Dark and Stormy: Phantom Queen Book 4 - A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries)

by Shayne Silvers

  I glared at them both. What the fuck kind of masculine staring contest had that been just now? And what did Alucard mean by “submission”? Before I could ask, however, Ryan’s comment finally registered. “Oy! Bring me closer to me old friend,” I demanded, giving Ryan the full weight of my attention. “He needs an old-fashioned nose job, courtesy of me fist.”

  Ryan chuckled. “It’s nice to know some things never change, Quinn. Come on up, the ship’s Captain will want to talk to you.”

  Alucard tensed, again, clutching me so hard it hurt to breathe.

  “Don’t worry,” Ryan said, turning at my gasp, “he’s not the possessive type, and has far too much on his mind to worry about you two. While I can’t make promises for the rest of his crew, I can assure you they won’t disobey him. Besides, from what I recall, Quinn can take care of herself.” Ryan winked at me, then began ascending the rope, drawing himself up with a speed I could hardly hope to match—as if he weighed nothing at all.

  Alucard floated upwards, trailing the Faeling. “I don’t like this.”

  “Well, I don’t like ye gettin’ all handsy with me,” I snapped. “Ye damn near crushed me ribs just now. And what the hell was that with Ryan?”

  Alucard met my eyes, his stare so intense I felt the world swim around me a little. The bracelet flared up again, the pain making me nauseous. “This is Fae,” Alucard said, ignoring my grimace. “Things are different, here. You’ll see.” He glanced up at the ship and the faces staring down at us with disdain. “Don’t let anyone touch you, or I’ll have to kill them.”

  Oh, great.

  Now I had a possessive vampire on my hands to deal with, along with everything else.

  Crash landing.

  Lost my guns.

  Abducted upon arrival.

  So far, this Faecation sucked.

  Chapter 14

  I freed myself from Alucard’s grasp the instant we landed, but he refused to leave my side; he hovered close by, maintaining his flaming angel of death look—probably to scare away the natives. I had to admit, it was pretty intimidating; bathed in golden light, wearing tattered merlot robes, with a face carved by the hand of a vengeful God, he might as well have been yanked from the cover of Catholic Schoolgirl Magazine.

  And apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought so; most of the crew—sailors in naval garb from various eras—kept their distance, but a few lingering gazes reminded me that sexual preferences were a little more…fluid, on ships. That said, there were a hell of a lot more eyes on me than the Inhuman Torch. Was I the first woman they’d seen in years? Or was staring considered polite in Fae?

  Either way, I felt suddenly very glad to be armed.

  We heard the Captain before we saw him; the sound of his boots on the quarterdeck above us were like gunshots, slow and steady. His hat came into view first, scarlet red and wide-brimmed. Then his face—clean shaven and scarred, with deep lines around his mouth and eyes. He wore a long black trench coat, black breeches, tunic, and boots. He leaned forward onto a bannister that wound down around the stairs which could be accessed on either side of us, settling one hand on the wood, and one hook where a hand should have been. Its dull iron edge gouged into the lumber like a hot knife in butter.

  “Who, or what, are these things?” the Captain asked.

  “This is Quinn MacKenna, Captain,” Ryan replied. “She’s from Boston, in the Americas. Early twenty-first century. She’s…a gunrunner. Of sorts.”

  The Captain grunted, flicking his eyes up and down the line of my body—not sexually, but as though trying to gauge how many weapons I had on my person. How dangerous I was. To be honest, his reaction made me think highly of him. Not many men see a damsel in distress and think to frisk her, first.

  Not that I planned to let him.

  “And this one?” the Captain asked, jerking his chin towards Alucard, dismissing me.

  “No idea,” Ryan said, squinting. “Not one of ours, though.”

  “A spy for Tiger Lily?” the Captain asked, studying Alucard’s face as though it might betray him.

  “I spy for no one,” Alucard snarled.

  The Captain raised his good hand and tipped his hat up and back, exposing his forehead and revealing a mane of fine, silver-white hair. “We’ll see about that. Crew! Back to your posts, double-time!”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n!” came a chorus of voices. The men scrambled about, most of them headed below decks to resume rowing, I presumed.

