The Pirate (Captains & Cannons Book 1)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  “I don’t know where the key is,” Ethan said. His eyes then scanned her body, and his face went pale. “You…I—I don’t know what to do.”

  Zoey summoned what remaining strength she had. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No, you won’t,” Ethan said. “You’re a mess.”

  “I know, but at least I’ll die free of that curse.”

  Ethan grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t you dare say that. No one’s dying. I’m getting you out of here.”

  Zoey smiled at him, wishing he could know the peace that was now settling in her heart. “We all have to eventually,” she said. “Trust me. I’m a nurse. I know. It’ll be okay.”

  Ethan shook his head. “No, Zoey. I’m not leaving you.”

  “Knock that fairytale nonsense off right now,” she said. “Just do me a favor after you’ve gone: When you beat Death in the race, have him agree to a double or nothing.”

  “What?”

  “Tell him you’ll play again,” she explained. “For your dog and the kids I wasn’t able to save.”

  Ethan intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed. “You can’t ask me to do that,” he said. “Look how far we’ve made it together.”

  “I know,” she said. “And thank you for reminding me what good people are capable of. But there’s nothing you can do for me now. Even if you get me free, I’ll only slow you down. Now get out of here while you still can.”

  “Correction, we’ve got to get out of here while we still can.”

  Zoey groaned, and she was about to continue to argue when Ethan leaned over and pressed his neck against her lips. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver through her body, and her mouth watered as she felt his blood pulsing through his arteries.

  “No, Ethan. Don’t,” she said, fighting the urge to feast.

  “It’s the only way to heal you,” he said.

  “I won’t be able to stop,” she replied as she turned away. “It’s not going to be like back on the ship.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want to kill you.”

  Ethan clamped his fingers under her jaw and forced her head back toward him. “I know you want it.”

  “I—”

  “Bite.”

  The voracious urge that had been building in her soul took over, and before Zoey could think, let alone say, anything else, she sank her fangs into his flesh. Her teeth easily cut into his neck and jugular.

  She’d only managed a nick, but it was more than enough. Blood, sweet, satisfying, and most of all, rejuvenating, flowed into her mouth. With each gulp she took, the more ravenous she felt, and the harder and faster she drained the life from him.

  Suddenly, Ethan threw an arm across her. To her surprise, it wasn’t one that was trying to push himself away, but rather, he sent his hand under her shoulders and across her back, locking himself to her as his body convulsed and grew weaker.

  Zoey’s heart pounded against her chest, stronger and faster with each passing moment. Her breathing increased, too, but each breath she took carried a burning anger, a desire for revenge against Lord Belmont for all that he’d done to her. And now that his phylactery had been destroyed, she vowed to make him understand what a true creature of the night was capable of.

  “Zoey,” Ethan gasped. “Please.”

  She heard his words but didn’t stop. She worked her jaws, scissoring her teeth so she opened up more of his veins. His blood flowed into her mouth faster than she could take it in, spilling out of her lips. She could feel it roll down her cheeks and hear it splatter on the stone slab beneath her.

  Life radiated through her body. Her wounds closed, and she could feel strength she’d thought she’d lost forever return. As intoxicating as that power was, it didn’t hold a candle to the euphoric feeling that intensified with every drop of Ethan’s blood that she swallowed.

  “Zoey.” Ethan’s voice barely came out as a whisper now. His other hand feebly clutched her chest as he tried to push himself free—instincts, she knew, driving his actions now. The instinct to survive at all costs. It would only grow stronger as his body grew weaker and drew closer to death.

  It always did.

  Ethan’s struggles became more frantic, and Zoey locked her jaws, intent on feeding off every last drop of life he had to offer. The beast within needed it. Demanded it. And even when she was finished, and he was nothing but a desiccated husk, she’d still not be fully satiated.

  Then he did something completely unexpected. He calmed, ceased his struggles, dropped his hand on her forehead before brushing back her hair exactly the same way he had the first time they’d shared a bed together, when she’d laid her head on his chest and fell into a blissful sleep listening to his heartbeat while thinking about how much she’d missed simply having someone to be close with.

