The Jinxed Pirate (Graylands Book 2)

by M. Walsh

  Gash made no attempt to contain his men, and when residents of Oasis Slope went to Elliot to complain, he offered no solution. Afraid of angering Gash, he kept the Wraiths from engaging, which only made the Brute Squad bolder.

  With the Wraiths absent and no word from Sebastian Clock, the people of Oasis Slope realized they needed to take matters into their own hands. The tension came to a head when members of the Squad broke into the home of Jemas Phelps and his personal guards retaliated.

  A battle broke out, leaving thirty men and women dead, and it was around this time people suspected Sebastian Clock might be missing.

  * * *

  With attacks increasing, Elliot attempted to meet with Vel-Etta and negotiate.

  Unfortunately, the Goblin Chief only dealt with Sebastian Clock and regarded the Magistrate as a puppet with no power. Vel-Etta refused to meet with anyone except Clock himself. Elliot, fearing what might happen and trying to exert authority, wouldn’t tell them where Clock was or why he wouldn’t appear. Vel took this as an insult.

  With the Goblins refusing to bend, Elliot ordered all entrances to their caverns sealed. He had Dune carry this out, as well as command the Wraiths to execute any Goblin caught roaming Seba’s streets.

  Dune, however, knew all they could do was seal the known entrances. The majority was in the Tombs, with a handful in the Slums, but it was believed there were dozens more throughout the city. He also knew even if they were capable of confining the Goblins inside the plateau, they would never be able to keep them there.

  He did not mention any of this to the Magistrate.

  * * *

  Two days after the entrances were locked, chaos broke out on Tramp Road when a mercenary thought he was being cheated by the same blacksmith who tried selling bullets to Krutch.

  The muscular man who watched over the weapons came to his master’s defense, and in the confusion, residents of the Slums tried to steal weapons for defense against the Goblins. This triggered a chain reaction of looting and fighting that spread all over Tramp Road.

  The violence lasted most of the day and resulted in another fire. Despite all the fighting, the Wraiths were nowhere to be found.

  This did not go unnoticed by the people of Seba.

  * * *

  Once again, time seemed to stand still in Krutch Leeroy’s little cell. His hand still hurt, but he was confident it wasn’t broken. The throbbing in his back from Vident stomping on him dulled to an ache. It was his thigh that worried him more than anything. When he was dumped back into his cell, he tore off his sleeve and wrapped the wound with it, but he doubted that would be sufficient.

  He didn’t know much about tending to wounds or medicine, so he could only guess at his condition. It had stopped bleeding, but still hurt a lot. Wasn’t there something about the smell he was supposed to be careful about? Something about it turning green? He didn’t know. The wound didn’t smell strange, so he supposed that was a good sign.

  Scraps of food continued to be served from time to time, but he didn’t think he could last long at this rate. He lost a fair amount of blood, and even if his leg wasn’t turning green or smelly, he figured he should still find a physician.

  No news would come. He received no updates since Clock’s disappearance, leaving him to only guess what was going on out there or what really happened. He supposed it didn’t matter. Even if they didn’t think him responsible for whatever happened to Clock, he was a dead man already.

  It was only a matter of time, he thought.

  As much as his life had been governed by bad luck since he’d been cursed, he supposed it would be fair to say he’d been kept alive by as much good luck. Sentry Elite, bounty hunters, pirates, the Enforcer, a dragon—anyone else would’ve been dead a long time ago. Hell, he thought, he’d outlived more than a few of the people he’d been roped into dealing with. Even poor Arkady, who was by all rights a far better pirate than he ever could be.

  It stood to reason sooner or later his luck would run out. Isn’t that what the sorceress wanted? Wasn’t this her punishment for his “pretending” to be a great warrior? Not exactly the “careful what you wish for” brand of irony he supposed, but ironic in its own way. How much could his life have been different if he had walked into the right hut?

  Steep punishment for being a drunken idiot one night.

