Chapter 2 #2
“Just a little nervous,” Camden said.
“Everything all right back there?” Barnabas interjected from up front.
“Fine,” Amaya replied, frowning. It wasn’t any of his business. She turned back to Camden. “Why?”
“You . . .” Camden hesitated. “You know I care about you a lot, right? You know I’d do anything for you?”
“That’s a silly question. Of course I do.”
Amaya’s heartbeat quickened even as her tone remained casual, afraid he was about to breach the topic they’d mutually avoided for months.
He didn’t.
“No, listen.” Camden placed his hands on either side of her face, making her look at him. His eyes shimmered in the darkness, streetlights passing over his face. “You know I’d never hurt you, right?”
His words hung in the air, the intensity of them shifting the energy. Something was wrong.
Amaya reached for Camden’s clammy hands, searching for the truth in his face. She couldn’t identify what she saw, but she didn’t like it.
“Cam, what’s wrong?”
“We’re almost there!” Barnabas sang. “You two are going to have an unforgettable night. Simply magical.”
He giggled, his jovial tone reminding Amaya more and more of an evil clown than an eccentric old man. Heat fled her body, replaced with cool unease.
Who was their driver, really?
Amaya looked at him in the mirror once more and he grinned, flashing that gem-crusted tooth. There was something else in that smile, though. Something sinister and dark.
“Stop the car,” Amaya said. She pulled away from Camden but took his hand again. “We’re getting out.”
Barnabas’s maniacal grin twisted into a snarl, bushy white eyebrows jumping up.
“However will you get to the symphony in time, my dear?”
“It’s right there.” Amaya pointed to the opera house finally coming into view at the end of the street. “We’ll walk.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
Barnabas took a sudden sharp turn, veering onto a side street. The opera house vanished behind brick and mortar as they sped into an alley, the streetlights growing dim and far apart. Blood pounded in Amaya’s ears, sweat breaking across her brow.
“What’s going on?” Amaya asked, her voice pitching.
Barnabas stepped on the pedal, making another tight right turn that tossed Amaya at Camden with a yelp. He caught her and didn’t let go.
“I don’t know, but you’re going to be okay,” he whispered into her hair. Amaya’s mind spun. He did know.
“Did you do this? Did you trick me?” The thought was too horrible to consider.
“I’m so sorry,” Camden breathed against her ear. “They threatened to kill Grace.”
Amaya exhaled sharply at the mention of his little sister and squeezed her eyes shut. She could hardly fault him for that, but it stung knowing Camden had known precisely the lie that would lure her away.
“Who’s they?” she asked. Camden’s muscles hardened, but he didn’t answer. “Cam, please.”
“I will get you out of this. I promise,” he said in lieu of a genuine answer.
He could make as many promises as he wanted, but he wasn’t doing anything. They weren’t getting out of this if they just sat here and let Barnabas drive them outside the city.
Amaya considered the logistics of jumping out of the moving car, but Barnabas was going too fast and taking too many sharp corners.
She wasn’t even sure where they were now; she didn’t recognize these streets, especially at night.
If they somehow escaped without killing themselves, they wouldn’t be able to outrun the vehicle.
Trying not to descend into complete panic, Amaya weighed her options.
One of them had potential.
With Camden still holding her, she slid her arms between their bodies and went for his belt, unbuckling it as quietly as she could and sliding it from the loops. His brow knit.
“Trust me,” she whispered.
When she had the belt gathered in her hands, Amaya pounced, hooking the belt around Barnabas’s neck and pulling hard. The driver choked, his breaths coming out as shallow, strangled gulps as the car swerved.
“Let us out!” Amaya demanded. “Stop the car!”
“You little . . .” an unfamiliar voice snarled.
Amaya hardly believed her eyes when a second man—the very man who’d been haunting her all day—materialized in the passenger seat. He was even slimier up close, with hair that hadn’t touched soap in a week, cold eyes, and a vicious sneer that could curdle blood.
He wore a strange glove on his left hand that covered each of his fingers in armor, leaving his palm and the back of his hand exposed. Each armored finger tapered to a deadly point, transforming them into claws.
In two fluid movements, he ripped the belt from Barnabas’s throat and swiped at Amaya, the claws catching her skirt and shredding the fluttery layers. She gasped, falling back into Camden.
