The Pirate (Captains & Cannons Book 1)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  “Then why didn’t you say all of this from the start?”

  “Because I’ve been scared out of my mind since it all began,” she said. “I might be good at hiding things, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified. Do you have any idea what it’s like to know that even the smallest bruise could wind up being your last?”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, it makes you second-guess everything,” she said. “What if you didn’t believe me? What if you took advantage of me? What if you ran? It’s not like I’d have much chance of finding someone else. So, when I saw you, I decided to go for it, because the only thing I knew for sure was that I needed someone fresh, and nice, and—”

  Zoey cut herself off, but Ethan filled in the rest with a solemn voice. “Didn’t know any better, right?” he asked. “You needed someone stupid and gullible enough to trust you, who’d fall for you. Who’d…”

  His voice trailed, and he didn’t have the heart or energy to finish the sentence.

  Zoey fell back on her haunches and sighed. “Who what?” she asked. “You might as well say it.”

  Ethan swallowed hard and forced the words out despite the immense heartache they brought. “Who’d die for you,” he said. “That’s who you wanted. Someone so enamored with you, that even with or without your charms, they’d follow you to the ends of the world and back, right? Because let’s face it, I’m kind of pathetic that way seeing how I’m hardly the ladies’ man back home. I was an easy mark.”

  Zoey opened her mouth as if to argue, but she instead collapsed in a heap and sobbed. “Yes,” she said. “You’re right.”

  “Then you can piss right off and die in that jail for all I care,” he said, starting to walk away again. “There’s nothing you can say or do to make me ever trust you again. I’m tired of being used.”

  He didn’t get even a pace away before Zoey called out one last time. “Their names are Gail and Zach. Just so you know.”

  Ethan froze and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

  “That’s the names of the kids I’m playing for,” she said. “Gail and Zach Peterson. They’re both in ICU at Mount Sinai hospital in Great Falls, Montana, in a coma, fighting for their lives after a car accident.”

  Ethan snorted. “Let me guess, drunk driver?”

  “No,” she said. “Someone blew a tire on the highway. Spun out, hit their car, which ended up wrapping around a tree.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “I’m their nurse,” she said.

  “Which means what?”

  “Which means if I die, so do they since Death will win by default,” she said. “Look, you can hate me all you want. Spit in my face if that’s what it takes. I certainly deserve it. But help me for their sake, if no other reason.”

  Ethan balked for a moment, but ultimately shook his head and sighed with disgust. “No, you’re lying,” he said, refusing to be toyed with any longer. “As I said, I’ll never trust you again. Ever.”

  “Ethan, I’m not lying.”

  “Yeah, sure you aren’t. I’m done with you.”

  “Fine,” she said, her voice suddenly growing sharp and cold. “You don’t have to believe me. But once you’re out of here and back in the real world, go look their parents up. They’ll be easy to find, especially if you check the newspapers. And when you find out they died about the same time as their nurse did, I’m sure you’ll be able to sleep well for the rest of your life knowing you couldn’t be bothered to try and save a couple of kids.”

  “Damn,” Ethan muttered. He wanted to keep walking, wanted to leave her to rot. Hell, he almost had the inkling to bring her to Lord Belmont himself and collect whatever bounty the lich had put on her head. But he couldn’t. The ring of truth in her words was so loud in his ears, he knew she wasn’t lying. “Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Shit!”

  Ethan slowly turned around and made his way back to Jacob, cursing both himself and the situation a thousand times over in the process. He didn’t look Zoey in the eyes, though he knew she was watching his every step.

  “Ethan?” she said. “I—”

  “Just shut up,” he snapped as he searched the bounty hunter’s body and took the iron key from one of his pockets. “I don’t want to hear your voice right now. Maybe ever.”

  Zoey nodded and slumped. To her credit, she didn’t speak. She simply put her hands together in front of her face and cried softly.