  And now here he was, rotting away in a dungeon. The focal point of a bizarre game of backstabbing he tried—and failed—to keep up with. In the end, maybe he should’ve stayed in Brother Lucas’s weird mission after all.

  He only wished he could talk to his family one last time. There’d be no sense in trying to explain his curse, but at least he could tell them he missed them. He wished he could’ve done better by them. Even before he was cursed, he wasn’t of much worth. Now they’ll only remember him as some notorious pirate—a disgrace to his father’s name.

  He also wished he could’ve seen Lily one last time …

  He thought he was dreaming when he heard the cell door open. He was lying on the floor and couldn’t see straight. He had lost feeling in his injured leg—which was probably a bad thing, but it was nice to have the pain gone for a while.

  “Can you guys just finish me off?” he asked, even though it came out in a single, incoherent syllable.

  “I beg your pardon, Mr. Leeroy?”

  He blinked several times, trying to focus his vision. The single torch was blinding, and he could only make out a vague shape of a person. Finally, he saw it was Gojhi Olgorn entering the cell. The Graigman had with him a tray which held a bottle of something clear, bandages, and a plate of steaming food, and for a moment, Krutch thought he was hallucinating.

  “Apologies for not coming sooner,” Gojhi said, kneeling down. “The past few days have been rather hectic.”

  “What..?” he mumbled. “What’s happening..?”

  “Let’s have a look at your leg here,” Gojhi said, undoing the makeshift bandage. “Not too bad. No sign of infection. You do need stitches, however.”

  Krutch stared at the Graigman, feeling as though he missed something. Why was Magistrate Elliot’s personal servant tending his wound and bringing him food? Had they formed a relationship he was unaware of? Questions interrupted by stinging pain when Gojhi poured alcohol onto his stab-wound.

  “Son of a whore!”

  “Apologies, Mr. Leeroy,” said Gojhi. “But I must clean the wound first.”

  After applying some more burning alcohol, making Krutch cringe and grind his teeth, he went about stitching.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” he said.

  “Crossed my mind.”

  “I’m a slave, Mr. Leeroy. The Magistrate is not my employer, he is my owner. Are you aware of that?”

  Krutch shook his head.

  “Why do you think I wear this garbage?” he said, referring to his make-up. “My masters don’t like looking at Graigish faces, so we’re forced to ‘tone it down’ any way we can.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need,” said Gojhi. “Long ago, shortly after the demise of Roderick Bane, there was a war between the Goblins here and the Graigfolk who tried to settle. The Goblins won, and my people were driven away—which is why so few Graigfolk still dwell in these parts.

  “During this time, Seba became a haven for the worst of men and women, and it wasn’t long after that the slave market formed. And it was through the slave market my brother found his fortune. You’ve met my brother.”

  “I have..?”

  “You know him by the name he adopted for himself: Jonathon Gash.” He finished stitching the wound and bandaged it up. “His name was Gajh Olgorn, and he was a Graigman—before the surgeries.”

  “Devil shit …”

  “At first he claimed it was survival. Because of the Goblins, no Graigfolk would ever amount to anything in this part of the world, he said. So he started … doing things to himself to appear less Graigish. He began calling himself Jonathon Gash,
hiding his accent, and distancing himself from our culture.

  “I believed him at first,” he continued. “An unpleasant necessity for survival. But it soon became clear he not only hated the Goblins, he hated our own people and that he was one of us. Unfortunately for me, by the time I realized this, he sold me into slavery.”

  The Graigman sighed, but all Krutch could think of was to repeat, “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve nothing to apologize for, my friend,” Gojhi said, smiling. “Thanks to you, I won’t be a slave much longer.”

  “Thanks to me..?”

  “When you first arrived here, I thought little of it. I, like so many others, have heard much about you and your reputation. I figured you just another low-life out for himself in a sea of low-lives. Clearly I misjudged you, sir.”

  “Um … yeah..?”

  “No one could make any sense of your actions,” Gojhi continued. “Pretending to ally with all sides while having your people destroy Gain … stirring up the Goblins … and now getting rid of Clock. The Magistrate still doesn’t understand. I don’t think anyone could’ve guessed you were a revolutionary. The slaves of this city owe you a tremendous debt.”

