Pirate witch, p.6
Pirate Witch, page 6
part #3 of The Deadwood Series
Then, of course, the twins have their turn, teasing her until her lips are red and kiss swollen.
When she draws back, she glances at me. Her eyes are red-rimmed, the only outward sign of whatever she’s feeling right now.
Fuck this.
I grab her waist and tug her into me, taking advantage of her gasp of surprise to take her mouth for myself. Her lips are soft, and she tastes like the chocolates she likes to sneak out of the galley when no one is looking. The flavour only gets stronger as she reciprocates, stroking her tongue out to meet mine. Every cell in my body roars, the mating bond furious at my continued denial.
Addictive fucking witch.
I shove her away before I can make good on the demands of my dick. “Get going,” I rasp. “You don’t know how much time you’ve got.”
She nods, glances back at Klaus, then tucks that metal twig under her pert ass and rises into the sky. The siren gives us all a look.
“Good luck,” he calls, diving over the edge of the railing and into the waves below.
The moment she leaves, the air is sucked from my lungs. My heart, which was beating a mile a minute from our kiss, turns heavy and sluggish in my chest. The ship sinks slightly lower in the water, as if the weight of her absence is a tangible thing. Watching the black speck of her figure disappear on the horizon is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. When this is over, and things are sorted between us, I never want to watch her fly away into danger without us again.
I know from the way the rest of the crew stares after her that they feel the same way. They mope around the deck for hours, eyes on the sky as we wait for the dreaded bird to arrive.
We don’t have to wait long. The huge, bronze and iron eagle lands in the middle of the deck with a flourish of artfully crafted metallic feathers. I might hate my uncle, but even I have to admire his craftsmanship. Castleman tech has always been the best, and this clockwork and crystal creature is no exception. Every transmutation circle has been painstakingly carved into the crystals which glow from the eye sockets. The beak is textured to look like the real thing, and when it opens, her voice is crystal clear.
“Bring me the head of the Shadow who destroyed the Claw. I want her dead. Starting now, you will do nothing that might interfere or otherwise delay your compliance with my orders. It’s time you remember who holds your leash.”
A short message, but no less effective. The sail drops without my conscious consent, and the ship starts to glide across the ocean, heading straight for Isablis. My crew turns to me with grim despair written across their faces, and I pray to the Goddesses for the first time in centuries.
NILSA
The flight is long, hard, and gruelling. The sharp wind steals the tears from my eyes and burns my cheeks.
I promised I’d stay close to the coast, and I do—for the most part. The only exception is when I reach a small town or village. Klaus can hide among the waves, but a witch on a broomstick is easy to spot. So I fly on the other side of the salt wall.
The soft glowing warmth of the crystal in my bag and the reassuring weight of the dagger strapped to my thigh keep the wraiths from coming close. There are a few nerve-wracking moments when the mist reaches up to touch my broom, but no spectral faces ever emerge from the mist. No red eyes glint and eye me like prey.
Klaus notices. I know he does. But he doesn’t bring it up in the rare moments when we allow ourselves a rest at a hastily thrown together camp on the shore. It’s a relief because I’m not sure I know how to even start explaining that I’ve made a deal with the wraith king, or that I possess a dagger that’s been enchanted with the soul of a dead high priestess and can actually kill the unkillable.
It’s doubtful he even understands the true threat of the wraiths, given that he’s lived his entire life in the ocean, protected by the salty waters. The sirens can’t have had many dealings with a species that abhors their natural habitat.
I know all too well how the threat of them is far too abstract until you come face to face with one. I don’t think I’ll forget Felicity’s horrific death until the day I join the Stars.
When the first tall, dark silhouettes of ships appear on the sun-kissed horizon two days later, I blink in surprise. Isablis is a port, like most of the surviving towns, but even then, the number of boats in this harbour is... excessive.