Barnabas coughed and sputtered while he regained control of the vehicle.
“My sincerest thanks, Master Corsair.”
“Drive,” Corsair said. He stayed perched in his seat like a cat watching its prey, staring Camden and Amaya down. “Try that again, and you’re both dead.”
Amaya let out a shuddering breath and fisted Camden’s suit jacket. Her eyelids stung but she refused to blink, locked in a staring contest with Corsair as if he were a spider who would scurry into hiding if she looked away.
“You’ve been following me.” Amaya hated the tremor in her voice. “What do you want?” Her bet was on a ransom; everyone wanted money from the Sinclairs.
Corsair dragged one of his claws under her chin, lifting it.
Amaya held her breath, certain that her next one would be her last. But much to her surprise, the claw scraped down her neck without breaking skin, looping around the chain she wore.
Corsair tugged her locket out of her bodice and eyed it greedily.
“Miss Amaya,” he murmured. “This has nothing to do with what I want.” The cruel twist of his lips made Amaya shiver.
Her necklace. Why her necklace?
She desperately tried to make sense of it as the car rolled to a stop near the shores of Lake Anna. Corsair opened her door and snatched her wrist, dragging her out while Barnabas opened the door on Camden’s side.
“Cam!” Amaya cried.
“Out, Master Hargreeves,” Barnabas said.
Amaya realized with a jolt of horror that he was holding a gun to Camden’s head. Camden complied without a fuss, his shoulders dropping when he made the same realization. It made her heart sink to see how defeated he looked, how resigned to their fate.
Amaya, however, would not go quietly.
No avenues of escape stood out as possibilities when she scanned their surroundings. They were in the middle of nowhere—the city was several miles away. There was no one to hear their screams. No sanctuary within sprinting distance.
But there was a single windskiff parked on the shore—the getaway. It was big enough for two people.
Camden said earlier that he’d ridden one before, right? Perhaps he could pilot it.
“I take my leave, Arbuckle,” Corsair said. He shoved Amaya toward the windskiff. “You know what to do.”
“Shame. I’d hoped Graven might pick her up personally,” Barnabas said with a sigh.
Amaya’s galloping heart stopped.
“Graven?” she repeated. “Alastor Graven?”
The Sky Lord was behind this? That made even less sense, and did absolutely nothing to assuage her fear. The Sky Lords were vicious—ruthless beyond imagination. Rumors suggested Lord Graven was the worst of them all.
“Aye. Consider yourself lucky I’m here instead,” Corsair said.
This couldn’t happen.
“Camden,” Amaya said. He looked at her from the other side of the car, and Amaya let her gaze drift to the windskiff.
Camden followed her line of sight without moving his head and nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Get the gun,” she mouthed, hardly moving her lips. He had to, or they were both dead.
Fear coiled in her stomach as Corsair pushed her forward. Camden’s expression remained neutral, but the reignited fire in his eyes was anything but.
When Amaya was almost at the windskiff, they made their move.
“Now!” Amaya shouted.
Camden whirled around and punched Barnabas in the gut, making him keel over with a pained groan while Cam wrenched the gun away.
Amaya wriggled in Corsair’s clutch, not to escape, but to turn and face him. With her chest pressed to his, she kneed him in the crotch with all the strength she could muster. The result was his arms flinging open as he cried out in pain, doubling over and stumbling back.
She didn’t wait to see how long she’d delayed him, spinning around to find Camden racing toward her. She grabbed his hand and gripped it tight as they ran for the skiff.
“Arbuckle, stop them!” Corsair growled, still recovering from Amaya’s well-placed strike.
“He took my gun,” Barnabas whined. “I only brought the one, Vesper.”
“You’re so fucking useless.”
Amaya turned back just in time to see Corsair snap his armored fingers and dissolve into nothing.
So the glove was the source of his abilities. It must be a relic—a relic that made him invisible.
Relics were assumed to be common among pirates, but in Veridian, something of that potency was extremely rare. It would be outlandishly expensive on the black market, let alone sold directly from the sky cities. Seeing it put to use was like watching a fantasy come to life.
Camden shoved the gun into his waistband to lift Amaya onto the windskiff, and she spun around to haul him up after her. Every second felt like life or death without knowing Corsair’s position.
“He’s coming. Hurry!”
