The Jinxed Pirate (Graylands Book 2)

by M. Walsh

  “You’re really not with the carnival?” Jimmy asked.

  “No,” she said, clearing her throat. “I hitched a ride with them, but I’m not actually a part of them.”

  “Do you know how long they’re staying?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe a week.”

  He nodded, and Lily was struck by a feeling of dread in her gut. “How, um,” she said. “How often does the carnival come around? Do you remember the last time?”

  Jimmy scratched his hair, thinking. “I don’t remember,” he said. “I think it might have been a year ago, but I’m not sure.” He paused, thinking some more. “I might’ve been sick.”

  An image of the little girl shambling out of Shade’s trailer came to her—the dazed, sleepy look on her face and how pale and sickly her color had turned. Shade said the child wouldn’t remember anything, and Lily imagined the carnival drifting from town to town, leaving death in its wake, and no one understanding how or why.

  Like mosquitoes, she thought. They feed without anyone noticing until too late.

  “What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Jimmy,” she said. “Do me a favor: keep your window locked tonight.” He stared her, perplexed by her request, and she added with a fake smile, “You don’t want bugs to get in.”

  “And who might you be, ma’am?”

  She looked up to find Jimmy’s father approach, and up close, the resemblance was uncanny. He shared his son’s dark hair, light eyes, and square jaw. Unlike his son, however, there was no shyness in him. He stood tall, proud, and confident.

  “This is Lily,” said Jimmy. “She came with the carnival.”

  The elder Jim squinted at her. One of his eyebrows cocked, which told Lily without a word he found her very attractive. “Name’s Jim,” he said. “They call me ‘Big’ Jim. So you’re with the carnival?”

  “No,” she said. “I just got a ride with them.”

  “Ah,” Jim said, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Are you planning on becoming a resident of Madoc?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Shame,” he said. “It’s nice to have a pretty face around. You should consider it though. By this time next year, I’ll be Magistrate of this town. I got big plans in store.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Big Jim nodded, a politician’s smile plastered on his face, and Lily knew if his son wasn’t there, he’d be trying to get into her pants. He looked like he was going to follow up on his declaration of “big plans,” but she chose to escape.

  “I should be going,” she said, standing up. “It was nice to meet you, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy blushed again, but before he could respond, Big Jim clapped his hands and said, “It is getting late. How about some supper, eh, son?”

  The boy stammered and mumbled and only managed a shy wave goodbye as he followed his father. Big Jim gave her a nod and wink before they walked toward a large house built atop a nearby hill.

  She liked the boy, but as they walked away, Lily glimpsed into Big Jim’s heart and didn’t like what she sensed. He wasn’t an evil man—certainly not like her preferred prey—but there was darkness to him. The lust came as no surprise, but there was something else.

  Anger …

  “It is a lovely town, isn’t it?”

  She turned to find Dust with her. He was still wearing his top hat and long coat, but his tie was loosened and sleeves rolled up.

  “Shouldn’t you be working?” she asked.

  “My duties are done for the day,” he replied. “All the guests that would come already have, and we’re going to be closing up for the night soon. I figured I’d find you in town.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Well, I don’t think it’s going to work out between me and your little carnival.”

  “Clara told me about her incident with you today,” he said, nodding. “Curious, what offended you?”

  “I …” She hesitated and said, “It doesn’t matter. I think it’ll be better if we go our separate ways.”

  He stared at her a moment, and she could sense he was looking into her—just as she looked into Jimmy’s father. So that’s what it feels like, she thought with a shiver.

  “You pity that girl,” he said. “You were distressed Clara fed on an ‘innocent’ child.”

  Something about how he said innocent made her flinch. “So what if I did?”

  “You truly are a curious creature, Lilith.”

  “Don’t call me Lili—”

  “Come back to my trailer. We should talk. Really talk.”

  “Look,” she said, backing away. “We have nothing to talk about. I’m done. You go your way, and I’ll go mine.”

  “Please,” he said. “I’ve known you were troubled since we found you. Let me help you.” He extended his hand. “I won’t judge you.”

  Lily bit her lip, tempted to take his offer. There was a part of her that always wanted someone to truly talk to. Among humans, she had to hide what she was—knowing she’d be killed on sight if they knew she was a demon. Among her own kind, she had to hide what she felt—fearing they wouldn’t understand or, worse, deem her an aberration. A freak that must be destroyed.

  Reluctantly, she nodded and said, “Okay.”

  It was dark by the time they returned to the carnival. The night had cooled. A thick fog formed and drifted into town. Seeing the gliding mist and feeling the sudden drop in temperature, Lily wondered if it was altogether natural. She glanced at Dust, and he smiled.

  “More glamour,” he said. “They won’t start until later, but we find hunting is better in the mist.”

  The carnival was quiet, and the thickening fog seemed to glow from a large, fat moon overhead. The visitors from Madoc were long gone, and the reavers were shut up in their trailers. The carousal and colorful rides were motionless and still in the dark. It left an eerie atmosphere that chilled Lily to her bones.

  She was reminded of a story she overheard once. She didn’t remember the name or plot, but it involved children sneaking around a place where demons dwelled in secret. Walking through the darkened, silent carnival, a single line from the story came to her: Here, there be monsters.