  Ethan went to the brig, put the key into the lock, and gave it a turn. It took a little more effort than he’d expected, but it opened with a sharp metallic clank. He then opened the door and unlocked the shackles on her ankles and wrists.

  For what felt like an eternity, neither one said or did anything.

  “You should’ve been straight with me,” he eventually said, standing to the side. His gaze rose from the floor, where it was often aimed when he was doing his best thinking, and his eyes met Zoey’s. They were large, fearful, and watery. And in all the time he’d known her, she’d never looked so small. “I would’ve helped you, regardless.”

  “I—I know,” she said, clearly unsure if she should say anything. “I’ve been here so long, Ethan, and I’ve become jaded and untrusting of others. I’m not saying that makes any of what I did okay, but that’s the truth of it. Everyone here is only out for themselves. I forgot what decency was like, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  The world seemed to pause, and everything took on a surreal nature. He felt like he had back when Barnaby was dying, and he’d had a choice to make. Whatever actions he took at this very moment could not be undone, he knew, and somehow, he also knew they’d forever affect both himself and his future in this world.

  “I should make you pay for what you did,” he finally said, tapping into his desire for justice. When Zoey shrank, only to find herself pressed against the back wall of the brig, he quickly shook his head. “I should, but I’m not. I forgive you, on the promise that you never lie to me ever again, because I swear, Zoey, I won’t give you another chance.”

  “On my life, Ethan, I won’t ever lie to you again,” she said. “Never, ever, ever.”

  Ethan forced a smile and extended his hand. “Good. Now come on and get out of there. We’ve got a gem to destroy.”

  Zoey bolted out of the brig and threw her arms around him, right as Narrator did what he did best:

  +1 Compassion gained.

  Out of pure reflex, Ethan rolled his eyes and muttered, “Damn, that’s annoying.”

  “What?” Zoey said, pulling back.

  She didn’t get far. Ethan quickly put his arms around the small of her back and kept her close. “Not you,” he said. “Narrator.”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding relieved.

  His hands slid to her hips and tightened, and she sucked in a sharp breath in response. “I meant it,” he said. “Don’t ever lie to me ever again.”

  “I won’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I promised you that already, and I meant every word.”

  “Okay,” Ethan said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I just needed to hear that again, is all.”

  “Ahem,” Maii interrupted. “The crew?”

  Ethan straightened and pulled away. “Right,” he said, laughing. “We’ve got to get out of here before they return. Any chance the two of us can sail this ship?”

  “Absolutely,” Zoey said with a nod. “But we’ll need to move fast. Can you do that with the leg?”

  “With all the adrenaline pumping through me, you bet,” Ethan said. “Anyway, I don’t think I have much of a choice, do I?”

  With that, the three of them raced through the ship and flew up the stairs leading to the deck. Along the way, Zoey snatched a small hatchet from the crew quarters. Having a weapon in hand put a smile on her face, but that smile quickly faded once they’d gone topside.

  Having taken only a few steps across the deck, Ethan froze and pointed a finger at the docks. “Oh, damn,” he said. “The crew�
��s here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  An Old Friend

  “Oh, crap,” Zoey muttered. The group of men Ethan had pointed out was still fifty or so yards away on the docks, stumbling drunkenly along, the light from their lanterns making them easy to spot. “Ethan! Center mast! I need the mainsail unfurled!”

  “How do I do that?”

  “It’s a Bermuda rig with a single headsail!” she barked. “Use the halyard and cunningham to get us underway! I’ll cut the mooring lines!”

  Ethan bolted across the deck to where she pointed, nearly slipping twice as he half-ran around, half-jumped over the backs of the cannons. His hands worked the lines around the cleats, freeing the mainsail from its wrap. He had no idea how he knew what line, pulley, or winch did what, but it all came to him as naturally as breathing, and so he chalked it up to his character’s skill and simply ran with it.

  He was about to drop the main sheet when he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. Ethan turned a split second before he caught a belaying pin with his face. Thankfully, Ethan had fast enough reflexes to raise his left arm, which promptly took the brunt of the attack.