Just before Camden could finish climbing up, an invisible hand plucked the stolen gun from his waistband. Corsair materialized again, already aiming.
Amaya gasped. “No!”
The pirate shot without hesitation, a silver bullet flashing in the moonlight for a millisecond before burying itself in Camden’s back. The sudden impact stole his balance, his shoe slipping on the edge of the skiff.
He fell.
Corsair and Barnabas were wise to have sought such a remote location; the scream that tore through Amaya’s body would have alerted anyone nearby. The smell of gunpowder assaulted her senses and turned the world to slow-motion as Camden plummeted to the ground, his hand outstretched toward hers.
“Camden!”
Amaya jumped off the skiff, but Corsair hooked an arm around her waist before she could dive for Camden.
“Let me go!” she shrieked.
He’s okay. He’s okay. It’s not fatal, he—
Corsair aimed the gun around Amaya’s shoulder and fired again, the sound exploding past her ear. She screamed again, tearing free from Corsair’s grasp as crimson blood spread across Camden’s white silk shirt.
“Cam! Cam, no . . .”
Amaya didn’t know what to do except try to get him up. She fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around him and trying to help him stand, but he was fighting for breath—choking on his own blood. He couldn’t even sit up, and she wasn’t strong enough to carry him.
Somewhere deep down, she knew their captors were giving her this moment as a form of torture, but she didn’t care. She tried anyway.
“Cam, come on,” Amaya begged. “Please.”
She pulled back to meet his eyes, letting out a strangled sob when his eyelids drooped. She could feel his fear layered on her own. Feel his heart slowing.
His bloodstained lips moved, forming two whispered words: “I’m sorry.”
“No.” Amaya shook her head. There was nothing to be sorry for. Nothing except dying and leaving her here, and he wasn’t going to die. “We’ll get out of this, just like you said. You’ll get better, and we’ll go to the symphony, and fly on an airship, and . . .”
Everything she wanted to say caught in her throat as she dared to tear her eyes from Camden’s to watch his chest rise and fall. The subtle movement kept a spark of hope alive until, all at once, his body went rigid in her arms.
Amaya’s heart might as well have stopped with his. “No. No!”
“That’s enough.” Corsair ripped Amaya away from Camden and hauled her onto the skiff.
“No!” Amaya flailed in Corsair’s arms, her movements violent and erratic as she tried to claw her way out of his grasp. “Camden!”
Hot, angry, terrified tears ran down her cheeks. She repeated his name like a fervent prayer, as if that alone would revive him.
Corsair’s clawed glove dug into her arm with the effort it took to keep her in place, causing warm rivulets of blood to trickle down her skin. But Amaya didn’t feel the pain. How could she, when her very heart was caving in?
“That was dramatic. You pirates have no tact,” Barnabas complained, stepping forward. He kicked Camden’s limp body, drawing another ear-piercing scream out of Amaya. “You realize I have to clean this up now?”
“Don’t touch him! Don’t you dare touch him!” Amaya thrashed against Corsair, reaching for Camden again.
He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be dead.
Corsair grumbled and yanked Amaya flush against him, clamping his hand over her mouth to silence her.
“I don’t know why you’re complaining. He was dead anyway,” Corsair said.
Barnabas sighed, looking at Amaya with pity.
“You poor, pretty little thing,” he said. “I can only imagine the plans Lord Graven has for you.”
Amaya didn’t care about that now. She didn’t care about anything except Camden, her best and oldest friend, lying lifeless on the ground a few feet away. Her vision narrowed, blurring around the edges until she only saw his face.
Please. Please move. Breathe.
He didn’t. The only movement was his blood pooling out around him and soaking into the dirt.
“Lord Graven will grant you immunity for two years in exchange for your assistance,” Corsair told Barnabas. “Don’t squander it.”
“Indeed. Tell your captain I want an additional six months for the messy cleanup. Tell him . . .”
Amaya heard their words, but didn’t comprehend them. She was still staring hopelessly at Camden. Amaya couldn’t even feel Corsair’s arms around her now; her entire body was cold and numb.
When Corsair removed his hand from Amaya’s mouth, she didn’t have the strength to scream again. The longer Camden lay there unmoving, the more life was siphoned from Amaya’s own body.
Corsair flicked open a vial of liquid that reeked of chemicals and held it to Amaya’s nose.
Her quick slip into oblivion was mercy.