“What did you do?” Caine asked. 

Janie hadn’t really noticed him come in. He was leaning in the doorway watching Janie blow out the candles in front of the mirror. She was disheveled and flushed after watching Bella work her oral magic on Captain Vex, and she definitely did not expect an audience for what she was thinking about doing next.

She was recovering from being startled, but Caine didn’t give her time to reply. “A customer says you stiffed him?”

“That isn’t true at all!” Janie said. “I did not accept his money.”

Caine’s brows furrowed as he watched her and thought for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. Well, no. Not completely, but I will be fine. Things got out of hand, but he did not hurt me. I suspect he isn’t happy with me, though,” Janie sighed.

“That’s for sure. Why don’t you tell me what happened.” Caine said past the lip of his tankard.

“The mirror. We used it to watch Bella and Captain Vex…” She struggled with the words. “They were… together. John thought they didn’t know we were watching, but they did.”

“John?” Cain asked.

“The customer,” Janie explained.

“That isn’t his name,” Caine said, looking confused and a bit amused.

“I know,” Janie sighed. 

“Nevermind. That’s not the important part. Keep going,” Caine said.

“He thought he was watching them without their knowledge. I was trying to get him to see that was wrong and leave. I… had a whole reward planned for him, but he just kept watching. Eventually, I realized he liked that they didn’t know he was watching. It made me upset,” Janie said through pursed lips. 

“So you argued with him, refused his money, and sent him packing?” Caine asked.

“Yes,” Janie said firmly. “He is not a good person.”

Caine watched her for a while, then let out a sigh. “You’re probably right. You’re still wrong, though.”

“What?” Janie looked confused and a bit defensive.

“Ethically, I’m on your side,” Caine shrugged. “Anywhere else, I wouldn’t be talking to you about it because you’re right. Here, things are different.”

“I am not sure I agree with that,” Janie said slowly, her eyes narrowing a bit in confrontation. 

Caine sighed again. “Janie, this is a brothel.”

“Yes? So? Consent seems like it should be especially important here,” Janie retorted.

“It is. That’s the point. He didn’t go spy on anyone on his own. He came here. Everything he did, you offered to him,” Caine said. “The whole thing was a fabrication. Bella and your Captain friend, they knew, right?”

“Yes,” Janie said warily, starting to see where Caine was going with this and not liking it at all. “But he did not know that.”

“You don’t think so? He’s not stupid. He just played along with the fantasy you’d built. He’s a regular. He’s never caused problems before with anyone. Now, he’s talking to Chance about how you tricked him.” Caine shook his head and took another drink. 

“I don’t feel like I tricked him. I gave him every opportunity to do the right thing and leave,” Janie shook her head angrily.

Caine took another drink and thought for a bit, taking another pull off his mug. “We cater to all kinds. Some of it gets pretty complicated.” he sighed, trying to figure out how to get his point across. “For instance, there’s a thing called consensual non-consent. It’s about creating a fantasy of violation. Usually, it’s something we make customers sign very specific contracts about. The only people who offer those services are veterans who really know what they’re doing.” Caine said sadly. 

“That sounds horrible,” Janie said, suddenly much more uncomfortable.

“It can be, and that’s the point,” Caine shrugged. “There’s a lot that can go wrong in a fantasy like that. It’s definitely not something you should be creating on the fly on your second day.”

“You think I did that?” Janie asked. “Created a… fantasy of violation?”

“Didn’t you?” Caine asked.

“Yes. I suppose I did. The purpose was to make him see the violation and refuse to participate,” Janie said. She sounded like she wasn’t even able to convince herself anymore.

“I don’t think he understood what you were going for,” Caine said quietly. 

“Clearly,” Janie sighed.

“Remember the rule about how no one gets tricked?” Caine asked. 

Janie felt defeated. She nodded. 

“I’ll keep Chance off your back, but no more customers for you, alright?” Caine asked.

“That’s what I wanted anyway,” she said sadly. 

“Good,” he said with a small smile. Then he ducked out of the curtains and was gone.

________________________

The crowd gave Jack and her entourage plenty of room. The Centurion immediately shifted his focus to the biggest threat. He moved much faster than one would expect from someone in heavy armor. With a gliding quick-step that seemed almost like a dance, he covered the distance to put himself right between Jack and the two priestesses. He stared right through his transparent shield, his eyes intense and warning. His hand began to raise towards his shoulder and Jack’s large gun went from a relaxed but ambient threat, to her shoulder, aimed right at him. 

“Try it,” she said. Her smile never reached her eyes. The right half of her face was painted into a sinister looking skull now, which added to her grim demeanor. It looked like it hadn’t been finished, but enough of it was there to give her an intimidating countenance. “My bet is, the flames wash right around your fancy magic shield, and cooks you and everyone behind you too.” The Centurion stopped. His eyes flicked towards the priestesses. “What, that ward of theirs doesn’t stop fire?” Jack asked. “Seems like you have a problem.”

“Jack, back off!” Will called out. She ignored him.

“You’ll burn him too,” the Centurion cautioned. 

“Why do you care? You think he’s some kind of monster anyway,” Jack shrugged. 

“Jack, you’re not helping!” Will said loudly.

“Shut up, Will!” she snapped, her eyes never leaving the man in the golden helm. Something felt off. It nagged at the back of her head, but she didn’t have time to think about it.

“I don’t care, but you do,” the Centurion said. His hand creeped a little closer to the stock of the firearm slung on his back. 

“I already did the worst thing I could do to him. A few burn scars won’t be much to add to the list,” Jack shrugged. 

“She’s not bluffing!” Will shouted.

Jack took a step to the side to get a better angle on the priestesses. The Centurion stepped with her, his hand blurring and coming down with his weapon. It was a rifle with a short, thick barrel and a long bayonet attached to the end. It rested in his shield hand with professional ease. The barrel and bayonet protruded right through the shimmering field of his shield. 

