Chapter 21 Play Drinking Games with Pickled Organs
(May Cause Vomiting, Flowers, and Philosophy)
Arabella
The next day, I emerged from our cabin feeling deliciously used and more than a little smug. Kaz and I had defiled every surface of our quarters.
The wind that had been so fierce yesterday had gentled to a pleasant breeze.
The Sky Serpent sliced through fluffy clouds, leaving wisps of white trailing from her creaking hull.
Below, the sea sparkled, broken by craggy islands and the occasional pod of something that might have been dolphins…
if dolphins had tentacles. Nyx glided to the north of us, stretching her pink wings and hunting.
I’d spent yesterday afternoon exploring every inch of this magnificent vessel while Sebastian recovered from Thorne’s tender ministrations and Griffin pestered Captain Brecca.
The cargo hold alone was a treasure trove of bizarre artifacts and supplies, though Griffin had been firmly banned from examining any of them after he’d accidentally activated a navigational compass that began pointing exclusively toward him.
Brecca had been less than amused when her entire bridge crew spent an hour trying to figure out why all their instruments were tracking Griffin’s movements through the ship.
Kazimir emerged from below deck, his hair still damp from washing. He wore a simple black tunic and trousers today, though he somehow managed to make even casual clothing look intimidating. He caught my eye and smiled that private smile that made my insides flutter.
“You look pleased with yourself,” he said, coming to stand beside me.
“I am.” I leaned into him, lowering my voice. “Though I might need a healing salve if we’re going to continue at last night’s pace.”
His laugh was low and wicked. “I’ll be gentler tonight.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Thorne lounged against the mainmast, somehow managing to look both relaxed and ready to murder anyone who breathed wrong. Beyond making sure Griffin and Sebastian behaved themselves, he had little to do now that we were in the sky.
Griffin had commandeered a corner of the deck where he’d spread out his research notebooks, muttering calculations.
And Sebastian sat cross-legged near the port railing, a cup of tea steaming in his hands as he watched the clouds drift by. He looked better than yesterday—less green, more his usual pleasant self—though I noticed small flowers had sprouted from the deck.
“We should play a game,” I announced.
Everyone turned to look at me.
“A game,” Kazimir repeated flatly.
“Yes. You know, fun? Entertainment? That thing normal people do when they’re not plotting world domination?”
He smirked. “I’m familiar with the concept, but we’re fresh out of eyeballs.”
Griffin’s head popped up from his notes.
“Oh! Yesterday when I was categorizing the cargo manifest—which you said I could do as long as I didn’t touch anything—I found the most peculiar collection of pickled organs!
” He beamed. “Hearts, livers, a badly preserved pancreas—they’re just sitting in the hold.
No labels, no preservation spells beyond the basic anti-rot enchantments. ”
Sebastian carefully set down his teacup. “Why would anyone pickle organs?”
“Emergency rations,” Thorne suggested.
“Spell components,” Griffin offered.
“Intimidation,” Kazimir added.
I grinned. “Game supplies.”
They all stared at me.
“We could play cornhole. But with organs.”
“That’s…” Sebastian paused, clearly trying to find a polite way to say “insane.” “… creative.”
“It’s brilliant.” I was already heading for the stairs to the hold. “Griffin, show me these jars.”
Twenty minutes later, we’d hauled up six large glass containers filled with murky brine and an assortment of preserved body parts. The crew gave us a wide berth, though I caught several of them placing bets on what exactly we were planning.
Sebastian peered into a jar containing what was definitely a human brain. “This is disgusting.”
“This is amazing,” Griffin said, scrambling out of the hold after me, his gangly limbs unfolding like a spider emerging from a drain.
Kazimir’s expression darkened. “Griffin. Back to your research.”
Griffin’s enthusiasm deflated like a punctured soap bubble. “But my lord, I was just—”
“The artifact won’t fix itself.”
I glanced at Griffin’s face—the bloodshot eyes behind his smudged glasses, the way his shoulders hunched with exhaustion.
I touched Kazimir’s arm lightly, leaning in to murmur, “He was up all night working. Look at him.”
Kazimir’s jaw tightened, but he studied Griffin more carefully. “Then he should be sleeping.”
“I’m too keyed up to sleep!” Griffin protested, having heard that part perfectly well. His voice cracked slightly. “My mind is racing with resonance patterns and harmonic frequencies and the way the energy signature keeps shifting when—”
“Fine.” Kazimir cut him off with a raised hand. “You can play. So you don’t make any disastrous mistakes while your brain is mushy.”
Griffin brightened immediately.
