“Really, I’ve had worse.” He rolled his shoulder, proving his point.
Questions burned in my throat. Where had he learned to fight like that? Who had trained him? What other secrets lay behind those green eyes? But before I could voice any of them, Viper’s foghorn cut through the chaos—three sharp blasts that signaled the merchant crew’s defeat.
Ghost’s head snapped toward the sound. “What does that mean?”
“Time to collect our prize.” I gestured past the fallen bodies around us, to the belly of their ship. “Welcome to the real work of piracy. Lugging all the loot across.”
Ghost matched my stride as we crossed the blood-slicked deck, though his eyes kept darting to my uneven gait. The fluxstone failure made each step a struggle, but I kept my expression neutral.
Viper’s massive form loomed ahead, his oversized tricorn casting long shadows. One look at his thunderous expression had my guard rising.
“Bobby’s dead.” Viper spat the words like poison. “One of ‘em blew his brains out. So if anyone’s going to be fucking sentimental about proper burial rites, get two men to haul his corpse.”
The news hit like a slap in the face. Bobby—smiley, cheerful Bobby, the same age as Ghost. Images flashed through my mind: his eager smile while helping Sage in the galley, the way he’d climbed the rigging with such joy, his dreams of sending money home to his sick grandmother.
“I’ll help carry him.” Ghost’s quiet voice broke through my thoughts.
“No,” I said sharply, the image of Bobby’s brains all over the deck already haunting me. “Butcher and Greybeard can handle it.”
Ghost’s jaw once again set in that stubborn line. “I want to help.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Viper’s hand slashed through the air. “If the lad wants to move the dead body, let him.” He stormed off, his ridiculous hat bobbing with each angry step.
I turned to Ghost, squaring my shoulders. “Go find Patty and ask what loot you can help carry.” When he opened his mouth to argue, I added firmly, “That’s an order.”
Ghost stomped off across the deck, stepping over bodies with barely contained frustration.
I spotted Ariella’s blonde hair near the stern, her hands weaving patterns in the air as she guided the ships closer together. Then the crew rolled out the gangplank—a massive oak beam reinforced with brass fittings and flux-powered stabilizers. The mechanical whir of its extending supports mixed with the creak of wood and metal. Two aeronauts on each ship secured the thick mooring chains, the planks humming to life as they activated the safety mechanisms.
The gangplank’s brass railings gleamed dully in the sunlight, its width enough for two men to cross side by side with cargo. A fine mesh of steel cables hung beneath, ready to catch any unfortunate soul who might slip—though the fall would still be terrifying, even with the safety net.
“Ariella.” I kept my voice low. “Find Greybeard. Have him wrap Bobby’s body in canvas before moving him. Spare the younger crew members the sight.” I couldn’t tell Greybeard myself, of course. I had to maintain appearances.
She nodded, understanding clear in her blue eyes before she turned to find him.
I paced the blood-slicked deck, barking orders as crew members hauled crates and barrels between ships. “Move faster!” I snarled at them. “These supplies won’t walk themselves!”
Another body caught my eye—a female merchant sailor, barely an adult, throat slashed ear to ear. Unnecessary. Wasteful.
“How many times do I have to say it?” I grabbed Puffy’s shoulder—I’d seen him slaughter at least two. “Leave them alive when you can. Dead men tell no tales, but living ones spread fear. The more we kill, the more likely the Imperial Fleet comes hunting.”
Puffy shrugged off my grip. “They fought back.”
“Then knock them out. Break their arms. But this?” I gestured to the carnage. “This brings heat we don’t need. Living survivors recruit better than corpses.”
My words would fall on deaf ears, as always. The crew refused to listen to me on this, especially the ones that worshiped Viper like a god. But I saw the bloodlust in their eyes, the way they reveled in the violence.
I resumed my patrol, watching Ghost and others transfer cargo while Bobby’s shrouded form waited for transport. Another senseless death, another day in the endless cycle of violence.
“Reaper!”
The flash of Ariella’s blonde hair caught my attention as she rushed toward me, her face tight with concern.
“Reaper.” She grabbed my arm, voice low. “Butcher and Jimmy are heading for their engine room. Viper wants one of their engine-grade fluxstones.”
My blood ran cold. I glanced at the huddled merchant crew, bound and sitting in defeated clusters on their own deck. Without all three fluxstones powering their engine, they’d barely maintain altitude, let alone reach the nearest port safely.
“He’s going to kill them all.” The words tasted like ash in my mouth.
