The Jinxed Pirate (Graylands Book 2)

by M. Walsh

  He put his arm around her and held her close.

  “What if I can’t do it?” she said, her head pressed against his chest. “What if this is all for nothing? What if … what if I..?”

  She resumed sobbing, and he gently rocked her. “Kat, you’re eighteen years old,” he said. “You’ve had the weight of the world on your shoulders since you were a kid. Most people go their entire lives without enduring close to what you’ve survived. And tonight you fought a man who took over the country with an army of orcs.”

  He looked her in the eye, wiping tears from her cheeks.

  “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

  He held her close. She heard his heart beating and felt the warmth of his body. She took comfort in his rhythmic breathing. It felt good to be held and comforted in the arms of the man she loved.

  She felt safe.

  “You’ll come back from this,” he said. “If you’re anything, Kat, you’re a fighter.” He chuckled. “And a damned stubborn one, too.”

  She looked at him and admired his smile. He could be so carefree and confident. By then, she’d known it for years, and she would know it long after—she loved him. Whatever might happen between herself and Tyrell, she hoped Jagger would endure. And she hoped, more than anything else, she could be there by his side.

  “I don’t want to be a fighter tonight,” she said. “Just for one night, I don’t want to be the Chosen One, the Princess, the savior, or any of that.”

  “What do you..?”

  She kissed him. She kissed him and held him tight, as if afraid he might slip away and disappear.

  “I just want to be yours.”

  They made love that night. It was her first time. She was in no position to judge, but it probably wasn’t anything special. The fantasy of the mythic First Time is always something spectacular that moves mountains and such. She’d heard poetic tales of pleasure and pain that made it all sound grand and epic.

  She wasn’t sure she was Jagger’s first, but the pressure of pleasing a princess seemed to unnerve him a bit. It was clumsy, improvised, and she remembered both of them laughing a lot.

  None of that mattered. Because it was him and she loved him.

  That was enough.

  That was all she needed.

  * * *

  Katrina was around the corner from Malison Coliseum, smoking a cigarette and readying herself for what she was about to do. Night had fallen, and it was uncharacteristically cool in the city. A thick overcast of clouds blocked the moon and made the sky a subtle shade of red. There was no breeze, and the coliseum was quiet.

  She stood in a darkened alley, taking comfort in being hidden in shadows. She smoked her cigarette, but her hand was at her sword the entire time. She was still shaken by what Scifer said earlier, but she tried to block it out. The man was a lunatic, and the idea he saw her as some kind of equal or match made her skin crawl.

  Their discussion, coming on the heels of Sebastian Clock’s threats, inspired her to act. Some might describe it as initiative. Others would call it reckless. Either way, she decided not to waver and find Jagger that very night. She’d sneak into the coliseum, find where the gladiators were kept, and break him out.

  To hell with Sebastian Clock, she thought. To hell with Scifer Olc, Jonathon Gash, and all the rest. She was going to free Jagger, and gods help anyone who stood in her way.

  When it was late enough, she finished her cigarette and crushed it beneath her boot. Remembering how Carmine had his fighting pit set up, she figured it a good chance the gladiators were kept somewhere inside the coliseum. Once she got in, she’d head for the lower levels of the arena and find the fighters’ quarters.

  The main entrance was guarded, forcing her to seek an alternate means of getting in. That didn’t matter—security looked no worse than Building 237. She was confident once she got inside, she’d be fine.

  Ultimately, her infiltration of the coliseum involved no grand plan or cunning scheme. After patrolling the outside for some time, she found an opening about thirty feet above the ground and climbed to it.

  The climb was a slow and arduous process. Lacking any rope or grappling tools, she made do with whatever crevices and imperfections she could find in the stone. If there weren’t any, she created some of her own with a dagger. It was obvious what she was doing, but luckily—being in Seba—if anyone noticed her climbing into the coliseum, they didn’t care.

  Once she reached the window, she found herself in the inner halls of the arena. As she expected, guards were few and far between. She guessed it because there was nothing of real value inside the coliseum—therefore, nothing to steal.

