Lace lounged against a tree, enjoying the music and her drunken buzz. The wake was still going. It wasn’t the happiest reason for revelry, but after a shipwreck and being attacked by monsters it was clear the crew would take any reason they could get. Sailors were an odd lot. They tended to be fairly stoic until you put a few drinks in them. Then everything they were feeling  came pouring out. They were communal too, so what one felt, they tended to all feel, even if they generally didn’t talk about it. Tonight, the crew had been washing back and forth from tears to laughter for hours. Twice fights had broken out and been broken up by others. Both times, the combatants had ended up in each other’s arms laughing and sobbing a short while later. That’s the way it was with a crew. Friendships happened fast, and held strong, and when people moved on those bonds faded just as quickly in spite of promises that they’d keep in touch. They never did, but there was always the hope that former crewmen would run into each other in some port or another. Lace had always thought that sailors, with their ability to create and let go of connections so easily, would be well equipped to deal with grief. It seemed like a contradiction to her that when people died, sailors were among the least able to handle it.

As she watched the mournful revelry, it occurred to her for the first time that maybe the sailor’s way, with all it’s loud tears and drunken dances, was just more honest than the way landfolk tended to grieve. If anything, the sailor’s way was faster. She had no doubt that the whole crew would feel like hell in the morning, and would bitch and moan to each other while they got on with their work. Then things would be back to normal. In the months to come there would be occasional toasts to the fallen, and drinks poured out, but not one of them would become hollow shells of themselves like landfolk often did. 

Sailors knew how to get the pain out before it festered.

Lace had always stood a bit apart from any crew she was with. She was more of a watcher than a joiner, but tonight she hadn’t wanted to watch. Watching meant thinking, so. she’d danced, and cried, and laughed, and been teased more than once for finally coming down from the ropes to spend time with the swabs. Now she was thoroughly drunk, which was an excellent buffer against the hollow, empty feeling that always came after catharsis. That hollowness was one of her least favorite feelings.  If she’d been sober, she probably would have gone off to be by herself, but she was drunk enough that she didn’t want to move. So, she just watched the tired crew dancing, singing, laughing, and crying, all of them chasing the same goal.

To sleep without dreaming.

It was late. They would have all probably burned themselves out and fallen asleep in the sand if not for the Captain. She was relentless, calling for more booze, more stories, more songs. Lace had never seen her like this. Captain Vex wasn’t adverse to carousing with the crew. It was rare, but not unheard of. Usually though, she left early. That was one of the reasons lace and the Captain got along so well. They were both watchers, and often ended up on the sterncastle together talking quietly while the crew made merry on the main deck. Tonight, Lace was already reveled out, and it looked like the Captain was going to be the last one standing.

Beside her, the Norths were sharing her fallen tree. Coleman was leaning against it with his head back, staring at the night sky through the trees. Occasionally he lifted a dented wooden cup to his lips while responding to his wife mostly with wordless grunts and affirmations. He’d opted for water tonight, instead of rum. Earlier he’d said he’d been feeling off all day and was worried drinking would make it worse. Lace was fairly sure he was the only sober person in the camp. Danica leaned against Coleman, sitting in the sand between his legs and using his broad chest as a pillow. She was slurring her way through a long list of things that needed to be done to get the camp settled in for the repairs. For as drunk as she sounded, she hadn’t repeated herself or lost her train of thought, at least as far as Lace had noticed.

All three of them were feeling worse for wear. Bandages poked out from beneath clothing and bruises had darkened. In spite of Danica’s burns and the stab wound in Lace’s butt, Coleman seemed to have had the worst of it. He’d been in the thick of the fighting while trying to hold back the tide of once-human monsters, and had the damage to show for it. Ragged fingernails had torn his skin in a dozen places, and he’d twice been caught by their stinger tongues. 

“Both times in the same damn arm,” he was muttering, prodding at his bandages and wincing.

“Iss yer shield arm,” Danica slurred. “Stop pokin’ at it.”

“Huh. Didn’t think of that. Been a long time since I carried a shield.” Coleman held his arm up and looking at it like he wasn’t sure if it was friend or foe. “Maybe I need to start again.”

“Mebbe we all should,” Danica agreed. “Would be nice t’ have a real armory onna ship. Armor. Swords. Pistols even.”

