“I know.”
The two words hung in the room for a moment. Barnabas watched the muscle in her jaw dance as she clenched her teeth, eyes defiant but distant. Yeah, Barnabas thought. She knows.
“Can I ask why?” Barnabas said. “I don’t need to know how you know. But I’m curious why.”
“I have been alone in the world a long time, Barnabas Coy,” Muireann said. “We do what we must. I imagine you’ve experienced much the same.”
“Unfortunately,” Barnabas said.
He studied her expression, then, tried to gauge her fury, trying to understand where he wanted to go from here. She really is just one of us, he thought. Driftwood from some forgotten wreckage, defiantly daring me to judge her and seeing without really trying just how balanced our ledgers are.
“Aren’t we a bloody pair?” she said, almost laughing. “Admit it, you’re at least mildly intrigued at the thought of fighting a necromancer.”
“Wasn’t on my list of things I wanted to do in this life,” Barnabas said. “But hey. Could be fun.”
Muireann took off her cap and held it in both hands.
“That river spirit. The yacuruna. They’re like me. Wasn’t that strange?”
“Everything about the yacuruna was strange.”
“No,” Muireann said. “They are a ghost story, someone who steals husbands and daughters away to never be seen again. But that’s not it, is it? They take the ones who don’t want to go home. They give lost souls purpose. They are a force of beauty and good in this world, hidden away in their upside-down cities, and mankind is terrified of them. Because they don’t conform with expectations. Because they’re the other.”
“And in the end, mankind turns to them for help when they need it,” Barnabas said. “For healing. For restoration.”
“Nobody does that to ondines,” Muireann said. “Anyone ever come to you to restore them?”
“Someone once came to me to protect the things they loved most in the world,” Barnabas said, a sharp pain digging into his chest. “I failed that task pretty spectacularly.”
“And that’s how you ended up here,” Muireann said. “Playing hero.”
“Sort of.”
“See, Barnabas Coy,” Muireann said. “In the gods’ eyes, even men who fail can become heroes. All I want is the same for me and mine.”
She looked once again at the glowing orb with Tessier’s life force within it.
“And time enough to get there,” she said.
“I can’t make you a hero,” Barnabas said. “But I think we can make sure you have the time to get there on your own.”
The ondine smiled at him, an honest and profoundly sad smile Barnabas felt infinitely familiar. The gods don’t exist, he thought. But if they did, they’d have a hell of a sense of humor sticking us together.
Chapter 38: Separate directions
The crew gathered in a small dining area in the castle, where a table of simple foods had been prepared and left waiting for them. Orithyia was already there, listlessly nibbling on a piece of fruit.
My mother looks like she’s crawling out of her skin, Artem noted as he entered the room behind Echo and Yuri. He could hear Barnabas and Muireann chatting in the hallway behind him.
Artem made eye contact with his mother, but Orithyia simply smiled weakly and sat down at one end of the long table that dominated the room. Artem picked up an apple and bit into it, barely tasting the fruit.
As soon as Barnabas and Muireann arrived—their simultaneous appearance caused Echo to shoot Artem a raised eyebrow of curiosity—Echo began to speak.
“We have to go back to Poseidon’s Scar,” she said.
“For the Needle,” Artem said. Mystical weapons to fight some mythical monster. Why can’t we just fight something that dies when you stab it? he thought. Artem was not a simple man, but he liked simple solutions, and magic made everything it touched more complicated.
“This is going to eat up a lot of time,” Echo said.
“Our scouts believe the great beast will make landfall in a few days,” Orithyia said. “They’re keeping their distance and reporting back, but it’s hard to miss the destruction the creature leaves in its wake.”
“We need to get eyes on it,” Artem said.
“We need to warn whoever lives wherever the thing is stomping toward,” Yuri said. “We can’t just work in the assumption we’re gonna get there in time, right? We could give them a chance to evacuate.”
“So we split up,” Artem said.
“Only got one ship,” Barnabas said.
