Viper’s chest puffed out like a roosting falcon. “Two. And they limped away with more holes than a beggar’s boots.” He tapped his fingers against the crate. “My gunners are the finest in the skies.”
Harvey nodded with exaggerated reverence. “No doubt, no doubt. Though Bloodaxe was in here last week claiming his new cannons could outshoot anything on the winds.”
I suppressed a smile. Harvey knew exactly how to bait Viper’s ego.
“Bloodaxe couldn’t hit the ground if he fell on it,” Viper scoffed, pouring himself another generous measure. “That fool’s still flying that patched-up garbage scow he calls a ship.”
The two continued their verbal sparring, each compliment concealing a barb, each question hiding an agenda. I’d seen this performance dozens of times before—Viper asserting dominance while Harvey subtly gathered information on other pirates’ activities. Both men getting exactly what they wanted while pretending they weren’t.
“Say, Harvey,” Viper said, swirling the rum in his glass. “We’re running low on charged fluxstones. Even got an engine-grade that’s dimmer than I’d like.”
Harvey’s eyes glinted. “Dangerous business, flying with a weak engine stone.”
“Rather than bartering at the market, I could send my crew here tomorrow, with all our dead stones. If you have charged ones, that is.”
“Of course, of course,” Harvey agreed, a bit too quickly. “Always happy to accommodateThe Black Wraith’sneeds.”
They began a careful negotiation of what Viper could offer for the fluxstones. I kept my face neutral, but inwardly I smirked. I’d bet my good leg that Harvey regularly swapped charged fluxstones from private vaults with uncharged ones—skimming just enough to profit without raising suspicion. The perfect crime in a place where complaining meant admitting you were storing stolen goods.
Just when I thought this excursion would never end, things started to wrap up, and then several handshakes later, we wereon the dirt track again, heading toward Duskwater’s center. Viper announced he had “business” elsewhere to attend to. I could make three guesses as to what that business entailed: alcohol, card games, and multiple whores.
The only upside was he’d probably stagger back to the ship tomorrow morning, giving the crew a few precious hours’ reprieve.
“Don’t wait up, Reaper,” Viper called over his shoulder, adjusting his ridiculous hat as he veered off toward the seedier district. The skull tattoo on his face seemed to grin in anticipation.
I watched him disappear into the evening crowd before continuing down the main thoroughfare. My leg ached with each step, the prosthetic grinding slightly as the fluxstones dimmed. I needed fresh ones before they failed completely.
An elderly woman was packing up her market stall when I approached. Her wrinkled hands paused over a crate of small glowing stones.
“We’re closed,” she said without looking up.
I placed my pouch of dead pebble-grades on her counter. “I’ll pay extra.”
She pulled out a small scale. “Two charged for every three dead ones.”
“That’s robbery!”
“That’s Duskwater.” She shrugged. “Take it or limp back to your ship.”
I gritted my teeth and nodded. I swapped out the stones, feeling immediate relief as fresh energy flowed through the mechanisms.
With my mobility restored, I gazed up the street toward the sign of The Sea Serpents Saloon. Raucous laughter and the tinny sound of a badly tuned piano drifted from its open doors. Most of the crew would be there by now, including Ghost.
I never socialized with the crew. Couldn’t. The Reaper didn’t drink with subordinates or laugh at their jokes. The Reaper maintained distance… commanded respect through fear. It was the only way to keep order on a ship full of criminals and killers.
But Ghost would be there. We’d miss our crow’s nest meeting tonight.
A knot formed in my stomach as I pictured him surrounded by Duskwater’s unsavory characters. Had he followed my instructions to stay with the others? The harbor was crawling with scum who wouldn’t hesitate to slit a throat for a handful of coins.
That was the reason for my concern, I told myself. His safety. Nothing more.
But a traitorous voice in my head whispered another truth: I didn’t like the idea of Ghost finding companionship elsewhere. Some dockside lowlife buying him drinks, whispering promises, leading him upstairs…
I shook my head, disgusted with myself. Ghost had every right to do whatever—and whoever—he pleased. He wasn’t mine to claim or control.
No matter if the thought of him with someone else made me sick to my stomach.
I stomped back towardThe Black Wraith, my foul mood deepening with each step. The fluxstones might be fresh, but my patience had run dry hours ago. Damn Viper and his obsession with counting every stolen trinket. Damn Duskwater market and its extortionate prices. And damn my own weakness for caring where Ghost might be spending his night.
