1
FINN
Eight-Finger Jack had a tell.
Not an obvious one. His eyes didn’t shift away from the cards clutched tightly in his four-fingered hands. Nor did they tremble as he wiped foamy ale from his lips. Jack didn't fidget with his saltwater-stained shirt or adjust the greasy black hair off his sunburned neck.
The deception lay in his confidence. Only a man who knew he was going to win bet the glittering towers of gold piled up before him. The sight made me smile and toss in my last remaining silvers.
"All in, Finn? Risky."
My lips compress at his words.
Normally, I wouldn't care about Eight-Finger Jack's cheating, but it was my gold he was currently in possession of. Gold, I would need to make my stay in Castaway's Landing comfortable.
It had taken eight weeks of rough seas to locate theHoney Potand take all the treasure trapped inside her ruined vessel. The royal ship had run aground on a small sugar island that was absent on all maps except one depicting defunct trading routes.
I had the good fortune to find the ancient chart amongst a fruitful pillage last year.
The shimmering emeralds and sapphires wink at me from the other end of the worn velvet cover table. Eight-Finger Jack's eyes glow, shuffling his bent cards with calloused fingers.
I hadn’t survived shivers of sharks, pirate vessels with their impressive arsenals, and the alluring call of sirens to lose my treasures to a cheat.
The barmaid comes over in a swirl of teal skirts and secretive smiles. I nearly groan at the scent of her vanilla perfume. It rises above the fragrance of sweating men and briny air like a delicious cloud.
My crewmates have already absconded inside the countless brothels across the island while I deal with Jack's sticky fingers.
Once I double my winnings, I promise to visit fair Merigold at the Silk Pillow. Her breasts were much larger than the last time I saw them five years ago.
With my riches returned, I plan to take stock of all her changes.
My crew and I are going to spend two weeks here. Might as well spend it awash in pleasure and in comfortable lodging. Gods know I’m in need of the relaxation only Merigold and her ample bosom can provide.
A restlessness thrashes in my stomach, familiar and unwanted. I shove it down, as I have for years.
The crew needs their rest as well, but not too much. Lest they begin seeking the comfort of feather-filled beds over the solitary life of a sailor.
Once we had eaten and fucked our fill, we would set off on the unforgiving waters again. Tracking down whatever tip we procured while making landfall.
And so the cycle starts again. Searching and finding and claiming. A treasure hunter until the very end. I’m a servant to my adventures and my beast.
Sharp claws slice my stomach. The wooden chair creaks beneath my shifting weight.
The sun dwindles outside the cracked window, matching my fleeting patience. With the promise of silk mattresses and sweet-smelling women on the horizon, I grow bored with this reeking den of debauchery.
"Show 'em," I order.
Eight-Finger Jack's gold teeth glint as his cracked lips part. He lays out his cards with flourish.
"The King's Crown."
Knocking on the table, his words drip with pride. I look down at my cards, face remaining neutral.
"Are cards how you came to acquire that new jacket?" I ask, voice even.
Jack nods.
"I've been lucky."