“I signed on to the Kestrel to get away from that life,” Coleman sighed. “I hate warships.”

“Gotta be able t’ d’fend ourselves,” Danica shrugged. “We don’ even have cannons. Not e’en little deck guns.”

“Most merchant vessels don’t. Weapons on a ship can be a huge liability.. Just having that stuff around can make sailors think of how to mutiny when things get bad, or even when they’re good and decide they should have a bigger cut. I’ve seen it,” Coleman countered.

“We could keep ‘em in the lockup,” Danica suggested.

“Deck guns wouldn’t do much good in the lock up,” Coleman chuckled.

“No, th’ other stuff. Swords an’ shields.”

“War gear for the whole crew” Sixty swords and shields, plus extras in case of breakage, and maintenance equipment? That would fill the entire lockup, and more. We’d have to convert one of the guest rooms. That’s a full quarter less we could charge for berthing,” Coleman’s brows furrowed in thought. He didn’t like the idea, but he was considering it.

“Second lockup? Bars ‘cross th’ bow,” Danica suggested. “Li’l triangle hold up front, like the Red Fleet does with it’s brigs.”

“In the crew berth? They’re already packed in tight,” Colema scratched his beard. “It could work. We’d have to expand the berth into the cargo area. Six feet should do. Really, we’d just be moving the wall back.”

“Tha’ would give the crew more space’n they have now,” Danica nodded.

“We could keep guns and powder in our rear lockup. An arms locker and a couple powder kegs would fit easy. Sword racks could go up front behind your new bars,” he continued, lost in thought. “We’d have to train the crew to use them though. Soldiering is a lot different than the kind of fighting most sailors pick up.”

“We’ll need t’ recruit a masser… mastrer…” Danica struggled with the words.

“Master at arms?” North said helpfully.

“Yeh, that one,” she smiled. 

Coleman grunted his amusement. “Have to get off this damn island first.”

“Mmmhmm,’ Danica agreed. “Could make shields though. We’re gonna have lossa plank scraps when th’ hull’s patched.”

“Do you know how to make a shield?” Coleman teased, already knowing the answer.

“Shuddup,” Danica said, giving him an elbow and taking another drink. “Someone does. Can’t be tha hard.”

“The one thing we haven’t figured out how to store yet, you want to make first,” Coleman chuckled.

“Do they need t’ be locked up? They’re not weapons,” Danica asked.

“Yes they are,” Coleman said firmly. 

“No one is going to mutiny armed with a bunch of shields,” Danica said with a snort.

“The whole crew’s already armed,” Coleman reminded her. “They all have knives. The boat’s full of clubs and gaff hooks. You pair those with a shield, you have a boarding party.”

“I want shields!” Danica demanded, shaking her head back and forth against his chest.”

“Why?” Coleman laughed, wrapping his good arm around her to stop her mock tantrum.

“So you don’t get stabbed in th’ arm anymore,” she said angrily. “So we don’t get killed. If we had shields, those godsdamned things wouldn’t have…” the tears came fast as she trailed off. She shook her head sadly and leaned into his bicep.

“Shh. Alright.” Coleman stroked her hair with hsi injured arm. “I’ll get you shields.”

She nodded and smiled weakly.

“What brought all this on anyway? You think we are going to be attacked again?” Coleman asked.

“We’re only barely outta imperial waters, an’ goin’ a lot further, an’ not on th’ safer routs. On Barcola, they were saying there’s been more raids lately, all over where we’re headed. Couldn’t’a all been that grindylow wreck. Drifter’s Key’s a pirate cove! An’ if we make it through the Drifts, you know where we’ll be?” Danica asked.

“Geography’s never been my strongest subject,’ Coleman shook his head.

“The Sea of Glass,” Lace spoke up.

“Mmmhmm,” Danica nodded, pointing to Lace.

Coleman’s brows rose. “That’s Freebooter territory.”

“‘Zactly,” Danica said.

“What the hell is the Captain thinking?” Coleman asked, shaking his head. He knew this trip would be dangerous, but he was only now realizing just how much. “Seems like someone gave her a list of things to avoid, and she decided to use it to plot her course.”

Lace answered again. “She’s betting that the Freebooters don’t bother defending the Drifts, and that they’’ll be too busy raiding the coast of Nival and fighting with every major power in the seas to even notice a little Caravel sneaking their southern coast.”

