by Eve Langlais
“Are you sure?”
“I can handle the Ghost.” He’d done business with him a few times before, mostly the sale of procured treasure, the rare and dangerous kind.
Ignoring the enticements all around, he headed for the building made of marble blocks, a contrast to those made of reclaimed driftwood and coral. The marble must have been expensive to have hauled to the island, but impressive given it rose two stories high. The intricately carved silver doors opened at his approach, and yet he saw no sign of anyone holding them when he entered.
Inside, the marble continued, broken only by furniture contrived out of luxurious wood, the grain swirling in infinite loops. More wasted signs of wealth.
A slim figure waited, dressed in a sarong that wrapped over a shoulder, around the upper chest, cinched at the waist, and then draped in such a way as to leave a slit that exposed a fair bit of leg. Their hair was piled atop the head with curly strands escaping. The eyes were heavily lined, the lips rouged. The voice was a soft murmur. “How may I help you, Captain Darius?”
No surprise an employee of the Ghost would know who walked through the doors. Information was a broker’s main business, after all.
“I’ve got some news your boss will want to hear.”
“The master is—”
“Going to want to cancel his plans to talk to me.” Darius smiled. “Now run along and tell him before I find him myself.”
The lips pursed in disapproval. The chin lifted with attitude, and the sniff as they turned proved eloquent.
The squeak satisfying when he slapped the pert ass and said, “Try moving a little faster. I’m a busy man.”
The mincing steps quickened. Darius smirked and paced the room, knowing he was being watched. He stopped in front of a mirror, showing all his teeth to whomever sat behind.
In short order the mincing receptionist returned, no smile of welcome, only a terse, “The master will see you. Follow me.”
The swaying hips led to a door that put them inside a glass box that gazed upon a lush garden courtyard. A glance as they rose showed a pulley system with a pair of loincloth-clad servants pushing on a wheel. Up they went.
The door opened onto a rooftop deck with marble flooring, raised in an edge to form a knee-high barrier. Not enough to stop anyone from going over.
A pavilion sat on the opposite end of the rooftop, the pillars white, draped in see-through fabric that fluttered lightly because of the servants waving giant fans. The light breeze helped with the humidity in the air.
He shifted into the shade but was prevented from stepping on carpet. The receptionist gripped his arm and looked at his feet.
“Seriously?” he grumbled. He shed his boots, his bare toes digging into the soft fabric. It was nice. He should get some for his cabin.
The broker he’d come to see floated in a vat of something. Not water. Too murky for that. A good thing probably. The fluid covered Ghost to a few inches below his shoulders, big broad things covered in gray scales. The hard casing rose up his neck and lightened where it gave him sideburns. They spiked atop his head giving him a spiny crown. His actual face was pale flesh, so very pale. The eyes pure black, no whites at all.
A hybrid human of some sort with no discernible power, and yet everyone feared the Ghost. A reputation Darius could only strive for.
The Ghost eyed him with his uncanny dark gaze. The probing intensity demanded Darius spill his guts.
Instead, he flopped on a chair without an invite. Darius didn’t let anyone intimidate him. Not anymore.
Ghost smiled. It had layers of teeth. “As impertinent as usual.”
“You mean not in the mood to ass kiss?” Darius arched a brow. “Do you even have an arse?”
“Come closer and find out.”
“Nah, I already had a bath this month.” As if he’d get close enough to be touched.
“My assistant said you indicated knowledge I might be interested in.”
Pulling on Jorah’s trick of driving folks nuts, Darius kept it simple. “Yup.”
“And what would that information be?”
“You don’t seriously expect me to spill it for free, do you?” Darius snorted as he bobbed forward and picked a confectionary from the plate in front of him.
“I can’t exactly offer a price without knowing what it concerns.”
“A princess.” The only thing he said before popping the candy into his mouth. Sweet and salty. Damned good. He closed his eyes to enjoy it with a groan, ignoring the Ghost for a moment.
Long enough the broker snapped. “Which princess?”
Darius savored a sip of wine before replying, “The one worth a lot of dust.”
That caused the liquid in the giant tub to slosh as the broker shoved from the far edge and moved close enough to lean his arms on the rim. “What do you know of her?”
“What will you pay me to find out?” Darius countered.
Ghost wasn’t the type to accept anything he said for free. It was a well-known fact pirates always expected to be paid.
“How much do you want?” The sly riposte was how the broker ensured he didn’t start higher than Darius expected.
“My port fees in Tawa covered for the next five years and the rest of these sweets. They are good,” he said, popping another in his mouth for a sugary burst with a tart after-bite that was mouthwatering.
“Tell you what, I’ll give you ten years. Because it’s not as if you’ll be around to use them. Did you know the odds in the gambling house say you’ll not be sailing within the year?” The broker chuckled, and the water jiggled.
“I wouldn’t count me out quite yet.”
“I have to say I am so glad you came to talk to me. Especially since we’ve been looking for you.”
“Looking for me? Why?” Darius asked warily.