“You’ll have two,” a new voice said. Queen Marpesia and Queen Lampedo arrived arm in arm, the elder sister leading the way, speaking. “Take one of our fastest.”
“Thank you,” Echo said.
“It’s the least we can do to help,” Marpesia said.
“Well, if we’re going to go back to Poseidon’s Scar and then catch up with this monster, that means the Endless is making that trip,” Barnabas said. “No offense to the quality of your ship or crew, your majesties, but traveling the faerie lanes is hard enough with a supernatural crew who knows the routes. I’m not sure I could guide a crew that hasn’t done it before. Not safely, and not without risking getting lost.”
Marpesia tilted her head, acknowledging the magician’s logic, but said nothing.
“And I’ll have to be the one to go down into the Scar,” Echo said. “I’m the only one who can. Even with that magic earring that lets you breathe underwater, Artem, I’m not sure you can withstand the pressures at that depth, and only Yuri and I possess the natural swimming abilities to dive that deep.”
“I could probably go with you,” Yuri said.
“Are you sure you’d be able to survive at that depth?” Echo said. “Even the Atlanteans said I was abnormally suited to survive the trench.”
“I’d be willing to try, but I don’t know,” Yuri said.
“You can survive the pressure of the trench, but you’re looking for—do we even know exactly what the Needle is?” Artem said.
“It’s a bladed weapon,” Orithyia said. “According to the Keepers of Athena. It’s hard to tell if it’s a sword or some sort of halberd or scythe, but it’s a hand-held weapon, used to draw this creature’s blood.”
“And you’re going to find a sword at the bottom of a trench, in the dark. Alone,” Artem said.
Barnabas swiped a pastry off the table, bit into it, made a face, and set the pastry back down.
“Divination magic,” Barnabas said. “There are spells that can find objects, especially powerful objects with a magical nature.”
“So you get to go into the Scar, Barnabas?” Echo said.
The magician shrugged.
“Nereid blood runs through my veins,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I won’t die. Exactly. Possibly crippled? But hey, who wants to live forever. I’ll go.”
“Or send me,” Muireann said. The room turned to face her as she spoke for the first time. “I’m a full-blooded ondine. A water spirit. Depth, temperature… water is water to me. I’m fine.”
“And you know magic,” Barnabas said.
“I do,” the ondine said.
“You see, if I were a petty man, I’d feel like you were gunning for my job, but if you want to go into the undersea trench of death, that’s all you, Muireann. I can teach you the spells I’m thinking of, too. They’re not hard to learn. Unless you’re Yuri.”
“Really. End of the world coming up, and you’re throwing low blows about my competence? Today?” Yuri said.
“I do it out of love,” Barnabas said.
“Okay,” Echo said. “I guess that settles that. But…”
Artem didn’t need to work hard to see what had to happen next. It wasn’t the destiny he envisioned for himself, but, he thought, there are worse things.
“I’ll go after the monster,” Artem said. “Someone has to be there. I’m useless at the trench. I’ll do this, Echo.”
“I’ll go with you, dude,�
� Yuri said.
Artem whipped his head around to stare at Yuri, shocked.
“What?” Yuri said.
“No,” Artem said, legitimately angry. “This is a suicide mission, Yuri. I will not have your blood on my hands.”
Yuri sighed heavily, stuffing his hands into pockets that appeared too small for his thick hands.
“I know I don’t look like much now,” Yuri said. “But guys, I’m… you remember the were-sharks who were after us. I’m really hard to kill. I’m walking hell and teeth when I transform. Bring me along, Artem, and I’ll bet you my life savings I take out more of those fish-men than you do before we lose.”
Artem smiled and slapped a hand on Yuri’s oversized shoulder. Laughing, he took Yuri’s face in both hands and pressed their foreheads together.
“I am so bloody proud of you, Yuri Rodriguez,” Artem said. “There’s the warrior I knew you had in you. By the gods, I am so proud to see you like this.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Yuri said. “I still feel almost scared enough to pee my pants.”
