Chapter 6
Ophelia sat on the floor of the captain’s cabin near the door, listening to the muffled sounds of talking and cargo being moved. They’d been at port since dusk the night before, and though it was already past eleven the next morning, no one had yet come for her. She knew it would take time for her pursuers’ identities to be verified, but she had little doubt that they would, and the wait for it was stressing her out.
At least the time to herself had given her a chance to figure out an escape. It was impossible for her to try and break her way out through the hull — the hulls and other important parts of most ships were inscribed with runes that protected them from magic, and this one was no exception. Nor had it been possible at some point during the journey for her to open the lock and slip out unnoticed, as Philip had had someone stationed outside the door ever since he’d locked it behind her. She’d have to wait for them to open it, and then she could try and make her escape.
And the chance, it seemed, was finally on its way, because Philip’s voice calling, “Good morning, Gerald,” carried through the wood.
“Morning,” came the reply.
“Sorry for the delay,” Philip told him. “The senior archivist went missing a couple days ago. It was hard to get in contact with someone.”
“You’ve still got hold of our bounty, I hope,” Gerald said.
Footsteps approached, and Ophelia’s heart began to race as she jumped to her feet. This was it.
“Yes, Sir,” Philip answered. “We’ve had someone guarding the door every minute. ”
Ophelia put both of her palms flat together in front of her chest as she stepped in front of the door, one above the other, and conjured a spell in her mind as she slid one up past her eyes and the other down to her belly, and then clapped them quietly back together in the middle.
“Good,” Gerald said as a key clicked into the lock.
It turned, and the knob followed, and then the door creaked open as Philip said, “Here she i-” He stopped short. Though she was standing right in front of him, he couldn’t see her, and his eyes searched the room.
Gerald shoved past him, and she slid aside so he wouldn’t bump into her. “She’s not here!”
Most of her focus was on keeping up the spell, but she ducked out the door past Philip with Gerald hot on her heels, and headed straight for the bulwark as fast as she could without making any noise.
“Abner!” Gerald yelled.
She wasn’t sure what the Summoner would do as she crept along beside the bulwark toward the ship’s ramp, but he breathed into his hands and gave life to a forming shadow. It thickened and grew. Its head took on the round, smooth shape of a large bat with massive, pointed ears. Its long, thin arms ended at three talons, and dark wings smoothed out of the backs of them. Equally long back legs with four talons formed under its slim body, which ended at its short, flat tail. The seven-foot shadow of the nightwing hit the deck of the ship with a thud right as she stopped at the opening of the ramp.
The creature screeched, mouth hanging open to show three rows of needle-like teeth, and its head moved with its ears as it searched the deck. It hardly took a moment for it to find her, and as its wings beat against the deck and it burst into the air in flight, she dropped the spell. It was no longer time to focus. It was time to run.
She slapped her hand on the corner of the bulwark and used that grip to propel herself around the corner as she took off, sprinting down the ramp.
“Stop her!” Gerald screamed.
Several pairs of boots came slamming down the ramp behind her, and she only dared to look back for a moment. It was just in time to catch the shadow of the nightwing above her. It swooped as she reached the bottom of the ramp, and she dove for the closest small crate she could reach, grabbing the handle as she hit the ground on her back and swinging with all her might. The crate smashed against the side of one of the nightwing’s legs as it stretched for her, and it screeched angrily as it turned its wings toward her to stop its descent.
The gush of wind as the creature ascended was so powerful that it helped her back to her feet, and she took off running again as Gerald and several others got to the end of the ramp. They were hot on her trail as she shoved past other ships’ crews, grabbing them and swinging them behind her to put them in Gerald’s way or knocking boxes out of their arms to try and trip her pursuers, babbling apologies each time she did.
The shadow of the nightwing hovered above her every step she took, and every time it shifted even a little, her eyes shot up to search for it, waiting for it to swoop down again. There was a crowded market along the border of the docks, and the nightwing finally dove right as she reached the edge of it, trying to catch her before she was amongst the crowds. She was ready for it. She planted her hand on the counter of the first market stall and propelled herself over it feet first, ducking behind it as the nightwing plunged with too much momentum to stop itself. The woman behind the counter screamed as the nightwing crashed through the canopy cover, and ceramic goods shattered and pieces went flying.
