The Jinxed Pirate (Graylands Book 2)

by M. Walsh

  Deck had wondered if that made the place more or less appropriate for the Gauntlet.

  Soaking in the tub, his body sore and tired, he checked his split lip. The cut was closed, but still tender, and he couldn’t help but feel impressed by his younger brother. He never would’ve guessed Lock to throw a punch like that. It seemed moving to Graylands had lit a fire in his belly after all. He would need that—and soon if the worst should come.

  He dozed off, but even with the Gauntlet out of the house, his sleep was haunted. Much like the previous dreams, he was tormented by a sinister voice taunting him—telling him he would bring doom to his family and that his quest was folly.

  He would be trapped in the troll’s cave, trying to find his way out. The stench would be as terrible as ever. He’d feel things crawling all over him as he blindly felt his way through the tight caverns. He’d hear his brother and sister screaming from somewhere in the darkness and cold sweat would drip down his back.

  Then he’d emerge from the dark—but not in the valley outside the cave. He would be in the courtyard in front of the house. There he’d see Lock with arrows raining down upon him. He could only watch, unable to move, as the arrows punctured his brother’s gut, his chest, his throat, his eyes.

  Blood poured from the wounds, and Deck tried scream, but no sound came. Lock would turn, his face turning pallid, and he would reach out to his brother, almost pleading. More ragged holes riddled his body, and then his face disintegrated into a mess of pulp.

  Deck would rush forward, hoping to save his brother—already knowing it was useless—and hear terrible laughter echoing around him. Then he’d turn and see Cassie trapped in the grip of the troll. Its face was rotting off, revealing some bone and sinew underneath its putrid flesh.

  Cassie would scream for help, her tiny neck engulfed in its massive hand. She’d ask why Deck allowed this to happen as the troll’s grip tightened and blood erupted from her eyes. Deck screamed again, but still no sound came. All he heard was the terrible laughter.

  And a promise the worst was yet to come.

  27

  “It’s so,” Audra said, her mouth hanging open. “… so … clean.”

  Within the Two Empires, the wealthy tended to dwell in more traditional castles and fortresses—ancient keeps built of brick and stone passed down from generation to generation over centuries. Such castles did exist in Graylands, but were mostly abandoned ruins or monstrosities like the tower in Mannix Square.

  The estate of Sebastian Clock, however, was something to behold. Beyond the iron gate was a cobblestone pathway leading to the mansion. The foundation was stone like a castle and had the appearance of a fortress, but the rest was an elegant design of glass. It glistened in the sunlight like a giant diamond.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” said Krutch.

  The guards allowed them through the gate, and they were met at the door by Hanselton. Once again in the house of Sebastian Clock, Krutch realized the place reminded him of a museum. Everything was pristine, in place, and he suspected he’d be scolded if he touched anything.

  As Hanselton summoned the Clocks, he looked at Audra, and to his surprise, she had the tense look of an animal being led to its slaughter. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she said. “I don’t …” She trailed off, looking around and frowning. She wasn’t just tense, Krutch saw. She was disgusted. “This isn’t what I expected.”

  “Welcome!” Sebastian Clock called, descending the main staircase with his wife by his side. “Welcome and good day!”

  Clock wore a bright pink suit with matching vest and white shirt. Evelyn was adorned in jewelry and wore a white dress so tight, Krutch found it a wonder she could breathe. They greeted their guests with smiles and handshakes, and he found the whole thing surreal—standing in a gorgeous mansion and his hosts with their pastel-colored clothes and fake smiles. If not for Vident lurking in the corner, no one would guess Clock the most ruthless man in Seba.

  Unless they got a good look in his eyes, he thought, shaking Clock’s hand with a fake smile of his own. There’s a wolf hiding in that pink suit.

  “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Leeroy,” said Evelyn.

  “Yeah,” he said. “This is Audra. Audra Fay. My, uh, my partner.”

  Evelyn didn’t even look at her, but Clock kissed her hand and said, “Charmed, my dear.”

  Audra smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes.

  “Come,” said Clock. “Lunch will be served on the patio.”