  I should know, she thought. I’m one of them.

  Dust led her to his trailer and bid her to sit while he lit a lantern and small stove in the corner. “Tea..?” he asked.

  “I suppose.”

  He removed his top hat and took off his coat, tossing them both across a wooden chest at the end of the caravan. With the kettle lit, he sat in his seat and watched her for some time. His face was calm, and his eyes were analytical. His hands were folded just below his chin.

  “You still plan to leave now that we’ve reached Madoc?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Around.”

  “My offer still stands,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay if you like. I know we seem distant, but give it time. You can earn a place among us.” He gave her cheesy smile. “Why, I know exactly what you could be for the carnival. We could advertise you as: ‘The Most Beautiful Woman in the World.’”

  She snorted. “I’m not the most beautiful woman in the world,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Flattery’s not going to change my mind.”

  “You are a succubus,” Dust continued. “You have charms. Your glamour affects humans in ways ours cannot. Every man—and even woman—will meet you and walk away believing they’ve met the most beautiful woman in the world. You’d be quite the attraction.”

  Lily imagined traveling the country with this carnival. They’d find her between the juggling clowns and fire-breather. People gathering to meet the so-called Most Beautiful Woman, and she emerging from behind some curtain—cranking up her succubus charms as hard as she could—and leaving the crowd in awe. It was so ridiculous, she snorted again.

  “I’m not joining your carnival.”

  The kettle whistled, and Dust poured the boiling
water into two cups. He placed tea-bags in each—a benign smile on his face. “You care about the humans,” he said. “Don’t you?”

  Lily shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling small. “Yes,” she murmured.

  “Interesting,” he said, handing her one of the steaming cups. “But you feed on humans, no? How else do you survive?”

  “I only feed on certain people.” She paused, trying to find the words. “Bad people. People that deserve it.”

  “Based on what?”

  “I can see into people’s hearts, like you can I think. I can see if …” She paused again. “I can see if they deserve it. If they’re … if they’re evil, I guess.”

  “Define evil.”

  “Murderers. Rapists. It depends on the person.” Dust said nothing, only staring at her, which made her uncomfortable. “I’m very careful about who I feed on. I don’t just …”

  “Of course, of course,” he said, adding sugar to his tea. “And why does that concern you?”

  “I …”

  She hesitated, having trouble articulating herself. She squirmed in her seat, feeling frustrated. All this time she’d wanted someone she could express herself to, and now she couldn’t find the words.

  “It’s just,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt innocent people. I … it’s what’s right.”

  Her last statement seemed to intrigue Dust. His eyebrow cocked, and a smirk cracked his lips. “You certainly are a curious creature, Lilith Blackthorn. Most curious.”

  She watched her tea as the water turned to an amber color and felt she did a poor job explaining herself. Maybe she was wasting her time, she thought. Maybe Dust was incapable of understanding. Or maybe she really was a freak after all and her reasons for being how she was didn’t make sense.

  “Do you consider yourself evil, Lilith?”

  She kept staring at the tea in her hand, absently twirling the bag with her spoon. She never considered herself much of a tea drinker, but the scent was soothing.

  Dust’s question hung in the air a few moments, and she thought back to James and what happened in Gerritsen. The old man in the woods.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice coming out in a tiny croak. “I know I am.”

  “What makes you say that?” he asked.

  “Because I’m a demon.”

  “And therefore, I and my fellow reavers are evil as well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s what we are,” she said, placing the tea down on Dust’s desk. “We’re creatures of the Black. We’re just born this way. Nothing can change it.”

  “And yet you insist on only feeding on ‘evil’ men and women, while sparing the ‘innocent.’ Why?”

  Lily winced and covered her face with her hand. She couldn’t make herself look him in the eye. “I don’t know,” she moaned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t … I don’t …”

  “Are you familiar with ants, Lilith?”

  “The insects..?”

  He nodded.

  “Um … yes..?”

  “Did you know,” Dust began, “that ant colonies wage war on other ant colonies? That the prevailing colony often enslaves or wipes out the losing one? Did you know that?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know,” he continued, “there are species of dolphin that hunt down and kill other species of dolphin—purely for sport—just because they are a different species?”

  “I …”

  “Not unlike a human who kills another human because of the color of his skin.”

  Lily said nothing.

  “War, slavery, genocide, bigotry, and murder for sport,” he said. “Are these things not considered evil? Are the ants and dolphins and all the other animals that inflict these things upon one another evil? Are there, therefore, ‘good’ animals?”

  “But that’s different.”

  “How so?”

  “Because,” she said, finding herself at a loss. “Because they’re animals. They …”

  “They’re lower life forms,” said Dust. “Morality, as defined by human standards, does not apply to them. Yes..?”

  “I guess.”

  “Then why should we concern ourselves with the morality of humans? They are to us as the ants are to them.”

  “Wait,” Lily said. “That’s not the same.”

