Twin Soul Series Omnibus 1: Books 1-5 (Twin Soul Series Book Sets)

by McCaffrey-Winner

  Ford led Reedis quickly through the passageway and into the galley. “Everyone out!” he bellowed. “All of you! Out of here, now!”

  When the airmen were slow to move, Ford waved his sword at them. “Out of here, NOW!” The cook moved to dart past him but stopped when the point of Ford’s sword swung back. Ford looked over his shoulder to ensure that the rest of the airmen had left.

  “Knox will be down here soon, no doubt,” Ford warned Reedis. He turned to the cook. “I don’t have a place for murderers on my ship.”

  The cook laughed. “You don’t? Then what are you going to do with your crew?”

  Footsteps came down the hatchway rapidly, followed by Knox’s voice. “Captain, what is it?”

  “Come here, Knox, and smell the gruel,” Ford said, keeping his sword at the cook’s throat.

  Knox, frowning at his captain, moved to the pot and sniffed. “By the gods!” he swore, turning with a venomous look to the cook. “I thought we’d seen the last of you!” He drew his dirk and stood beside the captain. “Do you want me to kill her, sir?”

  “See? Murderers,” the cook murmured.

  “Her?” Reedis repeated in surprise. “Mr. Knox, the cook is a man!”

  “Only when you eat her food,” Ford said with a growl. “When you eat her food, she has control of you and you see what she wants.”

  “You’re saying that she’s a witch?”

  “And a damned good cook, more’s the pity,” Knox growled. “The crew eat what she’s serving and then we’re all damned.” Knox spat on the deck. “The last time we saw her, we lost all our prize money.”

  “You didn’t lose it,” the cook said.

  “We gave it to you,” Ford said. “You bewitched us.”

  “But you’ve done well enough since, haven’t you?” the cook asked.

  “And we’ll do better without you on this ship,” Knox said.

  “You’ll die without me on this ship,” the cook replied. “You said it yourself — murderers. How long will you last before your crew mutinies and slits your throats?”

  “How long will we last with you, Annabelle?” Ford said.

  “Annabelle?” Reedis repeated, glancing at the cook. And then he gasped. “By the gods! It’s a woman!”

  “It’s a witch,” Knox said. He glanced to Ford. “And we should kill it.”

  “Not if you want to live,” Annabelle said. She glanced to Ford. “You know what I can do.”

  “I do,” Ford agreed.

  “My word is my bond,” the witch said. “You know that, too.” She looked to Reedis. “Tell him.”

  Ford raised a hand in warning as the mage drew breath to speak. “Don’t say anything, she’s got you under her spell.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Annabelle said. “He’s a mage.”

  “The last time I believed you, I lost five treasure ships,” Ford growled.

  “But you ate well!” Annabelle said. “You have to admit that.”

  Ford shook his head, his sword still at her throat. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

  “Or turn you over to the King,” Knox added. Ford gave him a slight shake of his head without taking his eyes off the cook.

  Annabelle laughed. “The King!” she said, her deep voice rough with amusement.

  “What?” Knox said, turning to Ford. “What’s up with the King?”

  “Later,” Ford said. “Right now, we’ve got her to deal with.”

  “Deal with me, then,” Annabelle said. “Deal with me and I’ll deal true.”

  “Why?” Ford asked.

  “You need me,” she told him.

  “And you need us,” Ford guessed. “Who are you escaping from this time, Annabelle?”

  “That’s my own problem,” she said.

  “Not if you’re on my ship,” Ford told her. “You’re trouble enough without inviting more.”

  “I’m not a tenth of your troubles,” Annabelle said, eyes narrowing. “And without me, it’s not just your crew you’ll have to watch.”

  “She’s annoyed the gods, sir, and you know it!” Knox said, shaking his head. “We bring her and there’s no telling what we’ll face.”

  “There’s no telling anyway,” Ford said.

  “Trouble’s brewing and you need all the friends you can find,” Annabelle said in agreement.

  “What proof can you give me?”

