Chapter 25 Maximus #3
There was no time to savor victory. I sprinted toward the ladder, shouting for Ariella and Willy to follow.
We reached the engine room in record time.
My prosthetic leg locked up as I froze in the doorway, my body temporarily unable to process what my eyes were seeing. Then the mechanism clicked back into function, mirroring the snap in my mind from shock to murderous intent.
The engine room had been transformed into a chamber of horrors.
Kaspar hung suspended from a metal framework that had been crudely welded to the main engine housing, his wrists bound with copper wire that cut into his flesh.
His head hung forward, that vibrant ginger hair obscuring his face like a funeral shroud, his body occasionally twitching with involuntary spasms. A faint blue glow emanated from beneath his skin, tracing the pathways of his veins like a macabre map.
Two thick cables, each as wide as my wrist, extended from the pulsing heart of the engine to the base of Kaspar’s spine.
They’d torn his shirt away and attached the cables directly to his flesh using what looked like modified surgical clamps, the connection points already angry and inflamed.
With each pulse of energy that flowed from his body to the engine, the massive engine-grade fluxstone at the center glowed with an intensity I’d never witnessed—a blue so bright it hurt to look at directly, vibrating at a frequency that made the metal deck plates hum beneath our feet.
Butcher stood nearby, arms crossed over his massive chest, a triumphant smile splitting his face. Murray, held at knifepoint by Jimmy, stood to the side, his face pale with horror or guilt—perhaps both.
The engine-grade fluxstone at the heart of the apparatus pulsed with energy—not the steady blue glow I was accustomed to, but a violent, almost blinding azure that cast everything in an eerie light. It hummed at a frequency that made my teeth ache.
My vision narrowed to a tunnel, the edges going black.
Something primal tore through my chest—a rage so pure it burned away thought, burned away strategy, burned away everything but the need to get to him.
I would rip the ship apart with my bare hands, tear through flesh and metal alike, whatever it took to free him.
Nothing else mattered. Not even my own life.
“Butcher!” Ariella spat, finding her voice whereas mine was still locked with rage. “You monster!”
“Look at this, would ya?” Butcher sneered, gesturing at Kaspar’s suspended form with sick pride. “Little flux-freak’s gonna power us all the way to Asteris and beyond!”
The veins in Kaspar’s neck bulged blue-white with each pulse of energy the machine siphoned from him. His lips had taken on a bluish tinge that made my stomach clench.
“Get away from him,” I growled, my hand tightening around my sword hilt.
Butcher’s eyes widened slightly at my appearance—blood-spattered and murderous—but his arrogance quickly reasserted itself. “Where’s the captain?”
“Standing right in front of you,” I stated flatly. “Viper’s dead. Like you’ll be if you don’t step away from Ghost right now.”
Jimmy pressed his knife harder against Murray’s throat, drawing a gasp from the man. “You’re lying! Viper ain’t dead!”
“Just drop your weapons and surrender!” Ariella spat, her slim frame vibrating with rage as she stepped forward.
Butcher’s face twisted into a sneer. “You don’t tell me what to do, little bitch.”
“Don’t you dare call her a bitch!” Willy all but screamed, launching himself at Butcher with a speed that made me cry out.
The boy collided with Butcher’s massive frame, his momentum enough to stagger the larger man back a step. Butcher recovered quickly, swinging a meaty fist that Willy barely ducked. The boy countered with a swift jab to Butcher’s kidney that made the man grunt in pain.
From somewhere above, a streak of copper-gray fur shot down like a bolt of lightning. Sprocket landed squarely on Jimmy’s arm, sharp teeth sinking into the hand that held the knife to Murray’s throat. Jimmy howled, the blade clattering to the deck as the vexling’s nimble fingers clawed at his face.
Ariella rushed to help Willy while I charged toward Murray, who had already lifted his wrench in violence. The engineer swung hard, connecting with Jimmy’s temple as the man tried to dislodge Sprocket from his arm.
It was over swiftly. Another bash of Murray’s heavy wrench to Jimmy’s head, followed by my prosthetic leg crushing his windpipe, and he was gone.
By the time I turned, Butcher was also lying face down, motionless.