The creature landed on its shoulder right beside Ophelia, so massive in the tiny stall that it floundered trying to get back up while she scurried away from it and to her feet. She burst out of the stall right as Gerald reached it, and his hand closed around her wrist, whipping her to a halt and toward him. It was panicked instinct that she altered the air around her free palm as she thrust it against his chest, adding so much force to the blow that he hit the ground several feet back and rolled backwards several more.
And she kept running, altering the air around her to give herself more speed, bystanders gasping or shouting profanities at her when she blundered by, leaving havoc in her wake. She nearly knocked over an old man leaving a stall and managed to roll around him, using the chance to glance behind her. Gerald had lost ground, but Abner, Piers, and a couple of other crew members from Philip’s ship were still in pursuit. And the nightwing… she couldn’t see-
Several terrified screams sounded ahead of her as something slammed into the ground so hard a cloud of dust went up from the dirt. Ophelia skidded to a halt, finding herself face to face with the nightwing as the dust cleared, its ears forward and its teeth bared.
Sprinting footsteps stopped several yards behind her, and the Summoner called, “Give it up, Miss Parker. ”
She turned around, still fully aware of the razor-sharp teeth at her back, and faced Abner and the others. “I’m not in rebellion,” she pleaded, “and I’m not a pirate. I’m a doctor . Please, I’m begging you, just let me go. I’m not a threat to Sovereign.”
“You’re a Caster,” Abner said, taking a step forward as the nightwing’s nose shoved her in the back. “With your training, you’re a threat to whoever you want.”
“I’m a doctor !” she emphasized again. Abner didn’t say anything to that, just took another step forward as she held out her hand to warn him off. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t,” he said, “and give it up.”
They stared at each other for a handful of long, tense moments while Ophelia stood in the shadow of the nightwing, the beat of its glowing heart so loud and close that she felt it in her own chest. She had no other choice. She pulled moisture out of the air and collected it in her palm, and then whirled around and drove her fist into the nightwing’s chest, closing her fingers around its heart as the moisture froze. The nightwing’s screech was cut short as Abner struggled to draw in an agonized gasp, but that was cut short too, and he fell to his knees as he clutched at his own chest.
“Devina Parker!” Gerald shouted, finally catching up and pushing through to the front of the crowd to stand beside Abner. “Stop this!”
She didn’t let go, even as Abner’s lips turned purple. “My name is Ophelia,” she said. “You can tell that to the warrant office when you tell them they can take your contract and shove it.”
Gerald’s jaw clenched as he looked from her to Abner, who wouldn’t last much longer if she kept her grip. He knew it, too, but unfortunately for Ophelia, he wasn’t intimidated, and Abner nodded at him. “Get him warm immediately,” he said to the crew of Philip’s ship as he pulled a fluid-filled vial out of his pocket.
He popped the cork with his thumb and downed the maroon contents of the vigor potion in one shot, and the veins in his neck grew as the entirety of his eyes turned a dark, blood red. That potion doubled his strength, speed, and reflexes, and while she didn’t plan on engaging him in a fight, it would make it harder to run.
And the very next moment, he was running. Ophelia released the nightwing just as quickly, turning on her heels to resume the chase, altering as much wind behind her as she possibly could to keep the small bit of distance from Gerald that she had. They left any other pursuers behind as they weaved through groups of people, but every time she risked a glance back, Gerald seemed closer.
She didn’t want to fight, but she would if she had to. She just had to make sure no one else would be hurt if they did.
They finally burst out the other side of the market into a less crowded street, and with more space and not having to maneuver around people, she picked up speed. It might have even worked, because Gerald had lost ground. But she glanced back just in time to see that he’d grabbed the lid off a barrel and had already hurled it at her.
