Chapter 8 The blood on my hands is of my soul now
The blood on my hands is
of my soul now
~Unknown
I’d made a mess of myself. I wasn’t used to feeding fully clothed and now I was forced to cover my bloodied shirt with my coat so I didn’t draw any unwanted attention.
I walked back to the square, wiping my mouth and any remaining blood off my lips with my fingers before I sank into the crowds. Luckily, Thorpes wasn’t exactly known for having the most observant individuals and many of them weren’t too keen on asking questions.
Perhaps I was just rotten enough to blend in.
I surveyed the crowd, searching for Vidar’s familiar, golden hair.
When I found him leaning against a wall beneath a broken bell, Gus and Mullins by his side, I took a step forward to meet him.
His arms were crossed over his broad chest, but the rest of him was casual and at ease in that horrid cesspool of a port.
I took a shallow breath, trying to ignore the stench of piss and ale around me as I approached him.
As I was closing my coat over my bloodied shirt again, his eyes caught sight of me and suddenly I had his full attention.
“What happened?” he asked, gripping the collar of my coat to part the material and get a good look at the stained fabric beneath.
"It’s not mine,” I said.
“Not exactly subtle.”
I cocked my head. “Did you hear the screams?”
He narrowed his eyes and I could hear Gus behind him let out a little chortle. “She’s got us there.”
“Are you hurt?” Vidar said.
“Of course not.”
He took one last breath and then forced a crooked smile onto his lips. He lifted his hands halfway toward my face before stopping himself and lowering them back down. Then, as if trying to find a happy medium, he put one hand on my shoulder like he would with a friend.
“Good,” was all he said.
I watched him for a moment, trying to read his strange demeanor, when a whisp of deep red hair entered the corner of my vision.
I glanced over Vidar’s shoulder to see a small figure lifting a hood over her vibrant locks.
Her eyes were already on me as if she’d been watching me since I entered the square and a flash of fear sucked the color out of her complexion.
Her already big eyes rounded, her full lips parting with surprise.
She knew me. Or at least, she knew what I was. And I had a hunch it was because we were both of the sea. I narrowed my suspicious gaze at her and like a scared rabbit, she spun around and began moving through the crowd away from me.
“What is it?” Vidar asked, following my gaze.
I maneuvered past him, trying not to lose her.
Drunken sailors and rowdy women flooded my path, making it hard to move.
I shoved through them, watching the hooded figure bob and weave through bodies ahead of me.
She glanced back only once to confirm I was on her tail before ducking into an alley.
I jogged forward, following her between the brick buildings until we exited on the other side in a less crowded marketplace.
I sped up, using my long legs to make up the distance between us, when the woman put her hands on a tall man in a faded greatcoat.
I wrapped my fingers around the dagger on my belt, coming to an abrupt stop as the woman whipped around the man’s body as if to use him as a shield.
My eyes panned upward just as the man turned to find me standing only a few steps away.
Moss-colored eyes homed in on me, sharp and attentive.
Realizing where my hand was resting, he slid his own to the butt of a pistol tucked into his thick, leather belt.
I heard the hammer on another pistol pull back behind me, drawing the stranger’s gaze.
“I wouldn’t, mate,” came Vidar’s voice.
I tossed him a glance to see him standing only a step away, staring down the barrel of his flintlock at the stranger.
The man barely flinched at Vidar’s threat as he tapped his ring on the butt of his weapon. I watched his jaw pulse at the implication as his free hand slid back around the woman’s waist to nudge her further behind him.
The man was human. An observant gaze and a physique that said he was on a healthy diet made me want to believe he wasn’t under any sort of spell or song.
He was muscular in the same practical, hard-working fashion that Vidar was with a darker complexion and raven colored hair just past his shoulders.
A hard jaw was framed with trimmed facial hair.
“I don’t want any trouble,” the man said, rolling his Rs just enough to say English wasn’t his first language. Slowly, he lifted his hand from his pistol and raised it. “But I’ll kindly ask you to leave the woman alone.”
I searched his person for a silentium. I found wooden trinkets on leather strings hanging around his neck, but no bronze pendant. Thinking perhaps he was under the woman’s influence, I turned my attention to her.
“Does he know what you are?” I asked.
“We have no business with you,” the man said.
“He knows what I am,” the woman answered. She jerked her chin toward Vidar and the men behind him. “Do they know?”