  Krutch could only blink.

  “Elliot’s efforts to hold this city together have been rather futile, I’m afraid,” Gojhi said, walking to the cell door.

  “What about Dune? Wasn’t he supposed to..?”

  “The General is gone,” said Gojhi. “He and the Wraiths raided the weapons kept in the Tombs and abandoned this city just before dawn this morning. All these years, Vincent Dune was building an army right under Sebastian Clock’s nose, and now with Clock gone, he’s taken that army to do with as he pleases.”

  Again, Krutch was left speechless.

  “Elliot is in a panic now,” Gojhi continued. “He had all passages to the Goblin caverns locked down, but that won’t last and only make them angrier. Meanwhile, I expect it’s only a matter of time before my brother makes his move to take Clock’s place, but by then, it’ll be too little, too late.

  “Seba shall fall, and when it does, the slaves of this city will have their chance to escape. It will not come without casualties, of course. I’m afraid I cannot guarantee I’ll get a chance to free you later. But know that those who escape their shackles will at last have the chance for a new life. Freedom.

  “And we owe it to you, Krutch Leeroy—the Liberator of Seba.”

  51

  There was no moon on this night. Once the sun set, thick clouds enveloped the land and made the sky appear a sinister shade of red. The reavers used their glamour to form another thick fog. It rolled into Madoc like a malevolent force, and soon the entire town was engulfed. The first batch of reavers followed, led by Clara Shade.

  Lily watched, standing outside Dust’s caravan. It was an unnerving sight that made her shiver, but she ignored it. She would have to get used to this if she was going to be a part of this tribe.

  “Will you be joining them?” Dust asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m just waiting for the right time.”

  “Have you chosen your prey, or are you hunting..?”

  “I have an idea,” she said, smirking.

  “Another ‘evil-doer?’”

  She looked at Dust and replied, “Does it matter?”

  He smiled. “Happy feeding.”

  Lily drifted into town via the main road. She didn’t see the need to slink in with the reavers. She didn’t know their hunting patterns, but decided not to bother trying to sync her feeding with them. She had her own plan and her own means of getting what she wanted.

  She passed through the town square. The streets of Madoc were dark and deserted this night, and she sensed growing dread over the town. For reasons they didn’t fully realize or understand, the people of Madoc felt compelled to stay locked in their homes once the sun went down.

  It was a matter of time before the people suspected a connection between the shadow that had come over their town and the carnival just over the hill. Dust was right—they’d have to pack up and leave soon.

  No matter, Lily thought, because she knew what she was looking for. She climbed the hill leading to the Wallaces’ house and crept to the front window. Big Jim sat by the fireplace, scribbling on a sheet of paper—probably more speeches and proposals about his big plans for Madoc. She sensed ambition and anger and lust in his heart.

  No, he wasn’t an evil man, but what did that matter to her? She was a predator, and he was her prey. Good and evil played no part.

  After making sure Jimmy was asleep in his room, Lily returned to the front window and drew on her succubus nature and focused it at the father. He stopped writing and stirred in his seat, as though something just occurred to him. She let him simmer with his sudden lust before tapping at the window.

  He looked, and she greeted him with a smile. She winked and motioned him to come outside. He stared at her from his seat, looking baffled, but she knew he’d been hooked. She slipped away from the window, dragging her fingers against the glass, and moved around the corner of the house.

  Within moments, she heard the front door open. The fog around them thickened, as if it knew she was luring her prey out and granted her cover. The rest of Madoc seemed to disappear in the mist, and it felt otherworldly even to her. She could only imagine how it was for him.

  Big Jim appeared around the corner of the house. When he found her, he had a dumbstruck look that reminded her of the wide-eyed expression on his son’s face. But where she found that innocent and endearing, she felt nothing for the father.

  Only hunger.

  “You,” he said.

  “Me,” she replied.