  “Do you know what evil is, Lilith? Evil is a word invented by humans to label things they fear. They fear us—as well they should fear us. We are above them, and our survival often coincides with their harm. You and I survive off the essence of humans. Orcs and gargoyles are, by nature, violent and savage. So they label us ‘evil’ because our nature and survival comes at their expense. We are evil to them as a human is evil to the deer he hunts.”

  “But,” she said, feeling lost and confused. “But … no. No, that’s not right. The Sigil of the Faith. The Shining Shields of the Silver. Blessed water … holy ground … they hurt us. They repel us. It’s not just …”

  “You poor child,” Dust said, chuckling. “You truly don’t understand, do you?”

  “Understand what?”

  “We are of the Black,” he said. “Our enemy is the Light. The ‘Faith,’ the ‘Silver,’ the ‘Fallen Gods’ … all just extensions of the Light. It is the Light that repels us. The Light that does us harm. The humans label us ‘evil’ because we threaten them, so naturally, they label anything that threatens us ‘good.’”

  Lily said nothing.

  “The Seraphim were to the Light as we are to the Black. I assure you, the Seraphim and the Light are no more pure ‘good’ than we are pure ‘evil.’ The Seraphim are long gone, but I’m certain if a human encountered one, they would be just as horrified by it as they would by the nameless things that dwell in the heart of the Dark Lands.

  “We, and our conflict,” he continued, “have existed long before the humans and Eldér and Graigfolk and all the rest crawled out of the muck to claim this world for themselves. And our conflict will continue long after they’re all gone and this world is a barren wasteland. The Black against the Light … the humans are mere spectators that have labeled it ‘good’ against ‘evil’ because it’s the only way they can comprehend it.”

  Dust rose from his seat and knelt beside Lily. She’d been staring at the floor for much of his speech, too stunned to respond. He took her hand in his, and she found a sympathetic look in his eyes.

  “Don’t concern yourself with their definition of morality, Lilith,” he said. “We are beyond that. Don’t torture yourself because you are what they consider ‘evil.’” She looked at him and felt the tears come down her cheek. “You are among your own kind, Lilith. You are with your family. You belong here with us.”

  He paused and smiled.

  “With me.”

  36

  After the mess in the Tombs, Krutch, Audra, and Arkady holed up in the Ugly Pig in Frank. It seemed almost fitting they end up where they started, Krutch thought. Despite his suggestion they board a ship and flee, they spent the following day weighing their options. Arkady offered to sneak back into the city for their things and find out what the word on the street was.

  Outside was dark, as Seba was having one of its few downpours. Dull thunder rumbled every so often and sheets of rain drenched the dismal plateau. Although it did nothing to reduce the heat, Krutch found the dreary weather appropriate. While Arkady was gone, he spent much of his time pacing around the small room and plotting an escape route through the window.

  “Wait until he comes back,” Audra said, wiping the blade of her new sword with a rag. “It might not be so bad. Who’s to say they even know it was us?”

  He didn’t bother responding to that. Clock and Gash weren’t stupid—they had to know it was him. Even if they didn’t, Vel-Etta would surely mention it. He didn’t tell Audra, but he was surprised a legion of Wraiths, Goblins, and the Brute Squad wasn’t already storming the Ugl
y Pig to rip him to pieces.

  Looking back, he wasn’t sure what he expected to find in the Tombs. It almost seemed laughable he thought it would be something he could use against Clock. Thousands of Goblins living beneath the city, all making weapons at his request, and a personal army of Wraiths who answered to him. No wonder Gash and the others didn’t dare cross him.

  I’m in over my head here.

  “Come on, Lee,” said Audra, getting him to sit down. “I thought you handled the Tombs well.”

  “Handled the Tombs well..?” he repeated. “Were you in some different Tombs that I don’t know about?”

  “Isn’t this exactly what we wanted?”

  He looked at Audra, and despite everything, she had that spark in her eyes. She was enjoying herself. Either this was all a colossal game to her, or she still believed he could work this to his advantage.

  Because she thinks I’m the “great” Krutch Leeroy.

  “Audra,” he said. “We need to talk. I—”

  “Boss!” Arkady said, bursting into the room. “I’m back!”

  Having no energy, he remained on the bed and buried his face in his palms as Audra stood up and asked, “What did you hear? What’s going on?”

  “I got our stuff,” he said, dropping their bags on the floor. He sat on the nightstand, drying himself with a towel, and said, “People are talking about the Tombs, and the boss’s name is coming up a lot, but no one is really sure what happened.

  “The big thing,” he continued, “is the Goblins are pissed. After the fire they went wild and attacked the Wraiths. Word is the Tombs are in lockdown. And get this: someone tried to kill Jonathon Gash.”

  Audra’s jaw dropped, and Krutch muttered, “I bet I get blamed for that.”

  “No one knows who,” said Arkady. “But I heard Gash is holed up in his mansion now. He called up the entire Brute Squad to guard him and word is there’s going to be a reward for whoever tried to kill him.”

  “What about Clock?” Audra asked.

  “Didn’t hear anything,” he said. “But, after I got our stuff, I ran into that big guy Hanselton. He gave me this.”

  He handed Krutch a folded enveloped sealed with gold wax. He didn’t recognize the stamp, but the paper smelled of familiar perfume and knowing who delivered it told him who it was from.