  At that moment, Zoey regained control and immediately let go of Ethan, who promptly collapsed backward in a heap.

  “Ethan? Ethan!” she yelled, but he didn’t answer or move.

  Panicked, Zoey yanked against the chains, stronger than she ever had before, but despite her renewed strength, they still held. She forced herself to lower her head and relax. She needed to be at complete peace if she was going to shapeshift—assuming she could now. Whether she had regained that strength or if the lingering bits of Lord Belmont’s curse still remained had yet to be seen.

  Zoey shut her eyes as her mind freed itself from any ties to the physical world. Her body grew cold and distant, and a slight hissing noise filled her ears before she felt as if she were floating through the air. When she realized her transformation had been successful, and she was currently floating a few feet above the slab as a white mist, excitement got the better of her. Her body reformed, and she crashed back to the stone with the wind knocked out of her lungs.

  “Kraken spit, that hurt,” she said, gasping and laughing as she clutched her sides. A second later, she rolled off the slab and onto her feet, fully expecting to see Ethan’s lifeless body sprawled across the floor. Instead, what she was greeted with was Ethan with his back propped up against the wall. His eyes were half open, and he had an open flask in hand.

  “Potion of healing,” he said, slurring his words and lifting it for her to see. “Not so stupid now, am I?”

  Zoey laughed and cried at the same time as she darted over and knelt at his side. “No, Ethan, that was incredibly stupid,” she said. “You’re lucky I stopped.”

  Ethan sucked in a breath before polishing off what red liquid remained. “Luck, my lovely Zoey,” he said, a little stronger and less drunkenly than before, “is my primary stat.”

  Zoey laughed and cleared her eyes before kissing him. “So it is,” she said. She then smacked him on the top of the head. “But you’re still as dumb as a sea cucumber.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m your sea cucumber.”

  Zoey raised an eyebrow and drew back one corner of her mouth. “You sure about that?”

  “Since I just let you feast on me, I damn well better be,” he said.

  Zoey laughed again and helped him to his feet. “You are,” she said, patting his chest. “But before we take a trip down lover’s lane, what say we get out of here?”

  “I say that’s a damn fine idea.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The Duel

  Moderately wounded.

  That’s what Ethan’s character sheet said when he checked his health status as they climbed the spiral staircase that led out of the ritual room. From what Zoey reminded him of, that wasn’t remotely as bad as being gravely wounded when the ettin had smacked him, but he still hurt, a lot, despite the healing potion he’d chugged.

  “The next addition to our party needs to be a healer,” he said, wincing about halfway up the stairs.

  “Most aren’t too fond of vampires,” she said. “You know, holy versus unholy and all.”

  “Most doesn’t mean all,” he countered. “I still think we should f
ind one.”

  “Point taken,” Zoey replied. When they reached the top of the stairs, she paused a few feet inside the throne room and looked around. “Where’s Maii?”

  “Maii is right here,” came a cold, sinister voice. “Though, I’m not sure you’ll recognize him now.”

  Ethan and Zoey pivoted. Standing a dozen yards away, leaning hunched on his staff, but looking thoroughly pissed off, was Lord Belmont. His left hand clutched his pistol at his side while the fingers on his right drummed on the staff’s wooden shaft. The sparkle of light that had once been in his eyes was gone, and they now looked dull and cloudy. There seemed to be a hint of frailty to Lord Belmont’s stature as well, as if he were an ancient plaster cast a single strike away from disintegrating. Yet despite that, the most worrisome thing aside from his confident demeanor was this monstrous thing at his side.

  The creature stood nearly four feet at the shoulder and more than half of that wide. It sported a white coat of slick fur that held intermittent spots of teal with dozens of raven-black spikes sticking out along its back and limbs. A long tongue dangled from its mouth, snaking its way over a maw full of jagged teeth that looked like they could snap rods of iron with ease. Claws like daggers protruded from all four of its feet, and at the end of its elongated tail was another clawed hand that looked as deadly as the rest.