  Unless you want to free the slaves, she thought, doubting there were many in Seba so inclined.

  Unable to find access to the lower levels from the outer halls, she went into the actual fighting pit and through the entrance where fighters would enter and exit. There was a sloping hall leading into a vast chamber full of armor and weapons. The place stunk of sweat and death. It was difficult to see in the dark, but Katrina found dried tracks of blood all over the floor. In a far corner was a pile of bodies gathering flies—the losers of the day.

  She came across a spiraling stairwell that led deeper into the coliseum. As she headed down, she could make out the faint hint of firelight at the bottom. Anticipation rising in her gut, she forced herself to move carefully to not give away her approach. If the gladiators—and Jagger—were anywhere in this place, it would be down here.

  The stairwell came to a stop in a stone chamber with a barred entranceway where a single guard sat. He looked sullen and bored, reading a book. Katrina didn’t know if she could sneak by him and didn’t even bother. Her anticipation was getting the better of her. She wanted to see Jagger now.

  She walked up to the lone guard. “Let me in.”

  “Huh..?” he said, as if he’d been knocked out of a doze. “Who are you?”

  “Sebastian Clock sent me,” she said. She looked through the bars and found a long hallway of small cells. “I’m here to get the Last Vigorian. Is he in there?”

  “Erm, yeah,” the guard said, scratching his ear. “But nobody said anything to me—”

  “It’s not a big deal,” she said, inching toward the barred door. “Just let me in.”

  “Hold on,” he said. “I can’t—”

  Impatience got the better of her. In a flash, her sword was out, and she cracked the butt against the side of his head. He managed a quick grunt before crumbling to the ground, and Katrina wasted no time in getting the keys from his belt.

  After opening the door, she started down the hall, looking into each cell. She was so close. He was here and she was so close …

  Please, she prayed. Please let me have this. Just this one thing. Please. Please …

  She found the cell. Jagger was asleep on a small cot. His back was to her—revealing a map of scars—and upon seeing him a mass of different emotions came over her. Relief, happiness, pity, longing, and anger for what they’d done to him.

  “Jagger,” she said, opening the cell. “Baby, I’m here. Gods, Jagger, I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I would’ve …”

  He woke up and looked at her, rubbing his eyes and mumbling in confusion. He was tall and lean. His hair was long and brown. Even this close, he looked like Jagger. But he was too young. His face, subtly different. And he lacked the small scar by his eyebrow. The so-called Last Vigorian wasn’t Jagger.

  “Who..?” he murmured, still half asleep. “Who’s Jagger..?”

  She could only stare in silence. Her mouth hung agape, and she felt her heart sink into her gut. Before she could respond, someone behind her said, “Go back to sleep, Remy. This isn’t your problem.”

  Katrina turned and standing behind her was a tall, armored figure. He was thick with muscle and broad shoulders. His head was shaved, leaving only dark stubble on his head. His face was hard and lined with scars—most notably, a small one over his eyebrow.

 
“Jagger..?”

  “I haven’t been called that in a long time,” he said. “It’s Vident these days.”

  She tried to speak, but found no words. Confusion mingled with relief, but there was also a feeling of dread. His eyes—once so full of warmth and confidence—were cold and distant. He stared at her as though she was a strange foreign thing.

  “It’s been a long time,” he said. “I’ve always wondered if you really were out there somewhere. I hoped I’d get the chance to see you again.”

  “Jagger … I …”

  “And I’ve waited a long time to do this.”

  He drove his massive, armored fist into her gut. Katrina’s breath was torn from her, and she bowled over, clutching her stomach. Falling to her knees, a terrible sense of unreality came upon her. This couldn’t be real, she thought. This couldn’t be happening. She hadn’t come all this way to find Jagger for it to turn out like this.

  She looked up at him, intending to say something, but was greeted with another thunderous strike to her face.

  Darkness came over Katrina with a single word on her mind: Why?

