By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel

by Meghan Maslow

  I shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

  We fell silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Before long, I heard the soft sound of his snores. I was built for endurance. Humans, not so much. And we’d had a long day. If my calculations were right, we could be through the desert in two or maybe three days’ time. Stupid rug. At least it afforded us some protection from the elements. Not that it was good for anything else.

  I slowly lay back, taking Quinn with me. He snuffled and pressed even closer, but didn’t rouse. Good thing. My dick was trying to drill itself through my clothing.

  A long, uncomfortable night lay in front of me.

  Waking Quinn the next morning proved to be harder than anticipated. Sometime in the night he’d managed to work his way onto my chest and away from the chilly sand. He’d effectively draped himself over me as my blanket and I liked it. Too much.

  I started off by trying to ease him off, but the guy clung like a barnacle to that imaginary pirate ship. Saying his name gently, I rubbed circles on his back. My morning wood was at full mast and his pushed into my hip. Torture. But I promised I wouldn’t use him the way Brandsome had. I intended to keep my word.

  Quinn burrowed into me like he was a rabbit and I was his den. I tried calling his name a little louder. Nothing. Except his hands grasped tighter on my tunic. At this rate, he would tear it.

  I pushed myself to sitting. Quinn’s brow wrinkled and a frown spread across his face. The guy still refused to wake.

  “Come on, Quinn. We need to get going.”

  No response.

  I shook him gently. Then harder. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use our precious water to wake him. Huffing, I managed to pry his fingers from my now very wrinkled shirt.

  “Quinn!” This time his eyes opened to slits and his delectable mouth turned down in a frown.

  “What?” he mumbled, his eyes sliding closed again.

  “No, you don’t. Quinn, wake up.”

  “Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “A man can’t even get a good night’s sleep.”

  “The sun’s coming up and we can’t count on having a cool day again. We need to make tracks now.”

  “You’re really bossy in the morning, you know that?” He ran a hand through his hair and blinked owlishly.

  Damn, he was adorable.

  “You’re only just now figuring this out?”

  The corners of his lips turned up. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Handing him the last handful of storm nuts and a nutvale apple tart, I tried not to look at him. He kept yawning and could barely keep his eyes open. I’d never seen someone so cute in the morning. Not that I made it a habit to wake up with others. My mom—and most dragons really—weren’t known for their bubbly morning demeanors, but then again, that was pretty much a given at any time of the day.

  After we finished our meager meal, I exited our makeshift shelter and took it apart, rolled up the rug, and waited for Quinn. It wasn’t pitch dark, but the sun hadn’t risen yet and the desert landscape looked freaking eerie.

  The spectral galleon gliding across the dunes as if it skimmed across water might have contributed to that impression.

  Holy handmaidens of hellafuck. It is real.

  Three huge masts held large sails billowing like they’d caught a strong draft. Except no wind blew. At all. Still, the galleon didn’t seem to know it and ploughed through the sand, coming our way fast.

  “Storm and thunder! What is that thing?” Quinn’s voice carried across the sand.

  “Not sure. Since it’s see-through I’m going to guess ghost.” I didn’t have any experience with ghosts. My understanding was some were harmless, and others not so much. “Guess we found your pirate ship.”

  “Do you think they’re friendly?” Quinn gulped.

  “I don’t suppose you have any Ghost-Be-Gone powder in that bag of yours? Just in case.”

  He shook his head, took a step closer. To give him credit, he stiffened his spine and looked ready to brawl if need be.

  The galleon sliced through the dunes, the whiteness of the sand making it appear as if the ship was cresting whitecaps. Quite impressive. However, scrawled across the bow were the words ‘The Dishonorable Princess.’ Guess humans suffered from the same problem naming things that magical creatures did.

  As it drew near, the sails suddenly went slack and an anchor dropped. The galleon ground to a halt. Four large cannons swiveled until they were pointed directly at us. So, not friendly then. Great.

  We stood, not knowing what to do. Where was the crew? How would I fight something I couldn’t see?

  “Sail ho! Avast ye scaliwags,” a scratchy voice boomed from somewhere in the ship. “Fools! What be ye doing in these here parts?”