Crimson blood streamed from Willy’s nose, face pale, as he leaned into Ariella, who had her arm around his shoulders.
Willy tried to talk, his words thick through his broken nose. “How do we get Ghost off that?”
I turned to Murray, my voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “Get him down. Please.”
Murray’s face was grim as he approached the horrific apparatus. “I gotta warn you, Reaper, I’m not entirely sure if he’ll ever wake up again, even if we unplug him. I don’t know the ins and outs of these things.”
“Well, surely sooner is better than later. Get a move on!” Ariella shouted, her voice cracking with emotion.
Tense silence filled the engine room as Murray worked, his thick fingers moving with surprising delicacy among the wires and clamps.
Throughout it, I held Ghost’s hand, pressing soft kisses to each of his knuckles in turn.
His skin felt cool beneath my lips, too cool, like marble rather than living flesh.
“Uh… what the actual—” Willy started, before Ariella elbowed him into silence. He continued to mutter grumblings under his breath, likely having put the pieces together about Ariella’s fabricated rumors.
“Almost got it,” Murray muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he carefully disconnected the first of the thick cables from the base of Kaspar’s spine.
The blue light flickered, dimming slightly.
“Need to shut down the power conduits before I remove the second one, or the feedback might kill him instantly.”
Murray moved to the control panel, throwing switches and turning dials. The humming that had filled the room gradually subsided, the painful vibration easing from my bones. The engine-grade fluxstone’s blinding azure glow faded to a softer blue, then to a gentle pulse, like a heartbeat slowing.
“Now,” Murray said, returning to Kaspar. With the utmost care, he severed the remaining wires, one by one.
Yet Kaspar’s eyes didn’t open.
Blood poured from the wounds as Murray removed the attachments that had been buried deep in Kaspar’s lovely skin. Dark crimson stained his pale freckled back, pooling at the base of his spine.
“Ariella,” I managed, my voice a rasp. “Go—”
“I’ll see what’s in Stitches’s cupboard!” she said, already moving toward the door.
“The restraints,” I said to Murray, who nodded grimly and began working on the metal digging into Kaspar’s wrists.
When the last restraint fell away, Kaspar slumped forward.
I caught him, easing his limp form down as Murray helped lower him to the deck.
We laid him gently on the ground, curled onto his side, his head cradled in my lap.
Willy ripped off his own shirt, pressing it against Kaspar’s back, where blood flowed freely, creating a small puddle on the wood.
Kaspar’s eyes remained stubbornly closed, and my thundering heart sank further.
I brushed damp ginger hair from his forehead, noting how the blue glow beneath his skin had faded to almost nothing. His freckles stood out starkly against skin gone ashen gray.
“Ghost,” I whispered, pressing kisses to his forehead, tasting salt and copper. “Kaspar. Come back to me.”
He didn’t move—he didn’t so much as twitch, his breathing so shallow and quiet that I barely felt the rise and fall of his chest.
I cradled Kaspar’s lifeless body, my fingers trembling as they traced the contours of his face, mapping those lovely freckles I now knew better than the back of my own hand. This was it then. I’d failed him.
Weeks ago, when he tried to run away at Duskwater Harbor, I’d stopped him. I’d begged him to stay with me, promising I’d protect him, get him to Asteris safe and sound.
If only I’d not been so selfish, if only I’d let him leave, take his chances with another crew, one with a less volatile captain.
Then he’d still be alive.
I’d done this.
I’d killed him.
My stomach lurched violently, acid burning the back of my throat as I fought to keep bile down.
The shaking started in my hands first, then spread through my arms to my shoulders, my entire body quaking with the effort of containing the howl building in my chest. I bit down hard on my lower lip.
Blood. Copper. Pain. Anything to ground me as I struggled not to fall apart.
I pressed my forehead to Kaspar’s, willing warmth back into his skin, silently bargaining with any goddess who might be listening. Take my other leg. Take both arms. Take everything I have left. Just give him back.
The door burst open as Ariella rushed back in, arms laden with bandages and a small leather case of Stitches’s surgical tools. She knelt beside us, grabbing Kaspar’s wrist to find his pulse.