As soon as the Centurion’s weapon came to bear, Quinn moved. He stepped in front of Jack and ducked beneath her gun, so it rested on his shoulder. One of his swords was suddenly in his hand. The Centurion’s bayonet was only a few feet from him. Jack raised her eyebrow at the Centurion. “How high do you want to escalate this?” The Centurion didn’t answer. 

The priestess who had ahold of Will’s rope continued hauling on him. He was digging his heels in, but with the way the rope resisted him also, she was winning the tug-of-war. He tried to just go limp and turn himself into dead weight, but the rope felt like it was locked in the air. It didn’t fall with him. Instead, it held his arms where they were. Trying to collapse to the ground just wrenched his shoulders painfully. 

The crowd had closed in enough to block the priestesses retreat. They were looking cagey and a bit panicked. People were starting to shout “let him go” and “Magistrate get out.” The throng of costumed people, many of them with brightly glowing skeletons painted on their bodies, was impressively intimidating. 

“He’s not human!” the Hammer priestess in purple barked. A bottle crashed into the ground next to her, shattering into shards at her feet. Apparently, the shimmering ward didn’t stop improvised projectiles. 

“Sister...” the Chalice priestess cautioned. More thrown objects began sailing in. Rocks. More bottles. A half-eaten turkey leg. The priestesses dodged as best they could, but couldn’t help being pelted. Their clean robes were quickly splattered with filth, and the Chalice priestess was bleeding from the brow where a rock had hit her.

“Why are you defending this monster?!” the purple priestess yelled back to the crowd. 

The crowd shouted back. Most of it was unintelligible, but the sentiment was clear. More projectiles rained in. They turned towards each other, putting their back to the rain of stones and trash, wincing with the heavier impacts. The priestess in white suddenly grabbed the rope and snapped “liberation.”

Will instantly fell to the ground again as the iron-like rope suddenly went completely slack. His wrists hurt, but they were free. Some people in the crowd cheered. He stood up, rubbing his wrists, but before he could do more than stand the Hammer priestess put a pistol in his face. The crowd quieted a bit and the rain of rocks and garbage stopped. “You’re not going anywhere,” she gave her partner a sidelong glare.

Jack tried to quickly duck around the Centurion as the Inquisitor’s gun came into play. Quinn moved with her, somehow knowing right when she was going to move. The Centurion was quicker than both of them. He stepped too, sideways along Jack’s trajectory, but forward also, using his shield to push aside Quinn’s swords and bounce him back into Jack. The big green warrior was caught off guard and Jack stumbled back. By the time she’d recovered the Centurion had the two priestesses fully covered again. Quinn was furious, but Jack put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, then leveled her weapon again. It occurred to Jack that Lace was gone. She cursed under her breath as she realized her new crewmate had left them on their own when things got heated.

“Look, this is all a big misunderstanding. I’m just a guy with a curse,” Will said, slowly raising his arms and trying to talk past the barrel of the pistol. 

“Yeah, sure,” the Hammer priestess scoffed. Her thumb was resting on the hammer of her weapon.

“Serious. I’m registered with the Magistrate and everything. My name’s Will Sterling. You can check with your librarians,” Will shrugged. 

“Archivists,” she corrected angrily. 

“If you’re human, why not just come with us?” the Chalice priestess in white asked, looking like she desperately wanted to find some kind of compromise. 

“You mean besides the fact that you can’t just nab people off the street for no reason? The Magistrate is notoriously slow and my ship leaves in the morning,” Will said. 

“You broke into someone’s house!” the Hammer priestess snapped. “That’s hardly no reason.”

“So call the Watch! I didn’t know the Magistrate still had legal authority here? I thought you got booted out about twenty-five years ago,” Will said incredulously. 

“We chose to leave,” the Hammer priestess said flatly.

“And yet you’re still here,” Jack interjected, “Trying to kidnap people you think aren’t real people.” She and the Centurion were still staring daggers at each other. 

“He fits the description of spirits who cross over from the Ways Between during this holiday,” the Chalice priestess tried to explain. “I’m not convinced he isn’t one.”

“They’re invited! That’s the whole point of this festival!” Jack snapped. “Who the hell invited you?”

“The Warden,” the Hammer Priestess glared. 

“I don’t think the Warden was invited either,” Will said wryly, eyeing the crowd. “You want to stop pointing that gun at me now?”

“No,” the priestess in purple said flatly. “I’m going to hold you here until reinforcements get here.” She smiled smugly. 

Will’s blood went cold and he watched the glances and whispers run through the crowd. More Magistrate forces were on their way. He could feel his curse still tugging at him. It was getting stronger, making him feel like he was slipping. It was like when you leaned back to far in a chair. That very first moment when your body tried to instinctively keep you from falling over. This was in danger of getting very ugly. The Magistrate had a very dark history on this island. For most of the island natives, the occupation wars were in their lifetime. It was their childhood. The elders were almost all veterans of the brutal fighting. Many of them were in this crowd, right now, watching. It wouldn’t take much to turn this celebration into a battlefield. People were going to die if this continued. It might already be too late.

“Shoot me,” he said. 

“Will!” Jack barked. Her whole world seemed to slow to a crawl. She wanted to rush the Centurion, but the gun to Will’s head held her feet like shackles. Her best friend, the only man she’d ever loved, was committing suicide and there was nothing she could do to stop it. “Will, no!” she screamed.

The hammer priestess looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t give me an excuse, monster.”

“If you’re sure, do it. Why wait?” Will asked. He could hear Jack pleading, but he forced himself to ignore her.

“Because that’s not the way we do things!” The Hammer priestess snapped. 

“It sure used to be. What changed?” Will asked pointedly. The Hammer priestess looked even angrier, but she didn’t answer. Will nodded toward the pistol expectantly. 

“What are you doing?” the priestess in white asked, horrified. She looked like she was trying to figure out what Will was beneath the glow of the strange lattice across his skin. 

