by Leah Ross
Morgan entered the galley and was pleasantly surprised to see Declan among those still eating. He grabbed a plate of food and joined the quartermaster. “How are you feeling, sir?”
“Much improved. Thank ye, lad. Did ye an’ the captain find the item in question?”
“We did.”
Declan smiled. “Well done, Jonathan. I’m proud o’ ye.”
Morgan smiled and tried to eat slowly and politely, though he was so hungry he felt like attacking his plate. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Declan pushing his food around instead of eating it. Suddenly Morgan felt like he was intruding on Declan’s privacy.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t ask if you wanted my company. Shall I leave you alone?”
Declan looked up, his eyes haunted, his expression grave. “Nae, lad. Ye can stay.”
Morgan swallowed hard, a lump lodged in his throat. He put down his fork. “I’m a great listener, sir. How can I help?”
“There’s naught ye can do to help me, lad.”
Morgan’s heart went out to Declan. He truly wanted to help, but if Declan wouldn’t talk about it, then there wasn’t much he could do. Once again, the lad attempted to bring up the subject, in the hopes that Declan would finally open up, and once again, he was interrupted.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Laria said softly.
Morgan smiled at her, and his gaze dropped to her growing belly. It thoroughly amazed him to see her body change to accommodate the life of another whole person flourishing inside her. Glancing over at Declan and seeing the dichotomy of love and pain shining in his eyes as he looked at Laria, Morgan felt keenly the intrusiveness of his presence. He grabbed his plate and made to excuse himself, but Laria beat him to it.
“Can I speak with you, Declan, please?”
Declan nodded and stood from the table. “Excuse me, lad.”
Morgan watched the two of them leave the galley. His appetite now gone, he cleared his dishes from the table, taking them to the sink and washing them. Dinner service was nearing its end, and Nigel was beginning to get the galley cleaned for the evening. Though he was weary in both body and soul, Morgan stayed and helped, washing the other dishes by the sink.
Nigel handed the boy a mop. “Time to swab the floor, lad.”
“Belay that, Mr. Morgan.” Guinn strode into the galley, his proud smile still lifting the corners of his lips. “Pardon me, Mr. Ramian, but the lad has worked very hard today already, and I need him to run a small errand for me before he turns in for the night.”
“Aye, Captain,” Nigel replied, taking the mop back from Morgan. “I’ll take care of it, son. Thank ye for yer help. I’ll see ye in the morning.”
Guinn led Morgan to the door. “Have you seen Declan lately?”
“Aye, sir. He left here not too long ago.”
“Will you please find him and send him to my cabin? Then get some rest.”
“Right away, sir.”
Morgan wasn’t sure where Declan and Laria had gone, but there were only so many places they could go for privacy. On a hunch, he headed for the last place he’d known them to share a private moment together. The forecastle deck was dark and deserted, and as he crept farther into the shadows, he could hear low conversation. Hanging back to allow them a few moments to finish, he waited for the right moment to interrupt.
“Laria, please.”
“Declan, you know I can’t. Guinn is probably already expecting me back.”
He snorted derisively. “The man is too preoccupied wi’ his new acquisition.”
She sighed. “Guinn may be driven, arrogant, and ambitious almost to a fault, but he does still care about my safety. He will notice if I’m gone.”
Morgan shuddered, feeling a distinct shift in Declan’s demeanor. His heart beat wildly, and the thought of running for help shot through his mind. He stayed silently concealed, though, considering that he might only manage to escalate an already tenuous situation. His anxiety rose even higher when he heard the voice that sounded nothing like Declan respond to Laria.
“I want you, Laria. Come to my cabin.”
Her breath quickened as she recognized the change as well. “No,” she refused firmly.
Backing her up against the wall with a hand on either side of her, his breath was warm on her ear as he pressed his body against her. “I’ll have you here, then.”
