The Jinxed Pirate (Graylands Book 2)

by M. Walsh

  “I couldn’t.”

  “And why is that?”

  She wrapped her hand in a handkerchief and couldn’t deny how tempting it was. How satisfying it would have been to strike Clock dead and watch his arrogance melt away with his life. There was a part of her that even relished the thought of his death setting Seba’s destruction in motion.

  She looked out over the bustling Square and shivered at the thought. “If I killed him, this city—”

  “Would swallow itself whole and burn to the ground,” he finished for her. “Why is that a problem for you?”

  She looked at him, unsure how to take the question.

  “What do you care what happens to this city?” he said. “Let it burn.”

  “Are you crazy?” she said. “I can’t just—I wouldn’t …”

  “You said all you wanted was to get your boy back.”

  “I know, but—”

  “You had no problem letting Gain burn.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Or Daredin’s tower.”

  “That wasn’t—”

  “You didn’t seem to care about that dragon either.”

  “Enough!” she shouted, slapping the drink from his hand. It flew from the balcony and crashed in the Square. “That’s not … I … I’m not like that!”

  He smirked and leaned against the railing. He looked at her with a strange glint in his eyes. It was a look that said: I don’t believe you.

  “And you could?” she asked. “You’d have no problem killing Sebastian Clock and letting this city burn to the ground.”

  He smiled.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “At what point in our affiliation have I given you the impression I was a good man?”

  “I know you’re a mercenary, but that’s not the same—”

  He began laughing, and Katrina shuddered as if someone had walked over her grave.

  “Whoever said I was a mercenary?” he said.

  “But,” she said, feeling lost. “Then who are you..? What are you?”

  Scifer was silent for some time with that smile as if he knew something she didn’t. It made her skin crawl. “You never asked what I was doing at the Blind Cliffs.”

  “You said you met Lily and agreed to help her.”

  “That was how I got there,” he said. “But not the reason I was there.”

  She said nothing. Without realizing it, she clutched the balcony railing. Between her disastrous meeting with Clock and now this, she felt like she was in some kind of nightmare.

  “Let’s just say,” he said, “you needn’t worry about Jacob Daredin trying to sacrifice you anymore.”

  She hesitated. Since the Blind Cliffs, she hadn’t thought much of Daredin himself. She retained an ambition to kill him as she had Rasul Kader, but he disappeared after the battle. She heard he was sought by Sentries and Guardians, but there was no trace. Some believed he followed his ambition and had ventured into the Dark Lands himself.

  “You killed him..?”

  “Oh, I did more than kill him,” he said, with noticeable relish. “He was a squealer.”

  “But if you’re not a mercenary, then why..?”

  “Jacob Daredin thought himself a big man. A big man who would be a god. I enjoy reminding people like that how small they truly are.”

  She stared at him, shaking her head. “But he was wanted by the Sentries and Guardians. Why wouldn’t you collect a reward or..?”

  “It’s more practical for my endeavors that I keep myself as unknown as possible.” He chuckled. “Besides, I don’t think the authorities would approve of my … methods.”

  “I don’t understand. What do you gain by killing him and not telling anyone? What was in it for you?”

  “Satisfaction.”

  She frowned. “That’s sick.”

  She was not so naïve as to think there weren’t people—in Graylands especially—that killed purely for the pleasure of it. Most of the murderers she encountered were marauders and butchers who offered their swords to any warlord or army that would have them. Tyrell’s army had plenty of them.

  But Scifer Olc was something else.

  “Why tell me this?” she asked.

  His gray eyes watched her, as if looking into her soul. It was the look of expectation again. “It wasn’t just the dragon and the Enforcer that ripped apart Daredin’s cult, was it?”

  Katrina’s hand started shaking.

  “I saw you that night. I watched you in Gain,” he continued. “You got the hate in you. You get the itch—”

  “No!” she snapped, taking a step back. She hesitated, realizing her reaction only gave her away. “I’m not like you.”

