Chapter 23
S O R E N
E verything in my gut tells me the conversation with Shade will begin the true unraveling of the chaos that surrounds us, and that once it starts, it will spiral .
The only concern I have is that my powers are quiet. There’s no denying those rubies escalated everything, but even this is tame. Normally, when my sedated intuition contrasts with my restless heart, it means I need to let things play out.
But I don’t want to.
I want to plan .I want to be in control.
Jane is close behind me, her heart altering so much with that dagger. There wasn’t even the intention to open her up—I just wanted her to have something that proved she does belong. That she’s capable and worthy.
She’s open to me like she is with Kathleen.
I will take care of her.
The ship’s shadow envelopes us as we’re taken below to the storage level. Pain, agony, and dread fill the belly of this ship, and it all comes from one source. I pause to glance at Jane, who radiates determination. It’s even a little concerning how well she wears that pirate’s bandana. “This will not be pretty.”
Hazel eyes peer through lashes to connect with mine. “Neither was clinging to my dying mother. I need to know who to hurt.”
Her ire feels more tempered, the frayed edges of it burned away. It’s the person I knew my powers sensed was within, and I fucking adore it.
When we enter the room that no more than five men occupy, both Ritter and Tempest are present, along with Bones and two who belong to this ship. Shade’s eyes flash my way, and his energy warps into chaos. “You’re fucking serious?”
Tempest sits down on a box labeled rope . “Please, Soren, do your work.” She spreads her legs and leans over to rest her elbows on each knee.
Shade’s eyes flash with something I know gives him away—he’s been caught. No lies will work anymore. Whatever truth he’s terrified to reveal is going to be exposed.
“This is all rather rude,” he states, his bound hands between his thighs. “Didn’t even bother asking me anything before clearly assuming the worst. You’ve all already asked me all the questions I can answer. Is this necessary?”
He’s still as indiscernible as before, although it’s interesting I can sense the general things that plague him, just with no specifications.
A magic wearing off?
“Why couldn’t I read you earlier,” I casually ask, as if telling him the weather. Basilisk shuts the door to this room while Jane stands behind me.
“I will die with sealed lips.” Blood sputters out from what looks like blunt force trauma to the face. Bones rolls his fingers like he’s revving them back to life, and I have a feeling I know who did it.
“Strip him,” I command. “Completely. He’s hiding something, and I want it all removed.”
The betrayer grunts, his body stiffening as Bones and the others begin to cut his clothes off, shredding them like beggars searching for hidden gold. Tempest and Ritter both watch on, and Jane does so from behind, while Basilisk stalks from the shadows, his golden eyes glinting like metal. It’s then that I sense a creature before noticing another set of golden eyes, but more round and only a foot off the ground— later .
Shade thrashes, his face reddening. “Where’s my fucking dignity?” he shouts as they yank his boots off and cut at his pants.
“Yes, I have a reputation for giving a shit about dignity ,” I reply coolly, my gaze unwavering, reprioritizing his torture. As Shade is stripped of his last piece of clothing—a wool sock—I feel that pang of sympathy that nearly always creeps up when I know that one day, this is how I’m going to die, no doubt: attacked, mauled, or mutilated.
But who the fuck cares when my fate is already damned to an end like this? “I still can’t read you,” I state.
“Well,” Bones says, running a hand through his short hair, his mismatched gaze downward at Shade. “I can see why he was a lady’s man.”
A few snigger, and I fight the temptation to pinch the bridge of my nose. Even Tempest gives a chuckle.
“Can’t help but look at my cock?” Shade mocks.
“It’s hard to miss when it’s basically a third leg.”
The tension around lightens, although not from me. I still can’t feel shit from Shade. “It has to be underneath his skin,” I say, looking over the interlocking scars and tattoos. Something from Jane emanates behind me, a discomfort that seems out of place. I tuck that away and save the concept for later, trying to detach from her.
His legs fidget at my words, and that’s all the confirmation I need. “Poke and prod and see if you feel anything around his scar that might be a foreign body.” Our gazes connect when I say, “Or we can sever you limb by limb, shred them apart over sieves, and see what we find. Jane can heal your mutilation, so no need to worry about that killing you. All you need is a brain and heart to function.”