  “You’re alive,” Annabelle said with a small smirk. “And you would have been well-fed if you hadn’t caught my scent.”

  “You’re saying that you could have drugged me so that I wouldn’t notice?” Ford asked. “That’s your proof of sincerity?”

  “I have charms that will protect you,” Annabelle offered.

  “Even from you?”

  “Her blood,” Reedis said. Ford cocked his head toward the mage but kept his sword steady. “She gives you her blood and that binds her to you.”

  Annabelle looked nervous for the first time.

  “Just a drop,” Reedis continued, “no more.”

  “A drop?” Ford asked.

  “Too much and she’ll be bound to you unto death,” Reedis said.

  “What did you do with our gold?” Ford asked.

  “Spent it,” Annabelle said.

  “On what?” Ford asked, nodding toward the torn clothes she wore. “You could have bought an army with what you stole.”

  “Perhaps I did,” Annabelle said. “Perhaps I learned things, perhaps I lost it all.”

  “Witch,” Knox said. “There’s some that died because of that stolen gold.”

  “And some that lived,” Annabelle said. “It’s all part of the Wheel, isn’t it?”

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Reedis said. He turned to Ford. “Captain, if it’s true that she can keep the crew from murdering us in our sleep, I say we should bargain with her.”

  Ford’s jaw hardened for a moment, then he lowered his sword. He said to Knox and Reedis, “You two, stay here.” To the witch he said with a jerk of his neck, “Come with me.”

  #

  Ford led her to his cabin. He opened the door and gestured for her to precede him. With a flip of her hair, Annabelle walked through the door. Ford followed, closing and locking it behind him.

  Annabelle was taller than the average woman. Her dark curly hair was highlighted from the sun. She was zaftig — she had a full rounded figure, and her olive skin was littered with freckles. She wore high brown leather boots and a clearly hand-sewn dress of dark green and brown patchwork.

  When he turned back, Annabelle threw herself on him. He dropped his sword and grabbed her, meeting her lips with his own. They kissed for a long time. When finally they broke for air, she said, “Gods! I’ve missed you!”

  Ford’s lips twitched. “I knew you’d be back.”

  Annabelle raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. “How?”

  “The gold was cursed, of course,” Ford said with a chuckle. “You had to come back.”

  “It had nothing to do with love, did it?” Annabelle asked. “Just cursed gold, nothing more.”

  Ford smiled at her and she reached for him, wrapping herself against him and begging with her eyes for another kiss. Ford leaned forward and obliged.

  “You’re in a right mess, you know that?” Annabelle asked as they broke apart once more.

  “And you’re going to save me?” Ford asked.

  Annabelle shook her head and gave a low laugh. “No one could ever save you.” A moment later, more seriously, she added, “Not now, certainly.”

  “So you valiantly decided to come to my aid,” Ford teased.

  “So your cursed gold forced me to come back,” Annabelle replied.

  “And what did you do with all that gold?”

  Annabelle dropped her head and spoke
in a low voice. “Some things I won’t talk about, particularly with you.”

  “The gods love us, don’t they?” Ford said, reaching over to lift her head back up to meet his eyes.

  “Some gods.” Annabelle agreed. She shook herself. “But now that you have made such a huge scene and convinced everyone that we hate each other, tell me why I’m in your cabin?”

  “Your bargain, the parts of it that are real, I accept,” Ford said.

  Annabelle snorted: she had expected nothing else. “And?”

  “I need three fire demons,” Ford said.

  “Spies?”

  “Messengers,” Ford said. Annabelle arched an eyebrow. “There’s a girl —”

  “There’s always a girl!”

  “— an urchin in my employ,” Ford finished with a scowl. “Perhaps six years old.”

  “If she’s in your employ, she’s in danger,” Annabelle said.

  “But not of starving to death, now,” Ford said. “She helped me find the wyvern —”

  “And such great good that did you!”

  “And she tracked footprints in the snow from the jail,” Ford continued implacably.

  “Footprints?”

  “But no body,” Ford agreed.

  “And then?”

