Part 1: Ships Passing in the Midday

Dedicated to Kait Nolan,
whose mind was lost earlier this week
in a tragic work-related incident.

The ship wallowed in the waves halfway between the Dawn Maiden and the horizon. No sails. No hands on deck.

Reese returned the spyglass to the first mate. “I smell an ambush.”

Conrad MacDougall shook his head, the glare of the midday sun on his spectacles sparing her the full dose of reproach in his hound dog eyes. “Ye’re a heartless lass to leap to that conclusion when ye see a ship in distress.”

“I see no such thing. There’s no flag raised, no lookout posted to hail passing ships, and someone on board had sufficient vigor to spit-shine the entire ship not longer ago than this morning.” The Maiden wasn’t in such pristine condition with a full crew laboring around the clock.

Conrad took another look through his glass. “Could be they became incapacitated since then.”

“By what, a plague that will cripple us along with them? That’s even less appealing than an ambush. Men, we can fight.” Her hand settled on the hilt of the blade strapped to her thigh. It had been a while since its last taste of flesh. Renewing her acquaintance with her weapons would be wise. “We keep our course. We’ll notify the authorities when we reach port.”

“Likely be too late for ‘em by then.”

“The safety of my crew takes priority over acts of kindness toward strangers. We keep our course.” She turned on her booted heel and strode aft in search of a sparring dummy, breathing or otherwise.

“What would yer father say to that?” Conrad called after her.

She laughed, the melodious trill drawing the gaze of every crewman present away from his duties. “He would say, ‘Don’t come home without my cargo, or I’ll sell you to the highest bidder to compensate me for the loss.’”

He did say it, in fact. As he’d been entertaining offers since she turned fourteen, it was no empty threat.

She’d seen enough of the contenders to conclude the sort of man willing to pay a fortune to acquire a woman was the sort of man unable to acquire one through more conventional means. The thought of laboring beneath one of them to repay a debt to her father provided ample motivation to protect the shipment or die trying.

“We keep our course.”

* * *

“There’s a ship, Captain!”

The announcement failed to rouse Malcolm’s interest but succeeded in rousing his ire. What sort of simpleton could not comprehend that a man in bed alone craved sleep and relished a running commentary of goings on as little as a man in bed with a companion did? “Go up on deck and wave. Perhaps they’ll come for tea.”

Billy took his eye from the smoked glass viewport that filtered the sun’s rays to a safer, subdued twilight and peered into the thick shadows enshrouding the bed and its occupant. “It’s noon, sir.”

He’d give his left fang for a cabin boy with a native understanding of sarcasm. Tutoring the literal ones was a time-consuming and tedious enterprise.”Yes, boy, I am aware of the hour and its restricting effect on our kind. That is why those of us with sense sleep through the day and why we will not be taking action against yonder ship at this time.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. They’re a healthy-looking lot. Our whole crew could feast, and most of theirs would live.” Billy heaved a dejected sigh and pressed his face to the glass once more. A weak rumble sounded from his midsection. “I’m so hungry.”

The spoiled brat didn’t know hunger. When no living creature had crossed his path in weeks and he’d cannibalized himself to get at the dusty residue inside his own veins, then they would discuss hunger. “There will be other ships, meals we can acquire without killing ourselves in the process. Sleep. Perhaps the dinner bell will awaken you at a practical hour.”

The boy held his position. “I’m to watch out for you when you’re not watching yourself.”

Billy’s usefulness as a guard dog was limited to the possibility that an attacker might trip over him and suffer a fatal blow to the head in the fall. “You’re to do as I say, lest you find yourself lashed to the mast to beg the dawn’s pardon for your disobedience.”

“They told me you’d threaten that. They also told me you’ve done it just once in all your years, so not to shirk my duties only because they annoy you.”

Once had been enough to secure his reputation as a man who took an ill view of disloyalty. When that particular memory took its turn haunting him, Malcolm was chilled by his own callousness. “Did they mention to whom it was done?”

“No.”

“It was my very own brother,” he elaborated in a voice devoid of feeling, “who until shortly prior to that occasion meant a damn sight more to me than you ever will.”

With rat-like swiftness, Billy scurried to the hammock strung in the far corner of the cabin.

Relieved of the distraction he presented, Malcolm’s keen ears sifted through a plethora of sounds in search of one with the power to lull him into slumber. The boy’s breathing. Creaking timbers. The lap of water against the hull. Orders shouted on the other ship, wordless at that distance. The faint music of bells.

No, not bells. Laughter.

Any possibility of sleep deserted him. “They have a female.”

“Aye, sir.”

Malcolm weighed his need for a cabin boy against the satisfaction of strangling him with his own hammock for neglecting to mention the sole relevant bit of information. The conundrum of who would clean up the mess in Billy’s absence spared him. “Is she comely?”

“I can’t say. She’s dressed like a man.”

The boy had so much to learn. Corsets and petticoats and masterfully constructed gowns were deceptive by design. Many a pig had been made to look a princess by a talented seamstress. A woman stripped of the trappings of femininity was far easier to rate on her own merit. “Does she look like a man?”

A muffled snort carried across the room. “You haven’t seen a woman in months. Does it matter how she looks?”

“Bite your tongue, boy. I have at least another week before I’m desperate enough to bed a woman who bears no resemblance to one.”

While he wouldn’t object to a warm, soft body wrapped around his, his need wasn’t such that he’d abandon all standards and lay whatever was available. Hell, if that were the case, Billy could add another traditional cabin boy chore to his list of duties. Ten thousand lonely years would elapse before Malcolm’s interest in touching the smelly adolescent extended beyond boxing his ears.

Women had a commodity to offer other than sex, and although beauty had no effect on its value, ease on the eyes certainly facilitated its acquisition. A beautiful woman was so accustomed to being charmed, his attentions aroused no suspicion. She expected—often demanded—adoration of her sparkling eyes and dazzling smile. Her elegant hands and dainty feet. Her lustrous hair and coyly displayed decolletage.

Her silky, unblemished neck or wrist or thigh that pulsed with life, crying out for the pierce of fangs.

Ah, god, the blood. A woman seduced, blood untainted by the acid flavor of fear, yielded the sweetest, intoxicating nectar, one taste worth any amount of time and effort devoted to obtaining it.

The intensity of his craving made his skin hot and tight, as if to persuade him, A little sunburn isn’t so bad. Don’t let her get away. Many a foolish vampire had succumbed to such madness. He wouldn’t be joining their ranks. “I don’t suppose they’d be so kind as to stop and investigate our obvious predicament.”

“They were raising more sail last I saw.”

If they hung every scrap of cloth in their possession, even with several hours’ lead, they couldn’t outrun the Devil’s Shadow. The only thing on the sea faster than his ship was a hurricane’s wrath. “Placate your grumbling belly with the promise of filling it soon, young William. Tonight, we feast.”

Part 2: All’s Well That Ends My Way