Captain of Ghosts.
"Please! Take anything you want—anything! Just spare us." The captain of the smuggler ship threw his hands up in front of his face and fell to his knees in a trembling heap. Murmurs of terrified assent echoed in a ripple from the rest of his crew, who had all been gathered together in a little bunch near the starboard railing.
Casper crossed his arms in front of his chest, throwing his shoulders back to make himself appear broader. He rarelyhad the physical advantage when dealing with the fae, many of whom by nature were taller and stronger than the average human male, but this particular captain was both younger and smaller than most.
The thought gave Casper pause, and he quickly gave the smuggler crew a second, closer look. He scowled.
By the realms, they're all practically boys! They have no idea what kind of damage they could be doing.
"Who are you working for?" The question came out harsher than he had intended, and Casper didn't miss the slight raise of Jem's eyebrows as his first mate stood to his right, knife and pistol at the ready.
"Wh-what do you mean?" the fae stammered. His hands lowered as he realized that Casper was not immediately going on the offensive.
"I wasn't born yesterday, but it looks like you were. I know that there's no way you could have either known about or navigated the breach on your own. Who are you working for?"
The young captain threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin in offense, large, ocean-blue eyes flashing indignantly in his face. All signs of his previous fear were instantly erased. "I'm a Siren. I've been sailing these waters since before I could walk. In fact, I bet I can manage them better than you can,human." His nose wrinkled with distaste as he practically spat the word. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath in preparation.
Casper's hand shot out and covered the Siren's mouth, causing the young captain's eyes to widen and regain some of their previous horror and fear with its icy touch. Youth or not, Casper knew better than to allow a Siren to start singing. The songs passed down by their people were songs of the sea, meant either to summon the waves or to translate their love and longing for the ocean into sounds deeper than words. The former could mean violent and unexpected storms; the latter, that he andhis crew might be suddenly overcome with the desire to throw themselves into the water in an attempt to lessen the pain of distance.
He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "There's no need for that. Do you really think throwing your magic around is enough to intimidate me?" He used his other hand to gesture to his crew, who all stood at attention behind him, their cursed, semi-corporeal forms taking on an even eerier look in the twilight. "But I would rather not have to carry on a conversation in the middle of the storm. The wind can be such a distraction sometimes."
The Siren just looked at him with wide eyes.
"Now, let's try this again. What is your name?" He slowly retracted his hand.
"Doryss."
"And what are you doing in this part of Winter, Doryss?"
"Fishing." The fire had gone out of the Siren's eyes, replaced instead by a dull, sullen glow.
Casper crossed his arms and gave the young fae a skeptical look. "This far from the normal routes? Like I said, I wasn't born yesterday."
"If you're not going to believe me, why ask the question?"
"I'll believe you when you tell the truth. What are you doing out here?"
Doryss twisted his face into an insolent sneer. "The same thing you are, I reckon."
"I highly doubt that."
He shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. I'm allowed to be here, same as you. There aren't any laws that forbid sailing in these waters."
"But there are laws against smugglers."
"And ones against piracy." Doryss pulled his shoulders back and stared up at Casper with a challenge in his eyes, his fear once again forgotten. "I don't recall inviting you to board."
Casper ground his teeth together. This conversation was going nowhere, as directionless as his ship without the wind. "I'm not a pirate."
"And I'm not a smuggler."
"He's right, Casp." Jem turned away from the sailor who had just whispered something into his ear. "There's no sign of human instruments or compositions anywhere on the ship."
A growl of frustration escaped him.
This doesn't make sense. There's always a new shipment after every storm. There must be something we're missing here.
The answer suddenly crashed into him like a breaker against the rocks. He cursed under his breath.