I skim closer to the ocean, looking for a sign of Klaus’s golden hair beneath the crystal clear water. The turquoise sea and soft pale sand of this part of the world is a far cry from the snowy, grey waters of Coveton, and I’m grateful for it when I spot my siren mate’s grey, sharklike tail weaving through the reef below.
He notices my shadow and flips, so he’s swimming on his back, gracing me with a lazy, inviting grin. Goddess, I almost want to dive underneath the waves with him when he looks at me like that.
But now is not the time to discover if my own lust can overpower my fear of the ocean. He must see as much from the expression on my face, because he flips back over and breaches the surface seconds later.
“There are too many ships,” I say, in place of a greeting.
He joins me in staring across at the bay, taking in the rows of anchored vessels with their sails reefed and flying identical black flags with gold crests. There are almost too many for the space, and several are roped together with men striding to and fro across the decks like they haven’t a care in the world.
There must be an entire fleet here.
Klaus grins, wiping a lock of soaking hair out of his face. “Looks like Val was right. We’ve found Cirio.”
“All of these are his ships?” I gasp.
“Technically, only that one at the entrance to the bay is Cirio’s.”
Klaus points to the largest ship of all, a huge beast of wood and cloth that has so many gun ports that I struggle to count them all. It’s a grand ship, the perfect vessel for a Pirate King.
“The Parlance.” Klaus almost sounds like he admires it for a second before he shakes his head, sending water droplets flying everywhere. “Boarding straight away is suicidal.”
“We don’t have time for pleasantries,” I argue.
“Then you’ll be blown out of the sky before we get close enough to show them your mate marks,” Klaus says, his voice annoyingly calm. “We find Cirio’s man at the docks and follow the etiquette.”
“Pirates have etiquette?” I snort.
“Pirate kings do.” He gives me a soft, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, they won’t take long.”
I huff out an impatient breath and nod. “Fine. We do this the polite way. But if it takes too long—”
“Just trust me,” Klaus says. “Pirates are the opposite of bureaucratic. You’ll be standing in front of Cirio in no time.”
Chapter Seven
NILSA
I land on the very outskirts of the pier just as Klaus hauls himself over the top of the sea wall. Isablis is glowing under the morning sun. The white marble buildings of the city reflect the light, their flat roofs overflowing with the leafy green produce from the gardens. People mill about aimlessly, barely noticing the intruders in their midst as they chatter with the merchants lining the port. None of them seem worried about the fleet that’s anchored in the bay.
If a pirate king’s ships landed at Coveton, I’m certain the general populace would be a bit more wary of wandering out. These people seem completely nonplussed by the presence of pirates on their doorstep. In fact, most of the taverns have signs with special offers for sailors.
I guess pirates have plenty of gold to spend. It wouldn’t make sense for them to refuse their business.
It’s odd to see pirates welcomed with open arms, but I suppose it makes sense. Val said that Cirio’s mate’s nest is based here. The pirate king must have become a staple of the city.
“We should start at the docks,” Klaus says, shaking water out of his hair. “I’m hoping we’ll see someone I recognise. If not, maybe someone will recognise your marks.”
Opal leaps from around my neck with a fed-up sigh. “The tuna twins could have just marked your hand or something,” she grumbles. “I was just getting comfortable.”
Smirking, I lean down and scratch behind her ears. “Go and do some reconnaissance,” I suggest. “We could do with knowing what’s going on here.”
With a casual flick of her tail and another unimpressed look, the silver tabby stalks away into the crowd.
“You’re okay just sending her off like that?” Klaus asks. “She won’t get lost?”
I snort and lead the way through the crowd, heading for the docks. “Opal would be the first to tell you that I’m the one who gets lost in our relationship. She can scent magic. If I call her, she’ll follow my trail straight to me.”
“That’s incredible.”
“She’s not an ordinary cat.” I lengthen my strides, forcing the other people on the seafront to move or be run over. “She’ll find out anything she can about why there are so many ships in the bay. Cirio’s mate’s nest might be here, but that’s no reason for him to bring an entire fleet to visit.”
