Blood and Tempest

by Jon Skovron

  Then she tore out their lungs, and they collapsed to the floor.

  She turned, a pair of dripping sacks in each hand. Fisty stared at her, his mouth open, his face drained of color. He flinched as she walked past him and back up the wooden steps to the deck.

  She continued at that slow, deliberate pace until she reached the captain’s cabin. The rain was coming down harder now, and lightning arced across the sky, casting her shadow on the door for a moment.

  “Captain Gray.” She didn’t shout, but her voice rang like a bell.

  Gavish Gray opened the door. His eyes grew wide with horror when Brigga Lin dropped the lungs of his crew members at his feet. They landed on the wooden deck with a wet slap, blood mixing with the rain that came down in hard sheets.

  “Thank you for your hospitality, but it’s time for Jilly and me to move on,” Brigga Lin told him. “Once we return to Vance Post, we’ll be going our separate ways. Until then, if I see any of the crew go near Jilly, these deaths will seem gentle in comparison.”

  She turned away, but then stopped. She looked over her shoulder at him, her face half-hidden by her hood.

  “Be grateful that I now realize you were trying to express your concerns about Jilly’s safety to me earlier. Otherwise, I would have you begging for your own death right now.”

  The rain was coming down hard, but Jilly didn’t mind. She sat up in her usual perch, closed her eyes, and turned her face to the sky. When she’d first started sailing years ago, and had her first time up in the shrouds during a storm, it had been miserable. That was back when she’d gone by the name of Jillen, posing as a boy. One of the old salts had taken pity on her and told her the secret. Don’t flinch against the rain. Don’t tense against it as if you could fight it. Because you could never fight a storm. Instead you had to learn to embrace it, and all the chaos that came with it. Ever since then, she’d done just that. Forced herself to stay up there in the worst weather a storm could throw. It hadn’t always been easy, but it was a lesson that had served her well. How to embrace the storm.

  She sighed and felt the rain patter on her face, dripping from her chin.

  Then her solitude was broken when she felt the presence of someone else. She opened her eyes and saw Brigga Lin. There were flecks of blood on her master’s white gown, fading in the rain, but still visible.

  “Master?” She sat up straight, as if even up here Brigga Lin would criticize her posture.

  “Hello, Jilly.” Brigga Lin settled in on the yard beside her.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up here before, master,” she said. “I mean … I wasn’t sure you could get up here.”

  “It isn’t easy in a dress,” admitted her master. “But the reason I’ve never come up here was because I didn’t want to. Frankly, I think it’s unladylike.”

  Jilly waited for her to say more, but Brigga Lin only sat there and gazed out at the choppy gray sea speckled with rain. Water dripped steadily from the rim of her hood.

  “It’s not like you to stay out in a storm, either,” said Jilly, becoming increasingly uneasy. “Not without an umbrella, at least.”

  “It’s gratifying that you know me so well,” said Brigga Lin. “The fact is, I am up here in this storm for you.”

  “For me?”

  “I have to tell you something you won’t want to hear, so I thought it best to tell you in a place you prefer. I wish I could wait until the weather was more pleasant, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “I see …” Thick, cold dread filled the pit of Jilly’s stomach. Was Brigga Lin about to tell her that she no longer wanted to train her? Maybe she’d realized that Jilly wasn’t book smart enough. Maybe she’d decided Jilly was probably hopeless. That could be why she’d been putting off proper training.

  Jilly steeled herself for the worst. She would take it like she’d taken every other bad turn. After all, you can’t fight the storm.

  “Once we return to Vance Post,” said Brigga Lin, “we will be leaving the crew of the Rolling Lightning. Until then, you are not to speak to or go anywhere near any members of this crew. Do you understand?”

  Jilly stared at her. “N-no, master. I don’t understand at all.”

  “I know you are fond of the men on this ship, but they are not your friends.”

  “Well, maybe not friends, exactly. But we’re all wags.”

  “No, Jilly. You’re not. They were planning to rape you.”