  Quinn and I exchanged glances. I shrugged. Honesty was probably the best policy.

  “Our flying carpet broke down, so we were forced to walk,” I called back. “We’re just passing through. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  I squinted trying to get a look at the crew, but from what I could see the deck was empty. Ghosts tended to haunt the Hominus Realm, and were only rarely seen in the Elder. Could they actually hurt us? I really couldn’t say.

  “Whar be ye going?” the voice said.

  “Rottingvale Quagmire.”

  A long silence ensued. Quinn tensed and I tried to remember everything I’d ever heard about ghosts.

  “Hey, you still there? I mean, ye still be thar?” I called when no further communication was forthcoming.

  Quinn elbowed me in the side.

  “What?” I mouthed. I could speak pirate with the best of them. Sort of.

  Quinn didn’t roll his eyes, but I could tell it was a close thing.

  “Now, why be ye doing something so addled?” the voice finally answered.

  “We need to speak to Sahara Burningwood. She has something belonging to someone else and we plan to get it back.”

  Another long pause. Speaking from the side of my mouth, I said, “Anything useful you know about ghosts, Quinn? I’m all ears.”

  Before he could answer, the voice carried to us again.

  “Well blow me down, an addlepate and his life be soon parted.” A weird clicking noise followed the pirate’s pronouncement.

  “Maybe. Either way, we’ll just be on our way.” I signaled to Quinn to start walking. He nodded and gathered up the carpet, while I collected the rest of our things. No way to outrun the ship, but I didn’t even know if it could harm us. I didn’t really want to find out.

  We walked backward at first, but the galleon just sat there. We moved away slowly as if it would pounce if we retreated too quickly. But nothing happened. No voice. Nothing. We clambered up another dune and crossed to the other side. As soon as the ship slipped from sight we took off running like our boots were on fire.

  Quinn didn’t have my speed, but he was still surprisingly quick. We stumbled down the dune and ran until he couldn’t continue. Gasping, we slowed to a walk.

  “Do you think we’ve lost them?” he asked.

  “Highly doubtful. But maybe they aren’t interested in coming after us. They might have just wanted to know our business.”

  “Sure,” he said, but his tone was as disbelieving as I felt. Once he’d caught his breath, we sped up again until we reached another dune. We could go around it, but it would take a lot longer and at some point we still had to crest high enough that the ship could see us. Besides, if they found us in the vastness of the Expanse once, I didn’t think a sand dune or two would stop them.

  I looked for the swiftest place to climb and cross the dune. The less they saw of us, the better.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Never been better.”

  Liar. Beet-red face, heaving lungs. Yep, looking good. I reached over and snatched the rug from him.

  “Let me carry that. If you need me to, I can carry you too.”

  “No,” he wheezed. “Not unless you can move at lightning speed with me on your back.”

>   “Unfortunately, no.”

  He nodded.

  “Let’s go, then. The sooner we get out of this hellscape, the better.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  We hurried up the next dune. When we were high enough I looked to see if the galleon was still there. It wasn’t. I swallowed. Maybe it departed and the crew decided to leave us alone. It could happen, right? Strange no evidence of a trail existed with the amount of sand the ship displaced.

  We trudged on. When we crested the dune, I swore a blue streak. The galleon waited for us at the bottom, the gang plank lowered.

  10

  “Seems to me, ye could use a lift.” The voice boomed as we descended the hill. No point in running if the ship could outdistance us so easily.

  “We’re good, thanks!” Quinn called.

  “Come aboard, mateys. The Expanse be no place fer travelers like yerselves.”

  “I think we’ll pass.” I nodded to Quinn and we started to move around the side of the galleon. For every step we took, the ship mirrored us. No way around it. Perhaps through it? Placing my hand on the ship’s side, I pressed. It wasn’t cloudlike or anything, though I could shove my hand through it if I applied enough force. Weird. I’d never seen anything like it. I’d always assumed ghosts were wisplike creatures with no solid form. Apparently not.