“I don’t like that either,” Klaus mutters. “Why bring a fleet anywhere unless you’re preparing for war?”
We reach the docks, and the stares begin. A few of the more religious sailors drop into deep bows at the sight of me. I’ve dressed unapologetically, like the Lunar that I am. My flowing black mini dress shows off every sigil of the Goddess’s mark on my spine and my mother’s pendant hangs between my breasts, the bronze crescent bouncing with each step I take. If that isn’t enough of a clue not to fuck with me, perhaps the silver blades sheathed on my hips will get the point across.
Klaus lets me take the lead, glaring at any male who looks at me for too long.
A man with a long swathe of sun-bleached hair, held back by a red bandana, ducks in front of me. I’m forced to stop or risk smashing into him. He’s not an imposing man, and there’s an easy charm about his wide, toothy grin that instantly makes me want to like him. The pistol strapped across his chest and the cutlass on his hip are worn, but well cared for—these weapons have seen plenty of action—and a litany of scars crisscross over his knuckles.
No matter how much charisma oozes from him, this man has seen his share of fights.
“And just who might you be, pretty lass?” he asks, flashing me an easy grin.
“She’s taken, Fitz,” Klaus growls, before I can answer.
“Fitz?” I recognise the name, but it takes me a second to realise why. “Marianne has money on your head.”
His flirty expression doesn’t die, brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “Ah, so you’ve been to The Rusty Locket.” He doesn’t seem surprised at all. “Marianne’ll come around. Don’t you worry about me. Now, why don’t you tell me what a siren prince and a Lunar witch were doing in a city like Meliad?”
I’m not oblivious to the crowd drawing around us. Pirates are slowly edging closer, their hands on their weapons—though Fitz has made no move to reach for his. Not that that means much. He’s clearly a shifter just from the easy, stalking way he walks. There’s every chance his other form has teeth that will rip me in two the second he shifts.
“I’m here for Cirio,” I admit, my eyes narrowing. “I have a message for him from the Deadwood.”
Fitz’s smile never dies. “And just what might that be?”
I shrug my dark hair away from my neck and watch as his eyes widen slightly. “I’ll tell my message directly to Cirio.”
The pirates around me actually take a step back. I hear the words “leviathan” and “mate” whispered under their breath.
To his credit, Fitz doesn’t miss a beat. He sweeps the bandana from on top of his head and waves it in a courtly bow. “A pleasure to make your meeting, my lady...”
“Nilsa,” I reply, slowly. “Nilsa av Coveton. Shadow of the Moon.”
More murmurs. More pirates reaching for their weapons.
“And will you be visiting the captain at the Goddess’s behest?” Fitz presses.
I cough out a surprised laugh. “No. At my mates’. I’m here to ask for his help on their behalf. Urgently.”
He searches my face, eyes dipping to my mating marks and then to my face and back again. “Then I suppose you’d better follow me, Lady Nilsa.” He holds out an arm, but doesn’t direct me towards the waiting boats as I expect. “The captain’s ashore at the nest of his mother-by-mating, Queen Sade.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
Fitz’s smile hasn’t dropped. “This way.”
He leads us both along the dock, then up into the city of marble, along the main streets, and up a hill until we reach a house that stands apart from the rest. It’s tall and set right on the edge of the cliff, surrounded by its own lush garden. Two vampires stand guard by the door. They’re huge, almost as large as Rysen, and they glare at me as I draw close.
Their weapons—wicked sharp glaives—lower slightly as they recognise the pirate leading us, but they don’t drop their guard.
“Fitz,” one of them says, the exasperation in his words palpable. “You know our queen doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”
“The lass is involved,” Fitz responds, and I frown.
Involved in what?
I don’t get a chance because the guards share a look and nod. “They’re in the lower garden.”