  “And then the footprints disappeared,” Ford said. He did not add that the urchin — Ellen — said that the footprints were replaced by the broad tracks of a wagon, equally invisible. The tracks went north.

  “So there’s trouble,” Annabelle shrugged. “I told you that, already.”

  “Between Soria and Kingsland?” Ford asked.

  Annabelle gave him an intrigued look. “This is news.”

  Ford’s lips twitched. “So my urchin will need two messenger demons before we leave.”

  “And the third?”

  “That’s for safety,” Ford said.

  “For you or for her?”

  Ford gave her a quelling look. Annabelle shrugged, saying, “You haven’t changed, really, have you?”

  “What of the crew?”

  “I can handle them,” Annabelle said. Ford started to speak but she raised a hand to his mouth. “You cannot be controlled by me, not after the last time.”

  “And you’d be a fool to try,” Ford said.

  “And I’d be a fool to try,” Annabelle agreed. She leaned in to him again, resting her head on his shoulder, whispering, “Gods, I’ve missed you!”

  Ford answered her with a hug and a kiss on her head. He pushed back from her, meeting her eyes. “So the only question is whether you want to continue to be seen as a man or as a woman?”

  “Your crew will not harm me,” Annabelle said with certainty. “Not after they taste my food.”

  “They probably wouldn’t hurt you if you didn’t put a spell on it,” Ford agreed. “Your cooking is good enough by itself to ensure their loyalty.”

  Annabelle smiled at the compliment.

  “But we won’t be traveling alone,” Ford said. “We’re to have a very special, very important passenger.”

  “The prince,” Annabelle said.

  Ford nodded.

  “He’ll be protected against my spells,” Annabelle warned.

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “It depends,” Annabelle said with a grin, a slim blade suddenly sprouting from her free hand, “on how much he cherishes his manhood.”

  Chapter Seven: The Bitter North

  “I’m going to miss you so much!” Queen Arivik sobbed as her one and only child, her precious Crown Prince, ascended the gangplank leading to the airship Spite. She spied Captain Ford moving to grab the Prince’s hand and shouted, “You take good care of my son!”

  “I shall do my best by King and country,” Ford called back. “You may depend upon it.”

  “Mother always gets carried away,” Crown Prince Nestor said quietly to Ford. He glanced around the ship. “Is everything ready?”

  Ford nodded. “It is.”

  “Then, please, Sir Ford, let us depart before mother breaks down completely,” Nestor said, turning to wave back to his mother, calling, “I’ll be fine, mother!”

  “Kill another wyvern for the kingdom!” Queen Arivik shouted back.

  “Rest assured, mother!” Nestor called back. Under his breath, he said to Ford, “Please, let us leave.” He waved to his mother, adding to Ford, “I think she’s had a bit too much tea today.”

  “Tea?”

  “It’s not just tea, you see,” Nestor confessed. “Now, please, by all the gods, let us leave!”

  “As your highness wishes,” Ford said, gesturing to Knox by the helm.

  “All hands, all hands!” Knox called. “Prepare to raise ship.”

  Hands move quickly to their places and Reedis assumed his position under the balloons. Ford gestured for the prince to precede him as they walked steadily toward the stern.

  “The crew seems different,” Nestor remarked as he caught a scowl from one particularly repellent specimen.

  “We’ve had some changes,” Ford agreed. “I replaced Lieutenant Havenam with my boatswain, Knox.”

  “So I see,” Nestor said, nodding toward the newly-made first lieutenant. “But wasn’t your… Havenam… the one who fell to his death?”

  “Hence the need for replacement,” Ford said.

  “What about that one, there?” Nestor asked, pointing to Jens. “Wasn’t he a lieutenant?”

  “He was,” Ford agreed, nodding toward the surly airman. “We had a bit of a falling out, as it were.”

  “Whatever for?” Nestor asked just as they neared Lieutenant Knox.

  “He ‘fell’ off the ship,” Knox explained sourly.

  “What? He fell, too?” Nestor asked.