“Math,” Will answered grimly. “What do you think is going to happen if Magistrate soldiers show up to help you here? How many did you bring? A squad or two? A company? A lot of these people are veterans of the war your forces fought on the other side of. If they start seeing red and gold soldiers breaking up their sacred festival with guns and shields, what do you think they’ll do? I was just a tourist until you showed them my curse, but look around. They’re all marked up to look just like me. They’ve decided I’m one of them. They’ll try to stop you, and a lot of people will die. I don’t want that blood on my hands, so you might as well just shoot me now. Then they’ll only kill you two and everyone else will be spared. Four lives are better to me than however many restarting the old war would cost.”

“Six lives,” Jack snarled. “They kill you, they’ll have to kill me too, and they’ll have to kill Quinn for that.” Quinn nodded once. 

A square-headed, long-handled knife snaked into place against the Hammer priestess’ throat; it’s wicked hook pressing into her skin enough to send a trickle of blood downward. “Seven,” Lace whispered in the Inquisitor’s ear. “And you die first.” 

The Centurion blurred. In a blistering display of coordination and speed, he tapped his heavy bracer, which somehow detached his shield from where it was anchored against his arm. He left it hanging there in space and drew one of his swords with his left hand. He swung it through the floating transparent shield, aiming the tip of the blade toward Quinn. When the pommel of the sword came in contact with the shield, the shield locked to it like an enormous bell guard. As that happened, he pivoted, opening his body up and swinging his rifle to level at Quinn’s head. He held it at full extension with one hand, as easily as though it were a pistol. His fearsome helm leveled at Lace and she felt a chill run through her.

“No,” The Centurion said calmly. “You die first.”

The Hammer priestess trembled in rage and shock as Lace put a firm, calloused hand on her shoulder to keep her steady. She raised her head to try to pull away from the knife, but she didn’t lower her pistol. 

The sister in white blinked, her eyes flicking back and forth between Jack, Will, and the newcomer who had just taken her partner hostage, and her bodyguard, who looked like he was about to take this standoff into action.

She looked to her partner and gently pushed her gun down. “We aren’t doing this.”

“That isn’t up to you!” the Hammer priestess snarled, trying not to move her neck and bringing her gun back up. Lace pulled the blade more firmly against her neck. More blood began to run. The Centurion thumbed back the hammer on his rifle. The point of the bayonet never wavered. The priestess in white stepped in front of her sister’s pistol. 

“We aren’t doing this,” she repeated.

“You’ll be Excommunicated!” the Hammer priestess barked. 

“I’ll risk it,” the white-robed priestess said. “I came here to capture monsters, not to reignite a war that ended before I was born.” 

The Hammer priestess stared at her for a long, tense moment, and then lowered her gun. “You’re free to go, Sterling,” she said tersely. 

“Much obliged, ladies,” Will tipped his hat, then stepped around the Centurion and over to Jack. Lace removed the knife from the inquisitor’s neck and stepped back into the crowd. Jack raised her weapon skyward and the Centurion set his rifle against his armored shoulder. The Shield winked out of existence. 

The whole festival had gone quiet.

After a few more tense seconds the Centurion and the two priestesses moved back toward the Magistrate stage. The crowd let them pass. A few people spit on the ground at their feet. Then they were gone in the throng. 

“What. The hell. Was that?” Jack hissed.

Will looked around at the crowd that was still looking at him. He looked at the swirling runic web crawling across his skin and sighed. “I’ll tell you later.” He waved to the crowd. “Thanks, everyone. Sorry about all the fuss.”

Beaming faces, scattered applause, and ever a few cheers returned his greeting. An older man with a few bands of glowing script of his own and eyes that seemed to light up from within threw his arms around Will’s shoulders. “Know I, that you are no Loa,” the man grinned. “But you walk wit’ dem, so you walk wit’ us.” The nearby crowd cheered. “Come, there be much drinking to be done!” the old man laughed. Will gave Jack a surprised look. 

She rubbed her temples. Her mind was reeling. She’d had close calls before. She’d been in standoffs before. She and Will had faced death and disaster together more times than she could count, but this… She’d never seen Will invite himself to be killed. That rocked her to her core. Will’s brows furrowed as he noticed the expression on her face, but before he could say anything, the crowd was dragging him away.

Lace rejoined them, oblivious to Jack’s internal meltdown. She grinned as Will was swept away by the crowd. “Can’t leave him alone for five minutes.”

___________________________

Janie was shaking. She sat down in Bella’s chair and tried to breathe. The knot in her chest wouldn’t release. She focused on her mantras from her days as an acolyte, her lessons in serenity and composure. She felt pressurized. She wanted to scream. Sob. Run. Panic. Anything except feel what she was currently feeling. 

It had snuck up on her. She thought she was fine. After John had left, she’d felt uncomfortable and drained, but she’d still been riding the chaotic energy of the experience. She’d managed to dismiss the discomfort until Caine had come to talk to her, and then it all came rushing back.

The scene she’d created for John had been exciting at first, but had quickly changed. Spiraled. Nothing about it had gone the way she hoped. Beneath the mask of Sister Evangelina, she’d felt like she’d been running on a collapsing bridge, trying to stay one step ahead of disaster. There hadn’t been any time to look back or stop to think. When it was over, it hadn’t really felt over. It had felt like being held hostage. Something had happened that she’d faked her way through, and seemed like she’d been in control the whole time, but inside she’d been falling apart.

The difference was this time she’d done it to herself. 

It was too much. She’d wanted to try something new, something daring, to have an adventure. She’d been denied the one she had her heart set on, and she was suddenly in a place that felt like the exact opposite of her cloister back at Fort Deliverance. Mary’s was a place that felt like there were no real rules. She’d always cloaked herself in rules. They were comforting. They’d trapped the wildness inside her in a way that made her not have to think about it. Now, they were gone. Mary’s had the same effect on her that Bella did. It made her feel like anything she dreamed or wanted was alright. The difference was Bella was also a safety net. Bella never failed to check on her, to nudge her in the right direction when she felt like she was getting out of control. Mary’s didn’t. Caine had become something of a guardian, but he definitely wasn’t a guide. Tonya was no help either. The apprentice witch seemed to enjoy the chaos this place seemed to sow. Janie knew she could still talk to Bella, but something about the mirror put distance between them. Feeling and connecting through it was hard. 