“Alright, I suppose that’s a good bet,” Coleman admitted. “That’s the last step though. Everything between here and there is still dangerous as hell.”

“Yeah,” Danica’s head rolled as she looked up at him. “So gimme a damn armory.”

Coleman chuckled. “Yes dear.”

She smiled in Lace’s direction. “He’s sucha good boy.”

“An exception to the rule, for sure,” Lace smirked.

“What rule?” Coleman asked.

“Lace doesn’t like men,” Danica explained.

“I like men just fine,” Lace corrected. “In the same way that I like pigs. They can be intelligent, entertaining, and even loving, but they’re still filthy animals.”

Coleman couldn’t help but laugh. “I wish I could argue that.”

Danica grabbed a handful of his beard and pulled his head down, twisting a bit to bring her face closer so their lips could meet. “Yer my favorite filthy animal.”

Lace rolled her eyes and took another sip off her drink, ignoring the two lovebirds. She looked at her cup and wondered if it had been a bad idea. She hadn’t been feeling especially well either. The new doctor had told her that the tincture she was taking might make her queasy. She’d felt fine until a few minutes ago, but now she was starting to feel a bit ill. Looking at the bonfire made her head hurt. It felt like a hangover, but she knew it was far too soon for that.

“Coleman,” Lace said, getting his attention.

He looked up from his wife, “Hmm?”

“You still feeling shitty?” she asked.

“A little,” he shrugged. “Probably better than everyone else will feel tomorrow. I’ve had worse.”

“Queasy stomach, and your eyes hurt when it’s bright?” she asked.

“Yeah, why?” he said, puzzled.

“I’m starting to feel it too,” Lace said.

Danica’s head lifted off of Coleman’s chest and looked at her. “You too?” She looked back and forth between them, forcing herself to focus. “No way it’s a hangover? Or just not enough water?”

“I’m drunk, but I always have enough water. I don’t usually get hangovers,” Lace said.

“I’ve been drinking water all day. It hasn’t helped much,” Coleman said, looking into his cup.

Danica rubbed her face. “Fuck.”

Coleman swirled his cup. “Think it’s the water? The hold was flooded. Maybe the barrels got contaminated?”

Lace shook her head. “I’m still working off the canteen I filled yesterday morning.”

Coleman kept thinking. “Some of the foodstores had been waterlogged for hours by the time it was unloaded. We tried to get rid of the stuff that wasn’t good, but maybe we missed something.”

“Stew made a feast today. The Captain told ‘im to cook up anything that’ll spoil soon,” Danica said. “Lotsa stuff it coulda been.”

“Might also just be a bug starting to go around,” Coleman said. “That usually happens after weathering a storm.”

“As if we don’t have enough to deal with right now.” Lace sighed and let her head roll back against the log.

“I canned… I can not ‘ave the crew getting sick. Not now,’ Danica said, dejected.

Coleman sighed. “Might be too late.”

“Do we tell the Captain now?” Lace asked.

Danica shook her head. “Coleman’s right. If there’s something goin’ ‘round, it's too late t’ stop it. Telling the Cap’n now won’t help. She’s barely hanging on as it is. Either it’ll pass, or we can tell her in the morning.”

Coleman nodded. “You’re the boss.”

Danica painfully got to her feet and held out her hands to Coleman. “Yup, an’ th’ boss says we’re going t’ bed. I’m drunk, yer sick, an’ we got a lot t’ do t’morrow.”

Coleman took his wife’s hands and let her help haul him to his feet. “Goodnight, Lace.”

Lace gave him a wave and went back to watching the crew. She rubbed her temples with her hands, hoping whatever had her feeling under the weather would pass soon. In the distance, during a break in the music, she could faintly hear what sounded like a woman in the heights of pleasure.

She half smiled and rolled her eyes. “At least someone’s having a good night.”

__________________________________________

“Holy fuck,” Will muttered.

They could see pulses of light through the canvas of the tent walls. The bright flashes kept time with the impact of Quinn and Jack’s bodies. It sounded like he was slapping her, but she clearly wasn’t in pain. She howled, her ragged voice muffled by his skin. His pace was quick and relentless. They could all very faintly hear the music of the crew’s revelry. Quinn was keeping perfect time.