  Unlike the balcony Krutch shared lunch with Evelyn, they were led to a courtyard behind the mansion. The patio was cobblestone and contained a bar, fire-pit, and gazebo. Beyond was a vast yard of green and even a pond.

  It was still morning and already a hot day. The sun blazed through the thin, white haze covering the sky, and the cobblestone burned. The gazebo’s shade brought small comfort, and Krutch secretly wondered why they couldn’t eat in the dining room which no doubt was cooled like the rest of the mansion.

  “Raul!” Clock barked to a servant standing by the bar. “Drinks!”

  The gazebo contained cushioned chairs around a circular glass table. After everyone took their seats, Raul—a skinny young man with sandy hair—brought a platter of drinks to the table. Glasses of wine were served to the ladies, causing Audra to frown, and Krutch was handed something brown with a lot of ice that tasted like a kick to the throat.

  “Did you ever find out who attacked you the other night, Mr. Leeroy?” Evelyn asked.

  “No,” he said. “But, you know … I guess it goes with the territory.”

  “Indeed,” said Clock. “Fortunate my wife’s people were able to assist you.”

  He murmured and took another sip from his drink, feeling uncomfortable the fact he already met Clock’s wife in private was brought up. He kept his eyes on Clock, trying to catch any resentment or suspicion, but the man maintained his gambler’s face.

  “So where do you come from, Ms. Fay?” Clock asked. “How did you come into the company of Krutch Leeroy?”

  Audra had been staring at her wine, and she seemed distant. “I was,” she said, sounding like she was struggling for volume. “I grew up on a farm near Melba. I ran away from home and ended up meeting Krutch.”

  Clock waited for her to continue, but Audra went silent. Krutch wasn’t expecting her to go into detail, but even he was surprised how deflated she’d become. She’d been eager to get a look at Sebastian Clock since learning of their invitation, but now her usual fire and mischief was nowhere to be found.

  Servants brought out platters of cheese and fruit and set them on the table. Audra’s eyes darted from one servant to the other, and she seemed on edge. To Krutch, she looked like she was ready to jump out of her skin.

  Clock interpreted it as nervousness. “I suppose it is intimidating for a farm-girl,” he said, munching on some cherries. “I expect few in your class would ever get the chance to enjoy luxury such as this.”

  She smiled, but it was a joyless thing brimming with venom and contempt. It was then Krutch realized Audra already hated Clock. “This is a nice place,” she said. “Very modern.”

  “Yes,” Clock replied, either not noticing or not caring. “One of the things I love about Graylands is the opportunity to break away from the dour stone castles of the Two Empires. Here, we have a chance to forge ahead.”

  Audra sipped her wine. “It must be a grand thing for men like you,” she said. “To take this untamed land, subjugate it, and turn it into something so … clean.”

  “Forging order from chaos is a fine pleasure.”

  She frowned, and Krutch saw something in her eyes. It was a look he’d seen from her a few times already, and it usually preceded violence. “My father would like you,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” said Evelyn. “Where did you say you were from again?”

  “Melba,” she replied.

  “A farm, yes..? A farm near Melba..?”

  �
�Yes.”

  Evelyn had the same half-smile on her face Clock had during the card game. A look that suggested there were a number of things she could say, but chose not to. Audra, in turn, shot her an impressive death-glare, and Krutch worried he was going to see a repeat of that scene in the saloon with the tattooed man.

  He looked at Clock, who still didn’t notice or care if he did.

  “So!” he blurted out. Clock, Evelyn, and Audra looked at him, and his mind raced for something—anything—to say that would ease the tension. “How ‘bout that … uh … Last Vigorian, eh..? I hear he’s pretty good!”

  Evelyn’s face was blank. Audra looked confused. Clock’s eyes narrowed, as if trying to read a deeper meaning behind it. Taking a sip from his drink, he replied, “Indeed. Skilled fighter.”

  “Are you interested in combat sports, Mr. Leeroy?” Evelyn asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”

  Clock sucked on his teeth, and he seemed to still be looking for a hidden meaning in Krutch’s bizarre change of subject. After a moment, he said, “He’s fighting next week. I have a private box—you’d be welcome to watch with me.”