  “Holy god balls on a stick, that hurts,” Ethan cried out, jumping back.

  The man came at him again, swinging wildly and screaming like a madman. Ethan ducked under the blow and drove forward, hitting the guy in the chest with his shoulder. Ethan kept running until he rammed the soldier into one of the deck guns, his back making a satisfying crunch.

  The mercenary had the wind knocked out of him, and he let go of the belaying pin. As the man slumped down, gasping for breath, Ethan punched him with a right cross before grabbing the fallen pin and issuing a wicked backhand with it that shattered the man’s cheek and sent him to the land of unconscious beings for a second time. Ethan was about to finish the guy off when Zoey came running over, screaming.

  “No, Ethan! Don’t kill him! We need him alive!”

  Ethan stopped, arm raised. “Alive for what?”

  “For Myriden!”

  “Who?”

  “The baby kraken who ate your ship when you first got here,” she said, pointing to the water. “He’s somewhere out there, nearby, and if we don’t donate a fresh meal to him, he might come after the ship. Now finish dropping that sail!”

  Ethan did as he was told, and within seconds, the main sheet fell from its wrap and caught the wind. The ship immediately tilted and lurched forward. Zoey perched at the helm, muscled the wheel, and peeled them away from the docks. They’d only gone a few yards before the approaching crew took notice. Shouts of confusion quickly followed, and a few of the more sober members ran down the docks, but by the time they’d reached the space where the gangplank had been, the ship was far enough away that all they could do was watch Ethan and Zoey disappear into the night.

  “You look like hell,” Zoey said once Ethan joined her at the wheel.

  “Thanks, but I just hope it’s not broken,” he replied, inspecting his arm as best he could in the rain. He tried flexing his fingers a few times, which he was able to do, but not without considerable pain. “It still hurts. A lot.”

  “Once we’re clear of Myriden, I’ll take a look,” she said. “We’ll probably need to stitch the leg up, too. I can’t believe you’re still walking on it.”

  At the mention of his leg, Ethan looked down and immediately wished he hadn’t. Nearly every square inch on the left side of his breeches was shades of crimson and dark red, and he was certain a half-carved turkey from Thanksgiving had less tissue damage than he did.

  “Damn it to hell, that can’t be good,” he said, suddenly feeling weak.

  Zoey laughed. “You’ll live. Don’t worry. I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Honestly, you wouldn’t be walking if it weren’t. What’s your character sheet say?”

  Ethan took it out and spent a few seconds trying to read it in the dark. “Moderately wounded,” he said. He then stuffed it away. “That sounds bad.”

  “It’s worse than a few bruises,” she said. “You’ll suffer some minor penalties to most of your rolls, but at least you’re not serious, or worse, critical.”

  “Or dead,” Ethan tacked on.

  “Exactly,” she said, beaming. Her smile faded as her eyes lifted and focused on something far ahead in the dark. “Speaking of dead, I think I can see that dead whale.”

  Ethan turned and strained his eyes, trying to see what she was referencing. Even with the moonlight glimmering on the water, it wasn’t enough for him to see much of anything. “You can?”

  “Jacob was wrong about me,” she said before pointing to her eyes. “That curse didn’t take everything but the hunger. I still have my night vision and a few tricks left.”

  “Oh, that’s handy,” Ethan replied.

  “Very.”

  The conversation died, and the ship cut through the waters at a good clip. Ten or fifteen minutes later, the storm had blown by, and Weynock was a distant speck of light. Ethan had checked on the mercenary a few times during that, and other than moaning incoherently from time to time, he hadn’t shown any signs of waking up. Eventually, Ethan made his way back to Zoey, who was still at the helm, eyes constantly scanning the water around them.

  “Maybe Myriden’s decided to leave us alone,” Ethan said.

  “Maybe.”

  The flutter in her voice told Ethan she didn’t believe that at all, which in turn put Ethan on edge. After all, the last time he’d tangled with the baby kraken, his ship had gone down, and he’d barely made it to shore alive.