  “Ryan,” the Captain barked.

  “Yes, Captain?” Ryan replied, ducking his head.

  “I want these two in irons until we meet up with your people.” Ryan grimaced at the mention of iron—anathema to the Fae—and the Captain noticed. “We’re nearly over the mountains, which means we’ll be out in the open soon. We can’t afford—”

  “Boat sighted! Starboard side!” a voice called down from the crow’s nest, interrupting whatever the Captain had been about to say.

  The Captain bolted toward the starboard side of the ship—turns out that’s the right side, if you’re facing the bow. Alucard, Ryan, and I followed, peering out into the gloom. She was a sleek vessel; much smaller than the ship we were on—little more than a paddle boat, in fact. But then another emerged from the fog. And another. Soon, at least a dozen were in sight, with more arriving every second.

  “She’s found us,” the Captain said, spitting out into the fog, grinding his hook into the wood so hard it began to splinter. “Damn savage has to have been waiting decades for this.”

  “King Oberon’s warship shouldn’t be far away,” Ryan said, sounding nervous. “We could send one of our messengers to—”

  “No time,” the Captain muttered. He turned and glared down at us. “Get these two below deck, then get back up here. We’ll need every hand we can get, Fae or otherwise.”

  “Oy!” I said, speaking up for the first time. “Is someone goin’ to tell us what the fuck is goin’ on?”

  The Captain raised an eyebrow and flicked his hand at me, still looking at Ryan. “Did the Irish invade the Americas?”

  Ryan snorted. “In a manner of speaking, actually, yes. After your time.”

  “Huh. Well, Miss MacKenna,” the Captain replied, giving me the full weight of his attention, “we are about to engage in a naval battle with a very determined Faerie chieftain and her braves. She’s got every reason to want us dead, and we have every reason to wish the opposite. Now, I know you and Ryan here have some sort of history, and I am glad you’ve managed to reconnect, but at this moment, I would prefer you and your friend were out of the way. Additionally, for your sake, you better pray to God Almighty we win. Because if Tiger Lily gets ahold of you, you’ll wish I’d gutted you right here.” The Captain finished with a flourish, ducking his head in a slight bow, his smile tight and forced.

  “I could help you fend her off,” Alucard said, rolling his shoulders, teeth bared like an animal’s. “In exchange for safe passage. You drop us off at the earliest opportunity.”

  That made the Captain pause. He regarded Alucard, looking him up and down, evidently not remotely impressed by the fire and the wings—which told me all I needed to know about the crazy shit I could expect to see in Fae. “Are you any good in a fight?”

  “Yes,” Alucard replied. No elaboration, just a shitload of confidence.

  “Aye, and I’ll fight, too,” I said, glaring at the vampire—as if he had any right to risk himself on our behalf without consulting me.

  “That’s not a good idea, Quinn,” Ryan hissed.

  I drew the only gun I had left from its inner thigh holster and leveled it in Ryan’s face. “Look, I don’t want to shoot ye in the face, Ryan O’Rye. I really don’t. But I’m not feelin’ very civilized at the moment, and—since the fight is comin’ to me anyway—I’m done listenin’ to what ye have to say, no matter how well ye mean by it.”

  Ryan raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, Quinn.”

  “That’s a good Fael
in’,” I said, eyes narrowed. Inwardly, I frowned. Had I really just pointed a gun at someone for suggesting I stay out of a fight? Granted, I’d always been a little on edge, not to mention trigger happy, but suddenly it felt like everyone deserved a bullet, for one thing or another—the Captain for trying to make us his prisoners, Alucard for being possessive, Ryan for being overprotective…at this point, I was pretty sure I’d run out of bullets before I ran out of targets.

  “Is that a flintlock?” The Captain asked, eyeing my pistol in undisguised fascination.

  “A modern version, yes,” Ryan admitted, his hands still raised.

  “Amazing. Very well, you’re both welcome to take part in the battle,” the Captain said. “But if either of you try to betray us, I’ll make sure you suffer. I’m not Fae, but I assure you, I keep my promises.” The Captain stormed away, bellowing orders. I realized the fleet of ships had gotten significantly closer since I last looked…and there were at least twenty more of them.