“According to witnesses, your ship was the first one to leave after the king died. Which also happens to be when the princess disappeared.” Ghost showed nothing in his expression.
Darius’s blood chilled anyhow. He eyed the dangerous broker and debated what to say. Stuck to the truth, for the moment. “I guess you already know then that the princess stowed away on my ship.”
“I predicted she might have, and now you’ve confirmed it. I assume you’re here to trade her for the bounty.” The Ghost held a hint of triumph in his tone.
Time to bust it. “Yeah, about the princess…” he drawled. “Before you get excited, while I did have the princess, I don’t anymore. She died.”
“Died how?” Ghost asked, his expression not betraying whether or not he believed the claim.
“Drowned. For a girl raised by the sea, she sure wasn’t savvy about it. She jumped and started swimming for shore as we were nearing the Isle of Teeth. She never made it.”
“You saw her dead body?”
“Not exactly. More like suddenly she was swimming along, and then next thing I know she’s going under and she doesn’t come back. Drowned or eaten would be my guess.”
The Ghost leaned back in his tub again and steepled his fingers over his chest. “Fascinating. But let me ask you, if she died as you say, then why didn’t you post about it and claim the bounty for her death?”
“I’m telling you.”
“After brokering a new deal.”
“Nothing wrong with getting better terms. I’m sure you’ll get something for your troubles when you let your clients know what happened to the princess.”
“You’re right about that. They’ll be very interested in finding out I’ve located her.” The broker smirked, and a bad feeling twisted Darius’s gut.
So much for his plan. His stupid, stupid plan. He should have skipped the island because the Ghost wasn’t buying his story at all. “The princess drowned.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Has the princess turned up alive?” Darius asked carefully.
“She has, unless she’s somehow managed to die in the half-hour since you left her. Guess we’ll know a
ny moment now.” Ghost glanced over the parapet toward the docks. And his ship.
Like fuck.
“Call off your goons!” Darius growled, rising to his feet.
“Indignation is ill becoming after the lies you just fed me,” hissed Ghost, rising from the water, his body a sinuous long torso with no actual legs but a serpentine tail.
“I’m offended you think I’d lie,” Darius said, lying even harder.
The broker slithered over the edge of the tub, and it took effort for Darius to keep his itching fingers from the hilt of his sword. “What makes you think she is still on board?” He shifted slightly to his left, keeping the Ghost with his scaly gray body in sight.
“One of your crew was buying women’s clothing, and yet none of the sizes match anyone on board. But they were close to that of a certain princess.”
They should have waited to go shopping. “What does your client want with her?”
“Doesn’t really matter, now does it? The price is right. And while the reward for your capture isn’t as plump, I think it’s time I collected on it.”
The snake-like broker lunged for Darius, but Darius was already moving. His fingertips barely brushed the short parapet as he launched himself in the air, arms and legs pedaling to give him distance. He hit the building across the way and slid down, landing atop a fabric canopy that slowed his descent even as it bowed and dumped him on the ground.
The moment his feet his pavement, he ran, bellowing, “Tanzie!”
No need to say anything else. He saw her head jerk up. Her gaze sought his out. She arched a brow, the kind that said, What did you do now?
He lifted a shoulder of innocence.
She shook her head.
As he ran past, she joined him. There was a yell behind them and the tromp of boots.
“How bad is it?” she snapped.
“Ghost knows she’s on board.”
“Shit!”
Tanzie picked up her pace, and Darius matched it, weaving through the marketplace, keeping an eye on the converging guards, probably owned by the broker. They shoved their way through the denser crowd as they neared the dock. Just before the last line of buildings, four guards stepped into their way, pointing spears.
Darius drew his dagger while Tanzie showed off with curved scimitars. They drove into the guards, narrowly missing sharps points, the edge of their own blades managing to slice. In moments they were past the guards, but the alarm was sounding. He could hear more yelling and stamping of feet. Of course, his ship was at the far end of the dock. Even worse, he could see soldiers on the deck, facing off with Jorah.
His first mate shook his head, thick arms crossed over his chest.
“They’re going to make him mad,” Tanzie huffed by his side.
“Then that’s their problem. We need to get out of here.” He pumped his legs, slashing as someone darted out from a warehouse—to stab at him. He parried and swung in return, took off a wrist, and left the screaming man behind as he neared his ship.
More guards darted out, and he slashed at them even as he heard Jorah bellow. Then there was a splash, followed by more splashes.
The screams rose in tenor, and an alarm wailed only a second before seawater sloshed over the deck. It had the effect of sending the guards confronting him fleeing. As for Darius, he ignored the tentacle slithering along the deck and jumped over the second one that shot out. Paid no mind to the sharp cry as someone was dragged past into the bay.
Live by the sea, sometimes get eaten by the sea.
He grabbed hold of the ladder and held it steady as Tanzie clambered the rungs first, bellowing orders. Only once she crested did he follow. The engines below decks hummed, but he could still hear yelling, and thunder suddenly cracked overhead.
He glanced as clouds rapidly boiled in. Damned tropical storms. Tawa was known for them but usually they had a little warning. His feet hit the deck just as Jorah bellowed again from the rear of the ship—and his cabin.