Shade’s chest heaves, strings of saliva stretching when he pants. “You won’t get me to talk with such barbarism. I’m a fucking gladiator. I can handle pain.”
They all say that, but everyone talks once the flaying starts, especially if a healer can keep them alive and awake. I squat down, the man starting to shiver. No doubt the wood is frigid, and his entire being rattled. “There’s no such thing as pushing through pain when you’re sleep-deprived. You are forcing me to do that to you. I will get what I want before we leave the ship. You know no one is rescuing you.”
All it takes is a nod of my head for Bones to grab an arm, the other man putting the heel of his boot into Shade’s shoulder to press him against the pillar, all while I watch, still squatting down.
“Let me, give you a hand ,” Bones mocks, gripping Shade’s wrists.
Shade’s panting grows panicked. “You won’t break me. But they will break your little toy behind you. You cut off my fucking arm, and I definitely won’t help you there.”
I backhand him so hard it nearly sprains my wrist, his head hanging limp in a daze, his cheek bleeding from one of my rings.
“Must be embarrassing for a gladiator to be backhanded like that. Someone get some water,” Bones chides.
It doesn’t take long before someone is dumping water over Shade, his naked body jolting. He sharply inhales, his teeth chattering.
My head pivots as if honing in on something—among the calmer, excited energy, bleeds something entirely wrought with fear and dread. I narrow my eyes on Shade, and it’s like a vast ocean of one’s soul opens up before it closes back off.
Something faltered in the magic that binds him.
I lean forward to grab his chin and shake his head, to which he groans. I laugh. “It’s in his fucking teeth. Someone, hold his head still.”
It takes two to hold him still enough that I can pry his bleeding mouth open by shoving a block of wood in, sliding it around until I spot a golden tooth. It looks like any other, but I can feel something emanating from it—if anything, it looks loosened with how it bleeds.
Basilisk steps into the dim lighting. “Now that’s fascinating. It’s a suppressant.”
“You’re familiar with that?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Not as common over here, but they’re everywhere across the ocean. There’s more of us over there, too. So there’s a natural counter. It’s only the second one I’ve seen over here.”
I glance up at Tempest. “You have any smithing pliers? Or anyone on board that handles tooth extraction?”
“Aye… Fred, take care of that,” she says, still leaning on her knees, and one of the men takes off quickly.
We don’t wait for long before someone is back with dental tools. Shade beginning to hyperventilate over the wooden block still shoved into his mouth.
The belly of the ship becomes an echo of blood-curdling screams, muffled by the wood in his mouth. When the tooth is removed—his cries morphing into shrieks—Shade slumps over once more when they release him, blood spilling out of his mouth. His chest rapidly rises and falls.
Immediately, I can feel the depths of Shade, every corner of his fears revealing themselves to me. Taking the bloody tooth encased in metal to a nearby lantern, I hold it up so it glints in the light—naprese gold.
Blackwell .
I don’t understand. How can he possibly use our metal to create this effect? Tempest has naprese caps, but to imbue them with other magic… When Shade comes to with a slow, hoarse groan, I can read him beautifully, handing the tooth to Bones to hold it for now. “So… now that that is out of the way.”
The truth bleeds out in his aura like how his mouth does, the man spitting multiple times to clear it. “I’m still,” he says through a pant. “Not talking.”
Squatting down once more, I lock eyes with his frantic ones, gripping his chin tightly and feeling the warmth of his trickling blood on my fingers. “You are protecting someone,” I state, as if reading a map that finally makes sense. “How original.”
His dark brows upturn. “Are you really going to be pissed that I am choosing someone I love over you?” he asks, his voice cracking with exhaustion. “I’m desperate, you cunt.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So are we.”
“Is there any way that I live?” he pleads, reeking of anguish. Some last bit of survival breaks through the warrior’s facade.
His gaze swiftly flicks over my shoulder, and I follow the direction to see that he looks up at Jane, who watches very carefully.
“You should understand, Shade,” I slowly say, looking back at him. “That I am going to learn what is happening to you. The duration, and extent, of your torture is completely within your control.” Blackwell . I get Blackwell and another dark figure, who has to be Misery. “Unless you’re waiting on someone to rescue you.” His eyes flash up at me. “In these circumstances, I sometimes have the patience to break a man. We, unfortunately, do not possess that time, which means I’ll have to threaten another whose pain would break you. It will not take me long to learn who that is to you, and it just takes one hawk to reach the right people from here.”