  Zoey’s eyes grew to the size of dreadnaughts. “Holy hell,” she muttered. “He’s an ahuizotl.”

  Ethan swallowed but was unable to rid himself of the hard lump in his throat. “Wasn’t that one of the things you warned me about from the start?”

  “Yeah,” Zoey replied, her eyes never leaving Maii.

  “And that’s bad, right?”

  Zoey nodded. “That’s very, very bad.”

  “Worse than the lich?”

  Zoey nodded again while Lord Belmont grinned broadly. “Seeing how he’s with the lich, very much so.”

  Maii growled, saliva dripping from his mouth.

  “So, um, what do we do?” Ethan asked.

  “What you do, Master Ethan,” Lord Belmont said, “is die.”

  The lich snapped his fingers, and Maii charged forward. Only a fraction of a second later, Zoey met the attack headlong and rammed their former friend with all of her vampiric might. The two became intertwined, a flurry, chaotic mess of fang and claw tearing at each other. As the bloody melee ensued, Zoey shouted at Ethan. “Kill the lich!”

  Obeying more out of instinct than anything else, Ethan drew his sword, only to have to dive to the side when Lord Belmont took a shot at him with his pistol. The bullet caught Ethan right where his neck met his shoulder, carving out a painful chunk of flesh as it ripped through his body.

  Lord Belmont hits!

  You are seriously wounded!

  Ethan rolled out of his dive, coming to rest behind a granite column. He spent a second clutching the wound with his hand. It bled profusely, and as much as it burned to the high heavens, he could tell it wasn’t lethal.

  “Master Ethan, well done!” Lord Belmont praised, much to Ethan’s surprise. “I can’t count how many people that shot would’ve felled!”

  “Yeah, well, you’re going to find out I’m full of surprises,” Ethan shot back as he took to his feet. He glanced around each side of the column. On one side, he saw Lord Belmont starting his approach, and on the other, he saw Zoey and Maii still locked in a desperate struggle of dominance. As much as he wanted to delude himself into thinking Zoey had the upper hand, it only took a split second of watching to realize she was on the defensive.

  “I have to commend you, Master Ethan,” Lord Belmont said, drawing his attention. “It’s been a while since someone has caught me unaware. I’ve grown sloppy over the centuries. You are a fantastic reminder that I should never underestimate an opponent.”

  Ethan didn’t reply. Instead, he waited a few seconds until he was sure Lord Belmont was within striking distance and bolted around the column.

  To Ethan’s shock, dismay, and utter horror, the lich hadn’t continued forward as he’d planned. Instead, Lord Belmont had retreated a few steps. Not only had he retreated, but he had his pistol up and ready, pointed squarely at Ethan’s head.

  “Well played, Master Ethan,” the lich said. “But not well enough, I’m afraid.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  End of the Line

  Lord Belmont shoots!

  Lord Belmont misses!

  As Narrator narrated, debris flew in all directions as Lord Belmont’s shot struck the marble column. Had Ethan not instinctively ducked a half second prior, it would’ve been his head that caught the bullet.

  “A most splendid maneuver, Master Ethan,” Lord Belmont praised. “I shall enjoy seeing what you’re capable of when you reach your full potential—under my careful control, that is.”

  Ethan didn’t reply. He glanced around the column to see Zoey now losing to Maii. Desperate to save her, Ethan flew out of his hiding spot, his legs driving him harder and faster than he had ever thought possible. Three strides into his run, out in the open and devoid of any and all cover, he prayed his luck would hold out long enough that Lord Belmont’s next inevitable shot would miss, and he could reach Zoey in time to save her.

  A couple of yards into it, Lord Belmont fired. His magically enchanted pistol belched smoke and flame, and Ethan’s side exploded in agony. Blood sprayed across the room as his innards ruptured, and his legs gave out before he could take another step.

