Chapter 30
S O R E N
“ W hat do you mean, Anya’s missing?” Bones snaps, his voice sharp with disbelief. His thoughts immediately flood to Kathleen, the image of a blonde woman saturating his mind. He’s worried she’s in danger .
“You’re not worried about Jane?” I ask, briefly narrowing my gaze on the surrounding environment before focusing entirely on him.
He tuts, looking around the chaotic space. Dogs weave between broken branches and muddy footprints, noses to the ground, hunting for a trail neither Basilisk nor I can follow, seeing as the jungle nearly suffocates us. “I mean, sure,” Bones mutters, his tone dismissive, but his aura betrays that with clear unease. “But it sounds like they can’t kill her right away. Anya is dead weight to them,” he remarks, genuine concern in his heart, his mismatched eyes meeting mine. “You said Cypress visited Jane? I bet that witch gave her a leg up, and Jane is crafty. It’s not like we aren’t going to go after her, either.”
I don’t reply. My mind and body are pulled in too many directions. Sure, he has a point. Jane isn’t most people; I know that. And yet the thought of her suffering, of her enduring horrors I can’t protect her from, drives a cold blade into my gut. When I get her back— not if, when —she might be a mess of scars. I can heal her. I will heal her.
I do hear Bones, too. Anya is at a massive risk of being murdered.
“How did this happen?” Bones asks, nodding to the shanty where a few of Tempest’s men stand.
“While you were surveying the space, I was with the others when suddenly everything about Jane went silent . There was only one set of footprints, so she willingly went into the jungle. She left a note,” I say, pausing when I remember how she signed it. “Said she heard sirens singing. She seemed to know it meant Misery. And that Cypress gave her a task.”
“That batty old bitch just can’t stop meddling.”
“She has to be using Jane. The letter mentioned that if Jane told any of us about it, it would possibly get us killed. That sounds convenient .”
“Jane’s smarter than that.”
“ I know , which means I think Cypress didn’t give her a choice. I think Cypress forced Jane’s hand, and is going to use her like she fucking uses the rest of us.” It doesn’t matter what Basilisk said, the way I feel so much guilt for not forcing it out of Jane is nearly every other thought in my mind. I didn’t protect her from Cypress.
I don’t care if they’re supposed to be related.
It’s just like my sister; if I had demanded to know what lured her away…
“Can’t believe the God of Misery is your deity,” Bones comments, like it’s an intrusive thought he couldn’t control. His laugh falters when he realizes I find none of that humorous.
Basilisk, who leans on a building right next to us, clears his throat. “It’s because, in the old days, he used people like us to figure out what made someone miserable, and we’d be in charge of ensuring they were tortured in ways that fed him most. People’s misery is what fuels him.”
I snap my gaze toward him, the implications of his words like cold water over a fire. “When did you learn that?”
“Across the Black Sea. There’s Sensors that actually worship him. They’re idiots though—he wants to off our kind. We’re a threat, now that he’s in his physical form. Our powers are essentially wide open to changing however the fuck they want to. He’s an old, useless god, so not many know of him, at least outside of the sagas of his previous reigns. I had to search deep for those truths.”
There isn’t even a point to let Basilisk get to me right now, tensing at that revelation. Is that why Cypress’s rubies affected me so greatly?
Ritter’s arrival disrupts my spiraling thoughts. His energy is an absolute mess inside of him, his glare smoldering with unconfined fury. He’s fresh from the jungle, his clothes streaked with dirt and sweat, and the murderous look in his eyes is a storm in of itself…
He returned right when the hounds showed up and disappeared into the jungle once more to help search for Jane, while I uselessly stand here, trying to deconstruct it all, piece by piece.
“Enjoying standing there?” he asks, everything about him pure venom, his words aiming to wound.
I meet his glare, holding my ground. “What’s your point, Ritter?”
“I trusted you. Jane trusted you,” he snarls, closing the distance between us in two strides. “You couldn’t tell my daughter had that planned?” He’s so close now I can see the dark circles under his eyes. “You forgot to read that?”
Now I just want to piss him off in return; the accusations slicing deep at an already open wound. I lean into my next words, my tone deliberately calm and taunting. “No,” I say, shrugging slightly. “She told me Cypress visited her, actually. In your tunnels. Without any of us knowing. You’re the one that brought that witch into this.”
Ritter’s eyes flare wide, then narrow to slits. His hands twitch at his sides, like he might actually try to strike me.
“We don’t have a healer, now,” I add coldly. “So think twice before stabbing me.”
“You say that like you don’t even give a shit,” he hisses.
I get so close to his face that I can smell the jungle on him. “We are waiting on Tempest, and once we have a plan, you’ll see how much of a shit I give when anyone associated with her disappearance is going to suffer .”
