Chapter 8 The Pirate Crow #2
“Because she is mine! I have a score to settle. A blood debt to be repaid. This little bitch took my eye.”
I can’t hold back the words. “You stole me from my family! If anyone has a score to settle, it’s me.” I clench my fists and take a threatening step towards him.
“Come closer and we’ll settle it,” he dares. "I know you survived that storm. What you did to lure a god's help, only Ireus knows. I saw the divine light. I watched you vanish with your mother—"
Panic and anger flare within my chest and the chain meant to bind me becomes a weapon in my hands. I jerk my arms over my shoulders, twisting it around my wrist so that the end comes down hard, whipping him in the side of the head with a satisfying crack.
A step closer, I bring it down again. He barely has time to lift an arm to block his already weeping temple. Red stirs in me; it's all I see as I bring it back for another lash, screaming when Rhyland Crow steps between us.
“Enough.” Crow’s voice is low and warning, arm lifted so the chain has struck and wrapped around it, effectively restraining me. I try to jerk back but he doesn't budge an inch.
I know I should feel intimidated, the way he's towering over me, so tall and broad, bent in a way that almost has our noses touching. But anger is dominating my every vein. Everything beyond the feel of it is a blur.
He rounds on Harlow, who seems to be bleeding from everywhere now—leg, nose, head, arm. I want to smile. I want to rip him to shreds. I want these fucking irons off so I can wrap them around his neck.
Crow crouches down next to him, a slight tug forward as he brings my chain with. "What about that shipwreck?"
Harlow chortles, spitting blood. "You think I'll tell you anything you want to know? You're just going to kill me, so do it. End it."
Crow shakes his head. "I'm not going to do anything to you.
I would have to get in line behind the hundreds you've wronged, starting with her.
" He gestures toward me, hovered at his shoulder.
A jolt of shock slips down my spine. "She can keep bludgeoning you with this chain or I can give her the means to end you quickly.
" His free hand slips to the dagger secured at his waist.
Some of the color drains from Harlow's face. "You're bluffing."
"Am I?" Crow pushes back to his feet, unwinding the chain from his arm to let it drop in the blood speckled grass between us. He offers the blade to me, but I step past him, eyes trained on my móeir’s hunting knife.
“No, I’ll use my moeir’s. The one he stole from me.”
Crow catches my arm at the last second, drawing me close.
"You decide his fate. Do what you will and make it fast. But—"
"But?" I repeat, letting fire pour into my voice. I don't look away from Harlow. Not for an instant, though Crow's warmth and proximity is a threatening…distraction.
"But in exchange, you'll agree to come back to the beach without a fight."
Of course. Of course there's always conditions attached. Seems Helgate isn't the only place where true favors don't exist. Little does he know going back has been my intent since I was dragged away.
"Is Rowan alive?" I whisper.
I feel him searching my face but still refuse to look.
"Yes, but she was injured along with my first mate. The sooner we get back, the better."
I nod. He could be lying. She could be dead in the sand. There’s no way of telling until we get there.
"I'll go with you. And you'll heal her." I rip my arm away from him and close the steps between Harlow and I.
He's gone pale to the extreme from blood loss and holds the side of his head, not even fighting me when I yank my móeir’s knife from the sheath at his waist. Its familiar weight is a comfort in my hand, as though it never left, the feeling a loss I hadn't realized I was missing so much.
The Aurelian steel glints in the sunlight. Sharp. Deadly. Mine.
Harlow chuckles at the sight of me, but he can't hide the fear growing behind the mask. We've been here before. I study the gruesome scar, the cloudy white eye—ruined.
"What's this, Crow? Not man enough to get your hands dirty. Hiding behind the guard uniform, and now a little nymph girl," he sneers, but he's slowly trying to shift away from me.
Crow doesn't rise to his bait, simply stares off in the direction he pursued from, waiting, as though Harlow didn’t speak at all.
I kneel and grab a fistful of the front of Harlow’s shirt, lifting the blade so it's level with his throat, pressed into the soft jugular.
"I've imagined this a thousand times. Part of me knew it would be inevitable, that our paths were destined to cross again.
" I say it softly, almost gently. The hint of malice makes me sound like another person entirely.
Like him when he first recognized me. "I heard your threats whispered in the streets.
The things you promised to do if you ever found me.
I could tell you put a lot of thought into it.
Fantasized about it. I trusted you. You betrayed me, yet you think you are the one owed a blood debt?
" Pressure mounts at the anger that follows my words.
It's a struggle to keep from driving the blade through him, but I force my hand still.
I've never killed before, yet I feel like I could run him through and never lose a wink of sleep.
Maybe I should. Maybe a smarter woman would.
But what would his death bring? A new kingpin to take over the Underworlds. Another slaver, maybe worse. Stronger. Crueler. More clever. This is a chance, divine fate.
"Those fantasies end today. I spare your life; the so-called blood debt is paid. And you go back to Helgate to free every Nymph you own."
His dark eyes are mocking as he stares back.
He's too proud to agree so quickly. Maybe too proud to agree at all.
But I have to at least try. The nymph prisoners mean more to me than my revenge, and if this is all I can ever do to help them, so be it.
My blade presses a fraction harder into his throat, but he doesn't waver.
"You think I'm afraid of you, little girl?
Think I would tank my whole enterprise on your weightless threats?
" He bears his teeth and makes a small threatening movement forward.
When I flinch, he bursts again into raucous laughter.
"Look at you pretending at something you're not anymore.
That girl who did this," he motions toward his scar, "is long dead.
She died in that shipwreck. There's no fire in you anymore.
You're a shade, going through the motions. "
"You're wrong," I spit too quickly, too defensively, and tighten my fingers around the worn hilt that used to fit so perfectly in my hand.
"Prove it," he snarls, pressing forward again so that his nose is a eyrir's width from mine. "Kill me."
I almost do. I almost ram the pointy end right through his stupid fucking throat. My pinky twitches, bracing with the others, when Crow's shadow looms behind me.
He kneels, his face unreadable but set as stone like the marble statues that decorate the halls of the Citadel. It's as cold as them too. Cruel. Beautiful. The sight sends a shiver through me and Harlow blanches, shifting back.
"Do as the nymph says, Black. If you don't, I'll hear about it.
We'll return and I'll pave her way to you with the fallen bodies of your men.
I will paint the city with their blood, burn your underworld to ash.
You'll die much like you were born—with nothing.
A black stain. A forgotten bastard." He says it so cold and matter of factly, a thrill of fear shoots down my spine, followed by a more unfamiliar sensation, wholly uncomfortable and unexpected.
Something flits over Harlow's bloodied face. A hurt and fear. Crow has found a painful nerve and twisted it.
"I'll do what I can," he finally growls. "Assuming I make it back before bleeding to death."
"I have faith in you." Crow rips the keys to my irons hanging at Harlow's belt straight off their loop before rising as swiftly as he knelt. He pulls me up by the arm as he goes, untroubled by the hunting knife gripped tight in my hand.
"What of my brother?" Harlow calls over the sound of the rising wind, across the space growing longer between us as Crow leads me away. "What's to become of him?" I'm surprised by the pulse of emotion there. Maybe there's a part left of him that's capable of caring after all. But I doubt it.
"Solomon Black has a journey to make. Crimes to answer for across the Dread Sea." He pauses and then slowly turns to look at him. "I wouldn't suggest trying to pursue us, as I'd be motivated to throw him overboard, and the sharks make excellent executioners."