  “From virtue only,” Knox said. The prince gave him a look of confusion, so Knox explained, “He jumped ship, your highness.”

  “Jumped ship?” Nestor said, glancing to Ford. “From how high?”

  “My lieutenant means that Jens mutinied and signed aboard another ship,” Ford said. Ford allowed himself a small smile. “We recovered him on our last flight.”

  “Oh!” Nestor said, eyes going wide. “The prizes you took!”

  “Exactly,” Ford said. “If it weren’t for Jens here, we would be a lot poorer.” The ex-lieutenant gave them a miserable look and returned to his duties, splicing lines.

  “And yet you bring a known mutineer with you?” Nestor asked in surprise.

  “We were short-handed and didn’t have much choice,” Knox said, “the jail left us five short.”

  “The jail?” Nestor exclaimed, glancing around the deck to examine the various crew visible. “You mean they’re all convicts?”

  “Ex-convicts,” Ford corrected easily. “And some guards, too.”

  Nestor gestured for Ford to come closer and whispered, “I’m not too sure of the guards, Sir Ford.”

  “I feel much the same way, your highness,” Ford replied. “However, ‘Needs must when the gods drive’, as they say.”

  “Do they?” Nestor said. “I’d never heard that before.”

  Knox snorted.

  “Perhaps we’d best get you settled below, your highness?” Ford suggested, gesturing to the hatchway.

  “No, I’d prefer view our departure from the deck.”

  “As your highness wishes,” Ford said. He turned to peer toward the bow of the ship. “However, I’ve duties to attend.”

  “Don’t let me hold you back, captain,” Nestor allowed. “I’ll stay here with Mr. Knox.”

  “A pleasure,” Knox grumbled.

  “Hands aloft!” Ford called. “Watchman to the top!”

  “The top?” Nestor asked, looking around. “Where’s that?”

  “The top balloon, your highness,” Knox e
xplained. He looked around and barked, “Jens! Get yourself up there and be sure not to spare your throat!”

  Jens gave him a surly look but started up the ratlines on the side of the ship, grabbing the netting that held the balloons and climbing out of sight.

  “Mr. Reedis!” Knox called. “When you’re ready!”

  “Ready now,” Reedis called, closing his eyes and spreading his arms in the magical gesture that started the ship ascending.

  “Mr. Franck!” Knox called. “How fares the steam?”

  “We’re ready when you need, sir,” the young smith called back. He gestured to the stokers, calling, “Marder! Sens! More coal!”

  “Isn’t that the murderer?” Nestor said, pointing to Angus. “The one who killed his fiancé?”

  “Yes,” Knox said. “He killed her and made that damned wyvern out of her.”

  “The one we’re chasing,” Nestor said.

  “The very same,” Knox agreed. Knox looked forward and raised his voice to shout, “Lookouts, are we clear the ground?”

  “We’re clear!” Captain Ford called back. “You may deploy the booms!”

  “Did you hear that, Mr. Franck?” Knox called to the smith.

  “Boomsmen, deploy your booms!” Angus shouted. “Prepare to engage the propellers.”

  The appointed men moved to the stern of the ship and pulled on the hoists that lowered the upright booms to the sides of the ship. Satisfied, they lashed the lines around belaying pins and called back to Angus, “Booms deployed and secured!”

  “Engage the propellers!” Angus called, moving to the engine and pulling on levers.

  A moment later, the furled propellers, like windmill sails, spun around to fan out to four corners, locking in place. Slowly, the propellers began to spin, pushing Spite through the air.

  “Booms deployed! Propellers deployed! Making thrust!” Angus confirmed to lieutenant Knox with a booming voice and a curt salute.

  “Very good, Mr. Franck!” Knox called back, returning the salute. To captain Ford he called, “What speed and course, captain?”

  “North,” Ford called back, “and two-thirds power, if you please Mr. Knox.”

  “Aye sir,” Knox called back. “Course due north at two-thirds power.”

  “Wait a minute,” Nestor said, reaching into his pocket for something. “North takes us to Soria, right?”