Deathly cold eyes don’t seem entirely convinced, but I can feel he doesn’t quite know what to do, either. His energy is all over, scattered by a father’s fear for his child?—
Tempest .
The enigmatic oceanic pirate queen is nearby, but her energy is different. It’s incensed . She feels like what I imagine a hurricane would if it had emotions. “Tempest is coming,” I say to Ritter without even looking at him as I stare in the direction that she should appear in.
He bites back so much that he wants to sling my way, but clearly thinks better of it.
We’re all ready for slaughter.
Tempest storms up the path, her dark eyes wide and scanning the area. The cutlasses of at least two dozen pirates glint at their hips as they follow behind her, but her fury outshines every blade. “Why do I have people telling me Misery was here?” she barks out, lowering her head to block out the sun rather than squint when she faces us. “And you’re all just standing here.”
“Maybe some conversations are best had in private,” I suggest.
“Then get your asses in one of these shanties, now ,” she demands, motioning to any of them. “Just Ritter and Soren.”
Ritter and I exchange looks, because Tempest scolding someone is more like being flayed alive by her words, and we’re both already pissed off as it is. I pick the closest door to me, feeling no one inside, and enter it. The warm breeze of the ocean enters through an open window; such a contrast to the cold shore of Skull’s Row.
We’re far from home.
Tempest enters, her gaze flicking between us with lethal precision. “If Misery had access to my island and I didn’t even know about it, someone is going to die.”
“Then start digging a grave, because that’s what happened,” I reply, my mouth unable to shut the fuck up.
She gives a slow, languid blink, her eyes rolling under her lids to look at me, before she tilts her head. “This isn’t Skull’s Row, boy. I can flay your skin and make a rug out of you, and none of your men could stop me.”
Boy ? What is she, ten years my senior? Same age as Basilisk?
Everything in me tells me to be as succinct as possible with her, as if I have limited time to convince her not to kill me. “Misery is, apparently, my deity—” that doesn’t seem to surprise her, not even a flicker of interest inside of her “—which means when I tried to follow Jane, the jungle made it impossible for me to stay. Basilisk has a shadow cat?—”
“—yes, she visited me frequently,” Tempest interjects, her hand slicing the air dismissively, as though this information bores her, and she wants me to get to the point.
“—and the feline saw what happened,” I say, trying to maintain my composure. “Misery and Blackwell, along with their henchmen, took Jane and Anya on a longboat, both of them incapacitated. Basilisk claims they’re heading to Ashfire?—”
“RASMUS! Get in here!”
How the fuck does she know his name?
Basilisk enters, glaring hard at Tempest, who is the shortest in the space, and yet she seems to somehow tower over us with her energy.
“I have a reputation that no one says my name,” Basilisk warns through tight lips, his eyes livid as his forefinger moves between us. “So stop fucking using it. If I kill any of you, I don’t get my harpy killer, and I’m not leaving without it.”
I swear one of Tempest’s eyes twitches. “I don’t give a fuck about harpies. What I care about is that I just heard they’re going to Ashfire, and you know this how?”
My gaze drops to the mask at her hip, trying to cling to anything that might aid us here. But the connection between us feels useless, especially as her mask sits and waits. Just like mine.
The Council of Zenith feels entirely fractured now.
“When Jasmine saw they took her, there were a few with the fire emblem on their armor. I am piecing the puzzles together in my assumption.”
I face Tempest, knowing I need her good side. “We will need ships. I don’t know what the plan is, but we will need something to get there.”
“You want to use my ships to storm Ashfire?” she asks, like we’re beggars asking for a crown. As if no one would dare suggest such a thing.
Ritter leans forward, and all I can feel from him is a desire to cut every ounce of fat from this conversation so he can focus on Jane. “Aye. Misery took Jane. If we don’t go for Misery, he will fuck over the entirety of the Balar Coasts. You know this.”
I glare at her to try and read her to the best of my ability. Tempest looks at me, as if she could feel that. “You’re always trying to rip people’s souls apart to read them better. What is your take on this?”
“Misery can’t have the Balar Coasts. You’ve heard of the Tormented Ages.”
“Aye. They were so long ago only the faintest scars remain of it,” she says, but some of her confidence is waning like a crack in her veneer. Tempest sighs once more, touching the wolf fangs around her neck. “I aided you all because I owed Ritter . And I enjoyed fucking over Misery in the process. But now , he was on my lands, and I didn’t even know. None of that would have happened if it weren’t for you lot.”
We all remain silent, and I don’t know of many people who have existed next to two Sensors and remained a mystery.
“Something seems off,” she states, flitting her gaze between the three of us as she paces. “Something is connecting all three of you. What is it? I want to know before I offer my ships. I run a bunch of pirates, not knights, and my ships come with my terms. If you want them, you’ll need to earn them. Perhaps even beg for it with how much I’m about to risk.”
