by J B Black
“You don’t mean killing them, do you?” Nereus asked.
Preecha shook his head. “Of course not, my lord.”
“It might’ve been easier.”
At that, the cecaelia nodded sympathetically. “True, but it would have garnered the wrong sort of attention. However, pirates are always fascinated with the sea, and we have much to give them. Ships preserved to the north or treasures from their own wreckages. We could buy them with the coin they’ve lost due to sirens or storms or their own folly.”
Nereus nodded along, wishing there was another way, but he had few warriors in his own realm, and the last thing he wanted was to send his people to die in a quarrel he should have ended when Mar first showed animosity toward him and his realm.
“And how do you suggest we get the pirates? I know there are a few islands in my territory that they visit, but those are generally no man’s land. I can’t sense where they are, and if I step out of my territory again…” the sea trailed off with a frown. His bright blue eyes drifted southward.
There was no telling if Mar laid in waiting. As wide as the southern border stood, he could not guard the full length. Any action outside of his realm would have to be carefully measured.
Preecha, however, had a solution: “A doppleganger.”
Groaning, Nereus slumped forward. “I hate projection magic. Can’t I just send you?”
“They would very likely attack me.”
“Right.” Nereus jumped to his feet. “Project a doppleganger, convince the pirates to help, and...fuck, Preecha, this is a battle of sea gods. I’d have to transform them into mers or give them the gift of breath in water. They can only do so much on the surface.”
“You’d be surprised,” the cecaelia retorted.
***
With Preecha by his side and the castle fixed, Nereus meditated, throwing his consciousness into the water. A wave formed, gathering strength, and as it crashed into the shore of a well-known island populated entirely by pirates, a doppelganger of Nereus stood. He dressed it in boots and trousers with a loose white shirt and a sash of blue to match the hue of his eyes.
“Find Jack the Knife,” Preecha instructed from his side. “He’s a well-known pirate who controls multiple ships.”
But on the beach with the itch of a body that wasn’t his own, Nereus groaned, “Who calls themselves ‘the Knife’? That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.”
He stormed up the beach, following the loud boisterous sounds which led him to the settlement. A large dock provided space for the numerous ships in the port. Women and men danced in the street. Scantily dressed women in bright dresses cried out, whistling as he walked into town. A man with a fan winked at him before cocking a hip and flirting with a drunkard who toyed with the man’s long hair.
None of the rowdy crowd seemed fit to captain one ship let alone multiple, but Nereus rarely understood warriors, and pirates were even less comprehensible to him than the more organized armies which kings and emperors maintained. Even all the work Athanasius did to expand his mortal half-brother’s kingdom made little sense to Nereus. Territory at the expense of death served little reason. What power did a man get from the slaughter?
From place to place, Nereus trudged. Whenever he asked about Jack the Knife, everyone went silent, questioning who he was before kicking him out again. There weren’t too many shops in the settlement. Most were places to stay, to eat, to drink, or to fuck, and none of them spoke a word to the outside looking for one of their own. If nothing else, pirates had that sort of loyalty.
Slamming his hand down on the bar of the latest establishment, Nereus growled, “Where is Jack the Knife?”
They just kept singing and dancing. No one even looked at him; however, before he could throw his hands up in the air, an older man with salt and pepper hair raised his hand.
“When they said a pretty little catamite was looking for me, I thought you’d be shorter,” the man informed him, downing the rest of his ale before he called for another. “Well, you’ve found me, boy.”
Nereus snorted. “I’m several centuries old, so if either of us is a boy in comparison…” Even though he focused on his doppleganger, the sea god could feel the weight of Preecha’s disapproving glare. “I am the sea god, Nereus. I have come to request your aid.”
Such an announcement should have earned some response from those around, but even the men at the same table as the pirate captain only looked amused.
“Sea god,” Jack the Knife sneered. “Maybe you’re not a man after all. I’ve always heard the god of the sea was a woman.” A few of the men about his table chuckled. Gesturing toward one of them, he grinned. “Wouldn’t mind fucking Calypso. If you’ve got a cunt in those trousers that needs seeing to, I’d aid you with that.”
A red-nosed man with ale in his beard hiccuped. “Got the lips for cock-sucking.”
Another shook his head. “Too tall. Those shoulders are a man’s even if you buggered him from behind, you’d know.”
“Bend over, sea god. We’ll stuff some cream in your belly,” another pirate called.
Jack smirked. “Why not? Spit some foam in his hole until he leaks or rounds with a bastard. See if there’s a woman underneath.”
“They say the sea is fertile!”
They laughed. Careless and human, and Nereus undid his sash, collapsing it back into the sea water which made it and transforming it into a sharp blade. Holding his sword aloft, Nereus lunged. Their laughter ended quickly enough when Jack the Knife’s head rolled from his shoulders.
“I am the god of the sea which surrounds you, you pathetic letches,” Nereus growled. Thunder rumbled. A storm came, rocking the boats in the harbor and striking fear into the hearts of those who had been dancing in the street. “You will come to my aid, or I will curse your ships to sink.”