  44

  It was another beautiful day in Madoc. The sky was clear with a gentle breeze, and the sun was shining. The glowing atmosphere made the carnival appear even more colorful and appealing than it already was. The rides were bright and festive, and the smell of candy and baked treats wafted in the air.

  But in spite of it all, there was a faint hint of sickness just below the surface. If one looked for it, one would find the slight scent of age and rot beneath it all. If one looked close enough at the various carnival workers, one might discover something a bit off about them—like their skin didn’t quite fit properly or was discolored in some subtle way.

  By day three of the carnival’s stay, the sense something was unnatural seemed more noticeable—mainly because fewer people were attending. An illness was spreading through the humble town. People—mostly children—were bed-stricken and fatigued. A few elderly people had died suddenly—seemingly drifting off in their sleep.

  Dust told Lily they wouldn’t stay much longer. Most of the townsfolk would regard the apparent sickness as a virus. A few deaths would be overlooked. But soon after that, suspicion would grow, and by then, it was best to have the carnival packed up and on their way to the next town. Once they were gone, the townsfolk would look back on their presence like a dream.

  Lily did little more than sit outside Dust’s caravan. She spent the past days contemplating her talk with him about her nature. She thought of James and his words of belief. The Sigil of the Faith did her no harm until he realized she was a demon. Was it good repelling evil, or was his belief tapping into a power—the Light—he didn’t comprehend? And if that power was anathema to her, did it really make her evil?

  Above all was Dust’s insistence she was where she belonged that kept coming back. Your own kind, he had said. Family.

  She’d never known family. The closest was her time with the Hammonds, and that ended in tragedy. Every time she tried to get close to someone—Katrina, Krutch, James—it ended in misery.

  Among demons, succubi and incubi were, by nature, solitary creatures. Even if she encountered another one, they would want nothing to do with her. Orcs ran in packs, but were savage and brutal—she wanted no part of them. The Dark Lands in general were a wretched hell she was glad to be free of.

  She looked around the carnival, at the numerous reavers—Dust himself playing his role as the barker—and wondered if this was where she belonged. With fellow outcasts from the Dark Lands who stuck together in their tribe. It would take getting used to, and she might never get along with Clara Shade, but maybe she could be happy enough?

  “Hi,” said a familiar face approaching her.

  “Hello, Jimmy,” she said. “How are you?”

  “You remembered my name?”

  “Of course I did.”

  He seemed awestruck, and she chuckled. Aside from her human form of an attractive young woman, Lily’s succubus charms made her naturally alluring to other people. It usually manifested as pure attraction or lust. Sometimes it would be curiosity and interest. Other times it came as a fierce protectiveness. Whatever the case, she was like the flame to moths.

  She couldn’t fully control it, so she sometimes had to deal with attention from people she didn’t expect or even want. But she’d never seen anyone as taken as this boy appeared to be.

  “I thought you didn’t work for the carnival?” he asked.

  “Well,” she said, tilting her head. “I think I might change my mind.”

  “What will you do?”

  She thought about it and smirked. “I might be the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  The boy’s jaw dropped.

  “Maybe,” she added, trying to reel him back to reality. “It’s, uh, it’s up for debate.”

  Jimmy nodded and looked around. “How long is the carnival staying?”

  “Not sure,” she said. “Probably another day or two.”

  “Oh,” he replied, sounding deflated.

  “Believe me, it’s better we don’t linger around here.”

  “That’s a shame to hear,” said Jimmy’s father, appearing from the crowd. “I thought you weren’t a part of the carnival?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her good mood souring. “Well, you know.”

  “She might be the most beautiful woman in the world, Pa,” said Jimmy.

  “That a fact?” He smirked and looked her up and down, and Lily regretted her little tease. “I could see it,” he said. “You do have … something.”

  That’s one way of putting it.

  “If you have second thoughts,” he continued. “You could do worse than settle here. Big things are going to happen in Madoc once I’m Magistrate.”

  Lily nodded, but wasn’t interested.

  “See, we do well trading lumber and fur,” he said, not noticing or not caring about her indifference. “But I say to myself, why stop there? We live in the mountains. Why are we not mining?”