Ritter aggressively laces his fingers together, jutting his jaw to the side, and says, “You’ve grown to enjoy flattery, I see. You used to abhor that behavior.”
Her grin flashes a few of her gold-covered teeth. “I’ve grown to appreciate it,” she croons. “I’ll consider aiding you. Once you tell me how you know this information, then we can have a real conversation.”
Jane is out there, right now, a prisoner of Misery. So is Anya.
“We need more than consideration,” I press.
I can already tell that using the relationship of all three of us being a Zenith will mean nothing to her here. She’s a pirate, in her own lands.
“Or what?” she scoffs. “You’ll steal it?”
“You need us,” I reply, my tone resolute. “Are you going to storm Ashfire alone? You’re not far from the Fire Isles. This will greatly impact everything you do if Misery conquers us now.”
Her lips hover open, licking the bottom one as she stares at me. “You need me more.”
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Ritter says, pacing in the small space. “Either you need us or you don’t. And either you will give us your ships, or you won’t. But I have to figure out what I’m doing with Jane’s predicament, and preferably before the fucking sun sets.”
Ritter reaches into his pocket, his energy completely silencing from me. It’s like he’s doing it subconsciously, the act barely intentional.
He’s unraveling in there.
Tempest’s eyes widen, her brows shooting upward, her expression a mixture of shock and fury. “The hells is that?” she hisses, her voice low and hateful, looking at his pocket. “Is that why I feel her? You brought Cypress into this?”
Pure, angry heat leaks from Ritter, his composure smooth like a scorpion’s shell. But I can tell it’s close to shattering, and I’m honestly amazed Tempest can recognize that. “What do you mean?”
“I can sense when her magic is around us, especially in use. Something in your pocket belongs to her.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Tempest scoffs, the lines around her mouth deepening with disgust. “I won’t work with her. She’s poison . And you brought her to my island. Are you working with her? Is that what connects all of you? There’s more to this than those earrings, isn’t there? You lied .”
I frown. “I hate the cunt just as much as the next person, but she’s a means to an end.”
Tempest growls at us, her breathing deep and heavy. “Get the fuck out of here, and don’t ask for my ships ever again. I allowed the earrings because I knew it was sentimental. Anything else is a betrayal .”
Ritter bites his bottom lip, the tension in the air changing in its undercurrents like violent riptides. “What are you talking about?” he spits out.
“Fuck Cypress and her magic,” the ocean queen replies. “If she’s involved, then this will all be ruined. She’s as selfish as Misery, and I won’t let her spin me into her webs.” She throws her hand in the direction of the door. “ Out . I won’t tolerate this. I’ve already given you two weeks at sea on my ship. We are more than even.”
The longer we stand there, the more I can feel our energy poisoning this relationship. The thought of Cypress is destroying Tempest, unraveling her like I’ve never seen before, like someone who has spotted a ghost and just wants to get away.
I motion for Ritter to leave, and Basilisk is already moving.
For a moment, it seems as if Ritter might remain and risk a fight. I understand that desperation, that deep need to beat sense into any and all around to get what we need. When Tempest’s mask shifts on her hip, as if she might don it, Ritter heaves a sigh and storms to the door, busting it open with his shoulder to the point it’s nearly ripped off the hinges.
Tempest yells after us, “If you break my door, you’re paying for it, Ritter!” She steps out. “You lot have two days, and I want you off this island!”
I follow Ritter as he storms out of Tempest’s room. “You better have a good explanation for why you put that ring on,” I demand.
“It was mindless,” he says, glaring at me. “I didn’t want to feel your invasion any longer.” A semblance of his control is breaking, his eyes giving that away. “I let Cypress do her work, and now Jane is in danger. More than ever. But I’m tied to her, and we need Tempest. So why the fuck did we leave and not even fight for those ships?” Ritter faces me, hand on his hilt, that ring of Cypress’s gleaming as if that witch is proud of her chaos. “I’ll gut you here and now if this leads to Jane’s undoing.”
I nearly laugh as I step near him. He means it, too. I don’t need to feel him to know that.
“I’m already planning how to set that entire island on fire, Ritter. For every bruise, cut, or sad look Jane has from them, I will find those men and take them home with me so they can never know rest, after slitting the throats of the rest.”
“The fuck you doing with my daughter?” he asks, like he’s angry at himself for letting me near her, or determined to confirm I might actually be a source of salvation. “ Really doing with her?”
Like hells I can admit what I really feel to him . I couldn’t even say it to her. With more love than I knew I’d have … “She means something to me that no one else has, and it’s not more complicated than that.”
“Do you love her?” he asks, his voice almost desperate.
I’m so uncomfortable I might as well be sitting on a bed of nails, especially with Basilisk right here, even if that bastard knows the truth just through what he can feel. This is such an invasion of my heart and desires, striking at something so vulnerable in me, and it’s her father . But I know—it bleeds from his gaze—that if I do, he'll trust me.