  “Who … you’re from the carnival, right..?”

  “I am,” she said. “I came for you.”

  He shivered, as if a tingle traveled up his spine. He stepped forward, and a slack-jawed smile came to his face, like a man who’d won a special prize. “You,” he said. “You have..?”

  She stepped toward him, still smiling. Her crimson eyes were glowing, and he couldn’t look away. She felt the Black urging her on. Her hunger cried out to strike. It was so easy. She wanted him closer so he wouldn’t have time to scream. This was what she was. This was what she’s meant for.

  “Oh, yes,” she said, lowing her voice to a sultry whisper. “I know all about you.”

  “You … you do..?”

  They were close enough to kiss. She caressed his face and whispered in his ear: “I have big plans for you.”

  With a hiss, she threw him to the ground and pounced on top of him. He struggled, but she was too strong. She clamped her hand over his mouth, and her human form started to devolve. Her body contorted with her skin fading to a pale gray. Fangs grew in her mouth, and her eyes burned fiery red.

  She took a moment to enjoy the horror in Jim’s eyes before locking her fangs over his mouth. He continued to struggle as she drained the life from him, but to no avail.

  Taking his essence, she saw his memories. She saw his ambition—sabotaging rivals for office and business. She saw him resenting his son for killing his wife in childbirth and wishing he didn’t have to care for him. He wasn’t an evil man, but the world would be no poorer without …

  A single thought repeated in his mind over and over, and it stopped Lily cold: … please don’t hurt my son … please don’t hurt my son …

  She gasped and threw herself away from him. She willed herself back into her human form, while Jim writhed on the ground behind her. He looked pale and sickly with portions of his hair now gray—but he was alive.

  She stared at him and felt as though she might throw up. Big Jim Wallace was many things—ambitious, self-centered, and capable of ruthlessness. He could be harsh to his son, and there was a part of him that saw the boy as a burden. But when faced with death, Lily saw all he could think of was his son’s safety.

  No, he wasn’t an evil man. Flawed, but not evil. And he didn’t deserve to die.

 
She crawled closer and knelt beside him. “If you love your son,” she said. “Why do you hurt him?”

  Jim looked dazed and on the verge of passing out. He only mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, “… just … just don’t hurt the boy … please … take me … but leave him …”

  “Look at me,” she said. Jim blinked a few times and looked at her, regaining some life in him. “If you love you son,” she repeated. “Why do you treat him like a burden?”

  “I don’t …” he said, his voice shaky and weak. “I don’t know. I … I don’t mean to. I just … I have so much to do and …” He stammered and moaned, and Lily saw this was the first time he’d ever asked himself that question. Tears formed in his eyes. “I just get angry.”

  She thought of Byron Stark—a Sentry Elite officer charged with protecting the innocent, yet also a vile murderer. She thought of Krutch, a man who insisted he was just a coward and fool, yet followed her through hell and tried to slay a dragon. And now this man—a flawed, human being of ambition who deep down still loved his son.

  What difference does it make? some part of her demanded. Finish him off! He’s your prey, nothing more! He …

  She thought of James. The old man in the mountains, Pottz, who loved to paint and just wanted to help her. And of Jimmy—and imagined robbing him of his father, flawed though he may be.

  I’m not like that.

  “You have to be better,” she said. “You—look at me. If you love your son, you have to show him.”

  Jim stared at her. She sensed his confusion mingled with fear and regret. She didn’t know if she reached through to him, but she stood up and disappeared into the fog.

  “We all have to be better,” she said. “Otherwise … we’re just monsters.”

  52

  It started in Roller’s Place.

  Late in the afternoon, Regis Tuco’s feud with Denholm Mitchell ended when Tuco’s men ambushed Mitchell outside one of Jemas Phelps’s casinos. Half of Mitchell’s men were butchered in the street, so he fled into the casino with his remaining guards. Backed into a corner and knowing there was no way out, the guards turned on him. Mitchell was brought before Tuco himself and had his throat slit for all in Roller’s Place to see.