Perhaps his actions might have frightened the average man to action, but these were pirates. They spent their lives on the sea, running from the law and facing the whims of whatever realm they stumbled into with the same dismissal as the laws of men.
“Why should we?” the red-nosed man demanded.
“Why would a god even need aid?” came another.
“I am going to war against Mar, the sea god to the —” but they didn’t give him the chance to explain any further.
“Another sea god?”
“Why would we pick a side? Can’t Mar just do the same as you?”
They returned to their drinking, ignoring the way lightning flashed in the sky. No matter the size of the waves or the height of the storm, they would not be moved.
“This was pointless,” Nereus hissed, aiming the sentiment at Preecha as he lost his patience and set about laying the works of the curse on the island and all those who dwelled upon it.
Before he could finish, a young man with blond hair and bronze skin stepped forward. “Wait, I’ll aid you.”
The spell collapsed, and blue eyes narrowed as the god turned on the other. “You’ll help me?”
The man’s eyes were dark — almost black — and they seemed to encompass Nereus, swallowing him whole with the intensity of the other man’s gaze. With a strong jaw and a sharpness to his bones, he stood out amongst the rest of the rabble though he shared a similar musculature of a man who earned his form by working hard upon a ship and in combat. Something deep inside Nereus shifted, and like a marionette, strings pulled him toward the other.
“Bring me a ship and promise me the bounty of the gold and treasure from all the wreckages in your realm,” the blond demanded before correcting, “The treasure in your and the other god’s realm to be split amongst me, my crew, and any others who take up arms to aid you.”
Talk of god caught the attention of some of the men who had dismissed him so easily, and if they wanted the spoils other humans left behind, Nereus had no reason to deny them. “You will have both. A ship in the morning, and I will bring the gold when the war is over.”
“And as your liaison with th
e pirates here and elsewhere, you will owe me a favor,” the man added.
Now, blessings and favors walked a similar line, but a favor hung over a god’s head while a blessing came at the discretion of the god. However, Nereus had no choice. With a slight incline of his head, he agreed.
The man held out his hand. “Then we have an accord, Nereus — god of this sea.” His eyes sparkled when Nereus took his hand, and those dark eyes traced the god’s body from the tip of his head to his boots. “I am Bellamy Drake.”
The name itched — a strange familiarity that Nereus could not place, but none of that mattered. He had a pirate, and the pirate said he would bring more. “Gather your crew. I will bring a selection of ships at dawn.”
As they shook hands, Nereus frowned. A sharp tingling spread up his arm as if a powerful magic around the man rejected him, pushing him away like matching ends of a magnet. With a nod, he pulled back his hand, ignoring how the other’s thumb swept over the back of his hand. He had no intention of sleeping with the man, no matter how attractive he found him. Anyone with a spell that powerful upon them was someone not to be trusted. Only someone with something to hide had that magic or went out of their way to pay the amount it would cost to buy it. But he needed the warriors — so Nereus walked out of the bar, and he allowed his saltwater form to collapse back into the waves from which it had come.
Chapter Nine
Providence. It had to be providence. Nothing else could explain how Bellamy managed to survive those long days testing out the weakness under Ned’s watchful eye. Melting down gold to hide the marker claim upon them, they had the time, but it took everything inside him to go back into the sea each day when exhaustion weighed down his limbs. Every time the numbness came. Paralysis soon followed.
If Ned had his way, Bellamy would’ve been kicked at the next port, but the crew voted, and they sided with Bellamy when he pled his case, so when the ship turned northward, making their way up the cost and along familiar routes for a second pass at the siren island’s profitable wreckage, Bellamy held fast to the fact that no one else in the crew could do what he could, but Cookie fell ill. His sickness brought them off track to Kallavera.
“I don’t give a damn how much gold you want, we’ll pay it,” Bill growled, standing over Cookie’s side.
Running a hand through his hair, the spectacled druid frowned. “There’s only so much I can do. He’s delirious already, and with his age, his body doesn’t have the energy to deal with an accelerated heal.”
“If you don’t try, he dies,” Bellamy argued.
Ned sighed, stepping forward to set a hand upon the druid’s shoulder. “Cameron, you could do an exchange.”
“Healing an cancerous ulcer of this size is hard enough, Edward. I can’t be sure it hasn’t spread, and this isn’t the first time I had to pull something like this out of his body,” Cameron huffed. Taking off his glasses, he cleaned them with his stained apron. “I’ll do what I can, but an exchange just puts another person on your crew at risk.” When Ned cocked a brow, Cameron flinched, glaring. “Don’t you fucking ask that of me. You know my feelings. I won’t do it.”
Moaning, Cookie reached out, and Bill grabbed his hand. “Hold on,” the buff man begged.
But Cookie shook his head. “Is my time. Been a good run. Give my shares to my girls.”
A flicker of pain rippled over Ned’s face, but despite the tension in Bill’s shoulders, he kept the flinch from his face. “You know we’ll always make sure your girls are taken care of, but you gotta hold on, Cookie. We still need you.”
Giving a pain smile, Cookie opened his mouth, but he groaned, clutching his stomach as his entire body convulsed. Cameron shoved Bill out of the way.
“I’ll do what I can. Get out! I need space,” the druid commanded, and when Bill hesitated, Ned grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him out of the room.