If they’d been together in person, Bella might have been able to tell how far out of control things had gotten, and how much Janie wasn’t saying, but through the mirror, Bella hadn’t seen it. She’d been focused on other things at the time anyway. It was impossible for Janie to be upset about that. She had always been good at keeping up a mask of composure, and now was painted and dressed to disguise what she was feeling. She was wearing a veil for the express purpose of hiding who she really was. Who could really be expected to notice her struggles when she was doing her best to hide them in so many ways? Besides all that, it wasn’t really Bella’s job to look after her. She shouldn’t have been relying on Bella for guidance in the first place. All that, plus the mirror it was no wonder no one had noticed Janie wasn’t nearly as in control as she’d been pretending. She never was.

She hadn’t really wanted anything to do with John. He was just a way to try something new. She’d used him, and hadn’t even gotten what she wanted. Maybe he deserved how he’d treated her? No, that was irrelevant. She was rationalizing. Still, she found herself on the verge of hating him. It wasn’t fair and she knew it, but he’d come to represent something she did not like at all. He was a regret now, and a part of herself she didn’t know what to do with. Was he really a bad person? She’d been the one to put him into the situation. That was the key deception of this place. Everything here was a fantasy. It was just about the worst place she could be choosing to create situations of questionable ethics. If she’d have thought about it more, she might have considered that, but she hadn’t. She’d created a no-win situation to justify punishing him. Didn’t that make her that bad person? Or was it alright because it was what he’d told her he wanted? Was she bad for not punishing him in the right way? Usually, in hindsight, things were clear, but this situation still clouded her mind. She was angry at herself. She had always taken pride in being a moral person, but in a matter of days she’d become… a whore.

In her mind, she could see Bella’s arched brows as the word came. Whore. It was different; she tried to justify it to herself. She didn’t think of Bella that way, or any of the girls at Mary’s. Or the boys either. They were just doing jobs, providing a service. They seemed to be good people. A little rough around the edges, obviously, but still good.

Whores were something else. Something bad. She couldn’t come up with the right words to describe the difference in her head. She just knew that in this brothel, the only one she truly thought of as a whore, was herself.

She could see Bella’s questioning eyebrow in her mind’s eye again, this time wondering if she was being dramatic. How had the voice in her head come to have Bella’s face so quickly?

Perhaps she was being overly dramatic. She just hated what she’d done. She felt dirty. She felt like she’d betrayed someone. 

All her training, her composure, all her pride in her self-control, her dignified mask, it all finally cracked. She’d handled being taken hostage twice, having her dreams of adventure dashed, losing Will, and making an enormous transformation she couldn’t have imagined a week ago. She’d managed to maintain her composure through all of it, but it had all caught up to her. She felt like she was trying to fight the tide. Tears began to leak down her face, and once they started, they didn’t stop.

She stared at Sister Evangelina in the mirror and hated her. 

______________________

“We’ll get it back to your cabin,” the Norths said covering the mirror and passing it over the railing to a pair of sailors on the other side.

“Thank ye. I’m going tae take a walk around t’ see the festivities, but I’ll be back shipboard shortly,” Captain Vex said to the pair.

Mister North hopped the railing with an agility that belied his blocky frame and set out after the two sailors, helping them get the big mirror back to the ship. His wife sunk down into a chair and sighed. “When we got here I thought we were going to have to scrounge for new crew, not drive them off with sticks. Things almost turned ugly in there when I announced we were full up.”

“Did ye hear anything else about the ship disappearances?” Captain Vex asked.

“Oh, plenty. Nothing useful though. Ghost ships. Pirates. Grindylows. Sea monsters. Lots of stories, each one dumber than the last. I even heard someone claim it’s a Skinsail” Danica said with a shrug.

Belita snorted. “The Blood Tide is, what? A month away on a fast ship? That’d be pretty damn far for a Skinsail to roam.”

“That’s what I said. The sheer number of disappearances would mean it would have to be more than one, too,” Danica nodded.

“Those creepy bastards ain’t known for bein’ subtle or stealthy. If there were a flotilla of Skinsails around, someone would have gotten a look at them,” Belita said. It was a troubling thought, but not one that was actually likely. 

“Best realistic guess is, probably just pirates with more skill than average.” The First Mate picked up Captain Vex’s half-full cup and downed the whole thing in one drink. 

Captain Vex gave Bella a long-suffering look. “D’ya see what I put up with?”

Bella snickered. “I think she’s earned it.”

“Mutineers, the lot of you,” Belita huffed.

“What’s a Skinsail?” Bella asked.

“No one is really sure,” Danica said. “They’re what we call the raiders in the Blood Tide. They sometimes come out of the red waters, but not far. So mostly we see them in the distance.”

“So they’re easy tae avoid. They’re just another seaward boogeyman,” Belita added.

“They’re really more of a coastal problem. When the Blood Tide comes in contact with some new stretch of coastline, the Skinsails raid villages and towns. The aftermath is said to be awful,” Danica explained. “Piles of severed heads. Weird rituals. Crucified, skinned bodies. Real penny dreadful scary story stuff.”

Bella looked horrified. “And they stay in the Blood Tide?” Bella asked. “Where is that, exactly?”

“On the other side of Nival, mostly,” Captain Vex said. “It’s been slowly spreading, so now it’s pretty close to the Western Passage, but during the warmer months the winds keep it far enough away that fast coastal ships will still make the trip pretty regularly.”

“And we aren’t going to be going anywhere near there, right?” Bella asked.

“The Western Passage is right on the horizon from Drifter’s Key. Ye can see th’ entrance tae it pretty well with a good spyglass. I doubt we’ll see any red waters through. It’s the wrong time of year,” Captain Vex said, trying to be reassuring. Bella did not look very comforted.

“The sirens seem to do a pretty good job keeping the Skinsails at bay,” Danica shrugged. “They migrate in winter though, so there has been a Skinsail ship spotted in the passage once or twice in the last few years. With the Tide spreading, it’s something sailors try to keep aware of.”