“Declan, please,” she whispered, turning her face away from his. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing, love.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, inhaling deeply as he buried his face in her hair. “And stop calling me that. I want to hear my name from your lips, not his.”
“I don’t know your name,” she said, trying hard to keep the tremor from her voice.
Tracing the edge of her ear with the tip of his tongue, he whispered, “Ashur.”
“Why are you doing this, Ashur?”
His breath warmed her neck as he continued to nibble on her ear. “After sixteen years of waiting, I finally have enough power to use this body the way I want. So I will exploit it for all it’s worth before I destroy it.”
A deep shudder of revulsion shook her body, and she closed her eyes, drawing a shaky breath. Ashur. ‘Truth’, in the ancient language. Typically designating a being of great power. Gods almighty, we’re in more trouble than I feared.
Morgan knew he had to do something. Laria was in trouble. Swallowing his fear, he stepped out of the shadows and cleared his throat loudly. “Mr. Maclairish, please let her go.”
Declan rounded on Morgan, violence flashing in his cold eyes. “You have no idea what you’re messing with, boy. I can snap your neck in an instant and drop your body over the side, never to be seen again. Think anyone would miss you?”
“You’re scaring Miss Laria, and I know you don’t mean the things you said,” Morgan replied, ignoring the threat and trying to sound braver than he felt.
Laria’s intense gaze held Morgan’s. “Jonathan, get away from here. I don’t want you getting hurt. Go get someone who can help.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Morgan refused. He returned his attention to Declan. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Declan Maclairish. Declan would never threaten and intimidate the people he cares about. Who are you?”
Declan stepped toward Morgan, his lip curling in a cold, menacing grin. “You’re smart, lad, I’ll give you that. Not easily fooled.” He grasped Morgan’s small throat and hoisted the boy easily up against the wall, his grin morphing into a malevolent snarl. “You’re also a meddling busybody who knows too damn much. Always sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. I should do everyone on this ship a favor and relieve them of your incessant nagging.”
Morgan tugged at the viselike hand around his windpipe, his legs flailing with his attempt to breathe. Unable to speak, he searched the depths of the frigid eyes boring into his, hoping for some sign that Declan was still present. Blood pounded mercilessly in his ears, and he felt his face burning as it pooled under his skin, unable to make it past the pressure clamping down on his jugular veins.
Laria approached Declan slowly but urgently, trying desperately to reach the man behind the monster before it was too late. She made sure to use Declan’s name in an attempt to draw him back to the surface. “Declan, please. You don’t want to hurt him.”
“Yes, I really think I do.”
“You don’t. I know you don’t,” she insisted. “Come on, Declan. You’re stronger than this. You can control it, I know you can!”
Declan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a look of anguish passing over his face. Then his features hardened again. “Get out of my head, bitch!”
Panic consumed her as she saw Morgan’s face turn a frightening blue. She yanked hard on Declan’s arm. “Declan! Stop! You’re killing him! You have to stop! Please! You’re killing Jonathan!”
Spots winked across Morgan’s vision and the blackness of unconsciousness presse
d in relentlessly. His muscles lost strength as his body went limp. Pleading with his eyes, tears leaked down his cheeks. Then his eyelids fluttered and closed as he lost the battle.
An agonized roar tore from Declan’s throat. Releasing Morgan, he stepped as far away as he could while the boy crumpled to a motionless heap on the deck. Blinking rapidly, his breath coming in short gasps, he stared at his shaking hands with utter terror in his eyes. Declan had managed to claw his way back in control, but he feared it had come too late.
“Jonathan!” Laria knelt and pulled the boy to her, feeling for a pulse. She smoothed the hair from his forehead, willing him to breathe.
Finally, Morgan’s body jerked and he drew a long, raspy breath. Rising to all fours, he coughed hard, his lungs burning painfully. Laria held him and tried to calm him down. She raised disappointed eyes and met Declan’s horrified stare.