  “Should I load the cannons?” Ethan asked.

  Zoey took her eyes off the water long enough to look at Ethan and shake her head. “Those aren’t big enough to scare him off,” she said. “Most they’d do is make him angry.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Zoey looked like she was about to say something else when her face drew back in a grimace, and Ethan couldn’t help but mimic the gesture. “What?”

  “Pretty sure I just saw a giant tentacle,” she said, turning the ship about twenty degrees starboard. “Get over to our friend and be ready to chum the water.”

  Ethan shook his head and frowned, trying not to envision chopping up the sailor into fresh chunks of meat. “Can we not use the word chum?”

  “Use whatever word you want,” she said. “But we’re going to need him dumped overboard in about two min—”

  Her words cut short when the boat rolled sideways, sending both of them sprawling across the deck. The ship then pitched forward, and the wood groaned as its bottom scraped across something large and unyielding.

  “What the hell was that?” Ethan asked, scrambling to his feet.

  Zoey didn’t have time to answer, but she didn’t need to either. A large tentacle shot out of the water and crashed onto the deck. Suckers, each the size of a fist with a pair of bony hooks set inside, lined one side, and the moment the appendage struck the wood, it began feeling around, looking for a victim.

  The tentacle swept the deck. Zoey darted behind one of the deck guns, and Ethan dove over the attack, but not nearly as skillfully as he’d have liked. His boot grazed the top of the monster’s appendage, and instantly the tentacle changed course.

  “Holy crap, that thing is fast!” Ethan yelled, diving to the side. Like Zoey, he ended up taking cover behind one of the cannons right before Myriden would have gotten his hooks into him.

  An instant later, a second and a third tentacle shot out of the water on each side, sending a fine salty spray in all directions. These, too, joined the blind search for a meal. And although they futilely battered the deck, with each strike that came up empty, the next one rained down harder and faster. It didn’t take long for Ethan to realize that if Myriden wasn’t fed soon, he’d send the ship to the bottom of the ocean in pieces.

  Right after a tentacle smacked the cannon he hid behind, Ethan dared a glance over it
to see where the mercenary was. The sailor had rolled up against the railing, unconscious still, but not likely to be found, especially since Myriden was currently searching the back half of the ship.

  “Zoey!” Ethan shouted. “Can you reach the mercenary?”

  The vampire peeked around her hiding spot, and for a brief moment, it looked like she had an opening. Zoey raced forward, trying to take advantage of a gap in Myriden’s search, but when the baby kraken added a fourth tentacle to the mix, it was only a small miracle that kept her free of Myriden’s gasp.

  “I can’t,” she said. She then glanced around the deck. “Where’s Maii?”

  “Probably down below,” Ethan said. “Or abandoned ship.”

  A fifth tentacle came up, but instead of using it to try and find a meal, Myriden wrapped it around the mast.

  “Ethan! He’s going to wreck the boat!”

  Ethan, desperate, looked around for something he could use, hoping maybe he’d stumble upon a randomly dropped vorpal sword or a legendary pistol especially attuned to slaying sea monsters. Sadly, all he had at his disposal other than the pistol in his belt and the cutlass at his side was the wooden belaying pin he’d used to clobber the sailor.

  None of those seemed useful, and at most, he figured they’d only manage to get Myriden’s attention for a half second before he was eaten.

  Rigging lines snapped, and the headsail, which had been furled, unrolled. As it caught the wind, the boat listed hard, sending a barrel careening across the deck and into Myriden’s tentacle. The moment it hit, the baby kraken snatched it up before tossing it away.

  “Why couldn’t that have rolled next to the chum?” Ethan moaned. As soon as the words left his mouth, he got an idea. He stood up, ducked a tentacle, and threw the belaying pin as best he could, aiming at a tentacle that happened to be near the mercenary. The wooden pin flipped through the air, and bounced off the top of the appendage.