  Jilly stared at her master for a moment. She knew Brigga Lin wouldn’t lie, so it had to be something else. “I think there’s maybe been a … a misunderstanding. There was one night when one of them got grabby while he was drunk, and I stabbed him. So it’s taken care of. We’re all chum and larder now.”

  “You thought that would be the end of it?” There was pity in Brigga Lin’s eyes. Like she was talking to a naive child. “That their idiotic pride could suffer such a setback? Jilly, I heard them, today, plotting what to do to you.”

  “But …” Jilly wasn’t sure why it hurt so much to hear this. Why it felt like such a betrayal. It was all twisted up in her chest.

  Brigga Lin reached out and gently put her hand on Jilly’s rain-soaked shoulder. It was, Jilly realized, the first time her master had ever touched her. “There are good men in the world. But the men on this ship are not among them.”

  “Not even Captain Gray?”

  Brigga Lin gave her a weary, bittersweet smile. “Not good enough for us.”

  Red had always assumed that no neighborhood could equal Paradise Circle in its ardent embrace of sex, drugs, and violence. But as he walked through the streets of Vance Post’s Shade District with Vaderton, he couldn’t help but feel that his old neighborhood had been nothing but part-timers and hobbyists. At least as far as the sex and drugs went. Perhaps the Circle still had more acts of violence being perpetrated per block, but the sheer number of whorehouses and drug dens packed into each square mile of the Shade District was staggering. And they weren’t shy about the nature of their business either. Brightly painted signs hung in front of every door, sometimes even with illustrations.

  He gazed at a sign that read A GOOD PLACE FOR BAD ENDS, which included a simple illustration of what appeared to be a female demon sticking her tail up a male angel’s ass. Next door was another whorehouse with a sign that read PISS ON US ALL and included a picture of a nude woman squatting. The building after that had a sign that read DUELING COCKS. Whether it was a whorehouse exclusively for toms or a place that bet on rooster fights was unclear, since there was no illustration and either seemed likely.

  “How do they all stay in business?” he asked Vaderton.

  “The Shade District is known throughout the empire for offering anything one might desire to anyone who can pay the price,” said Vaderton.

  “I’m fairly sure you can get anything you want in Paradise Circle as well,” protested Red.

  “Ah, but not with the same level of sophistication,” said Vaderton. “The Shade District is where merchants come to pretend they are decadent nobility.”

  “Are there decadent nobility?” asked Red. “The ones I encountered barely even wanted to talk about sex.”

  “Certainly. They just tend to keep it away from the palace. Now, come on, I think the inn is this way.” He turned down a side street.

  “You’ve been there before?” asked Red as he followed.

  Vaderton shook his head. “I just know it by reputation. The Past Is Forgotten is the most infamous smugglers’ den on Vance Post, making it one of the most well known in the empire. At least, it’s known to those of us who spent a sizable portion of our naval career running down smugglers.”

  “Why’d you leave the navy, anyway?” asked Red.

  “I didn’t,” said Vaderton. “They left me. Specifically, they left me for dead on the Empty Cliffs so that I wouldn’t spread the word that Captain Bane—I mean, that Hope was taking a sizable bite out of our fleet.”

  “Why would they want to keep that a se
cret?” asked Red.

  “I can’t say for sure, but my guess is simply pride. Both the navy and the biomancers like to maintain an image of invincibility. To admit weakness, especially at the hands of a woman … and going by the name Dire Bane?” He shook his head. “It’s the sort of thing that could either start a panic, or else get some bolder folks thinking about rebellions of their own. I don’t think the navy has their heads so far up their asses that they don’t realize how little they are loved by the common folk.”

  “You’d think that would give them some pause to reconsider how they handle the common folk,” said Red.

  “You think the people in power got there by worrying about what other people think of them?” asked Vaderton.

  “Leston worries about it a lot,” said Red.

  Vaderton gave him an amused look. “And just how much power do you suppose the prince actually has?”

  “Good point,” said Red. “But he will one day.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Vaderton. “Here’s the place.”