Scrubbing trembling fingers through his hair, he began to feel lightheaded as he continued to hyperventilate. “What the hell have I done?” Declan backed farther away from Laria and Morgan. “Stay away from me, both o’ ye! I canna guarantee yer safety anymore!” He rushed below to his cabin.
“Jonathan, are you all right?” Laria asked, wincing at the ugly bruises marking the tender skin of Morgan’s throat.
He nodded, grimacing at the shots of pain as he swallowed. His voice croaked horribly as he tried to explain. “Captain… sent me. Needed… him.”
Laria shook her head. “Guinn won’t be seeing Declan tonight. I’ll make an excuse for him.”
Morgan gazed intently at Laria. “I want… to help you.”
“With Declan?” she asked. He nodded, and she shook her head emphatically. “Absolutely not! It’s too dangerous.”
“Too dangerous not to.”
Her face crumpled with sorrow. “Jonathan, we’re losing him.”
“Please,” he begged. “He’s my friend.”
“He’s mine too.” She sighed. Considering the boy’s conviction and the earnestness in his hazel eyes, she was suddenly reminded of the gypsy’s fortune from years ago. Is Jonathan the one who’s meant to help me? How is that possible? He’s only a boy! But she knew he was the one. She felt his determination pulsing just as brightly as her own. “All right. We’ll start in the morning.”
Chapter Sixteen
Docking in Terracova was always an event, both for the crew of the Grimoire and the many people who rushed to greet her. Once the ship was safely moored, the men scattered in all directions, intending to make the most of their short time in the Annali capital. Guinn, Laria, Declan, and Morgan were the last ones across the brow. Declan hung back, trying to let the others go ahead so he could go off alone, but Guinn waved him over.
“Mr. Maclairish!” Guinn grinned widely, clapping his quartermaster on the back. “I’m off to visit with our good friend William. Will you please see that we have comfortable rooms for our stay in port? Then, I want us all to meet for dinner. I’ll drag William along as well.”
“Sir, I…” Declan sighed. “Aye, Captain.” He glanced at Morgan. “What ‘bout the lad, sir?”
“Can he not stay with you?”
Morgan caught the anxious flicker across Declan’s eyes, and interjected quickly. “I don’t want to be a burden on anyone, Captain. I’m perfectly happy to stay in my bunk here.”
“That’s nonsense, boy!” Guinn replied. “You spend nearly every moment of your life aboard the ship. This is Terracova! Go experience it!”
Morgan looked uncertainly at Declan, recalling all too easily the warning hurled at him after their unfortunate encounter. He didn’t want to force Declan into a difficult position just to appease the captain. He looked at the dock beneath his feet, unsure what to say.
Declan patted the lad’s shoulder. “Ye can stay wi’ me, son. I likely willna be sleepin’ in the room much anyway.”
Guinn smirked at Declan knowingly. “That’s more like it! If any one of us needs cheering up, it’s you, my friend.”
“Aye, sir,” Declan responded quietly enough that only Morgan heard him.
“Well, I’m off,” Guinn said with a wave. “I’ll see you all at the usual establishment for dinner. You remember where it is, Declan?”
Declan nodded. His heart sank as he watched Guinn stride off toward the shipyards. He’d wanted to spend this time in port as far away from the two people standing with him as possible. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. With a frustrated sigh, he tucked Laria’s hand into the crook of his elbow and beckoned Morgan to join them. He was just going to have to keep his emotions in check and hope nothing went wrong.
~*~
“Guinn McCabe,” William acknowledged the tall man leaning casually against the frame of his office door. “Hasn’t anyone run you through yet?”
“Nope,” Guinn replied with a smug smile. “I’m saving that honor for you, Hannigan.”
“I detest bloodshed. You know that, McCabe.” William stood from behind his massive desk and pulled his friend into a warm embrace. “It’s been too long, Guinn.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Too busy chasing down legends.”
“Your own, no doubt.”
Guinn smiled. “You know me too well, Will.”