  Ethan collapsed on the ground like a tossed rag doll. His eyes rolled up in his head, and the cords in his neck bulged. The world around him felt muted and distant, while everything he could see, from the carpet and stone tile that made up the floor to the oil lamps burning on the wall to the wooden rafters above, became blurry and surreal. In the back of his mind, he could hear Narrator saying something about being nearly dead, but that was just stating the obvious at this point, as far as he was concerned.

  “Zoey,” he gasped, refocusing his thoughts and rolling onto his stomach. He cried out in pain as he did, but onward he pushed, trying to reach her. His feet, however, lacked the strength to move him forward, and each time he moved even in the slightest, he swore his guts were spilling out of him.

  The sounds of heavy footsteps grabbed his attention, and then one of Lord Belmont’s dark leather boots appeared a few inches from Ethan’s face, its salty odor assaulting his nose.

  “And so the chase ends,” Lord Belmont said with no small amount of satisfaction. “And it seems, as does the duel between vampire and ahuizotl.”

  Ethan squinted his eyes, trying to focus on what was going on, but he quickly realized he couldn’t see anything anyway since Lord Belmont stood in the way.

  “Ah, you want to see,” the lich said, grabbing Ethan from behind with a skeletal hand, hoisted him up, and pressing a pistol against his head. “Now look, Master Ethan. I want you to witness this before you die. Even made anew, your vampire cannot prevail against your former pet.”

  Ethan groaned. His side and midsection felt as if someone had grabbed them with red-hot tongs and was now slowly tearing his flesh from his body. He could barely keep his head from falling, let alone raise it enough to see whatever was going on.

  “Ethan. Ethan. Ethan,” Lord Belmont said. “You’re not going to be a poor sport about our duel, are you?”

  Ethan shook his head as his eyelids grew heavy. It hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to be. Despite all of that, he managed a two-word, poignant reply. “Fuck. You.”

  Lord Belmont growled, and with one hand, he grabbed Ethan under the chin and lifted his head, all the while painfully digging his boney fingertips into Ethan’s cheeks. “Watch, Ethan, as your pet chokes the life from your love,” he said.

  Ethan tried to shake his head, but the lich’s grip was stronger than any vise, and he was forced to take in everything that was going on. Maii had Zoey pinned with his jaws clamped firmly around her throat. Zoey’s mouth opened and closed as she gasped
for air that she couldn’t take in. Veins bulged in her head and neck, and her skin turned ashen.

  “I could have her neck crushed in an instant, if I like,” Lord Belmont said, leaning in close to Ethan’s ear. “Do you think I should be merciful?”

  “Let her go,” Ethan said.

  “Go?” Lord Belmont echoed. “My dear fellow, even you can’t be as stupid as to believe I’d ever agree to such a demand.”

  Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but what little strength he had left him. His knees buckled, and Lord Belmont barely caught him before he smacked into the floor.

  “Don’t die on me yet, Master Ethan,” Lord Belmont said, rapping Ethan lightly on the head with his pistol. “It’ll only be a few more seconds before this is all over.”

  Ethan tried to speak again, to tell him to go to hell, but all he managed to do was roll his head to the side and nearly pass out in the process.

  “Ethan!” the lich said, tone full of anger and frustration. “You’re not being a good sport about this at all. Now stop dying and start watching!”

  Ethan lacked the energy to do anything, but when Lord Belmont dug his pistol into Ethan’s chest wound and gave it a twist, the lightning pain that shot through Ethan’s body gave him a brief amount of strength and possible wit.

  “You die first, asshole,” Ethan muttered. In a flash, Ethan reached up, pressed the barrel of the gun into his chest with one hand, and with the other, he pulled the trigger.

  The weapon fired, kicking like a rabid mule and sending a large ball of lead straight through one of Ethan’s lungs and striking Lord Belmont directly in his black heart.

  The lich wailed, relinquishing his grip on Ethan and falling backward. Green fire erupted from the gaping hole in his chest before fully engulfing him. As he burned, Maii lost his grip on Zoey’s throat and staggered sideways. The ahuizotl’s skin flared with white fire as the magical energy that compelled him to obey Lord Belmont vanished, and before Ethan could draw another breath, Maii fell over, unconscious.