“To our new fortune,” he said.
I accepted the glass stiffly, the amber liquid sloshing against the sides.
Viper threw the liquid back in one violent gulp, then immediately poured himself another generous helping, his gold tooth gleaming as he shot me a predatory smile.
“Can you believe our luck, Reaper?” he asked, eyes alight with avarice. “A windweaver, that waterweaver once we finally reach Gearhart, and now, a fluxweaver lands in our lap?” He slammed his fist on the desk, making the decanter jump. “We’re going to be unstoppable!”
“Indeed, Captain.” The words scraped my throat like broken glass. My stomach churned, not from rum but from the casual way he spoke of people as possessions. Of Kas as a tool.
Viper drained his second glass and wiped his beard with the back of his hand. “I want you to plug him in as soon as possible. No delays. Can’t risk him slipping away.” He jabbed a finger in my direction. “I’ve never trusted that stowaway. Tell Murray to get to work straight away, assembling the machinery.”
The thought of Kas strapped into one of those contraptions—wires piercing his flesh, his power drained until he was hollow-eyed and trembling, vibrant green eyes dulled, freckles standing stark against skin gone ashen, that quick, clever mind reduced to nothing but pain and exhaustion.
My grip tightened around my glass until I feared it might shatter as my stomach twisted with acid, bile rising in my throat. I’d told myself for years that survival meant keeping my head down, following orders. But this? This I couldn’t survive. Not and remain sane.
“With respect, Captain,” I kept my voice even, professional, “we need to be careful not to rush the process. If we fuck up the initial connection, we might kill him and lose him altogether.” I forced myself to meet his gaze. “These things require precision. Preparation. Not to mention that we’ll need to work out how to feed him, get water down him, and everything else we need to think about to keep him alive.”
Viper’s eyes narrowed. “You and Murray are smart men. You’ll figure it out quickly. I’m sure Stitches could sort out a feeding tube. And if you can’t do it, I’m sure I could sort it myself.” Nowthatwas a terrifying thought.
I excused myself from Viper’s quarters, saying I’d go and find Murray immediately. Outside, I pressed my palm against my chest, willing my thundering heart to slow. Panic clouded every thought, making it hard to focus. To plan. To save him.
A burst of laughter drew my attention to the main deck. Kas sat cross-legged beside Willy, demonstrating some sleight-of-hand trick with a coin. The boy’s eyes sparkled with wonder, fixed on Kas like he’d hung the moon. Every inch of me ached at the sight—I knew that feeling all too well.
Before Kas could catch me staring, I slipped down to the hull, into the engine room, the familiar smell of oil and metal wrapping around me.
Murray hunched over his workbench, not bothering to look up as I entered. When he finally raised his head, the glare he fixed me with could have melted steel.
“Murray, about yesterday—” I swallowed hard. “I apologize for losing my temper.”
He set down his wrench with deliberate care. “The mighty Reaper has come to grovel?”
“I care about the welfare of this crew.” My words came out soft, stripped of the Reaper’s usual edge.
Murray’s weathered face creased into something between a smirk and a grimace. “Reckon you care about that lad’swelfarea bit more than me or Sparrow, eh?”
“I reckon you might be right.” No point denying it to him, not after what he saw yesterday. “That’s why I’m here. Viper wants him plugged in as soon as possible.” My fingers curled into fists. “But I won’t let that happen. You know it’s not right, Murray.”
Murray’s shoulders slumped. “Look, I get it. But we’re on a pirate ship. Sort of signed up for this shit, didn’t we?”
“Not for enslaving people.”
“No.” He picked up his wrench, turning it over in his oil-stained hands. “Ghost’s a good lad. Helped me fix that loose pipe last week without being asked. But…” He met my eyes. “Not worth my life, Reaper. You understand?”
I studied Murray’s weathered face, calculating my odds. In my years aboardThe Black Wraith, I’d cataloged every crewmember’s loyalties, weaknesses, and moral lines. Murray had always been a difficult read—pragmatic to his core, neither cruel nor particularly compassionate. He followed whoever kept the engines running and his pockets lined.
But I’d also seen him slip extra rations to Willy when the boy first came aboard. Watched him teach Kas maintenance with unexpected patience. And three months ago, when we’d raided a merchant vessel and Viper ordered us to leave no witnesses, Murray had convenientlydiscoveredengine trouble that required immediate attention, keeping him below deck during the slaughter.
There were some lines even pirates wouldn’t cross. The question was whether this was Murray’s.
I weighed my words carefully. Too much honesty would make me vulnerable; too little wouldn’t get his help. The clock was ticking for Kas, and I needed allies, not another enemy.
“Fair enough.” I leaned against his workbench. “I only need you to take your time. Tell Viper you’re worried about killing him if you rush it. That the setup needs careful preparation.”
Murray scratched his beard. “Thing is, I’ve actually studied these rigs before. The basic principle isn’t that complicated. You need a conducting metal—copper works best—and some kind of attachment interface. The fluxweaver’s energy flows through—”
“Murray.” I gripped the edge of the workbench. “Please don’t tell Viper all that. Just… give me time. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Ah.” Murray picked up another tool, fidgeting with it. “Well, these thingsaredelicate. Wouldn’t want to rush and fry the poor bastard’s brain. Could take weeks to get the calibration right.” He shot me a meaningful look. “Especially since I’ve never actually built one before. Lots of trial and error, you understand.”