“It’s one of the reasons the Magistrate is trying tae put down strongholds and spread its power base in the islands so quickly. They’re the closest ones wit’ the naval power tae fight the Skinsails, and it’s really looking like there’s an invasion coming at some point,” Captain Vex added.

“Captain,” a voice from the shadows said, distracting them all from the macabre story. Doctor Kalfou stepped into the dim light at the edge of the railing. She looked a bit less put together than the last time they had seen her. She’d removed her skeletal makeup, but remnants of it still remained around her eyes giving her a smokey, unkempt look. Something about her seemed frayed. “Can I impose on you to let me move my things into the cabin you’ve offered now?”

Captain Vex tended towards relaxed and easy going, but it would be a mistake to think that made her complacent. She knew the look of someone in the middle of trouble. She raised a blond eyebrow. “That depends. You want tae tell me what’s going on before I bring it ontae my ship?”

“Being hunted by the Magistrate, I,” Doctor Kalfou said without any hesitation. 

Captain Vex glanced at Bella, who looked a bit pained. “Well tha’ was fast,” the Captain said. She gave Danica a small nod. 

“Tonight is full of surprises,” Doctor Kalfou said with a small smile. 

“Sailors hate surprises,” Danica said, pushing herself back to her feet with a slight groan of fatigue. “Follow me. I’ll get you settled.” She stepped up onto the chair and hopped the railing too. With her small stature, it was a bit more of a feat, but she was more athletic than her husband. “How much gear do you have?”

“Two bags and a small footlocker,” the doctor replied. She gestured behind her. Danica squinted, then her brows raised, startled. Captain Vex did the same. There was a tall, dark-skinned man at the edge of the shadows. He was only a few paces away, but none of them had seen him. He had two bags slung over his left shoulder and a metal-reinforced footlocker resting on top of it.

“Well damn,” Danica said after a moment, taking the man in appreciatively. “Your friend is sneaky for a big guy.”

The tall man tipped his top hat to her. “When he has to be,” he rumbled in a deep, silky voice. The small smile on his face and the look in his eyes said volumes as he looked the diminutive Danica up and down, returning her appreciation.

“I’m married,” Danica said with a smirk. “I’m liking the effort though. Feel free to keep trying.”

“Saints alive,” Doctor Kalfou muttered, looking pained. She pointed a warning finger in the tall man’s direction, clearly exasperated with his flirtations. “Behave.” She followed Danica with another warning glance over her shoulder at the tall man.

His chuckle was practically felt more than heard. He tipped his hat to Bella and Captain Vex with a rumbled “ladies,” then turned to follow the others. 

“Well that was interesting,” Bella said as she watched them disappear into the dark. 

Captain Vex brought her cup to her lips, then looked at it like it had betrayed her when she realized it was empty. She sighed and put it down. “On the seas, ye learn to pay attention tae little things at the edge of your perception. Chills, changes in wind, the color of the sky on the horizon. Anything that might give ye a warning that things might get rough. Tonight’s like that. Feels like a storm coming.”

“Because of her?” Bella gestured in the direction the doctor had gone. 

Captain Vex shrugged. “Because of lots of things. She’s just part of it.”

“Are you worried?” Bella asked.

Captain Vex smiled. “Nae. I love storms.”

______________________

“Are… we going to follow them?” Lace asked as she watched Will get swept away with the crowd. 

“You can if you want to,” Jack said tersely. “I’m done.”

“What was all that about?” Lace asked. 

“I have no idea. You told me he cut his hand,” Jack growled. Her voice was dripping with exasperation. “I thought he was going to find a doctor?”

“It was bandaged. Perhaps he did,” Quinn pointed out.

“Not even a thank you,” Jack grouched. “I faced down a Centurion, and he gets the celebration.”

“That was a real Centurion? I thought they were all gone?” Lace asked, looking suddenly a lot more surprised. 

“They were. Now apparently they’re back,” Jack shrugged. 

Lace let out a long breath. She didn’t pay much attention to Mainlander tales, but even she knew about the prowess of the Centurions. “Damn. Is this normal for you two? I’m no slouch in a fight, but I don't think I want to be pissing off legendary warriors on a regular basis.” Lace looked like she was rethinking some life choices. 

“First time for me. I’ve never even seen one before tonight. Saw a suit of their armor in a museum once, and read some of the histories. I would have loved to ask him some questions, but no. Will had to convince them he was some kind of demon spirit,” Jack was walking now, trailing Quinn and Lace behind her as she grouched. 

“What was that all about anyway?” Lace asked. 

“It looked like some sort of Revealing spell that lit up sources of enchantment,” Jack muttered. “Will’s is very strong. You saw. From what I understand, spirits look a lot like that under the effects of those kinds of spells.”

“And the Magistrate wanted to capture one,” Lace rolled her eyes at the audacity. “Bad luck for Will.”

Something twisted in Jack’s gut. Until the standoff she’d been treating things like they were normal and fine, and so had Will. It had been easy to fall into old habits and just not think about all the negativity and blame and bitterness between them. Now she couldn’t help but think about it. Was this was Will’s curse in action? Even if it wasn’t, did he think it was? She’d watched him ask to be killed rather than let it escalate. 

Guilt settled through her. If Will thought this was the curse, that meant it was her fault. She’d spent so long trying to rationalize everything; thinking Will was just being overly dramatic about how he was “cursed” when she knew full well that wasn’t really what it was. Now, she had to believe it. The whole mess had been so improbable, and had unfolded exactly the way he’d always said they did when his curse acted up. Just bad luck piling on top of itself until things were so tense that the wrong choice made in a fraction of a second could mean catastrophe. And to stop it, Will had asked to die. 

How could things have gone this way? How had she been so wrong? She’d only been trying to make up for how she had betrayed him. She was grinding her teeth and fuming. Anger was easier than the sadness she felt building up inside her. 

She thought things had been going so well. 

“I need some time to myself,” Jack said quietly to Lace. 

The lithe Akula woman looked at her for a few moments and nodded. “I’ll follow Will’s crowd. Maybe I can get some free drinks or something.” Then she vanished into the throng.