  He continued staring at her, but said nothing.

  “I’m not!” she insisted. “What happened in Daredin’s tower … that … I was …”

  “What did happen that night? Lily told me you’d been taken. Did she rescue you, or did you escape?”

  “I …”

  “But you didn’t just escape, did you?” he said. “I heard the screaming. I saw the fire. That was before the dragon, and it couldn’t have been just the Enforcer.”

  Katrina’s hand went to her chest. Her heart was hurting, and she felt lightheaded. The balcony seemed to sway, and she thought she might throw up.

  “You got the hate in you,” he said. “You try to hide it, but every so often, it comes out.”

  An image of the Enforcer flashed across her mind, followed by the sense she was falling to pieces. She wasn’t sure if she was on the verge of another panic attack or murderous rage.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing,” he said, shrugging. “I was simply curious what makes someone like you become … this.”

  Her frown turned into a scowl. Her eyes narrowed and looked as though they could bore holes into Scifer’s face. Her fists were clenched and shaking. “Become what?”

  He grinned. It was a terrible thing, and though there were no mirrors present at the time, she knew it was the same grin she flashed Rasul Kader before she killed him.

  “You know what.”

  Her teeth gritted. She remembered what she did to Daredin’s followers in that tower … what she did in that tavern outside Devon … and Gain …

  “I’m not like you,” she said.

  “Are you..? Or are you just another one of the ‘bad folk’ I enjoy playing with?”

  “I’m neither!”

  She turned to leave, still shaking with fury (and horror), when she heard him behind her: “Where to now?”

  “Not your business.”

  “Off to meet Clock..?”

  She reached for her sword, forgetting she didn’t have it on her. Instead she grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall. He had no reaction—still looking at her with that damned smile of his.

  “Stay away from me!” She paused and repeated, “Stay away from me.”

  She stormed off, knowing Scifer was still smiling behind her.

  * * *

  Since getting cursed and forced into the life of a fugitive, Krutch Leeroy had witnessed some ugly experiences. He’d seen men and women killed. He’d watched demons swarm. He’d come face to face with the Enforcer and felt dragon-fire. Although he didn’t think he would ever get used to it, he was not a stranger to death and depravity.

  A dead body was not something he’d never seen. For all those past experiences, however, he almost always responded with panic or horror. But finding Arkady’s body, with his murderer apathetically holding his head like a trophy, was the first time Krutch faced death with fury.

  “You FUCK!”

  “Sebastian Clock has grown tired of you,” said Vident. “I’m afraid Lady Clock’s demise has forced his hand. You, your friends, Gash, whoever else … he’s had enough. He’s decided to wipe the slate clean.”

  “We were going to leave!” he said. “He was leaving! You didn’t have to kill him!�
��

  “Sebastian Clock doesn’t work that way,” Vident said. “He was specific. He wants you and your friends dead, and most importantly, he wants your weapon.” He threw Arkady’s head aside and stood up. “If it’s any consolation, the boy died well. I wasn’t even asking him to, but he refused to betray you to the end.”

  “My weapon..?” he said. “My gun?! That’s what this is all about?!”

  “Weren’t you listening? Has Clock not spoken at great length about the importance of progress and weapons? Did you not see what was being made in the Tombs?

  “Shells are easy to make,” Vident continued. “But Clock has yet to produce a functioning pistol to fire them. As you are one of the few men in the world with a proper gun, he tolerated your presence in the hope a deal could be made. But after the mess you’ve created, I’m afraid that is no longer an option.”

  His face flushed with anger and teeth gritted, Krutch drew his pistol and pointed it at Vident. “You want my gun, you son of a bitch..? Come get it!”

  “Your pistol isn’t loaded.”

  “Oh..? How do you know?”

  “Because if it was, you would’ve opened fire the moment you saw me.”