Bella was concentrating, breathing carefully. Her eyes were closed and she was doing everything she could to absorb and channel the build up of energy, but it was difficult.

“Is this… safe?” Friday asked.

“She’s building up energy a little faster than I can easily siphon off, but now that the ritual is active the wards I built into our sigils are all supporting each other. We aren’t in danger.” Bella explained. “That said, I’m glad you two aren’t adding much. This is about as much as I can handle.”

Friday looked down where her hand was slowly, idly stroking Will’s erection. What she’d been doing had been mostly forgotten by both of them as they watched the flashing lights and listened to the most intense love making either of them had ever heard. “Should we stop?” she asked Bella.

“Huh?” she asked, looking at them in confusion for a moment. Then she shook her head and laughed. “Oh, no don’t stop. Just enjoy yourselves. We’re safe and I’m fine. If I start to worry, I’ll let you know. Just… don’t do what they’re doing.”

“I’m not sure we could,” Friday said with a giggle.

“I guess we’ll just take it slow and enjoy the show,” Will said with a wry smile.

Friday winked at him and squeezed a bit harder on her upstroke. He was still amazed at how soft her hands were. Usually, handjobs didn’t do much for him. They were a good warmup, or a transition, but never the main attraction. Friday was making him reassess that. 

“Scootch yourself this way,” he said, beckoning with the hand that was resting on her shoulder. “Bella needs to concentrate, so I’ll take over.”

Friday knee-walked sideways until she was near  his shoulders, and then slumped over onto her side like a cat. She tossed her braids back and laid her head down on his thigh, stroking his cock right in front over her face. She gave him an inviting smile and slowly raised her knee, spreading her legs wide for him. “I like strong hands,” she purred.

He reached for her face and offered her two fingers. She took them into her mouth with sensual hunger and swirled her tongue around them and then pulled back to kiss the tips. He smiled and reached for her dark slit. She rocked her hips forward to meet him. Her saliva mixed with her wetness as he swept her fingers along her slit. Her skin reminded him of coffee with a dash of cream. The faintly glowing sigils Bella had drawn above her mons were an impressive contrast. Her smooth skin felt incredible. As he pressed his fingers against her folds and made small circles, she opened more for him. Her slick entrance faded from coffee brown to soft pink. He pressed more firmly, feeling her tight heat wrap around his fingers. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, loving the sudden intrusion. He curled his fingers inside her and pressed the heel of his palm against her mons, gripping her from the inside and giving a small tug. Her mouth gasped open. After a moment she opened her eyes and grinned wide  as both their hands began to slowly move in time with each other.

From the other tent Jack let out a muffled, guttural groan and the pulsing lights drawn on all their bodies brightened for a few moments as a surge of energy proved to be more than Bella was ready for. “Oh my spirits,” Bella breathed, concentrating. She took a deep, measured breath and drank in as much of the energy as she could. “This is… excellent practice.” The lights dimmed again as she concentrated.

“Snofabish” they heard Jack snarl. It sounded like she had her face pressed into a pillow, but the words were still fairly clear. “Bella- Is that-, You?”

Stop… Doingthat.”

Bella put her hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh. “Is what me?”

The rhythm from the next tent never faltered. The lights continued to pulse. Even the sigils drawn on the three of them were lighting up strong enough that the lantern hanging above them wasn’t necessary. They could hear nothing from Quinn but the impacts of his body against hers, but Jack was breathing, grunting, straining like a tormented animal. Again the lights pulsing from their sigils brightened and Jack’s noises of pleasure became more frantic. Bell took another deep, centering breath and the mystic light dimmed again.

“Stop! That!” Jack snarled.

“Stop doing what, Jack?” Bella asked with a conspiratorial glance at Will and Friday.

Jack’s voice became unmuffled. “Stealing... my godsdamned… nnnng! Dammit I’m so close… My- oh unh… My orgasm!”

“I have to,” Bella said apologetically. “I told you that.”

“You… ernnn… owe me,” she growled between impacts.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out,” Bella said in a low voice, full of promise.

“Ohgods- I’m going t- HHHNNGGG!” Jack put her face back into her pillow and the pulsing lights brightened again. Bella took another deep breath, like she was inhaling Jack’s pleasure. 

“GODSDAMMIT!” Jack yelled! “Not… again… you evil-” 

Bella exhaled, increasing the resistance of her energy flow and letting it build up and surge for a moment. 