“It’s all my fault,” I confessed. “I did this.”
“It’s only been a minute, Reap—”
“No, he’s gone,” I hissed, through the lump in my throat. “And it’s my fault.”
Ariella placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, her touch almost unbearable against my raw nerves. “I’ll try to stop the bleeding,” she said, already reaching for Willy’s makeshift compress. “We can clean and bandage the wound properly.”
I tightened my grip on Kaspar, cradling him against me while she applied a thick, green-tinged salve to the wound. The pungent smell of herbs filled the air. Ariella then pressed a clean pad over the area and began wrapping bandages around his torso, her movements precise and gentle.
“There,” she said, securing the final wrap. “That should hold for now.”
Murray stood back, giving us space, while Willy hovered anxiously at the edge of our small circle. No one spoke. The only sound beyond the occasional noise from up above was the creaking of the ship and the shallow, almost imperceptible whisper of Kaspar’s breathing.
We waited, suspended in that terrible moment between hope and despair.
Ten heartbeats passed. Twenty. Fifty.
Then Kaspar’s chest heaved with a sudden, violent intake of breath, his body jerking in my arms. His lips parted, releasing a feeble moan that sounded like music to my ears.
“Kayla…” he whispered, so faint I could barely hear him. His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. “Kayla, run…”
My heart stuttered back to life, relief flooding my veins like wildfire. I cupped his face, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones.
“Kaspar? Can you hear me?”
“Cody,” he mumbled, head rolling weakly against my palm. “Where are you, Cody? Don’t…”
His words slurred together, fragments of consciousness breaking through the fog. I held him tighter, afraid he might slip away again if I loosened my grip.
“It’s me,” I whispered, voice breaking. “I’m here.”
“Max…” The name escaped his lips like a prayer. “Max…”
Behind me, Willy snorted. “Max? Who’s Max?! Sorry, Reaper, sounds like you’ve got competition.”
“Shut up, Willy,” Ariella hissed.
I barely registered their exchange, my entire world narrowing to the man in my arms. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks, falling onto Kaspar’s face like rain. I didn’t bother wiping them away or hiding them from the others. Let them see. Let the whole damn ship see.
Slowly, painfully, Kaspar’s eyes flickered open. Those emerald depths, bright as the first shoots of spring after the harshest winter, found mine and held. In that gaze lay entire worlds—pain and fear giving way to recognition, then relief so profound it stole my breath.
In all my years sailing the endless skies, I’d never seen anything more beautiful than those eyes opening again.
Ariella, Willy, and Murray be damned, I brought his mouth to mine. I kissed him with everything I had, pouring all my fear and relief and love into that single, desperate connection.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless, Kaspar lifted a trembling hand to my cheek. His fingers traced the wetness there, a weak smile touching his lips.
“Max,” he whispered, voice hoarse but stronger now. “I knew you’d come. I knew you’d save me.”
“Ohhh,” Willy breathed. “I see.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Ariella muttered.
I gently stood, gathering Kaspar’s limp form in my arms. His weight felt right against my chest, like he belonged there. Like we were two broken pieces that somehow fit together perfectly.
“I’m taking him to my room,” I announced, my voice raw but steady. “Ariella, go sort the crew out. Get the bilge rats on mopping the blood off the deck. Throw everyone who supports Viper overboard if they’re not going to pledge loyalty. And most importantly, ensure that we’re left alone.”
Kaspar’s head lolled against my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck. Each exhale was a gift, a reminder that he was still here, still fighting. I tightened my grip, careful of the wounds on his back.
Ariella nodded, her face set with determination. She took three large strides toward the door.
“Wait,” I called after her.
She turned, one eyebrow raised. “What?”
A certainty had shifted into place inside me. The Black Wraith needed a captain who would protect their crew, not sacrifice them. And I needed someone at my side I could trust completely.
“Ariella Tavendale, will you do me the honor of being my first mate?”
Her eyes widened, genuine shock flashing across her features before her face broke into a smile.
“It would be my honor, Captain,” she replied, the title rolling off her tongue as if she’d been waiting to say it. “It would be my honor.”