  “That sounds good,” he said. “I shall consider it.”

  He looked at Audra, and she seemed to understand what he was doing. She offered a slight nod and sipped her wine, and Krutch hoped the worst had passed. He wouldn’t blame her for hating Clock, but he didn’t want the situation to escalate. He had not forgotten Vident was lurking nearby and Clock could make them disappear with a snap of his fingers.

  “So about what happened after the card game,” Clock said, munching on another cherry. “What are your thoughts on that, Leeroy? You seem rather … cavalier about men trying to kill you.”

  “I guess I’m getting too used it,” he said.

  Clock responded with one of his barking laughs, which made Audra wince. “The man laughs at death,” he said. “I should have expected no less from the great Krutch Leeroy.” He gulped down the rest of his drink and added, “If, however, you need assistance in finding who was behind the attack, I would be happy to help.”

  Raul came to the table and refilled Clock and Evelyn’s empty glasses. Audra, nursing her wine, waved him off.

  Krutch was thinking. He watched Evelyn, but couldn’t read her face. He recalled her saying Clock needed him for something. Offering assistance was probably Clock’s way of laying groundwork and playing nice. Was that the plan all along? Had Clock sent those men, and that was how Evelyn knew?

  “Ahem,” said Clock. “Forgetting someone, Raul..?”

  “Master..?”

  “Mr. Leeroy needs a refill,” he said, pointing to Krutch’s glass.

  Krutch hesitated, not even noticing he’d finished his first drink. “Oh,” he said. “It’s no big deal. I—”

  “Forgive me, Master,” said Raul. “I—I didn’t realize Mr. Leeroy … that is, I—”

  “It’s nothing. I can get my own.”

  “Nonsense,” said Clock. “Raul, get over here, refill Leeroy’s drink, and apologize.”

  Krutch frowned, realizing what this was. It was the card game again, with Clock imposing himself on people to remind him he was in charge. Now he was doing it to this servant boy, who was probably a slave no less.

  Raul reached for Krutch’s glass, but he snatched it away and said, looking Clock in the eye, “No. I’m an adult, and I can get my own damn drink.”

  As petty as it was, the look of confusion that came to Sebastian Clock’s face at that moment was a thing of beauty. His bravado faltered, and Krutch knew he’d let Clock know he wasn’t impressed. The genuine smile on Audra’s face revealed she saw it, too.

  Returning to his seat and taking a sip—ignoring that he poured way too much liquor—he said, in a deliberately cheerful voice, “Anyway! What’s for lunch?”

  Clock sat in silence. His face shifted from confusion to something that might have been intrigue. He took a swig from his drink, deep in thought. “Walk with me, Leeroy,” he said, standing up. He turned to Evelyn and added, “Keep Ms. Fay entertained, will you, dear?”

  Evelyn sneered, and Audra looked mortified. Krutch shrugged and got up to follow Clock.

  “Try not to kill her, please,” he whispered to Audra.

  Clock led him into the yard, which had an impressive garden of bright flowers. He felt his skin cook in the sun—certain he’d be a burning shade of red before the day was over. Glancing over his shoulder, he envied Audra and Evelyn in the shade. Clock didn’t seem to care, his pink suit almost blinding in the light. Vident followed, but kept his distance.

  “Tell me, Leeroy,” said Clock. “What do you know about Gain?”

  “Um,” he said. “It was attacked, wasn’t it?”

  “I heard slave revolt. Do you suppose someone instigated it?”

  “No idea,” he said. “I don’t know anything about Gain.”

  Clock took another sip and held it in his mouth. His eyes narrowed, as if studying Krutch, before swallowing. “I sent Vincent Dune to investigate it personally. He’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  He nodded and stared at one of the colorful flowers in the garden. He turned to Clock and said, “Neat.”

  Clock shook his head. “What am I to make of you, Krutch Leeroy? I’ve heard all the stories about you. To be frank, many sound contradictory. One tale paints you as a ruthless cutthroat who kills first, never asks questions. Another makes you out to be a master manipulator. Perhaps you are none of these things.

