers around his wrist, he wore nothing. A pistol hung from one hip, and off the other, he sported a heavy war hammer that looked as if it
could crack a cannonball with ease.

  Not that the minotaur would need it. Ethan was fairly certain that between the ten tons of muscle he had and the rock-solid fists he could make, Sedra could easily shatter bodies with his bare hands alone.

  “You two know each other?” Ethan asked, realizing he probably needed to say something.

  “She knows the aft of my ship,” Sedra said with a chuckle.

  Zoey flashed the minotaur a glare. “Second mate Sedra Blackhorn,” she said, putting extra emphasis on the creature’s rank, “likes to think he had something to do with The Popinjay knocking my ship out the last time I raced.”

  “If memory serves, it was our broadside that tore down your mast—a well-timed broadside I ordered,” he said with another deep chuckle. “And as long as we’re correcting the record, The Popinjay is under new command. My command.”

  Zoey huffed with a half snarl. “Your captain and first mate have a little accident? There’s no way you bought that ship on your own.”

  “No,” the minotaur said. “What happened to them was very much intentional.”

  “At least mutiny made you honest.”

  “Wrong on both,” he said before coming up behind Ethan and dropping both of his heavy hands onto his shoulders. “So, Captain Ethan, are you excited about the regatta?”

  Ethan craned his head up so he could look at who he was talking to. In kind, Sedra looked down with a smile and a grunt that left Ethan wishing he could give the guy a breath mint or fifty. “I am,” he said. “But mind taking your hands off my shoulders?”

  Sedra whacked Ethan strongly but playfully on the back. “Relax, captain,” he said. “I’ve been sent by Azrael himself to escort you to an exclusive gathering, and I’m of the opinion that any man who earns that invitation must carry a bit of clout.”

  Ethan spun on his stool and eyed Sedra warily. “What sort of gathering?”

  “A traditional one,” Sedra said, tipping his head. “But if you’d like a more specific answer, I’ll be glad to oblige. A group of us get together on the eve of the race every year and play Thirty-One and Bone. Azrael would like you to join us. You do know how to play, don’t you?”