  “Well, you two have done it, now,” Ryan said, dropping his hands. “Although that was probably your best move, offering to help. Otherwise you’d be in the brig until we made it back to King Oberon’s fleet. But, so you know, he wasn’t kidding…if you do anything to jeopardize his men, he’ll hunt you two down to the ends of Neverland and beyond.”

  “Neverland?” I asked, frowning.

  “Yeah,” Ryan replied, cocking an eyebrow. “Surely you knew that’s where you were headed when you went through the gate?”

  I shook my head vehemently. “Knock it off, Ryan. Ye know we can’t be in Neverland,” I said. “That’s a children’s story. Besides, Peter—”

  Ryan clamped a hand over my mouth so fast I nearly shot him by accident, the barrel of my gun pressed firmly against his belly. My eyes widened considerably as I noticed Alucard put his hand around the Faeling’s throat, squeezing so hard a vein in Ryan’s forehead was throbbing. Two of the crewmen had drawn swords and held them pressed against Alucard’s neck—his flames licked along the edges of their blades, turning them black.

  An old-fashioned Mexican standoff.

  In Neverland.

  Ryan eased his hand off my mouth, which prompted Alucard to release his throat. The two crewmen kept their cutlasses right where they were until Ryan waved them off. The Faeling coughed and massaged his throat. “Sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse, “but that’s not a name you’re allowed to say on this ship. Not once. Not ever.”

  “And why not?” I asked, baffled.

  “Because,” Ryan said, “this is the Jolly Roger. And no one who values their lives says that name around Captain James Hook.”

  Chapter 15

  Preparations for the upcoming battle commenced before I could worry too much about the plausibility of our host or our location; the potential for violence took immediate precedence over whether or not Ryan was fucking with me. The three of us drew away from the edge of the ship towards the center mast, where we’d be less in the way.

  To be honest, I wasn’t the slightest bit sure what to expect from a pitched fight on a ship sailing the skies; I’d always seen naval battles from a cinematic perspective—long aerial shots of cannons exploding with close-ups on the chalk-white smoke pluming from their gaping maws, followed by wooden shards spewing out in all directions and screams as sailors dove to avoid the next barrage. As a result, I’d expected a lot of chaos and noise—especially at the outset. What I got was entirely different. The cannons didn’t roar; apparently Hook’s crew had run out of gunpowder so long ago that they’d nearly forgotten what the cannons were for. Instead, the crew prepared their weapons—swords, knives, and clubs, mostly.

  “Here,” Ryan said, handing me a long, wooden club shaped like a baseball bat. “When they come, just swing. The pixies will likely steer clear of you, and Tiger Lily’s braves will go after the sailors, first and foremost.”

  I brandished my gun, arching an eyebrow. “I t’ink I’d rather use this,” I replied. Granted, clubbing Fae to death sounded like fun, but I’d always sucked at Whack-a-Mole; riddling the boarding party with bullets was more my speed.

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “Regular guns won’t do anything to our kind, you know that.”

  “Aye, that’s why I loaded the clip with iron bullets before we came,” I replied.

  Ryan glanced sidelong at me, eyes wide.

  “You’ve been gone a while,” I said, ignoring the stare while I checked over the gun, making sure it would work here in Fae. “The Fae are no friends of mine. Not anymore.”

  “When the leader shows, point her out,” Alucard said, clearly unconcerned by Ryan’s hurt expression. “I’m assuming your Captain will honor our agreement sooner if I bring him her head?”

  Ryan’s eyebrows shot up as he studied the two of us. “Uh, yeah. Probably…”

  “Good,” Alucard said, then walked off towards the railing for a better view of the incoming fleet. From where I stood I could see that the boats had stopped—maybe fifty ships, in total. Tiny lights strobed among them, casting eerie shadows in the fog.

  “Except he isn’t my Captain…” Ryan added as the vampire marched off.

  “Aye, about that,” I said, realizing that—as far as pumping the Faeling for information was concerned—it was probably now or never. “What are ye doin’ onboard this ship? Why are ye here, Ryan?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question,” he replied, grinning.