She didn’t have time to react and avoid it. It crashed into the back of her right calf so hard it knocked her forward, and she hit the ground belly first and went tumbling over her shoulders until she rolled to a stop, choking on the seizing pain in her ribcage from the fall. As she pushed onto her bloodied elbows and struggled for air, she was vaguely aware that Gerald was still sprinting at her, and she realized almost too late that she had to do something about it. She took in an agonizing, wheezed gasp as he got close, and then slammed both fists into the ground, sending a powerful shockwave through the dirt. And when the crest of that wave reached his feet, it shot him straight into the air.
He went flying over her head, crashing to the ground behind her and sliding down the street. When he finally stopped, he was choking for air the same way she had been, and he pushed onto to his knees as she did too, both of them panting, both of them scraped and bruised.
He got one foot under him as she did, and they both stood at the same time. But while she took several steps back so there was twenty feet between them and was ready to run again, his blood red eyes glared and he drew the pistol from his belt, making several of the people who’d stopped to watch the commotion shout for authorities. She reacted by reaching into her bag and yanking her dagger out, hovering it above her hand and ready to send it flying as Gerald cocked the hammer of his pistol.
“I thought you needed me alive,” she said.
He took a few sideways steps, and she did the same to keep him directly in front of her as they rotated. “I do.” Several soldiers ran up and stopped, and without taking his eyes off her, he pulled the shoulder of his tunic down to show them his mark. “I’m a sanctioned bounty hunter, you will not interfere!” And they faded obediently into the crowd .
“You can’t catch me,” Ophelia said as Piers finally caught up to them, and Gerald motioned for him to stop before getting too close. “I’ve been holding back, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, I know,” he growled. “But we’ve been after you for years . Too damn long to let you go now that we’ve found you.”
His jaw worked back and forth for a moment while his trigger finger tapped the side of his pistol, and then he whirled around, grabbing a boy from the crowd of people who’d stopped to watch. It was a teenager, a boy who couldn’t have been older than fourteen, and Gerald held him tight while he pressed the barrel of his pistol to the boy’s temple.
“Don’t!” Ophelia shouted. Gerald didn’t fire, but he lifted his eyebrows at her expectantly. “You wouldn’t…”
“I am a chief bounty hunter with Sovereign authority to do whatever I deem necessary to apprehend dangerous subjects,” he said. “As a deserter and a Caster, that means you.”
The boy’s eyes were already full of tears as he struggled to no avail. Gerald was too strong for him to get free, and the bystanders looked too afraid of the consequences to intervene.
“He’s just a kid,” Ophelia pleaded.
“And if you don’t drop your knife and let Piers put those chains on you,” he gestured briefly with his pistol, “his death’s on you.”
“Please don’t do this.”
“One,” Gerald counted. She shook her head as tears filled her eyes. “Two.”
“ Please .”
“I won’t ask again,” he said.
A single tear slid down her cheek as she accepted what this meant. What the consequences of this might be.
“Thr-”
“Alright!” she yelled, letting the knife fall with her chin. “Alright.”
Gerald kept his pistol pressed to the boy’s head. “No sudden moves,” he said.
And she stood still while Piers stepped up to her. He slipped the belt-like chain with two cuffs on it over one shoulder and her head, so that it was wrapped crossways around her body. Then he pulled one arm behind her and secured it in a cuff at her lower back, locking her other wrist in the cuff in front at her chest. It wasn’t the easiest way to bind a witch during a fight, but the thorough separation of her hands meant that she couldn’t do magic, and that was it. She was caught, and Gerald released the boy and the hammer of his pistol at the same time and paced over to them.
“You’re a monster,” she spat.
“The boy was never in danger,” he said, fingering a fresh, blood-stained tear in his shirt.
“You were-” She let out a pained huff of breath and fell to her knees. “You were bluffing.”
“About my authority? No.” He squatted down, his red eyes meeting hers. “But I’m a bounty hunter, not a murderer.”
“You’re making a mistake,” she sniffled.
“Whether or not that’s true is above my paygrade,” he said. He set his hand under her elbow and, far gentler than he’d been only a minute ago, guided her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
And as they began to lead her back to the docks, she couldn’t decide what was a worse — if Sovereign wanted her back to try and force her into service, or to hang her for deserting.