Confused, I stepped back to get a good look at the two of them together.
I cocked my head, noting the way she clutched his coat sleeve, keeping herself behind his larger frame.
The way he rooted himself in place, ready to fend off whatever threat we might pose, was like a hound protecting a pup.
There was no lack of sleep in his eyes. No starvation was evident on his body.
If he was under her spell, then she was taking very good care of him.
It didn’t make sense.
“Leave me be,” she said.
“What is this?” Vidar chimed in, stepping up to my side.
“She’s…” I paused, not wanting to say the word aloud with unpredictable company around us. “Like me.”
“Not like you,” the woman retorted. “Kroan.”
I narrowed my eyes at the ire in her tone. “What are you?”
“She said, leave her be,” the man spoke up.
I scanned over him again, looking once more for signs of compulsion. I couldn’t see a damn thing besides the fact that he was protective of her and she trusted him.
I impulsively stepped toward her when the man put his hand on his pistol again. Vidar was quick to warn against that by waving his own and the tension started to get a little stifling.
“Now, now,” Gus’s voice broke through. His stout figure came into view. Slowly, he lifted his hand and motioned for both men to lower their weapons. “There are enough scoundrels in this damn town. We don’t need two smart men doing something stupid.”
He moved the gaze of his eye from Vidar to the stranger multiple times before Vidar took a deep breath and finally lowered his weapon. The man slowly removed his hand from his pistol once more and straightened his shoulders.
“My name’s Gus. This here is my captain, Vidar Woelfson.”
The stranger focused his eyes on Vidar, dragging his gaze up and down once.
“Bone Heart,” he said.
Vidar’s brow raised with a smirk as he tucked his pistol into his belt. “You know me.”
“Plenty of people do.” He moved the woman further behind him as if extra cautious now. “Especially in these parts. You’re a hunter.”
“Was,” Vidar said. “In a sense, I still am. I’m between jobs at the moment.”
“Your ship was a pirate’s ship. Captain Shelby was a feared name until word got out that a man, nay, a boy took his ship and called it his own.”
“The acquisition was a fair one.”
“Was it, now?”
Vidar shrugged. “Aye. Shelby and I were to fire one shot at each other. Whoever got the most lethal shot kept the ship.” He scoffed. “I got the most lethal shot.”
“The Devil’s Coin was won fair and square,” Gus said. “I know. I was there. I watched an eighteen-year-old boy best a seasoned ship captain.”
“A belly full of drink would make that an easy task.”
“The drinks in his belly weren’t really my concern,” Vidar added.
The men stared intensely at each other. I could hardly tell whether they were bonding or laying down silent threats.
“What is it you call your ship now?” the stranger asked. “Surely you do not still call it the Devil’s Coin.”
“The Burning Rose is her name now.”
The woman’s eyes darted from me to Vidar and then back to me.
“What are you doing with Bone Heart?”
“What are you doing with pirates?” I threw back.
Gus groaned, reminding us all that we were standing in a courtyard full of dishonorable hooligans.
“Might we find a place to talk that’s a bit more private?” he suggested.
“I see no reason to talk,” the man said. “We met. Now, we can go our separate ways.”
“Come now. Humor us.”
“You’re a paid hunter. What are you doing in a pirate port anyway? You’ll be leaving, I suspect.”
“Here for a day or two, I’m afraid,” Vidar answered. “Got some business to take care of.”
The man’s gaze finally turned my way, taking me in with one quick pass over the length of me.
His eyes hesitated momentarily on the bloodied blouse that I was doing a poor job of concealing behind my coat.
When his eyes found Vidar’s silentium hanging around his neck next, I knew what he was thinking.
He was putting things together, probably more successfully than I was. That detail had piqued his curiosity.
“Suppose it would interest me to know why you’re keeping the same kind of company I am,” he finally said.
“Not the same,” the woman muttered.
Heavy footsteps approached, drawing our attention.
“Shit,” the stranger panted, coming to a stop beside us, his shaggy, copper hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail. “There she is. I said,” he huffed, out of breath. “To stay…” another breath. “Next to me. Cap’n, I swear. She was right there and then she was gone.”
It was only then that he realized there were a bunch of strangers standing around him and his captain. He straightened, thick brows knitting together at the sight of us.
“What’s this now?”