There it is. A flash of heat and worry, but as I invade his energy and look over his scars, I know when I’m across from someone who will take weeks to break.
He will take time.
I stand, my leather crinkling with the motion. I still don’t understand how Blackwell did it, or why, but if Ritter is doing something similar, then this is also not impossible. And Basilisk says this is more common across the sea.
I should have known. Triumphant magic is only dominating until someone learns to manipulate it.
“If I die,” he sputters out. “Without telling a word of what was done to me by Misery, then people I care about live. The words that come out of my mouth matter, no matter what happens to my flesh.”
Misery floods Shade again, that sense of impending nothingness one of the heaviest burdens I’ve ever sensed from another: death. He’s aware he will not see anyone else that he loves, nor will his body get a chance to recover. Shit, he probably won’t even get one last drink of water.
His energy reeks of a determination that will be like chipping away at stone, but it’s only held up by fear. I get no sense that he’s loyal to Blackwell, but more so loyal to the deal that he’s being offered. I inhale deeply, thinking of something interesting. “Tell me what I want, and I can find a way to hide you from Misery. I’ll use the same method with the tooth, but with another magic he cannot penetrate.”
I’ll use Cypress’s shit like the way she uses me. If it doesn’t work, then, well, it’s not my problem.I need to know what Jane is up against, and I get the sense he just wants safety .
His eyes vibrate around in his skull, his expression turning despondent. “Misery will kill me if he gets his hands on me. It’s better I die, knowing I didn’t speak.”
Ritter hands me his ring. “Not if you wear this.”
I can’t help but almost snort that Ritter caught on that fast to what I’m offering; he’s actually kind of useful.
“What is it?” Shade asks.
Ritter says, “What I’ve been wearing for ten years so no one can find me.”
He is absolutely sold on that, looking at Ritter with reverence. Oh , so he looks up to the Scorpion, then? Is that possibly why he wanted to get a close look at Jane in Rosmertta’s?
“Why did you take Jane in the alley?” I ask.
“Because you had been struck,” he answers with a weakened voice, defeated. “It was a stupid fucking move. I thought it was a good opening. And if I could have handed Jane to them, without a single fight, and knowing Ritter was always nearby, then I’d be…” he trails off, like the reminder of his failure physically pains him. “I’m a fighter. Not a strategist. Clearly .”
My gnarly injury is what brought him out of the shadows?
It’s making a whole lot of fucking sense now. I knew to trust my gut, but sometimes, I can’t interpret the meaning or implications. And if everything in me screamed to take the hit, then something in the fates wanted Shade to cross my path in such a manner.
Which means he might harbor information that could save our collective asses; my powers do tend to lean toward self-preservation.
“ And ?” I coax.
“Misery wants Jane, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. He’s promised Blackwell the entirety of Skull’s Row. Misery is the one making it so you can’t read any of us,” he says, the words flowing out like he’s desperate to purge the sickness of lies from his body.
Ritter says, “Not useful enough information.”
He looks panicked, bouncing his gaze around between us all; he doesn’t fear death, but he is broken by the idea of leaving someone behind. “Please. I—I know what he wants with Jane,” he says, eyeing the pocket Ritter slides the ring into.
“And why would you know that?” Ritter asks. “I couldn’t even find out, and I was close .”
“I’ve been in the rooms during conversations. He… he uses me for strength when it’s too much for Blackwell.”
“For strength ?”
“He’s like a succubus, but worse. He can only function based on stealing energy from someone.” He has so much relief telling others this. “I’m Blackwell’s nephew; very estranged, but we’re related. And for some reason our bodies are good sources of energy. We don’t burn out like the others do. I—I think my uncle doesn’t understand Misery is using us. That he only chose us because we’re good for him. He’s lost in the high of ruling over this place. And Misery is growing weaker by being away from his land. More desperate.”
“So, then, what are his plans with Jane?” I ask.
Sounds like we just need to outlast Misery until he’s too weakened to mean anything.
Shade swallows thickly, rolling his eyes under his blink as if to refocus his gaze. “Two things.” He’s truly nervous to say this, and I can feel Jane get closer. “First, well… he, um… he needs her skin.”
“ What ?”