“Quinn,” Jack said quietly. The green-skinned warrior gave her his full attention, but did not reply. “Did I do this?” she asked.

“Yes,” Quinn replied. “It is very unlikely this situation would have played out in the manner it did without your previous actions influencing them now.”

“I hate it,” Jack said bitterly. “I was trying to help, and he almost died. Again.”

“Miss Bella is alive,” Quinn said. “That was what you wanted most.”

“And now she hates me! They both do!” Jack snapped.

“That was not my impression after watching your interactions this evening,” Quinn said.

“Well, they did for years. Will is starting to come around now, but I think Bella is playing nice and waiting. I don’t think I’ve even scratched the surface of this with her. She’s just following Will’s lead because she thinks he’s the one with the most reason to be upset.”

“Then she would be correct,” Quinn agreed.

“Thanks,” Jack said bitterly. “Part of me wants to blame you for this. You told me I’d done everything right.”

“You did,” Quinn agreed.

“Then why did this happen? What happened tonight?” Jack demanded.

“Probability is a fickle thing,” Quinn said. “Human desires even more so.”

“What the hell does that mean? His whole curse isn’t supposed to be a curse at all! It was supposed to be… I don’t know… an apology. Something to make what I did bearable. All it seems to do is cause problems,” Jack was fuming now. The crowd was giving her wide berth. 

“I suspect that has more to do with William as a person, than with your intentions,” Quinn said.

Jack sighed, her explosive frustration petering out as quickly as it came. “I suppose if there was anyone who could turn a blessing into a curse, it’s Will.”

“He seems no worse for wear,” Quinn pointed out.

“He was ready to die!” Jack countered.

“Perhaps it was a gamble?” Quinn asked.

“It was. He wasn’t bluffing though. He bet his life, and won,” Jack explained.

“Brave,” Quinn said.

“He is.” She didn’t sound proud of him at all. Mostly, she sounded sad.

They walked in silence back to the ship. Jack couldn’t enjoy the festival now. It was late, and her heart just wasn’t in it any longer. There had been a thrill of adventure to the whole debacle, and for a moment it had felt like it used to, but when Will had asked for them to kill him, all the excitement died and was replaced by a cold, knotted fear. She’d never heard that from him before. She’d seen him risk his life with a smile more times than she could count, but she never thought she would see the day where he would invite his own death without a fight. She’d tricked herself into thinking that Will was the same as he used to be. That he was just angry because of what she’d done, and that he’d get over it when he understood and go back to being the Will she remembered. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Will was different, and it was utterly her fault. 

She stalked up the Kestrel’s gangplank and down into the hold lost in her own thoughts. When she got to the doorway of her cabin, she had a momentary start as she realized the lantern was lit and there were people inside. She blinked and looked back and forth between Danica North, a dark-skinned woman dressed in white and painted like a flowery skeleton, and a lanky Nivalese man whose head nearly hit the ceiling. 

“Miss Hunter! Glad you’re here,” Danica said with a smile. “This is Doctor Kalfou. She’s going to be your bunkmate until we get to Drifter’s Key.”

Jack felt a tremble of frustrated rage run up her spine, but she managed not to let it out. “Fuck this,” she muttered. She turned on her heel, pushed past Quinn and headed back up on deck leaving Danica and Doctor Kalfou looking surprised and confused. Quinn gave the three in the room an unreadable look that might have been sympathy or exasperation, and followed his mistress. 

The tall man watched the green-skinned warrior leave with a fascinated look in his eye. “Well now, tonight is full of surprises.”

“Yeah, we have an Asura,” Danica said, looking after Jack. “He works for Miss Hunter. She’s usually less… whatever that was.”

“Asura,” the tall man chuckled. “Of course.”

“Did not seem happy that I was here, she.” Doctor Kalfou’s voice was concerned. 

“I don’t know her well. From what I gather, she can be moody,” Danica shrugged. “If she gives you any trouble, let me or my husband know.”

“Thank you,” Doctor Kalfou said. She tucked her footlocker under the narrow bed opposite Jack’s and Danica gave the pair a small nod.

“I’ll let you get settled in. Might want to get some sleep now. Once dawn comes, it won’t be quite so quiet.” Danica pulled the door shut as she left. 

Doctor Kalfou gave her grandfather a hug. “Thank you. Sorry I brought trouble into your house.”

“No harm was done. Sometimes trouble can be fun,” the tall man smiled, hugging her back. “Be safe.”

“See you next year,” she said, giving him another squeeze.

He kissed her on the cheek and slipped out the door with a wink. She sat down on her bed.

________________________

Lord Morant was looking even more disapproving than usual. “Hector, you are a Centurion, and you have two of the most talented witch hunters in a generation backing you up. Tell me again from the top. How did this get so out of hand?”

“Our intelligence was bad,” the Centurion said. “There was no monster in the house. Just a drunk with some kind of enchantment on him.”

“Go on,” Morant said sternly. 

“We followed the plan to the letter, including the provision about revealing the monster if we faced resistance,” the Centurion continued. 

“The Prayer of Revealing lit up half the crowd,” the Hammer priestess said bitterly. “It all went sideways after that.”

“Lit up… the crowd?” Morant raised a condescending eyebrow. “That prayer reveals magic, and creatures infused with it.”

“Yes. The makeup and costumes all the locals are wearing is enchanted,” the Centurion continued.

“Enchanted with what?” Morant asked.

“Nothing. As far as we can tell, the makeup is made from something that has its own magical resonance, but none of the costumes or makeup are actual sigils or magical works,” the Chalice priestess said quietly. “The magic in the makeup is fading as the night goes on. I expect it will be inert by morning. 

“Then what is the purpose?” Morant asked, struggling to find meaning in what he was hearing. 

“They want to look like spirits,” the Chalice priestess shrugged. 

“You mean demons. I thought it was bad enough that these savages paint their faces in masks of death, but you are telling me that it is deeper than that? They are enchanting the costumes as well? To more accurately impersonate the monsters they revere?” Morant was disgusted.

“Yes, but not exactly. There’s no enchantment. Not any more than getting the blood of an actual monster on you would enchant you,” the Centurion corrected. 