Jack screamed into her pillow as her pleasure suddenly jumped and Quinn’s relentless pounding stole away her concentration again.

Bella inhaled again, 

“Witch?” Bella said helpfully, taking another deep breath and letting the energy flow into her again. Jack’s pleasure waned again, pulling her back from the peak she’d suddenly reached.

“Yes!” Jack snapped.

“I did warn you,” Bella said conversationally. “And I let you cum before we really got started.” The lights started to swell again as Bella narrowed the flow. Jack’s shuddering cries grew tenser and more strained. Then Bella opened herself up to the energy again. “Magic always has a price.”

Jack sounded anguished. “This is… torture…” she mewled. 

Will laughed silently. He’d never heard Jack sound like that before. 

Friday slid her head forward on his thigh and brought her full lips to his balls. “Could stand to be tortured like that, I,” she smirked against the base of his shaft. Her hand continued to sensually glide along his length.

“You were the one who wanted to show off,” Bella said to Jack.

“She always has loved an audience,” Will added.

“Do… not…” Jack grunted.

Will reached out with his other hand and slid it in between Bella's knees. She felt the movement, looked down, and narrowed her eyes at him. “I have to concentrate.”

“Are we going to blow up?” Will asked.

“No, setting up the ritual was the dangerous part. I promise, we’re fine now. It’s just hard to take this much energy this fast,” Bella said. “If you distract me, I can’t take in as much. Every time you see the glow get brighter, that’s the wards dispersing energy to keep us safe. Light means wasted energy.”

To drive her point home, Bella focused on quickly narrowing and widening how much energy she was taking in. The glow from the sigils pulsed like a signal lantern. From the other tent, Jack’s muffled sounds of bliss took on an edge of surprise, then confusion and anger.”

“It’s fascinating,” Friday said, tilting her head to look at Bella. “Are you actually controlling what she feels?”

“Sort of,” Bella said.

“Yes!” Jack snapped.

“I’m controlling the rate of buildup,” Bella said.

Will’s expression became devious. “So if you lose your concentration, we won’t blow up, but you’ll lose some of the energy you’re taking in?’

“Yes, essentially,” Bella said with a nod. 

“And it just washes back to Jack?” Will asked.

“Some of it goes back to both of them. I guess it would have to go through Jack to get to Quinn since she’s acting as a conduit right now. Anyway, the transfer is wanting to go towards me, so when it goes the other way a bunch of it overflows into the wards.” Then her eyes narrowed again and she looked at him suspiciously. “Wait, what are you-”

“Oh, interesting,” Friday commented. She propped her head up on her hand, watching the byplay curiously. With her head elevated, she pulled Will’s cock to her lips and began swirling her tongue just below the head, still stroking slowly with soft hands while she watched the drama that was starting to unfold.

“Did you hear that Jack?” Will asked. “Some of it goes back to you.”

“Oh gods…” she groaned. “Please.”

“And…” he continued.

“What? “ Jack said, trying to focus. “Wait- Yes. Mmm. Fine. What... do you- Nnng. Want?”

Will looked at Bella questioningly. She looked a bit worried, but nodded. 

“Remember Queen for a Day?” he asked.

“Of- Course,” she said between impacts.

“You always said if I was lucky it would be my turn someday,” Will said with a self-indulgent smirk.

“Oh you… ass…” she managed between gasps. “Fine!”

“Bella?” Will asked the wide eyed witch. He slid his fingers up her inner thighs and gently brushed her sensitive folds.

“I don’t know why you’re asking me,” Bella said, rolling her eyes at his words and her hips at his touch.

“It’s your show, you can say stop,” Will said.

“But I’m not going to,” Bella whispered. She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss. “I meant what I said. Anything.”

“I remember,” he whispered back. “I still want to hear you say yes.”

She nodded against his lips and rested her forehead against his. The lights pulses of light brightened again as Bella’s focus wavered.  “Yes.”

Jack’s pleasure surged and she gasped.. “Are you two… conspiring…”

“Of course,” Will answered. He pushed his fingers deep into Bella. She was sopping. With all the buildup, hearing Jack, watching Will and Friday, she was already far more on edge than she’d let on. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself up, bowing her shoulders and letting her head hang. Her hair spilled all around him. He pressed the pad of his thumb into her sensitive nub and curved his fingers inside her. With his other hand he mirrored the motion with Friday. 