“However,” Kazimir continued, his tone brooking no argument, “you’re sleeping tonight. Actual sleep. Even if Thorne has to knock you upside the head like he did Sebastian.”
“That won’t be necessary, my lord!” Griffin squeaked.
I rolled up my sleeves. “Thorne, help me set up targets.”
We commandeered two crates from the cargo and cut rough holes in the tops, spacing them about twenty paces apart on the deck. The ship’s gentle sway would add an extra challenge, as would the wind.
Kazimir disappeared below deck and returned with two bottles of something that smelled strong enough to dissolve iron. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. Miss a throw, take a drink.”
“That seems unwise,” Griffin said.
“That’s the point,” I said, using tongs to fish out a liver. It squelched wetly in my grip. “Oh, that’s horrible. Perfect.”
“I’ll keep score,” Captain Brecca offered, abandoning her charts with the barely contained glee of someone who’d seen a lot of weird shit in her career but nothing quite like this.
“Haven’t seen entertainment this twisted since the Pirate King’s birthday bash.
That ended with three deaths and a marriage proposal. ”
“Just keeping score?” I asked. “Not playing?”
“Can’t drink on duty.” She pulled out a small notebook. “But I’ll take side bets on who vomits first.”
“My money’s on the pretty lord,” Thorne said, nodding at Sebastian. He hadn’t bothered to lower his voice, but Sebastian didn’t seem bothered by the assessment.
We divided into teams through the simple expedient of Kazimir claiming me before anyone else could speak. That left Sebastian, Griffin, and Thorne to sort themselves out.
“I’ll take Griffin,” Sebastian said, surprising everyone.
“Really?” Griffin’s voice cracked slightly.
“You’ve got good hand-eye coordination from all that delicate enchantment work,” Sebastian reasoned. “Also, Thorne scares me.”
Thorne shrugged. “So I’m alone?”
“You could wait for Nyx to return from hunting,” I suggested.
“I’ll manage.”
The first round was educational. The organs had vastly different aerodynamics—brains threw straight but splattered on impact, hearts were dense but had an unfortunate tendency to bounce, and the mystery organs (we’d given up trying to identify some of them) flew in completely unpredictable arcs.
Sebastian’s first throw, a kidney, went wide by three feet and slapped wetly against the deck.
“Drink,” Brecca called cheerfully.
Sebastian took a careful sip and immediately coughed. “What is this?”
“Pirate moonshine,” Kazimir said.
My throw landed dead center with a satisfying splat. “Ha!”
“Beginner’s luck,” Thorne said, then landed his own organ—possibly a gallbladder—right through the hole.
Griffin stepped up, holding what was definitely not a human heart. It had too many chambers and a suspicious number of valves. He squinted at the target, adjusted his glasses, then threw with surprising accuracy.
“Yes!” He did a little dance that involved a lot of flailing limbs.
Kazimir’s throw was perfect, because of course it was. The liver sailed through the air and through the hole without even touching the sides.
“Show-off,” I muttered.
“You love it.”
I did.
The second round, after everyone had taken a few drinks, got interesting.
“So Griffin,” I said, fishing out something purple and squishy, “how’d you end up working for the Dark Lord anyway?”
Griffin missed his throw entirely, the organ sailing over the side of the ship. He took a large gulp of moonshine. “Would you believe it was an accident?”
“Yes,” everyone said simultaneously.
“I was trying to summon a minor demon for my thesis project at the Academy in Valmont—Solandris wouldn’t admit me. It was a small thing, just needed it to answer some questions about infernal energy conversion rates.” He hiccuped. “Accidentally opened a portal to Lord Blackrose’s bathroom instead.”
I nearly dropped my organ. “His bathroom?”
“He was in the bath,” Griffin added helpfully.
Kazimir’s expression could have lit Griffin on fire all by itself. “We agreed never to speak of this.”
“You said you’d never speak of it, my lord,” Griffin corrected. The moonshine was making him bold. “I made no such promise. Anyway, instead of killing me—which would have been reasonable—he offered me a job.”
“Why?” Sebastian asked, his head swiveling to look at Kaz. He almost lost his balance.
“Because anyone who could accidentally breach my wards was either a genius or cosmically lucky.” Kazimir shrugged. “Either way, it’s damn useful.”
“It was luck,” Griffin admitted. “Definitely luck. I transposed two runes and created an entirely new summoning matrix. Haven’t been able to replicate it since.”
Thorne snorted. “That explains so much.”
Griffin adjusted his glasses. “But I’d had trouble with employment before that. And it was a wonder Lord Blackrose kept me on after my second disaster.”
“What was that?” Sebastian asked.