“There are monsters whose blood does exactly that,” Morant said grimly.

“The point is, it doesn’t seem to do anything other than look like something inhuman. Just like the costumes and paint. It’s another part of their celebration ritual. It just isn’t one we thought to look into beforehand,” the Hammer priestess clarified. 

“Well, why would we?” Morant scoffed. “Who would think that an entire town would be making themselves indiscernible from demons? Why would any rational person want to do that?”

“They think the demons are their family,” the Chalice priestess said. “I think this is, so the demons don’t stand out in a crowd. They want to help them blend in.”

“They are deliberately hiding demons?” Morant shook his head in disbelief. “Blasphemy. Why did we not scour this island of these people fifty years ago?”

The Chalice priestess looked uncomfortable. The Hammer priestess gave her a bitter, sidelong glance. 

“So, after months of planning and preparation for this one night when we were most likely to be able to find and catch one of the Traveler’s brood, instead we catch a drunk painted up to look like a demon, who leads you three on a merry chase, rallies the crowd behind him, and puts you in an armed standoff without backup?” Morant glared cooly. 

“That’s the short of it,” The Centurion shrugged. His armor clanked gently.

“Again, not quite. Our captive wasn’t painted up. He actually was enchanted with something. He didn’t look like the crowd,” the Chalice priestess corrected.

“And you could not tell an enchanted human from a demon?” Morant’s voice dripped with scorn. 

“Not at first,” the priestess in white shook her head. “I’ve never seen an enchantment like that. There was no anchoring sigil. It was more like a net across his whole body. I wish we’d been able to capture him just so I could study it in more detail.”

“He said he was registered with us,” the Centurion reminded the priestess. “Maybe someone already studied him? ”

“Right! What did he say his name was?” the priestess said excitedly. 

“Will something,” the Centurion said.

“Not important,” the Hammer priestess said angrily. 

“Wait.” Morant went completely still. “Sterling? Was his name Will Sterling?”

“Yes! Thank you,” the Chalice priestess smiled. “I was hoping to look him up.”

“Something seemed off the entire time I was dealing with him. Who is he?” the Centurion asked.

“A mistake,” Morant snarled. He turned on his heel and stalked back toward the docks leaving the three witch hunters looking at each other in surprise. 

___________________________

“This is a terrible mistake!” Will said. Or tried to. What came out of his mouth didn’t quite sound how he’d intended them to. His head was spinning. How many drinks had he accepted? What had been in them. He had no idea — so many people. Grinning happy faces painted like skeletons thanking him, drinking to his health, giving him things, feeding him. Had he blessed a baby? How many women did he have his hands on right now? Two? Three? They were laughing and pulling at his clothes, and each others. More Sorrel drink was poured into his mouth, and a pair of lips clamped down on his, swirling it and sharing it. Someone was sucking his cock. 

The only light was from the glow coming off their bodies. Theirs, luminescent body paint to make them look like skeletons and flowers. His, a golden net beneath his skin. He’d never gotten a good look at it before. He stared at his arm in fascination. At each intersection of narrow golden lines was a small circular sigil. They seemed to be shifting as he watched them, but his eyes were doing strange things. It was hard to concentrate on them. It was hard to concentrate on anything. 

It occurred to him that he felt more than just drunk. He vaguely remembered kissing something sweet off of a pretty skeleton’s tongue, and her friends reacting like they were impressed and excited. Things slowly had gotten weird after that. The pretty skeleton was riding him now. It felt good. Amplified somehow, but also distant. It didn’t make sense. Another pretty skeleton was making out with the one straddling his hips. The ground was cold and damp beneath him, but he was so hot that it felt good. More sorrel was poured into his mouth. He coughed a bit and swallowed. Warm lips licked up the overflow. He tried to wipe his mouth but hit his hand on something hard. He stared, trying to focus. Was that a headstone? Were they in a graveyard? Of course they were. That’s where skeletons go. 

The pretty skeleton on top of him slowly slid off and her friend dove down to put her lips around his cock like it was water and she was dying of thirst. He was trying to read the name on the stone, but he was interrupted by lips finding his. 

“What’s a name?” he slurred. Did he say that? That wasn’t what he was trying to ask. 

“I’m Mona,” the pretty skeleton said. “Tha slut wit’ her mouth full is Samara.” She grabbed a fist full of her friend’s hair and pulled her up off Will’s cock. Samara moaned in disappointment. “She bad at sharing,” Mona teased. Will forgot what he’d been asking about. Mona pushed Samara’s head back down on his cock. Samara sighed happily and went back to bobbing and slurping. 

“If kissing a Loa bring good luck, what’s fucking one gonna bring us, aye?’ Mona asked with a smirk on her skull-painted lips. 

“I’m notta Loa,” Will said, laughing.

“That’s what a Loa would say,” Mona shrugged. “No matter. We gone this far. Maybe you just lucky.”

“I am, sometimes,” Will agreed with his eyes half-lidded. “Most times, not.” 

“Well, may as well enjoy the good luck now then, aye?” Mona smirked, bringing his hands up to her small breasts. “Maybe it rubs off on us.”

“Sometin’s gonna rub off on us,” Samara said around her mouthful. Mona laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Will lost track of time again. 

The stars were gorgeous. Every one of them seemed like it had a small corona, rings of color. Mostly faint red and green lines that slowly spun as he tried to focus on them. He’d seen a device called a kaleidoscope once in a traveling carnival. The night sky reminded him of that. It occurred to him that they weren’t glowing as much anymore. The light was much fainter. How long had they been there? Time seemed disjointed. It was all a jumble of soft skin, body paint getting smeared by wine, feminine laughter, glowing lights. It was hard to concentrate. 

They were definitely in a graveyard. He could make out the outlines of the headstones and mausoleums. A feminine figure sat on one of the stone tombs a short ways away.

“Who’s watching?” Will asked. Mona took her lips off Samara’s breast and looked where Will was gesturing. 

“Don’ know. Let ‘em watch,” she grinned. “Tonight is the night for it.” 