And we need each other right now.
“Clearly,” I state.
The idea of her being alone, wondering if she believes if we’re coming for her or not, or if she believes herself to be abandoned, twists my entrails like I’m being dried out.
“Then what is your plan?” he asks, like he’s exhausted of always having one himself. “Now that we don’t have ships and are stuck on this island.”
“Tempest won’t budge,” Basilisk says, as enigmatic in his presence as his cat. “I felt her. We need to leave her be, or it will make everything worse.”
Inhaling deeply and looking up at the puffy clouds above, I hope the very man I need is looking at the same ones right now. “I know where we can get a ship,” I say, motioning to move forward and further from anyone who might be listening. “We need to act fast. Get our men out of here before Tempest turns hers against ours. As long as nothing has gone wrong, we’ll get out of here on Storm’s Fury.”
My gaze finds the ocean.
I always have contingencies.
One of the tasks I gave Anya was to secure a ship that would trail our shadow until this was all said and done, to even offer as much loot as I possibly can—a chance at Blackwell’s coffers.
The captain of Storm’s Fury would love to steal what Blackwell has.The captain is a man named William Rackham, known as Liam. Our success hangs on a very fine thread, one that makes me far too uncomfortable. If the deal is still upheld with Liam, then that captain is out there. Waiting.
One of my men carries a hawk, something that we use for situations such as these. Like most things within my circle, the bird flies with magic in its wings. As long as someone has one of the beacons made for it, the hawk can find them.
By the time dusk is approaching, we’re all sitting on the shore, listening to the ocean waves, the hawk having returned by now with a confirmation that he’s out there, and he’s supposed to be sending longboats.
We were not allowed to use the harbor.
“You’re lucky I don’t take you to an island and maroon you.” It seems involving Cypress is the way to piss off the pirate queen, something I’ll remind myself that could be used as a weakness should it come to it.
Although threatening Tempest is something that scares shit out of me, but I’d do it if it comes down to it.
“That’s definitely a ship,” Basilisk says. Relief allows me to breathe easier, fucking thankful for Anya managing to find Storm’s Fury’s captain in such a short span of time.
I’m coming for you too, Anya.
The cat standing next to Basilisk purrs, to which I glance over and stare into the feline’s eyes, the yellow things harboring the same judgement as Cypress.
“Seriously, when did you get that cat?” That feline’s energy like a prickly shadow, almost as if it can tell I’m not overly fond of pets.
“Someone gave her to me,” he bluntly replies, the softer glow of a setting sun giving a golden cast on everyone.
“There’s more to that story. We have time,” I say, motioning to the ship that’s still in the distance. I can’t even see a longboat that will get us to it, just that the giant vessel is there.
“ Obviously there’s a story. Don’t know if I want to share it.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t need a reason.” He shifts his position, chewing on his lower lip before sighing. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. You used to have a vendetta to save Serena, and now you seem to have abandoned that.”
“ Don’t ,” I warn, not even wanting to proffer up a threat, not wanting to dive deep into those complexities, or how Cypress has basically forced me here even if I didn’t want to be. “Things change.”
“So they do,” he comments, the cat purring against his leg. I can’t tell if its presence makes him mad or not.
“That thing is obsessed with you,” I pry, wanting to see what that stirs within him.
Oh . There’s something much deeper in there, unrelated to Jasmine. “I’m very aware.”
Basilisk's presence is such an odd one for me. It’s like when nostalgia paws at the brain, but revisiting home just isn’t the same anymore. The mentorship I had with him is officially in our shared past. And yet I value that asshole, because the experience he has is not one many survive to revel in.
I stare back out at the ship known as Storm’s Fury. If I’m not mistaken, there’s roughly five total vessels that are known to frequently cross the Black Sea, and this is one.
Basilisk even used it to get here.
I’m not a holy man, but I’ll make whatever deal with whatever god is interested to torture Misery for an eternity if he actually harms Jane. Even if it’s Tempest’s god himself. Even Cypress’s.
Heat sears my veins, so much so that I want to rip my shirt off and toss it to the cold sands, but I leave it on. It doesn’t help that I’m sweating under these leathers, my vest and armor in a bag that I’m not ready to don yet. Swiping at my face, feeling the stubble that lines it, I can’t calm down. I’m restless, agitated, and so fucking ready to kill someone.
I reach to my hip and feel the skull mask, gripping it to place it on my face. Anya’s energy is so faint, but it hasn’t disappeared. If they’re in Ashfire?—
I feel the energy of the men on the small boats before I see the top of their heads on the water, their bodies like dots until they’re close enough that the waves beach their ships.Their presence means this is only a delay, not a setback. I close my eyes and exhale before making my way toward the boats.
You’re not alone, Jane. I’m coming.