  “Yet here you are,” he continued. “In my city—my home—and I don’t know which Krutch Leeroy I’m speaking to. It’s like playing chess with a ghost.”

  “Good for me, I would guess.”

  “I cannot argue that,” he said. “I know men and women in this city alone who would kill to have that kind of power. But it leaves me to wonder—what sort of man am I dealing with: a professional or the Jackal? Why should I bother attempting business with such an individual?”

  Clock looked at him with those pale blue, wolf eyes, and Krutch took a large gulp from his drink to buy time. He almost gagged on swallowing and warmth traveled through his body. He knew the next words out of his mouth could be the difference between gaining an ally, making an enemy, or getting thrown out on his face.

  “I’m flexible.”

  Clock was silent, and Krutch thought he was going to rip his heart out. But he let out one of his barking laughs and said, “Good man!”

  Despite the liquor starting to hit, he took another swig in relief.

  “Flexibility is the way to survive,” said Clock. “And adaptability is the way to thrive. I realized a long time ago industry is the way of the future. Mages have their stranglehold on magic. Nobles inherit their power. But sooner or later that all fades. Technology, however, that is how ordinary men such as us will rise up.”

  Krutch nodded.

  “You know how I made my wealth here, Leeroy? Industry. And I promise there is no better industry than war.”

  “You make weapons..?”

  “The Wraiths aren’t arming themselves,” said Clock with a smirk. “And the weapons made here, among other things, are in high demand all over this country. There is no shortage of men and women in Graylands looking to etch a mark of their own—and that usually involves bloodshed.”

  He nodded, not surprised to find Clock’s primary source of income was something unsavory. The idea of him profiting from thousands of bloody swords and daggers all over Graylands seemed all too fitting.

  Taking a shot in the dark, he asked, “Is that what you’re doing in the Tombs?”

  It was only a moment—less than a second—but he saw it: Clock flinched. “More or less,” he said. “But that needn’t concern you. My point, Leeroy, is progress. Not just weapons: technology. That lift I had built in my tower. Trains in the north. Steam engines. It will be with technology this country is pacified. If, gods forbid, the day should come the Dark Lands unite and invade, it will be with tec
hnology we defeat them.”

  Yeah, thought Krutch. I’m sure you care so much about defending the land from evil.

  “And the man controlling this technology …” Clock trailed off and raised his hands, as if the rest was obvious. He then finished his drink and motioned Krutch to follow him to the gazebo.

  “So where do I fit into this?”

  “A man with your reputation,” he said, placing his arm around Krutch’s shoulder. “With your connections … your influence … there are a number of things you can contribute to my cause. If, that is, you’re interested?”

  Krutch gulped down the rest of his drink. “I’m flexible.”

  * * *

  Although she still didn’t trust him, Katrina decided to tolerate Scifer’s presence, as he knew more about Seba than she. Leaving Hyde at the Noel stable, they entered Seba through the northern gate on foot into a dingy area of dark, plain buildings lined up in even squares. Save for guards dressed in black and gray armor, the streets were empty. Scifer referred to the guards as Wraiths and said the area was known as the Tombs. Walking through it indeed gave her the feeling of walking through a graveyard.

  Seba, as she pictured it, didn’t open up until they approached Mannix Square. Like most who walked through the city, Katrina’s eye was drawn to the tower overlooking the Square. She shivered upon seeing it, and although she couldn’t understand why or articulate it, she sensed the presence of the Black coming from that place.

  Scifer mentioned Malison Coliseum, which was located in the southern portion of the city, so they went straight there. The sun beat down relentlessly as they walked through Roller’s Place and entered Tramp Road. Looking around and taking in the sights and sounds of Seba, Katrina was struck by an unsettling familiarity.

  The lines of shysters with their con games barking at people who passed by … the vagrants and poor lying in alleys, looking filthy and tired … the masses of people walking in every direction looking for something to buy or barter … the grim cutthroats lurking in the shadows, waiting for a victim and the right time …