  “Oh, come now, ye land lubbers. We’ll travel faster together. Ye can’t have too much grub along with ye, now can ye?”

  It wasn’t food I was worried about.

  “Or water. Or entertainin’ company.”

  Leaning into Quinn, I motioned him close. “If we board a ghost ship, do you know whether we can get off again?” I whispered.

  “I think so—”

  “Of course ye can get off. What kind of pirate do ye think I be?” the voice boomed. Somehow it didn’t put me at ease.

  “What if we don’t want to board?” Quinn yelled back.

  Silence.

  A bead of sweat dripped down my back. Our flight had taken a lot out of us. Our water definitely wouldn’t last.

  “Please,” came the subdued reply at last.

  “Why do you want us to board?” I asked. “And where are you anyway? Show yourself.”

  We heard a pop and a brightly colored but translucent parrot appeared. He fluttered over us, an eye patch covering his left socket.

  “I’ve been so lonely, ye see. The others have all passed beyond. All except yers truly.” His voice was still deep and rough. Mimicking his former owner’s maybe? He circled us again and I put out my forearm for him to land on.

  “Many thanks, dragon-fairy. Feels good to rest me old bones. I be Pirate McPiratestein, by the by, but ye can call me Pie.”

  “Of course you are.” I introduced Quinn and myself.

  Quinn’s mouth had fallen open. “You mean to tell me you pilot this ship by yourself?”

  “Well, who else would do it? I can see ye ain’t the brains here, matey.”

  “He is, actually.” I winked at Quinn.

  “Then ye be in more need of me than ye think, Mr. Twig. I have water, grub, and lots of stories to tell. Thar’s hammocks for ye to sleep in when ye git tired. An easy journey and I’ll even drop ye off closest to Rottingvale Quagmire. Though why ye’d want to go thar, I can’t imagine. Perhaps we could swap yarns on the way?”

  “How is it you ended up alone on the ship?” Quinn asked. His eyes darted to the craft as though searching for hidden crew members.

  “Shave me belly with a rusty razor, ain’t ye a suspicious lad? Ye’d make a fine pirate. But to answer yer question, I don’t rightly know. When me master, Captain Blackstone Yardley passed on, I expected to go with him. Yet, here I be.”

  “Betrayer Yardley was your captain?” Quinn sucked in a harsh breath. “I always assumed the Blackstone Yardley stories were just myths to scare the young ones.”

  “Of course Captain Blackstone be a real person, of that I can vouch. He’s been me captain since I was but a chick, barely hatched from an egg, he has.”

  “How long ago did he pass on from here?” Quinn’s gaze was intent on the bird.

  “No idea. Time weren’t exactly me specialty. I’d say a century or so, but I could be wrong. Long enough fer me to git lonely.”

  “You sure you wouldn’t mind giving us a lift?”

  “What’s a pirate have to do to git a little company?”

  Quinn and I exchanged glances.

  “This is awesome.” Quinn turned a full circle on the deck. “I can’t believe you get to sail this!”

  “Ah, see, I knew it.” Pie fluttered and landed on a perch tied to the mast. “Ye’d be a natural pirate.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I’ve always wanted to sail.” As he said this, the wheel turned on its own and the ship lurched into motion. The galleon plowed through the sand like surf and rocked back and forth as it cut a swath through the desert.

  We stood and just enjoyed the breeze the ship seemed to create, the sails billowing.

  “Ye’d be wanting some grub now?” Pie asked.

  “That’d be great.” I wasn’t sure if we should eat the food, only I didn’t want to offend the bird. We definitely headed for the Quagmire and at a clip we could never match on foot. At this rate, we’d have enough of our own food and drink to carry us through if need be.

  Pie whistled and with a pop a table laden with food appeared. The meal looked delicious, except for being translucent. No way we’d be able to eat it. Not and gain sustenance anyway.

  Pie seemed to realize it too. “Oh, barnacles and blowhards, I didn’t know. I swear it on me captain’s good name.”

  “Doesn’t being a pirate automatically mean they don’t have a good name anymore?” Quinn smiled.