Bella squeaked and rolled her hips as a surge of pleasure shot from her clit up her spine. Friday pushed her pelvis forward against Will’s hand and muffled the happy noised she was making by filling her mouth with Will’s cock. Jack’s words jumbled together into her pillow as Bella’s distraction caused another buildup of pleasure. After a moment, Bella took a few deep, centering breaths and opened her energy flow. All of them felt the bliss wane back to a pleasurable but not overwhelming level.

“Damn it,’ Jack grunted, trying to catch her breath between Quinn’s relentless pistoning. “Damn it, Will! Did you- unm! Lose your touch?”

“Give me a bit, I just started.” He pulsed his fingers and swirled his thumb, just like he knew Bella liked. She rocked her hips and squeaked again, trying to focus on her breathing. 

“Oh spirits, I shouldn’t have taught you that,” she moaned.

“Jack taught me that,” Will corrected.

“I taught her that,” Bella countered.

“Owe you both an thank you, I,” Friday said, biting her lip again. “Good at that, he.”

“It’s one of the perks of being tutored by an insatiable nymph who likes telling people what to do,” Will smirked. He pulled more firmly inside them, and held, lifting slightly with his strong forearms. The moans from either side told him he was doing things right. Bella’s mouth opened wide and  her eyes shut tight as she lost her focus for a moment. The stream of energy flowing between them all narrowed to a natural trickle. Suddenly everyone’s pleasure spiked further.

“I am not aaaAAAHHHHohgods,” Jack’s protests were interrupted by another surge of pleasure that was just as quickly withdrawn as Bella regained her focus again.

“Oh please, you’re as bad… Mmm yes…  as I am,” Bella said, recovering from her momentary lapse. “You’re just more buttoned up about it.”

“Damn it Bella!” Jack snapped. “Will! Ooh… whatever… you're doing… do it more.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Will lifted and pulled harder, unexpectedly tipping Bella forward. She yelped in surprise and planted her hands on either side of his head to catch herself. Will lifted his head and latched his lips onto one of her nipples. As she gasped he began plunging his fingers in and out of her rapidly. He felt her back arch and heard her gasp. Her breast pressed down onto his face as he sucked and nibbled. 

The level of pleasure they all felt suddenly swelled again. He felt his cock harden to the edge of discomfort. Friday dropped her mouth further down on his cock and slid her plump lips down to meet her hand. She held him there, increasing her suction and holding him in her mouth, squeezing the base of his shaft  tightly as her whole body tensed and froze while he worked his fingers and thumb inside her. The contrast between the Nivalese and N’madi witches was like night and day. Where Friday went still as her pleasure mounted, Bella bucked and girated, seeming like she was simultaneously trying to push further into his fingers and mouth, and pull away. Her breast was so large that he had to close his eyes as the heavy softness covered his face. Breathing was suddenly a lot more difficult. He turned his head slightly so he could get some air through his nose, then focused on the nipple in his mouth again. He bit a little harder and she bucked back into his hand. He pulled against them both in rapid pulses. 

All the while, he heard Jack building quickly. He could hear her strain, like her pending orgasm was something she had to fight for. Her voice was muffled again, but still sounded strangled and rough as the rhythmic slapping of Quinn’s thrusts finally sped up. Jack very rarely cursed, but he was fairly sure a few of the muffled words he caught between impacts were not polite. 

Bella arched her back, pulling her nipple free from his mouth with a pop. Suddenly able to see, he was forced to squint from the brightness of the light. All three of them were lit up like lanterns. The graceful sigils had gone from a dull candle light to an intensity that left afterimages burned into his vision after he shut his eyes. 

Bella forced her metaphysical floodgates as wide as she could. The pressure was so strong that she could feel it physically, like a weight on her chest. The amount of power they’d built in such a short time was impressive. It wasn’t the most she’d ever handled, but in other spells she’d had a place to put the power. In this case, she was putting the power into herself. Holding power was hard. She usually only ever drew and held as much as she needed. The encounter with the Grindylow had scared her enough that she had decided to draw and hold as much as she could. If she’d had this much power on the ship, she wouldn’t have needed to attempt such a risky, complex ritual to power her curse. The mirror wouldn’t have broken. She would have been able to act sooner. Fewer lives would have been lost, and they wouldn’t have lost contact with Janie and Tonya again.