William gestured to a chair and went to the small bar to pour each of them a drink. “How long this time?”
“Only a couple of days, I’m afraid, but I couldn’t stop in Terracova without seeing you.”
“Sure you could,” William shot back, handing Guinn a glass of whiskey. “You manage to never write, and with the infrequency that I get to actually see you, I’m beginning to get comfortable in my neglected state.”
Guinn shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You’re so melodramatic.”
William bowed his head. “Thank you. I try.”
Moving toward a chair, something on the wall caught Guinn’s attention. He raised a brow at William. “You framed the blueprints for my ship?”
William sat back at his desk, sighed, and rolled his eyes. “I had to. Every client who meets with me insists upon seeing the divine plans of the saintly ship Aeon Grimoire with their own eyes. Those are copies. I keep the originals safe in the vault, of course.”
Guinn couldn’t help an amused smile. “Everyone wants to study my blueprints? How intriguing.”
“I think you meant to say, ‘how irritating’. Do they want to talk about my other accomplishments? Oh, no. It’s always, ‘I had to meet the man who built the Aeon Grimoire. Can I see the plans?’ Hence the artwork.”
Guinn took a seat and sipped his drink, unable to keep the amused smirk off his face. “I seem to recall someone wanting to ‘build great things’. To have people seek out the genius creations of William Hannigan.” He raised a brow at his friend. “Come now, Will. My ship has brought you more business than you know what to do with. Admit it.”
“I do, and freely. In fact, it’s all I can do to stay on top of hiring people to do the work, and I’m currently working on expansion plans. All because of you and your damn boat.”
Guinn raised his glass in salute. “You’re welcome.”
“And you’re incorrigible, Captain.”
“I try.”
William smirked. “And you? How are things in your world? How’s Laria?”
“Healthy, and due to bring our first child into the world in only a few short months.”
“Shit, you don’t waste time, do you?”
“I don’t have any time to waste, my friend.”
“That is definitely true,” William agreed. He leaned forward and clinked his glass against Guinn’s. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Guinn tossed back the last gulp of his whiskey. As William rose to refill both of their glasses, Guinn continued. “Picked up a cabin boy shortly after the wedding—Jonathan Morgan. One of the best damn crew members I’ve ever had. Remarkable skill and drive. It wouldn’t surprise me if that boy is more famous than me someday.”
“And Declan is continu
ing to keep you in line, I hope?”
“Aye, as always.”
William noted the change in Guinn’s tone as he sat back at his desk and slid Guinn’s glass across to him. “Why the concern?”
“You know, it’s unnerving how well you can read people, Hannigan.”
William shrugged. “It comes in handy.”
“Declan worries me of late. Something is going on with him, but I don’t know what it is. He spends most of his time alone, and I can’t remember the last time I saw him smile. He just looks so damn depressed.”
William frowned at Guinn with incredulity. “McCabe, I know you don’t use it often, but you do actually have a heart, don’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t sold it for some golden trinket or something?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Hannigan?”
“Have you talked to Declan to see what’s wrong? Have you expressed your concern over his wellbeing to him? The man is far too proud to ask for help, naturally, but have you even extended it to him?” William asked.
“Well… no.”
“Gods, you’re such an ass, Guinn. It’s a wonder Laria can put up with you at all. Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself? You infernal men are so stubborn in your preference for self-flagellation over conversation.” William sighed exasperatedly.
“Oh yes, because you’re such an exemplary specimen of the male species yourself, yeah?”
“At least I know how to actually have an emotion.”
“I have emotions,” Guinn mumbled sullenly. “Perhaps you should speak with him, if you’re so damn good at it.”
William shook his head. “Oh no. This is your shit to figure out. I refuse to get involved.” He drained his glass and set it aside. “So why are you here, Guinn?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Will…”
“Ugh, fine.” William rolled his eyes. “The things I do for you.”
“I’m here for information.”