  I scowled and hefted the club, beating it gently against my shoulder. “I’m waitin’.”

  Ryan sighed. “I’m here working for King Oberon. He’s sent several of us out to serve as liaisons. We’re gathering all the naval power we can find before Balor and the Fomorians come.”

  I shivered with recognition. “What d’ye mean, before Balor comes?”

  Ryan shook his head, eyeing the hustle and bustle around us. “I’ll have to explain later. They’ll want me for a lookout, and I’ve got to get a message to the warship, no matter what the Captain says.” He waved and took off, glancing back only once to call out to me. “You can fill me in on why you’re here if we make it through this alive!”

  If…

  That was heartening.

  Still, I found myself grinning.

  Ryan was alive!

  And I was in Fae!

  Moments away from fighting on a pirate ship among the clouds, which hadn’t been on my bucket list, sure, but where else could a girl get this kind of excitement? I realized there was something uncivilized, something brutal about this place—and I…

  Loved it.

  I started to move towards the action when I noticed I still had my pistol in hand and frowned…there was something wrong with it. It looked grotesque to me, suddenly, its edges too neat, the metal too clean. It looked…manufactured. I thrust the offensive weapon back into its holster and took a good long look at the club Ryan had given me. I realized it didn’t simply look like a baseball bat…it was a baseball bat. Or at least had been designed as one; its wide tip was beveled and sturdy, perfect for bashing skulls in or knocking pixies out of the park.

  Still, a baseball bat wouldn’t do me much good against Fae warriors. I didn’t care for Ryan’s plan; keeping the enemy at bay while I waited to be rescued wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time. I thrust the bat out, halting a passing sailor as he ran by. “Oy! D’ye have anythin’ to make this t’ing deadlier?” I asked, brandishing the bat.

  The sailor arched an eyebrow. “Well, love,” he replied, his British accent still remarkably clear, unlike the Captain’s, which had been faint at best. “What you have there in your hand should do the trick all on its own. It was fashioned from the branch of a Nevernever tree. But, if you want to be extra prepared,” the sailor said, pointing at a barrel securely bound to the center mast, “feel free to find something more to your liking.” With that, he ran off towards the Jolly Roger’s starboard side, grinning from ear-to-ear like a boy about to play with his friends.

  A chorus of yells went up,
and I beelined for the barrel. The lights were no longer dancing above Tiger Lily’s boats, but coming towards us, illuminating a small army of braves—dark-skinned Faelings with razor sharp teeth, their bodies coated in war paint that seemed to curl sinuously over their skin, their hair made of feathers, wielding weapons fashioned from bone. I made it to the barrel as the first wave reached the sailors, and soon the clash of metal on bone sounded. Then the screams.

  Guess the movies hadn’t gotten everything wrong.

  I fished around in the barrel, hunting through what turned out to be a ramshackle pile of iron knick-knacks. Scissors, coins, thimbles, crowbars, barbed wire…I froze. Barbed wire.

  A malicious grin split my cheeks. Oh, yeah.

  Perfect.

  I nearly reached in and snagged it without thinking, but a voice in the back of my head screamed at me not to, and I jerked my hand away at the last possible instant. Right, barbed wire—the shit could slice up my hands something fierce if I wasn’t careful. I scanned my immediate surroundings, looking for anything sturdy enough to grab it. Something leather maybe? I cursed. Nothing. But then, maybe I was thinking about this too hard.

  Sure, I could open my own jars…

  But this seemed like a job for a man—or, better yet, a vampire.

  “Alucard! Come here!” I yelled, turning towards the skirmish, where Alucard was already busy taking on two of the braves. Alucard slid on his knees beneath the arc of a spear, using his wings to balance, and then popped up—improbably fast—to snatch his opponent by the throat and toss him into his companion. They landed in a pile on the far side of the ship, their bodies twisted up so badly I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

  The vampire then half-ran, half-flew towards me. “What is it? Are you hurt?” he asked.

  I waved that away. “No. I need ye to wrap barbed wire around me bat,” I said, holding it out for him.

  He blinked. “Why?”

  “So they’ll bleed more when I hit ‘em,” I replied, as if that were obvious.