For Bella there was no stronger motivator than guilt. It always pushed her to do things she knew were risky. Now was no different. The pressure in her chest made her feel like she couldn’t get a full breath. Her head felt light. The pleasure and power were so intense she could hardly focus. She wanted to pull back, to make Will stop, to breathe.

She could hear Jack, Friday, and even Will’s lusty voices rising as their pleasure built to a crescendo. She smiled. 

 The key to the kind of magic she practiced was about recognizing the right moment to stop fighting the energy and let it do what it wanted. Control of a ritual was about creating the conditions to make those moments happen safely and predictably. It was never exact. She often felt like it was as much about instinct as it was about planning. More than anything though, it was about knowing when to surrender.

She clenched her eyes closed and focused, exhaling everything she could as the pressure built. Her whole body shook as the feeling of pressure increased. She felt blood rush to her head and silently prayed to her guiding stars. In this ritual, drawing power was tied to breathing. When she breathed steadily and evenly it made controlling the flow easier. There was another side to the breath and energy connection though. If she didn’t breathe, it was like shutting the floodgates. The sigils brightened and they could all feel them begin to warm quickly. Friday gave her a worried look. The pressure of the power in her chest increased as her lungs fought against her will. She held as long as she could, whimpering and bucking against Will’s hand as her face went red and her head started to feel light. Suddenly her body took over. She took a massive, involuntary breath. It was like punching a hole in a dam.

Bliss and power flooded through her as she came. With that single breath, the floodgates she’d struggled to hold open felt like they vanished. She was one with the power they’d built up. She could feel the others she was linked to like they were a part of her. Their orgasms surged for a moment, bright and hot and full, and just as quickly vanished through the ritual link and poured into Bella. Her blood thundered in her head and her vision felt like it was collapsing into a tunnel. No sound escaped her lips. The bright lights dimmed, plunging the tent into darkness.

She exhaled as slowly as she could, teetering on the edge of consciousness as the ritual collapsed.

“Wow,” Will muttered.

Friday lazily licked the last of Will’s semen off the back of her hand. “Wow indeed,” she muttered. “Are you alright?”

“Mmm. That was per-FAKK!” Jack’s muttered words morphed into panicked surprise. A series of thumps and crashes followed, accompanied by an animalistic screech.

Will’s adrenaline spiked. Before he knew what he was doing he was scrambling naked out the door of the tent, leaving two surprised, tired witches behind him. He rushed to her side and reached for her, looking around for threats. “Jack, what-”

Suddenly he realized what he was doing and tried to stop, but before he could Jack’s hand shot out without looking and gripped his in frantic desperation. Her eyes had been locked to the tent, but her expression changed from anger and fear to confusion. She slowly turned her head and looked at their hands. Then she locked eyes with Will. Then down at the rest of his naked body. Then to herself.

Will felt his mouth go dry. Jack’s pale form glistened with sweat in the filtered moonlight. He could actually see faint wisps of steam rising off her gorgeous body. Their eyes drifted over each other, all other worries forgotten for a moment. Somehow, standing so close, hands twined, and seeing each other like this was more intimate than hearing each other moments ago. She looked back to his eyes, seeming utterly bewildered. 

“Are you all right?” Bella asked breathlessly as she struggled out the door of Will’s tent. Friday was helping her stay steady. 

The moment vanished.  Jack quickly let go of his hand and covered her breasts with her arm. With her other hand she pointed to her tent. It had collapsed. “Something’s in the tent. It grabbed my hand.” she said, suddenly angry again.

“Did you get a look at it?” Will asked.

“I was a bit distracted at the time,” Jack snapped.

“Quinn?” Will asked the green warrior.

“Small,” the big man said with a shake of his head. “It moved fast.”

As they watched, the tent moved. A small shape created a dome beneath the canvas, shuffling and squirming as it tried to find an escape. 

“Friday, can you grab my sword?’ Will said to the doctor.

She made sure Bella was steady and ducked back inside. A moment later she returned with Will’s entire sword belt.

The thing in the collapsed tent continued to push around inside. 

Will took his sword and pulled it free of its sheath, leaving Friday holding the rest. Quinn glanced to Will and moved to the edge of the tent, preparing to lift the doorway up. 