Most of the crew waited outside the door, but some had been unable to bear the tension, going on to bars and brothels, finding company and comfort in drink or in a good bed and warm arms. Those who remained jumped to their feet, leaning with desperation for good news, but Cookie’s cries came straight through the door.
“It’ll be a long night. I suggest you find your solace elsewhere,” Ned informed them. Shaking his head, he ran his hands over his face. “I need a drink. Bill, with me.”
Bellamy could have gone anywhere. He had no interest in the company of the women who smiled so sweetly at him. Touch came uneasily. Even the slightest miscalculation of force could result in retaliation from the cuff, so the blond kept to himself. As the crew dispersed, he wandered the streets of Kallavera, and only a dryness in his chest brought him to a stop in front of a random bar. There were plenty of places to get a drink on the island. Places to sleep — places to drink, to eat, to fuck, they had the vices well cased for on this island.
So it had to be providence. Nothing else explained the sequence of events — the vote, the return to the siren island, and Cookie’s cancerous ulcer — happening at just the right time to place Bellamy in the bar when a god walked in.
Even before Nereus spoke, his very presence filled the room. There was a weight to it. No one else seemed to notice, but perhaps it was the defensive magic in the cuff. Bellamy’s whole body tingled. A lot like the numbness he felt when he went into the water, but instead of agony, his heart raced, and a dizzy sort of excitement flooded his body.
There had only ever been one moment when he felt something similar. Years ago — before the cuff and the ship — back at that horrible port when he had sat upon the edge of the stone wall overlooking the deep waters, Bellamy considered leaping in and letting himself drown. After escaping an attempt to drag him to the red light district, he folded over himself, miserable and alone. On his face, a black eye pulsed. Half-starved and desperate, he had trusted the wrong group in the dead of winter. A mistake he would never make again.
But on that wall, as he debated jumping to his death, he saw someone. They were taller than him with broad pale tan shoulders. Dark black hair curled, falling in waves just about the other’s jaw, and when the stranger smiled back at him, the cold faded away. How could he be cold when the other stood half-naked? Bare-chested and with nothing on his feet as well, the stranger had the bluest eyes. In that moment, a thrill of possibilities thrummed in Bellamy’s core, and something hot awoke inside him, but then the man dove into the icy water. He never surfaced.
Though tempted to follow into the water, his survival instincts made him stand and walk away. A solid not yet repeated itself in his head. Over and over, not yet — not now. There was more to be done.
But that feeling didn’t matter, and the way his heart skipped a beat at the god’s face likely related to the memory of the stranger. The immediate pull snapped when the god introduced himself, and if Bellamy were a better man, he would have thought of Cookie’s health before his own wants, but if anyone could find his mother, a sea god could do it, so when Jack the Knife’s head rolled, Bellamy leaped into the fray. He hadn’t even noticed Ned and some of the crew entering the bar to escape the downpour on the street.
When the god left, Ned turned to him. “What were you thinking?”
“We should bring Cookie to the port tomorrow! If he’s a god, he’s gotta have the power to heal him,” Bill insisted.
Ned growled, slamming his hand down at the bar. “There’s no point trusting a god!” Everyone gaped, unaccustomed to seeing him so passionate, and his frustrated glower weakened at the confusion of those around him. Sinking into a seat, Ned sighed. “If he brings a good ship, I’ll help. Meant Mar before. He’s a right ass, and I don’t mind helping anyone who is against him, but we’re not putting Cookie’s life in his hands.”
“Saves us dealing with the island if this is his territory,” Bellamy pointed out.
“No amount of gold in the world is worth what a god can do if you get on their bad side,” Ned retorted.
Smiling, Bellamy shrugged. “Then we be
tter kill Mar, so we’ll have a god indebted to us.”
The captain scoffed, leaving him and the rest of the crew. Whatever Ned feared, Bellamy doubted the man would say. However, the rest of the crew gathered around, ordering drinks of their own.
“He was hot,” Simon proclaimed, sliding into a seat on Bellamy’s right. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that beautiful.”
Bill snorted taking the seat on Bellamy’s opposite side. “My Marie is ten times as pretty.”
“Doesn’t matter. Your Marie is taken,” Simon pointed out, smacking Bellamy on the arm as he added, “But you’ve got to be mad, Bells. Hot as that face is, not worth losing your head to get your cock wet.”
Rolling his eyes, the blond took a sip of his ale. “Really? Way I see it, I just got my pick of ships blessed by an actual sea god, a share of all the gold in his territory and the territory of his enemy, and a favor. I’ve risked my life for less.”
“Against other men, maybe, but what am I saying?” Simon shook his head, gesturing to the cuff. “It isn’t like you have to worry about going up against a god.”
Paying for a bed to have some space to think for the night rather than bunking on the ship with the bulk of the crew, Bellamy washed and settled, tossing and turning underneath the too soft sheets on the too hard mattress. His mind jumped all over. It leapt to his mother, a favor from a god had to be the last step in finding her. Even after, if he won this for Nereus, the god would have his back, and that would make him the most fearsome pirate to ever sail the seas.