“Fuck!” The princess. He jogged toward it and was in time to see Jorah staggering under the weight of two people dressed in shimmer cloaks, the kind that helped camouflage in daylight.
The ship had guests. It also began to rock, as the ocean was agitated by wind and whatever swam in the bay, swiping at anybody in reach.
He arrived in time to kick the torch from the hand of one man but didn’t duck the fist of the other. His head snapped. Letting out a yell of his own, Darius barreled into one soldier until his back hit the rail. He pushed him, hands around his neck, only to choke as the other one tried to strangle him from behind.
The pressure eased suddenly as a tentacle grabbed the soldier at his back and dragged him overboard, screaming. It distracted his companion enough that Darius managed to flip him off the deck. By the time he turned, Jorah was finishing his toss of another soldier into the churning bay.
Jaw throbbing, Darius grunted. “I think it’s time we left.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
Chapter 4
Despite being ensconced in the cabin, Shereen could hear the yelling and sounds of a fierce battle. She huddled on the bed, remembering what Darius had said and yet hating herself for hiding like a coward.
But what could she do? She had no skill with a knife. Wasn’t even sure she could fight. What if they weren’t under attack at all and it was just the crew getting rowdy? He’d said to not open that door at all.
The ship lurched, and she almost lost her balance—she did lose her lunch. When oh when would this wretched inability to tolerate sailing stop?
She didn’t understand it. Her father had loved being at sea. The stories she’d heard had her mother as a more than competent sailor, too. And she couldn’t even take a bath without getting queasy.
The vessel rocked again as if something impacted it. She reeled and hit the bed hard, swallowing lest she foul the sheets.
There were several loud booms in a row. Cannons, she realized. As if the pirate fired at the island.
I take it the visit didn’t go well. She almost broke out into hysterical laughter. Darius would be so mad because she had no doubt the current strife would be blamed on her.
Was this to be her life from now on? Hiding in cabins, barely escaping ports?
Perhaps, if they survived and escaped, they could avoid other ports and sail straight to her uncle. Surely, she’d be safe with him.
Maybe.
Doubt niggled at her. What if the lure of the bounty followed? Darius claimed it was impressive the price placed on her. People would do desperate things for wealth and power.
Look at what had happened to her and her father. She might inadvertently draw that trouble to—
Bang. Bang. Bang. The knocking drew her attention to the door. He’d said not to open it unless it was him or his crew. She did not say a word. What if it wasn’t Darius?
“It’s me. You can open the door, princess.”
A certain relief had her breathing out hard. She practically flew to unlatch it, and the pirate stumbled in as she abruptly swung it open. He swayed on his feet, and she might have wondered at his sobriety until she saw the slick moisture on his shirt.
“You’re bleeding!” she said stupidly.
“Only a scratch,” he claimed. “Just need a new shirt and a drink.”
“What happened out there?” she asked.
“Apparently, it’s become common knowledge you stowed away on the Ocean Avenger.” He cast her a glare as he headed for a cabinet and opened it, pulling forth a bottle of clear fluid. But he didn’t pour any in a glass. He stripped his shirt, and she got to see the gash across his side, scoring over part of his ribs.
“You’re hurt.” She rushed to his side, trying not to see her father in his last moments. He’d also bled, and she couldn’t help him.
Darius appeared bemused as she pressed her hands to his flesh. His warm flesh. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Pressure to stem the bleeding.”
“You
need to clean the wound first.”
“With what?”
“Alcohol.” He took a swig and then poured some of the clear fluid over the gash. It stung when it came in contact with the blood and washed clean, leaving only an angry stripe of broken red flesh.
She fluttered. “It needs a bandage. Do you have one?”
“Yes, and tape. In the same cabinet as this.” He shook the bottle before taking a long swig.
She grabbed everything she saw and dumped it onto the table bolted to the floor. He pointed out the tape then showed how to pinch his wound and put the strips over it to hold it shut. Once she got going, she started asking questions.
“How did they know I was on your ship? I didn’t leave it, just like you told me.”
“It would seem only a few ships left the Sapphire capital after the revolt. Mine was just the last one to be found and searched.”
“I’m sorry.” Her head dropped, and he grabbed her wrist, tugging it until she looked at him.
“Don’t apologize.”
“But I did exactly what you feared. I brought trouble to your ship.”
“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he grumbled, lifting his arms that she might wind the bandage around his taped flesh.
“What happens now?” she asked. More than ever, he’d want to be rid of her.
“Now, we take you to your uncle as agreed.”
“You’ll still help me?” She eyed him.
“I said I would.”
“That was before you got hurt and my location was outed.” She waved her hand.
“Exactly what else would you have me do?”
“You could still take me to your brother.”
“And dump your troubles in his lap? I don’t think so.” He arched a brow before he stood, looming over her, six feet plus of man. A big man who oozed a virility rarely seen in the Enclave she’d been raised among.
“Then trade me for one of the other bounties and be rid of me.”