The thing inside made a high pitched sound that sounded frustrated and angry. 

Bella’s hands covered her mouth. “Oh no.”

Will drew back his blade and readied to motion to Quinn, but Bella rushed forward. “No, don’t!” She lifted the doorway herself and reached inside. 

“Bella?” Will said cautiously, not sure what she was doing.

Bella gave Jack an apologetic look as a scared red and white monkey crawled into her arms.

Jack swore.

____________________________________

Mister Lynch pushed open the door flap to Lord Morant’s large tent and came inside. “I found it.”

“Good, give it here.” Morant said without looking up from the makeshift table Lynch had built out of a pair of barrels and the lid of a crate. On the table was a thick copy of the Dictum Magistratum, the holy book of the Warden, and a single lit candle in a silver stand. On the book was a rosary. Within the ring of rosary beads, on top of the book, was a silver shaving bowl full of still water that reflected the light of the candle far more brightly than it should have.

Lynch handed Morant the desktop from the Captain’s cabin. Morant carefully put the desktop next to the book and the bowl, then studied the map. He scanned Will’s scrawled calculations, and the lines that had been drawn. He unfolded another, larger map and looked back and forth between them.

Suddenly the unnaturally bright reflection of the candle in the bowl flared so strongly that the water looked like it had caught fire. When it faded, the reflection in the water was not the inside of Morant’s tent.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” The distorted figure reflected in the water inside in the silver shaving bowl was clearly terse.

“All too well,” Lord Morant said flatly. “I would not be contacting you if it were not critical.”

“What is it then?” the figure in the bowl said, rubbing her tired eyes. “Be quick, I do not have power to spare in this font.”

“We’ve been shipwrecked,” Lord Morant said. 

“Not a good start to your endeavor, is it?” the voice quipped. “Are you safe?”

“Now, yes. The ship lost a dozen crew, but my men are fine. Only minor injuries,” Morant said.

“How bad is the damage?” the voice asked.

“A large hole was punched in the prow,” Morant said. “I do not have an estimate yet for how long until the ship can sail again, but I expect it to be weeks. Perhaps months, depending on the extent of the damage.”

“Wouldn’t that put your expedition into fall?” the voice asked. “As I understand, those northern waters get treacherous after summer ends.”

“And the Drifts become even more impassible,” Morant agreed. “I have a two week window in which to get moving again. I need a new ship.”

“I could send a patrol to rescue you, but I don’t have any spare ships,” the voice said. 

“I need a civilian vessel anyway. If you can get me to Barcola, I can do the rest.” He picked up the table top and turned it over, holding the map above the bowl. “Can you make this out?”

“No,” the voice in the bowl said. “What are you trying to show me?”

“A map,” Morant said.

“All I see are vague shapes and colors,” the wavering figure in the bowl said. “Your ritual is unstable.”

“I am working under less than ideal conditions,” Morant said with an exasperated sigh. 

“Is the map marked?” the voice asked.

“Just quadrant lines and Sterling’s indecipherable shorthand. Some arithmetic, drawn angles. It got rather wet,” Morant said. “The only islands labeled are Prince’s Cove and Barcola.”

“What do you know for certain?” the voice asked.

“We are two days out of Barcola, on a northerly heading. The storm came from the east, so we were likely blown off course to the west.”

“That would put you in the Shattered Isles. There’s hundreds of islands in that archipelago,” the voice in the bowl said with muted annoyance. 

“Somewhere along the eastern edge, yes,’ Morant agreed. 

“Is the ship visible? Can you fly a distress flag?” the voice asked.

“We are beached on an inland lagoon,” Morant said bitterly.

The voice in the bowl began laughing. “Lord Morant, I don’t know what help you expect me to be. My ships are already spread thin.”

“Offer a rescue bounty,” Morant said tersely. “Five thousand sovereigns to the ship that finds us.”

“Very well. This had better be coming out of your coffers and not mine,” the voice said.

“You will be reimbursed,” Morant said. “Just spread the word.”

“First thing in the morning,” the voice assured him. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to get back to bed.”

“That is all,” Morant said. “I’ll contact you again when I have more information.”

“Good night, Allistair,’ the figure in the bowl said.

“Good night, Alexandra,” Morant replied. He snuffed out the candle with a pinch of his fingers and the bowl became clear water again.