Fitz doesn’t wait for more. He leads us between the two of them and down around the side of the house to a lush, terraced garden, teeming with spiky grasses and exotic flowers. Having a garden like this—an area reserved solely for relaxation and beauty—is a deliberate display of wealth, one which makes me uncomfortable.
Since the arrival of the wraiths forced everyone to the coastal cities, space has always come at a premium. Most gardens are confined to roofs and reserved for the growing of practical plants like food and medicine. Whichever vampire nest Cirio mated into must be a financial powerhouse.
“Wait here,” Fitz instructs, as we come to a stop beneath a leaf-covered pergola.
He doesn’t wait to see if we follow but disappears down a set of steps, heading farther into the garden.
“Val never mentioned Cirio’s mate was part of Sade’s nest,” Klaus grumbles.
“I’ve never heard of her.” I shrug, taking a seat on the low wall and sighing. “I take it that’s a big deal?”
Klaus flashes me a small smile. “She’s queen of one of the largest nests in the world. Isablis is her city.”
I have to admit, it’s a beautiful place. From my position in the garden, I can see the rest of it below, gleaming like a jewel against the rich turquoise of the sea.
Part of me expects to be kept waiting, as a power play if nothing else. So I’m pleasantly surprised when Fitz returns just minutes later.
“Come with me,” he instructs, looking more sombre than before. “And I wouldn’t recommend making any sudden moves.”
Klaus and I exchange a look at that, but I nod, anyway. We’re not here to start a war with a vampire monarch on top of everything else. We’re here because we need Cirio.
Fitz leads us farther down, past dozens of burly vampire enforcers, until we reach a small, secluded dining area on a patio that juts out over the cliff. My stomach drops as I realise some insane person—probably a vampire—has decided to make the floor beneath us out of glass. The waves below seem to taunt me, and it takes a considerable amount of effort to not look down.
I keep my focus on the group of people seated at the table by the edge instead. Most of them are vampires, dressed in fine, airy brocade fabrics that collude with the gold jewellery they’re all wearing to make the lone shifter in the group seem laughably out of place.
At the head of the table sits a woman who can only be the vampire queen. Her chestnut skin is painted with gold, shimmering patterns that seem designed to trace the lines of her generous curves. Her two-piece dress is a vibrant citrus orange, and her wrists and ears are adorned with more jewellery than I’ve ever seen in my life.
Even the long, twisting braids of her hair are wound through with more gold. The glinting beads catch the light of the sun until it’s hard to look at her.
It’s a kind of feminine beauty you’d be foolish to underestimate. Another subtler display of power.
Behind the rich honey colour of her eyes, there’s a hard, calculating gleam as she surveys Klaus and me.
Beside her is a male who must be her mate, along with two other female vampires. They’re not important, and I dismiss them easily. Instead, I focus on the couple at the other end of the table. One of whom very clearly does not belong.
Cirio’s one good eye is fully black, just like his shifted form. The other is covered with a patch and surrounded by fine white scars in a starburst pattern. His hair and beard are an unremarkable brown, and his clothes are simple and neutral coloured.
Tucked under his arm is another vampire with the same honey eyes as the queen. That must be Pierce, the mate Val mentioned.
“Queen Sade of Isablis, Captain Cirio…” Fitz offers the lady at the head of the table a small half bow and Cirio a wink. “This is Nilsa av Coveton, Shadow of the Moon, and her mate, Prince Niklaus Sirenae Regis. They’ve come to meet with the captain.”
The queen inclines her head ever so slightly, and I do the same. It’s not a bow, not really. More an acknowledgement of strength between two powerful women. Behind me, Klaus presses his fists to his chest and dips his chin as well.
“Interesting, that a Lunar should wear the mating mark of a vampire as well,” Sade begins, her eyes roving across my neck.
“Balderdash!” The final man, sitting at the other end of the table, jumps to his feet, dropping his mate, who’s forced to catch himself on the table or fall to the floor. “You’ve mated Rysen as well as the twins?”