“Once in his lands, he plans to flay her alive and use that skin for his rebirth. He won’t look like Jane, but he needs whatever magic is in her blood. He just kept saying it has her magic, and it will make him impossible for her to kill, whoever she is. And if he doesn’t get Jane before he has to return to his lands, it will be another generation before he can return. It’s optimal now , and he doesn’t want to wait.”
Ritter and I look at each other. Is this Jane being related to Cypress? The Scorpion reeks of fear for his daughter, but I can tell these answers give him some semblance of purpose, too.
“What does that process look like?” I ask, facing him again. “How long would it take? Would he do it immediately?”
I need to know what time we have. Is it something immediate, or would we have time to save her? I don’t plan for her to get taken, but I’m also not a man to get caught off guard, either.
I thrive on plans.
“It would be a long process. She has to be willing. Very willing, or else the magic won’t transfer properly. It’s why he wants her as quickly as he can get her, but again, he’s weak. He doesn’t want to make a move unless he’s certain he can get her all the way north without anyone stopping him. It’s risky otherwise. It’s why he let you have her for a bit… it would have caused too much of a stir among the Council. There are those loyal to Ritter in there, and I’m sure some guessed who she was as soon as they saw her. Letting you have her appeared the most normal, meanwhile, I as to keep an eye on her when she came to Rosmertta’s, because Misery said there would be an opening…”
My mind rushes with considering every avenue that this can go wrong for us, feeling Jane out over my shoulder. “And what is the second thing he wants her for?”
“They want as many offspring as possible that are Cinders,” he quickly gets out. “Since making her willing will take time… I’ve heard them state they might as well use her to make more Cinders in the process.”
My rage flares, standing as I look at Jane, the thought of her stomach swelling with an abomination of Ash striking at a mania I didn’t know existed within me.
Jane doesn’t even seem fazed, despite her father looking at Shade like he might rip his balls off. She slowly tells him, “Well, I’ll never let that happen. Tell me, why did you come talk to me back at Rosmertta’s?”
“It, well… I wanted to meet the person Misery is fixated on,” he answers, which is most of the truth; the rest of it is related to Ritter, like I guessed.
“And?” I coax again.
There’s a dehumanized feeling in him, like he’s embarrassed this is all turning out in such a manner. “I admired Ritter when I was younger. I wanted to see his daughter.”
I face Tempest. “What do you want to do with him? That’s all he knows. His knowledge of Misery and Blackwell is shallow, which means he hasn’t been around for long enough to gain deeper insight.”
It’s almost paralyzing to think of what Misery intends to do with Jane, and I want this over with so I can start plotting with everyone in this room. My heart pounds so feverishly, I start pacing.
Tempest inhales deeply, looking him over. “Then we are done. I don’t want him to have that ring, though. Let’s give him to the sirens. They’ll judge his worth, and if he’s got a rotten soul or not. If he doesn’t, he’ll be released when Misery is no longer a threat. That’s the safest thing to do with him.”
Panic explodes inside of Shade, more petrified of that than death. “No, no, please. Not the sirens. Not coral skin, not their curse...”
It’s said that the sirens take men they dislike into their waters, affixing them to the stones below; metamorphosis takes over as they slowly lose bodily needs, coral growing out of their bodies that the sirens use. But the mind never dulls.
One just remains there, forever.
The siren’s curse.
Tempest stands, her head held high. “There’s nothing to fear if your heart is true,” she says, like telling a child not to fear the dark. “Let’s go. Get this over with. We have many things to consider.”
We all follow as Shade is led, while screaming for mercy, to the top of the deck. The sunlight nearly blinds me, and I’m reminded why so many wear an eyepatch. “We offer him to the sirens!” Tempest shouts. The pirates are all smiling like they’re feeding a prized pet, some clanking against metal and others stamping their feet to a rhythm.
Tempest pulls out a small pendant from underneath her shirt and blows on it. I don’t hear a fucking thing, but it seems to work as the crew start cheering when looking overboard.
Shade shouts, blood stained on his chin, neck and chest. I can’t resist and look overboard; it’s a far drop, but I can see many heads sticking out of the water, a mesmerizing crooning brushing against my ears coming from the sirens.
Without hesitation, Shade is tossed overboard, screaming all the way down until the waves consume him.