  “Uh-huh.” She looked at Jimmy, and the boy was staring at the ground, looking bored, and she guessed he heard this spiel many times.

  No, not just boredom, she thought, remembering him sitting by himself at the well. Loneliness.

  “I already got us started,” Big Jim said. “I got black powder brought in, and we started blasting in the mountains earlier this summer. You know what that means? Not just trade, but jobs for the people living in this town. It’s called expansion, my dear. That’s how villages become towns and then cities.” He flashed a practiced grin. “Big plans—that’s why they call me Big Jim.”

  “We haven’t found anything yet, though,” said Jimmy. “And Mr. Conroy had that accident, so—”

  Big Jim snatched his son’s arm and gave it a squeeze. The boy flinched and kept quiet, and in that moment, Lily saw the anger in Big Jim’s heart she sensed when she first met him.

  “Don’t mind the boy,” he said, putting his salesman smile back on. “Naturally, this won’t happen overnight, and there will be accidents. But what’s important is we move forward, and that’s what I’ll bring as Magistrate of Madoc.”

  “Right,” she said, frowning.

  “Anyhow,” he said, clearing his throat. “We should be going. It was nice to see you again.” He paused and flashed a smile that was supposed to be charming, but made Lily’s skin crawl. “Maybe I’ll catch you in town before you leave with the carnival?”

  She forced a fake smile. Jimmy waved goodbye as he was led away, and she waved back. She watched them go and looked into Big Jim again. He wasn’t an evil man. A shyster and blowhard—rough with his son—but not evil. Not her usual prey.

  Evil’s just a word.

  She looked toward the sun and knew the carnival would be closing in a few hours. Once night came, the reavers would descend into Madoc to feed. Lily hadn’t fed since the old man in the woods. She was due, and if she was going to join this tribe, it w
as time she hunted with them.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, thinking of Jimmy’s father. “You might run into me again sooner than you’d like.”

  45

  Katrina awoke to pain. Her right eye was swollen shut, and her mouth tasted of blood. Breathing made her ribs burn. Movement was agony—much of it focused on her back. Her left hand felt like a glove filled with broken glass. She was too dizzy to realize how much her head was throbbing.

  “Still with us..?” she heard through the haze.

  She forced her vision to clear and, with effort, managed to turn over. She stared at the stone floor dumbly a few moments before realizing her mouth was leaking blood. Shaking her head—which brought blinding pain to her neck—she looked up and saw Jagger leaning against a wall, holding her sword.

  They were in a dungeon. It was a dark and dank room of stone. There were no windows and only a single door. The air was musty, and the ground felt damp. Katrina tried to stand, but collapsed back to the floor.

  “Nice sword,” Jagger said. “Dark Lands metal, if I’m not mistaken. Where’d you get it?”

  She didn’t answer, cringing in pain and making a noise like a wounded animal.

  “I almost didn’t believe it when I heard,” he continued. “When word reached us Gain burned, I didn’t think anything of it. Carmine was always a jackass—only a matter of time before it caught up to him. But then we learned it was caused by a woman calling herself Rien.” He smirked and let out a sardonic chuckle. “Still using the old alias, eh..? I suppose I can’t hold that against you. Who outside the rebellion would know?”

  “Jagger,” she coughed out. Her voice was strained and weak, sounding even worse than usual. “Jagger …”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “I … I came to save you …”

  “Save me..? From what?”

  “I … I heard that …”

  “You know what,” he interrupted. “Save your voice. You sound terrible. If you’re wondering where I’ve been, I’ll tell you.

  “After Vigor fell, I wound up in Graylands—drifting from town to town with nowhere to go. Like you’ve been doing, am I right? I guess I had a death-wish, which is how I ended up in Carmine’s fighting pit. They forced me into it, but honestly, I didn’t put up much of a fight. After what happened back home … I had a lot of anger in me. I can’t begin to tell you how good it felt to be in the cage. Fighting became a release. No, more than release. It was all I had.