  Tragically, Krutch’s righteous anger shriveled up in an instant. His bluff had been called, and he knew he had no chance of beating Vident in a fight. He even thought about throwing the pistol, but knew Vident would only catch it. At that moment, he realized, if Clock wanted the gun, he needed to keep it away from him at all costs.

  “Okay,” he said, returning the pistol to his pocket. “You got me. But if you think I’m just going to—BLARGH!”

  Throwing caution to the wind, Krutch lunged at the nearest window. He crashed through and fell into the garbage of a narrow alley outside. He landed hard on his shoulder amidst shards of broken glass, but the garbage cushioned his fall enough to spare him any serious injury.

  Knowing he had little time to spare, he got to his feet as fast as he could and ran. He didn’t look back, but the thud of something hitting pavement let him know Vident also jumped out the window and was in pursuit. It was at that moment he regretted not using Arkady’s horse in his escape.

  Having no sense of Seba’s streets, he ran blind—up and down various alleys and roads, turning at random corners—in the hope he might lose his pursuer. Unfortunately, even if the streets weren’t packed with people to slow him down, Vident was not only fast despite his armor, he had no qualms throwing bystanders out of his way.

  Krutch felt his feet taken out from behind, and he collapsed face-first onto the street. Acting without thinking, he turned over and barely dodged the tip of Vident’s spear crashing down into the pavement.

  Vident kneed him in the face before he could get back to his feet, causing Krutch’s nose to start bleeding again. He fell onto his back and saw through blurred vision and watering eyes Vident raise his spear again to plunge it into his chest.

  He drew his pistol on reflex and slammed the butt on Vident’s foot. Vident grunted in pain as he brought the spear down, and the razor-sharp tip just missed Krutch’s face by inches.

  Knowing he wouldn’t get a second chance, Krutch scrambled up and cracked the gun against Vident’s jaw as hard as he could. Blood shot from his mouth, and he hobbled over, clutching his face.

  Krutch had only a second to think of what he should do next. He thought of Arkady, and part of him wanted to bash Vident’s skull with the pistol until he was dead. But he chose to quit while he was ahead and ran. By the time Vident recovered, he had disappeared into the crowd.

  42

  Lock and Seria escorted Troa and Cassie to Aster’s gate, said their goodbyes, and parted ways. Cassie made one final attempt at convincing Lock to go with her, but to no avail. He watched his sister ride off with Troa, unable to shake the fear in his gut he’d never see her again.

  He shook it off and returned to the house with Seria only to find Deck was gone. He assumed his brother was checking on the Gauntlet again and decided not to think about it. Seria went to her chamber to meditate, and Lock spent much of the day pacing around the house. He’d stop to sit in the den, feel uncomfortable, go outside to practice with his sword, get distracted, and return inside.

  By nightfall, he had settled in the dining room and nursed a glass of wine until Deck returned. Too drained to care, he didn’t notice how anxious his brother looked and asked, “Since when do you smoke?”

  Deck hesitated, forgetting he even had a cigarette in his mouth. “It doesn’t matter. Where’s Seria?”

  “Meditating in her room,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Oh, gods,” he moaned, rubbing his eyes. “What is it now?”

  Deck told him about Dune, the people he represents, and his demand they give up the Gauntlet. Lock listened, but didn’t feel surprised or frightened—only tired.

  “Wonderful. Another one,” he said. “So how do we deal with this?”

  “I want you and Seria to pack your things and catch up to Troa and Cassie. Leave as soon as possible.”

  Lock frowned. “And you..?”

  “I don’t know,” said Deck. “I’ll think of something.”

  “You’re a real bastard,” he said. “You know that? You really are. After everything that’s happened, you still want to be the big hero and—”

  “No, Lock!” Deck interrupted. “Right now, this is me trying to keep my family safe!” He sighed and put the cigarette out on the table. “I’m not telling you to leave because I want to handle this by myself or any of that shit. I’m telling you and Seria to leave and be with Cassie and Troa because I want you safe, and right now, the safest place is away from me.”