  “So it does, Mr. Quinn. Maybe you ain’t as addled as I originally thought.” Pie made a clacking sound with his beak that I figured was supposed to be laughter.

  I rummaged around in my knapsack and pulled out a few pathetic hunks of dried cave quoll, some salty smoke-frosted magpie, and the water skin. We both drank deeply, but were careful to keep some in reserve just in case we needed it later.

  After we finished eating, Quinn recounted our adventures to date. He embellished a bit, but I had to admit, the guy could tell a rousing tale. He even managed to make it funny. He pegged Drutilda’s voice just right, too. Pie hopped from foot to foot on his perch with excitement.

  “Blimey, ye blokes be scurvy dogs after me own black heart!” He did that clicking thing with his beak again that I was now sure meant laughter.

  “Guilty as charged.” Quinn swept into a low bow. “Now, tell us your story, Pie. What’s a nice bird like you doing in a miserable desert like this?”

  “It’s a yarn, that be for sure. We raided the wrong ship, we did. T’were early morning and we’d been chasing a mighty lord’s vessel through the night. We’d finally caught up to it, but when we sent a shot across their bow—ye know, to warn them—a creature rose from the sea.”

  “A kraken?” Quinn hung on Pie’s every word.

  “Ye’d be thinking so, aye? But it weren’t no kraken, matey. Not sure, but I’m thinking it be a demon. Seems we raided a witch’s vessel by mistake and she’d summoned the beast. Well, it blasted our poor Dishonorable Princess.” He tapped one foot like he was patting the ship. “Next thing we know we’re ghosts in this deity-forsaken desert.”

  “I can’t believe a witch would summon a demon.” Quinn shivered. “They’re notoriously hard to control. She had to be powerful to even summon one, much less contain it.”

  “Oh, she didn’t control it. That be the thing about black magic. It has a way o’ spinning ’round on the user. That be the reason my Captain didn’t keep no dark witches on board.” Pie whistled, clacked his beak. “Last thing I saw before we turned up here be that thing turning on them that summoned it. I always expected their ship to turn up here. Wouldn’t that be something? We’d git to chase them around the desert for all eternity. Honest
ly, at least it would have given us something to do.” His feathers drooped when he finished his tale.

  “You really miss your Captain, huh?” I reached out and lightly patted him on his back.

  “He be a good master. Always giving me treats. I liked to ride his shoulder when we went on raids. He let me in on all the action.”

  “You really don’t know why they passed on?”

  “Arrr, no. I wracked me brains, I did. One day they be here, and then Skinny Pete disappeared right afore our eyes. Next it were Tall Sam. Then Peg-Leg Louie. It went on like that, until it be just me an’ the Captain. When he started to fade one day, I tried to stay with him, but he just slipped away.”

  Pie’s voice came out choked and fat tears filled his eyes.

  Quinn stroked the parrot’s head and beak. “Hey, it’s okay, Pie. I’m sure we can help you figure this out.”

  I goggled at him. Really? We’re going to help a pirate bird figure out how to go to the hereafter or wherever it is ghosts disappear to when they stop haunting a place?

  “Now, just a minute—”

  “I just miss him so.” He rubbed his head against Quinn’s hand. “Ye really think ye can help or mayhap ye be only being nice?”

  “I can’t think of how we can help right now, but I’ve got some spell books back home and I can see if there’s anything useful in them.” Quinn kept stroking the bird’s crown.

  Pie peered up at him. “Blimey, you’re a powerful wizard, ain’t ye? Now I can see it.”

  “What? No, no. I just own a lot of books. I can’t promise they’ll be of any use—”

  “Now ye be fooling with me. I can see it clear as day. Ye be a wizard.”

  Quinn shot me a pained look.

  “We just don’t want you to get your hopes up,” I said. “We can’t promise anything.”

  Pie cocked his head to the side until it sat almost perpendicular to his body. “And ye, Mr. Twig, be more than ye appear too. A powerful dragon ye be.”

  I snorted. Before he uttered more gibberish, I yawned. “If you don’t mind, Quinn and I would like to rest. We’re happy to exchange more stories in a bit, but it’s been a long day already.”