Chapter 31
Will summoned Hellsgate and slashed through Arbuckle Emporium’s front door, kicking it in and effortlessly dodging out of the way when the cannon concealed behind it fired. Instead of hitting him, the cannonball lodged itself in a building across the alley, which already had several craters in it.
When he turned back, a white-haired man in a too-colorful coat peeked out from around the corner.
“Why, Lord Lexington!” Arbuckle sang, as if Will hadn’t just destroyed his property. “Delightful to see you. I do hope you’ve reconsidered my offer.”
“Get inside,” Will growled. “We’re going to have a chat.”
“I’d think about that, if I were you. I do spend a good deal on my security, and this is . . . well, you’re not nearly as cordial as Markus, I’ll put it like that.”
Will had spent several hours on the train back to Sorrento thinking about it. Specifically, thinking about the bullet with the invisible source. He was pretty sure he knew how Arbuckle had pulled it off: Class One invisibility relics.
It was Will’s fight with Corsair that made him think of it. Corsair was known for his ability to turn invisible thanks to his clawed glove, Ghost. It made him a menace in battle, enabling him to sneak in and hit hard. As a Class Three relic, Ghost’s powers never diminished.
But Class One invisibility relics existed, too—they were just rare, expensive, fickle, and difficult to craft. They couldn’t be used long before their abilities faded.
But Will had a feeling Arbuckle had expensive taste, not to mention insider connections. Given his occupation, it seemed likely he didn’t pay for them at all.
“Where is Graven?” Will asked as he pushed inside, deciding to give Barnabas one chance to not be a pain in the ass. Without pause, he strode through the hidden door into the main shop. Arbuckle stumbled backwards.
“W-we’ve already discussed the price, my lord. Are you ready to tell me about Duaric?”
“I have told you. He’s dead.”
Arbuckle backed up until he hit the counter, then released a dramatic sigh.
“I’m tempted to insist, but I’m an honest man. And you clearly haven’t turned on the radio this morning.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Graven was apprehended by the Royal Fleet just hours ago. Multiple tips were called in yesterday, and combined with the return of Amaya Sinclair, well.” He waved his hands dismissively.
Will paused, taken aback. Finally, something useful. Alarming, to be sure—Will’s mind was already racing trying to make that piece of news make sense—but he could work with it.
“Well, that’s all I needed,” he said, straightening to his full height and backing Barnabas Arbuckle into a corner. “One more question. Why was Graven here yesterday?”
“That information is still sensitive, and my price for sensitive information is firm. Duaric.”
“Let’s make your life the price.” Will summoned Hellsgate, and Arbuckle looked at it with wide, crazed eyes. “Why was Graven here?”
“I had rather high hopes for our working relationship. It really would be a shame to kill you.” Arbuckle’s voice took on a devilish lilt. “Oh, well.”
Sixth Sense tugged at the back of Will’s mind, pulling him aside as a bullet materialized in thin air. Its source remained unseen, but he didn’t hesitate before throwing Hellsgate in the bullet’s direction.
A shriek split the air as red splattered on the wall, the blade slicing through the invisible man. When his head disconnected from his shoulders, the relic stopped working, and he shimmered into view as he collapsed.
Will vanished in curls of black smoke and reappeared at Hellsgate’s position, snatching his sword from where it lay embedded in the wall.
“How dare you.” All hints of joviality disappeared from Arbuckle’s face. His eyes darted around the room. “Well? Kill him, you fools!”
A satisfied smirk twisted Will’s mouth. What had Arbuckle expected, a Sky Lord who killed relic smugglers on the regular to not know how to evade them?
Will’s enemies always conveniently forgot he could dodge bullets. Either that, or they didn’t believe the stories.
There had to be a maximum number of signals Sixth Sense could send him at once, but he’d never reached it. Will identified five signals now—three on the other side of the room, and two directly to his left.
The scene that followed was nothing short of a massacre. Hellsgate cut through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter, hideous screams piercing the air each time the sword found its target.
The bullets kept coming, but Will dodged them all, Sixth Sense nudging him every which way. He didn’t stop or slow down until six men lay lifeless on the floor and Sixth Sense finally quieted in his mind.
Hellsgate absorbed the spilt blood with a flash of red as Will turned on Arbuckle. The shopkeeper’s small black eyes burned with rage.
And fear.
“Why did Graven come to you?” Will asked again.
Finally, Arbuckle cracked. “He wanted the Maelstrom’s location!”
A wildfire ignited under Will’s skin. Had this man given Graven the intel he needed to attack the Maelstrom?
“What else?” Will pushed.
“That’s all!”
“I don’t believe you.”
Arbuckle swallowed hard. “H-he also asked for a debriefing on the night of Miss Sinclair’s capture.”
Will frowned. “Why would you have insight on that?”
The heavy silence revealed the truth more clearly than words ever could. Will snarled and pressed in closer with Hellsgate until the blade cut through the top layer of his skin, drawing out a ribbon of blood.
“You,” he said. “You abducted Amaya?”
Arbuckle’s role in Sorrento’s relic trade was enough to warrant his death at Will’s hand. Hurting the Maelstrom crew and hurting Amaya were two equally grievous personal offenses. But all three?
Will envisioned his lost men lined up on a battered deck, the survivors equally devoid of life.
He envisioned Amaya the day he’d found her, bedraggled and scared and mourning her murdered friend.
Everything terrible that had befallen the people he loved in the past weeks had started right here, with this vile snake of a man.
If Arbuckle wasn’t irredeemable already, he’d just written and signed his own death warrant.
He seemed to realize it.
“I was merely a paid collaborator!” he screeched. “It was a trade! So he didn’t come for my business, you see.”
The type of arrangement Arbuckle described was known to happen. Graven occasionally offered deals to relic smugglers and traders. But Will knew those deals were fickle; they expired the moment Graven deemed them no longer useful.
And Arbuckle was no longer useful to Will.
“This is for my crew. And Amaya.”
Before Arbuckle wasted more time begging for his life, Will slashed Hellsgate across his throat.