“Fear is part of being a warrior, Yuri,” Artem told him. “If you ever lose that fear, you know you’ve gone mad.”
“Then I am still one hundred percent, totally, absolutely sane,” Yuri said.
Barnabas threw a piece of orange peel at the other men, bouncing it off Yuri’s back.
“As much as I want to come with you two lunatics, I need to go with the Endless if we’re going to get to Poseidon’s Scar and then catch up to you in time,” Barnabas said.
“Then we have our teams,” Echo said. “I hate this. I hate splitting up. I hate sending you two away.”
“Hey, we’re only fighting crazy fish guys with super sharp teeth,” Yuri said. “You’re going to be looking for a needle in a haystack in the ocean’s belly button.”
“Calling Poseidon’s Scar the ocean’s belly button is being awfully generous, Yuri,” Echo said.
“I’m trying to be less impolite around royalty,” Yuri said.
Queen Marpesia cleared her throat. She smiled proudly at all of them.
“Assuming the spirits on your ship will be sufficient, we’ll send a good crew to go with you, Artem,” she said.
“We don’t want you putting your people at risk any more than you already have,” Echo said. “Maybe we can ask some of the ghosts to go with him?”
“Doesn’t work that way,” Barnabas said. “The Endless is a spiritual anchor. They belong with the ship itself. It’s a unique place where their spirits are safe.”
“Princess of Atlantis, we’ve been sending people we love to die since the Amazons first set foot on this Earth,” Lampedo said. “We are no strangers to sacrifice.”
“You don’t have to send anyone you love,” Artem said. “You’re sending me. The Amazons don’t need to shed any more of their own blood.”
Lampedo sized him up just then. Artem felt her eyes boring through him, taking his measure. Her mouth twitched, but whether in disgust or amusement or pride, he could not tell.
“Queen Lampedo,” Artem said. “I was born for this. Let me win this fight for you. You don’t have to send anyone else.”
“I think we do, young man,” Marpesia said. “Unless you and your courageous shark friend can sail a ship together alone.”
Orithyia rose swiftly to her feet just then, her symbolic general’s helmet under her arm, she walked boldly up in front of her queens and knelt on one knee before them, lifting her helmet up high, as one might a sacrifice.
“My queens,” Orithyia said. “I volunteer for this mission as well. I’ve failed you more than once. I have dishonored my role as your general. I wish to step down as high commander, and I ask this for a chance to redeem myself to you.”
She turned to look at Artem then. He saw tears glistening in her eyes, but not falling.
“And I have failed my son,” she said. “To let him do this alone is a dishonor I cannot bear.”
Marpesia took the helmet from Orithyia and studied it. She showed it to her sister, calmly.
“Do you remember when you wore this helm?” Marpesia said.
“I do,” Lampedo said.
“And how often did you fail, when you were our high commander?”
Lampedo inhaled sharply. She placed the tips of her fingers on the helmet.
“I was high commander in peace time,” she said. “I had no opportunity to fail. I never knew my weaknesses, because I wasn’t tested.”
“Our high commander has been tested many times,” Marpesia said.
“And she has risen to the occasion almost every time,” Lampedo said. “And she has learned from the times she did not. Which is all you can ask of someone as they face adversity.”
Marpesia handed the helmet back to Orithyia.
“Rise, general,” Marpesia said. “We reject your resignation. But we grant your request. Choose a crew. Be brave, be victorious.”
“I would go with you if I could,” Lampedo said.
“She’s serious, you know,” Marpesia said.
“I know,” Orithyia said, the faintest hint of a smile on her face.
She turned to her son.
“Artem,” she said. “I’ve failed you most of all. So I ask and do not demand. Will you have me on your ship this one time?”