  He wasn’t looking at Lock as he said it—keeping his eyes on the floor—and Lock understood he was speaking the truth.

  “Deck,” he said. “You’re not—”

  Before he could continue, Seria burst into the room, and both brothers were shocked to see her frantic with fear. “It’s Troa!” she said. “They got him!”

  “What..?”

  “How..?”

  “He’s my twin,” she continued, shaking. “We’re linked, and I saw … when I was meditating, I saw … oh gods, they were waiting for them! My brother’s hurt! He’s out there, and he’s hurt!”

  “Seria,” Lock said. “Calm down. Who was waiting for him? Who hurt him?”

  “I—I don’t know,” she said, trying to slow her breathing. “I didn’t see it exactly, but I know Troa was ambushed. They knew, and they were waiting for him!”

  “What about Cassie?” Deck asked. “Did you see or sense what happened to her?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I just … when I was meditating, I could sense my brother going west. And—and I saw him surrounded. I felt his pain. But no more than that.”

  “Gods,” said Lock, giving his seat to Seria. “Is this Dune? The other people from Seba..? Someone else..?”

  “I don’t think it matters,” said Deck. “Whoever they are, if they’re smart, they won’t hurt Cassie.”

  “That’s not much.”

  “I know,” he said. “Lock, listen, go to Sheriff Rieko and tell him what happened. We’re going to need help.”

  Lock rushed out of the house to the stable. He got on Aries and rode into town without thinking to take his sword. The bad feeling in his gut returned, worse than ever.

  It felt like a nightmare. Troa and Cassie had only left that afternoon. The fact someone was waiting for them made him feel sick. Since this Gauntlet mess began, he tried not to underestimate how bad it could go, but he never anticipated this. He couldn’t decide what was worse: the warlocks or this Vincent Dune? And who knew what else was coming?

  He reached the Sheriff’s and ran inside only to find his answer.

  What Lock found would haunt him for the rest of his days. He suspected even if he had spent much of his life in war and combat, he would never have witnessed a massacre such as he’d seen in the S
heriff’s building. Rieko and the militia had been torn to pieces. Blood and gore were splattered all over the room and pooled on the floor in puddles.

  He stumbled and threw up. It was a nightmare, he thought. One, he would discover, had only just begun.

  “Evening,” he heard a voice say.

  From the back of the building emerged a lanky man with spiked hair. His unshaved face was lined with scars up, down, and around. On his hands he wore gauntlets that were covered in blood. His eyes were bloodshot and yellow, and a sick grin was on his face.

  “I am the Jackal.”

  * * *

  As Lock went to the Sheriff, there was a moment of unreality for Deck where he felt like he was in a dream or had woken up from one. It was surreal, and he almost wanted to ask where he was and how he got there.

  After Dune’s ultimatum, he spent the day wandering around Aster to clear his head. He reflected on what had happened since he found the Gauntlet, and he considered when this was over he would need to take a good look at himself and what he wanted. He never thought he would desire to get away from his brother and sister, but perhaps he’d been in denial? Maybe he did wish to go off and seek adventure and glory with or without them?

  Maybe they would be better off without me.

  It was a sobering thought that cut his grand aspirations to size. If this mess with the Gauntlet revealed anything, it was neither Lock nor Cassie sought the life of adventure and quests. They were content to stay home in peace—just like their father.

  Deck needed to strive for something. He needed something to fight for. He’d been denied a chance to fight for Vigor—he would not miss that opportunity in Graylands. But if he was to pursue the life of a great hero, Lock and Cassie would have to be left behind—for better or worse. If he stayed with them, he’d have to settle for something less.

  He couldn’t have it both ways.

  And now here he was, with threats coming from all sides. With his sister and best friend in the unknown, hurt or worse. He remembered the nightmares he had when the Gauntlet was in the house. He imagined a terrible force in the dark, laughing and taunting him—telling him he would bring doom to his family.

  No, he thought. There’s still time.