Cali understood that. Her skill as an archer was unmatched, but she had never wanted to spend her whole life shooting arrows. As much as she loved running with her crew, she’d discovered that it wasn’t the quests or the shooting that she missed.
“What do you want to do forever?”
Bonnie looked over the rim of her goblet at the harbor. “That’s a big question. I wouldn’t mind trading the adventure for a quieter life. Something like you have in that village.”
Cali’s eyes widened. “Wayside?”
“Don’t look so surprised. The idea of waking up in the same place and not eating the same few meals on repeat is something I’ve always wanted.”
Cali sat back. “I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to talk myself out of staying in a sleepy village.”
“Don’t you miss it?”
Cali thought about Rog perched on the back of his brandy wagon, Vaskel watchfully tending bar, and Lira busy in the kitchen with Crumpet and Bramble. She thought about Pip’s lemon sweet rolls and the warmth of the Tusk and Tail on a coldevening when the fire was high. “I suppose I do. It’s actually a fairly extraordinary place, when I let myself see it.” She reached for her goblet. “It’s just not this.”
“No,” Bonnie agreed, her gaze lingering on her ship in the bay. “Not this.” She sounded almost mournful. “Though I would be very pleased if I never spoke to another siren or mermaid in my life.”
Cali raised her goblet. “I’ll drink to that.”
She let the pink wine slide down her throat and tickle her belly, looking at the pirate captain over the rim of her glass. That was when a keening sound echoed from the harbor, and Bonnie’s gaze went sharp and hard.
The captain was on her feet and retrieving her eye patch before Cali fully registered what was happening, although she only had to follow Bonnie’s gaze to The Cruel Mistress to understand why the pirate’s entire body had stiffened.
The lantern on The Cruel Mistress still burned, but something rippled the water beside the ship. Even from a distance, Cali could make out the warning sounds from Tris as something scaled the hull. Warm light from a porthole illuminated the creature’s face for a moment as it crept past, and Cali’s fur stood on end when she saw it was crimson.
“That’s a hellkin,” Bonnie said, her voice raw. She was already moving toward the stairs and strapping on her eye patch.
Cali was right behind her.
Twenty-Nine
Cali tookthe stairs two at a time, her boots slapping every other step, and caught up to Bonnie at the first landing where the bamboo swayed at their impact. She was half a step behind the captain when they burst through the door and into the shadow-soaked interior. She moved so fast her feet barely stuck to the floor, although she couldn’t avoid cringing at the rancid smell of oil-soaked fish. Several of the hunched figures looked up, but Bonnie didn’t slow.
Pinkie perched on a stool at the bar with another gnome beside her, this one with hair the color of moss and a tankard halfway to her lips. Pinkie read Bonnie’s face in the half-second it took the captain to pass her. She was off the stool before her tankard hit the bar.
“What’s happening?”
“Trouble on The Cruel Mistress,” Bonnie called back, already through the outer door and into the night.
Cali glanced back long enough to see Pinkie and the green-haired gnome fall into step behind her, the green-haired onestill clutching her tankard, foam sloshing over the side. Then she turned and ran.
Claw Island’s streets were poorly lit and bunched with people shuffling along or propped in doorways. Bonnie took the alleys instead, cutting through gaps between buildings that Cali wouldn’t have clocked as passages at all. They emerged into a wider lane, banked hard left, threaded between an empty fish stall and a tavern that stank of rum. More pirates from The Cruel Mistress detached themselves from doorways as they passed, some with cards still in their hands and one with her boots unlaced.
Gert materialized from a doorway draped with a beaded curtain, and Cali nearly ran into the quartermaster before she registered who it was. Something dark and sticky plastered the orc’s face from jaw to hairline, and two pale circles of cucumber clung to her eye sockets at slightly different angles, one beginning a slow slide toward her chin.
Cali had perhaps three seconds to absorb the fact that the quartermaster was the type to spend her free evening getting a mud facial before the orc shot her a grim nod of acknowledgment.
“Trouble at the ship?” Gert said.
“Hellkins,” Bonnie called over her shoulder.
Gert plucked the cucumber slices from her face and tossed them behind her without breaking stride. “Son of a goblin’s spawn.”
The docks came into view at the end of the lane, the smell of saltwater sharpening as they pushed through a cluster of people who scattered quickly. The Cruel Mistress towered over the pier, her painted hull throwing color across the dark water and hersails murmuring in the night breeze. There were no shouts on board, no sounds of struggle, and no clang of blades. The quiet was unsettling, and it sent a shiver down the length of Cali’s tail.
Bonnie hit the gangway at a sprint and landed on deck a second later. Cali was right behind her, dropping into a crouch as her boots met the painted planks, already pulling an arrow from her quiver and notching it in one motion.
The deck was empty, which was all wrong. Seraphina should be patrolling the ship’s railing with her cloak whispering in her wake. Cali lowered the bow a fraction and swept her gaze from bow to stern. The master-at-arms was nowhere to be seen. Then Cali’s ears pricked.