“Hell, let her join,” Samara said breathlessly as she rolled her hips and churned Will’s cock inside her. 

“You are such a slut,” Mona laughed. 

“I know,” Samara breathed. 

Mona beckoned to the figure on the tomb. “Don’t be shy, you!” 

The figure on the tomb shook her head. Mona shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Samara turned herself and spread her knees wide, putting her body on display for their audience. She pulsed her thighs and bounced hard on Will’s cock, her cries getting louder. The woman sitting on the tomb just took a drink off a tin cup. Mona brought her hand onto Samara’s butt with a loud, firm slap. Samara groaned happily and ground down, a small tremble rocking her body. 

Will squinted into the dark, trying to see who it was that was watching. The figure on the tomb raised her cup in a small, silent salute. 

Time skipped again. He was on his knees, his hands holding tightly onto soft, round hips. He was pounding against a dark-skinned backside that rippled and bounced with every thrust. It felt amazing, but muted. The other girl was beneath the one he was fucking. They were making out, writhing against each other. He looked over at the tomb. Their observer was still there. He couldn’t see clearly, but it looked like her hand was between her legs, her hips rocking slightly. He smiled blearily and went back to fucking the girl in front of him. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. Was he in a graveyard? 

Time skipped again. He was cumming hard. The two pretty skeletons were on their knees in front of him practically fighting over each thick rope of cum. The glow was nearly gone. He had no idea which one was which. They made out around the head of his cock. The echoes of the pleasure felt delayed and distant. His brows furrowed. Was he dreaming? 

“Mmm, thank you, lover,” one of the skeletons said. She finished licking her lips and wiping her face clean.

“S’mara?” he asked. 

“Nope, I’m Mona. She’s Samara,” the pretty skeleton licked her lips. The other one just laughed around the head of his cock, trying to suck the last drops free. 

Mona stood up and gave him a quick kiss. “If you aren’t a Loa? Sure fuck like one, you.”

Samara stood up and kissed him next. “See you next year?”

All Will could do was nod. The two disheveled women picked up discarded clothes, put their arms around each other and wandered off into the dark, swaying slightly.

Will sat down against a rock. No. He blinked. Not a rock. A tombstone. He stood back up, suddenly feeling like putting his bare ass against a grave might be disrespectful. Why was he in a graveyard? He looked around. A figure was approaching. 

“Come on, loverboy. Let's get you home,” an amused female voice laughed. 

“Lace?” Will asked, blinking. He couldn’t see her. The stars weren’t bright enough. “Wow,” he said, looking up. They were really pretty. “So many colors.”

Lace stooped to pick up his pants and boots, tucking them under one arm. “I think one of your new friends took your shirt as a souvenir. And your purse.”

“What?” Will asked. 

“Nevermind. Let's go,” Lace chuckled. 

“Alright,” Will said. He turned around and nearly fell. Lace caught him and ducked beneath his arm. He managed to get upright again and leaned on her. 

“Did we have sex?” Will asked.

“No,” Lace shook her head, amused but exasperated. 

“Good. Wouldn’t want that… like this,” Will said. 

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Lace scoffed. She started walking him back toward the docks, taking the winding road down the hill from the graveyard back to the main town road.

“Is Jack a’right?” Will asked. His mouth felt funny, like it was swollen. “She was mad.”

“She’ll be fine,” Lace said. “Worry about it tomorrow.” 

“I worry ‘bout it all th’ time,” Will shook his head. “She’s my best friend.”

“You two have a weird friendship,” Lace said, mostly just to keep Will talking and moving.

“Yeah,” Will nodded. His head bobbed like he didn’t have full control of it.

“You two really need to work your shit out,” Lace said flatly. “Especially if I’m going to keep having to be your nanny. Neither of you can fake being fine worth a damn.” 

“She won’t tell me the truth,” Will shrugged. He didn’t sound mad about it, but the sadness and bitterness were unmistakable.

“Oh boo fucking hoo,” Lace sighed. “You’re both alive, and so is your witch friend. You not knowing everything seems like a small price to pay.”

“Yeah, tha’s true,” Will admitted. “Tha’s why I’m not as mad now. I jus’ don’t know how to act around her anymore.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You two need to just fuck and get it over with,” Lace shook her head.

“We can’t do that,” Will shook his head.

“You can get drunk and spun out of your mind and fuck two girls who you don’t know, but you can’t fuck someone you love?” Lace gave him a judging sidelong look. 

“S’ different,” Will shrugged. “I don’t think she loves me, an’ I don’t know how I feel anymore.”

“Like hell,” Lace scoffed again. “I’m about as thick as it gets when it comes to this stuff, and even I can tell that the two of you are completely stupid in love with each other. Why else would she have risked her life for you tonight?”

“Didn’t mean for her to get ‘nvolved,” Will said. “Just wanted to help the doctor.”

“Why did the doctor need your help?” Lace asked. She wasn’t sure if she really cared, but she was rather glad for the change of subject and as long as Will was talking, he wouldn’t pass out on her. It would be a lot easier to get him to the ship if he was walking under his own power.

“Magistrate was after her. A Centurion,” he slurred. 

“I saw,” Lace nodded.

“Oh, right. I saw you too,” Will smiled. “Thanks. Sorry ‘bout the mess.”

“So they were after the doctor, and not you?” Lace asked. 

“Mmmhmm,” Will nodded. “Did she get away?”

“She must have,” Lace said. “They only seemed like they were interested in you.”

“Oh, good,” Will smiled. 

“You lead a strange life, Sterling,” Lace said with a patient smile on her face. 

“Cursed,” Will shrugged. 

“Cursed? You faced down two Inquisitors and a fucking Centurion, your friends were willing to die to save you, the locals decided you were a god, and two of them fucked you,” Lace said incredulously. “Hell, I want that curse.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad when you put it that way,” Will said around a lopsided grin. 

“I guess you did end up getting robbed and now you’re being dragged naked through town,” Lace shrugged. “So, not all good luck.”

“What?” Will asked.

“Nothing,” Lace smiled.