Artem did not consider himself an emotional man. He did not aspire to be one. But standing here, his mother, helm in hand, pleading for forgiveness, he felt a spark in his chest, of rage and regret, of longing, of loss. A million words flooded his mind, begging to lash out, to reach out, to forgive and ask for forgiveness. His mouth twitched with indecision. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to demand an apology. He wanted to remain silent, filled with anger and sorrow.
“Gather your crew,” he said instead. And without uttering another word, he turned and left the room.
Chapter 39: Raise the dead
Anson Tessier leaned against the railing of his yacht’s prow, watching the crew work as his impatience and disgust grew.
Mortals, he thought. Ordinary, mundane, flesh-and-blood mortal sailors. When he set out on this fool’s journey, he assumed he would need only deal with Muireann herself, which he believed was well within his abilities to do alone.
A magician, a were-shark, and two others who appeared more than capable in a fight, though. Alone, none of these newcomers worried him, but together they would be a problem. And while he had no doubt some of the men on this crew knew how to hold themselves in a bar fight or brawl, they weren’t warriors. They were ordinary men, used to ordinary lives.
Not facing a magician with a gun that could short-circuit their entire vessel.
The captain appeared from below deck and strode toward Tessier, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
“Whatever that guy did, he fried a lot of our gear,” the captain said. “We can fix some of it, but a lot of the damage is unrepairable, at least out here. We need to get replacement parts for the stuff that was completely destroyed.”
“Can the ship sail, captain?” Tessier said.
“The side of the ship is scorched to hell, but it doesn’t look like the hull was breached,” the captain said, sidling up beside Tessier. “Our instruments are a mess, but we’re an experienced crew. The technology makes it all easier, but we can get us to port with what we’ve got the old-fashioned way. Don’t worry about that.”
“And how soon will you be ready to continue our pursuit?”
The captain winced, examining the grease under his nails a moment before answering.
“Sir, we’re in no shape for that,” he said. “We’re within sight of land, and I think we can find a port nearby where we can dock for repairs, but this ship is in no condition to be traipsing across the seven seas right now.”
“I thought this was a world-class ship with a world-class crew,” Tessier said, keeping as much of the anger out of his voice as he could manage.
“It is,” the captain said, tension risi
ng in his own voice. “But you failed to mention we might be engaging in any sort of combat on this trip. And you definitely didn’t tell us the people you were following were monsters who could shoot electricity at us.”
“Are you saying you’re afraid, captain?”
“I’m saying we’re not a combat-ready vessel, sir,” the captain said. “We’re sailors, not mercenaries. This ship is not outfitted for combat. It’s a glorified luxury yacht and frankly I was willing to take your money and take you all over the world, wherever you wanted to go, right up to the moment you put my men’s lives at risk. You want to void the contract, fine. We’ll take you to court for expenses, we can do that, but I’m not putting my men in the sort of danger you’re looking for.”
“You didn’t strike me as a coward, captain,” Tessier said
“I’m not afraid of a scrap,” the captain said. “Hell, I’ve dealt with pirates, corrupt coast guard officials, I’ve seen my share of trouble. But what we just saw? That’s above our pay grade, sir. Respectfully, don’t ask me to put my crew’s lives in danger. The ocean is lethal enough as it is.”
The two men stared each other down for a long, hard second. Tessier shrugged noncommittally.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ve asked you to go beyond the scope of the contract. You’re mortal men, after all.”
“Thank you, sir,” the captain said. “When we put into port I can help you find the type of crew you’re looking for. Or I can take you home. Your choice.”
Tessier waved a hand dismissively and turned away to look at the empty water where Muireann’s ship had once been. A cold fury burned in his guts. A ghost ship, he thought. She rode upon a ghost ship. An undead crew would never tire. They’d never question orders. They’d never be afraid.
I need a ghost ship, he thought.
A cruel smile grew across his face, and he returned his attention to the captain.
“Thank you for this conversation, captain,” Tessier said. “It has been most enlightening.”
“Sorry to speak so forcefully, sir,” the captain said. “I really do believe the client is always right. But it’s not just my life at risk out here. This crew, they have families.”
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