  In a neighborhood where businesses competed to be the most eye-catching, the Past Is Forgotten Inn and Tavern was notably subdued. Red imagined that such a notorious place probably didn’t need to advertise.

  The inside wasn’t particularly remarkable either. It could have been like any other tavern full of wags. But there was an ominous tension in the air that Red could almost taste. Like just before a storm.

  “I’ll handle this,” he told Vaderton.

  He walked up to the bartender, a pat old wrink who still had a hard gleam to his eye, like running the bar of a smugglers’ den was his idea of retirement. Red placed his hand on the counter and splayed his fingers to show coins between each one.

  “Hey, old pot.” He kept his tone relaxed. “You see a molly around here lately who’s a bit taller than most? Maybe wearing a white hooded gown?”

  The bartender looked down at the coins, then back up at Red, squinting at his smoked lenses like he was trying to gauge the eyes beneath.

  “Maybe.”

  The old wrink clearly didn’t trust him. It made sense in a place like this. Some things, like reputation, were more important than a bit of coin. If he thought Red was here to make trouble for the inn, he wouldn’t be much help.

  Red remembered that Nettles said Jilly was sailing with them. Perhaps if he showed he knew more about them, he’d convince this bartender he was a friend. “She would have had a little girl with her. Maybe eight years old?”

  “Twelve,” corrected Vaderton. “Jilly’s twelve now.”

  Red’s eyes widened. “That old already?”

  “You wags know Jilly, then?” asked the bartender, looking a little more friendly.

  “Know her?” asked Red. “I taught her everything she knows.”

  “Not everything,” protested Vaderton. “I taught her how to sail.”

  “Well …” The bartender scrutinized them for another moment, then shrugged. “I reckon a friend of Jilly’s is a friend of mine. She and that Lady Witch sailed out on the Rolling Lightning about ten days ago.”

  “Any idea when they’ll be back?” asked Red.

  He pursed his lips. “Gavish said it would be a short run. So could be back any day now.”

  “I guess we’ll get a room and stay until they show up, then,” said Red.

  “You should know you ain’t the only ones waiting,” said the bartender.

  “Oh?” asked Red.

  “A gaf come in the other day. He was only asking about the Lady Witch, not Jilly. But he didn’t set right with me at all. I told ’em I didn’t know nothing, but I could tell right away he didn’t believe me. He’s been coming in regular every day since then. Just sits in the back, taking up table space and not even drinking.”

  Red felt a tickle of unease. As far as he knew, there was only one other group looking for Brigga Lin. “This gaf … anything unusual about him? Like maybe some strange black armor?”

  The bartender looked surprised. “Yeah. Like he was pretending to be Vinchen or something.”

  “Piss’ell,” muttered Red, giving Vaderton a look of concern. Then he turned back to the bartender. “He wasn’t pretending.”

  “What, you mean real Vinchen? Here on Vance Post?” The bartender didn’t look so much surprised as alarmed. “I reckon the rumor is true, then.”

  “What rumor?” asked Red.

  “Wags been talking that a Vinchen chopped up the imp headquarters. But I figured it was balls and pricks.”

  “What do you mean chopped up?” asked Red.

  “I mean like he killed all the imps in the place. Had some magic sword that hums a bone-chilling tune while he swings it.”

  “Wait, he had the pissing Song of Sorrows?” demanded Red.

  “The what now?” asked the bartender.

  Red shook his head. “Never mind. We’ll take a room. But first, I reckon a couple pints of dark.”

  As they watched the bartender pour the ale, Vaderton asked quietly, “Do you honestly think you can take on the Vinchen?”

  Red grinned and rested his hands on his pistols. “Hadn’t you heard, old pot? I’m the Shadow of Death.”

  For a neighborhood that had recently been rid of all law enforcement, the Shade District was surprisingly orderly. Of course sex, drugs, drunkenness, and violence abounded. But it was all conducted with a businesslike lack of fuss, because for the most part, that was the business of the Shade District.

  Still, there were signs that something was amiss. A bit more violence than sex on the streets. A few shop fronts broken into. And, of course, there were the Vinchen. There’d been sightings all over the Shade District, and reports of seeing them in the Commercial District as well. It made wags uneasy, suddenly having these figures of legend roaming around. Especially after the rumors of the attack on the imp headquarters had been confirmed.

  Red watched as a tom in gleaming black armor walked in with that telltale smooth confidence. Like liquid lightning, he’d thought when he’d first seen Hope. It was far less appealing in this context.

  “Red,” Vaderton muttered into his tankard.

  “I see him.”

  It had been a few days like this now. It wasn’t always the same person, but it was always a young Vinchen, and he always came in early in the morning and stayed until well past sunset when the tavern was closing. And no matter which one it was, he always went to the same table in the back, and he was always either oblivious or indifferent to the stares of the patrons. He never ordered anything or spoke to anyone.

  There was a kind of arrogance that radiated from this one. As if he could barely stand to be in such a disreputable place. Red wondered if Hope had been like that once. Perhaps. But by the time he’d met her, she’d already been seasoned by several years aboard a merchant vessel among regular folk. Even then he’d found her a bit aloof at first. But that had been nothing compared to what he witnessed with this Vinchen. If Red was being totally honest with himself, he was itching to take a shot at him. And taking him out preemptively would be the most efficient strategy. Hit him fast before he was ready. A shot to the head when he was looking the other way. That’s all it would take, and then there’d be one less Vinchen to worry about and a little less heat on Brigga Lin. He’d be stupid not to take this opportunity. Because that’s exactly what it was. An opportunity …

  “Red?” murmured Vaderton.

  Red froze, realizing his hands had been curling around his guns. The Shadow Demon had slipped right into his head and he hadn’t even noticed that time.

  “A little premature, don’t you think?” Vaderton said quietly. “The Vinchen don’t know that we’re looking for Brigga Lin, too. Don’t want to lose that element of surprise.”

  Red nodded. “Good call.”

  And so they sat through another day. Other tables emptied and filled again as people came in and out for lunch, then drinks, then dinner. But Red, Vaderton, and the Vinchen didn’t move. Two tables coiled and ready to explode
into violence the moment someone fitting Brigga Lin’s description walked into the tavern.

  Except that wouldn’t be how it went at all. Because Red had one great advantage. The Vinchen knew Brigga Lin only by physical description. Red knew what she sounded like. What’s more, he knew Jilly’s voice so well, he could have picked it out of a chorus, even if he didn’t have enhanced hearing. And that night, as he sat there nursing the same tankard of ale he’d had for the last hour, he heard a smart little voice just outside the front door say:

  “Did you see how I hit that, master? Thirty paces, must have been!”

  “It was a very nice throw, Jilly,” came Brigga Lin’s ringing voice, sounding a little weary.

  Without thinking, Red fired a shot, and the Vinchen dropped dead onto his table.

  There was a momentary pause as everyone in the tavern stared at the dead Vinchen, then at Red and Vaderton.

  “What did—” began Vaderton.

  “Come on.”

  Red grabbed Vaderton and headed for the door. A moment later, Brigga Lin and Jilly appeared in the doorway. They stared at Red for a moment. Then a big grin broke on Jilly’s face.

  “Red! It’s you!”

  Red turned them around and pushed them back toward the door. “We have to get out of here. Now!”

  Brigga Lin looked over her shoulder and frowned. “Is there a dead Vinchen on that table?”

  “Yep, and that’s why we have to go,” said Red.

  As he shuffled them back onto the street, Brigga Lin gave him a strange look. “Red, it’s good to see you, but what’s going on?”

  “Long story short, the biomancers have set the Vinchen after you. They must have found out where you’ve been staying, because they had one staked out for you at that tavern. I killed him, but there are many more nearby I’m sure.”

  Her eyes widened. “Vinchen? Working with the biomancers?”

  “It’s as crazy as it sounds, but I’ll have to explain later,” said Red. “Now we need to be somewhere else. Anywhere else would do, really.”