Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 144411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
She turns and grins at me, delighted at her shot, and my chest grows tight with want for her.
“That a girl,” I tell her, even though she can’t hear me over the din.
BONES.
Suddenly I’m doubling over, my hands over my ears as I hear Nerissa yelling from inside my head.
BONES HE HAS THEM.
“Are you okay?” Maren cries out as she runs over to me, her hand on my back just as another roundshot fires through the deck below, making the Nightwind shudder like beast, and a bullet whizzes over my head, striking a barrel of tar behind me.
“Nerissa,” I manage to say, keeping low as I look around through the carnage, the air filling with smoke. “Where is she?”
“She’s still in your cage, of course,” she says, sounding confused. “I put Henry and Lucas and Sedge in your quarters like you said, told them to block the door with something heavy after I left.” She searches my face fearfully. “Why? Is she going to hurt them?”
“It’s not Nerissa I’m worried about,” I say, gently pushing her aside and running across the deck for the stairs just as another explosion rocks the boat and I have to dive to the planks, the wood splintering beneath my impact.
I lift my head, ears ringing fiercely, and look back to make sure Maren is okay. She’s getting to her feet and limping over to me, waving at me with her hands to get going. The rest of the crew seem fine, though Matisse is holding his own hand from a bullet wound to the palm and Cruz is on his back groaning from the latest cannon round.
I can’t worry about them right now. I push myself up and we run to the stairs and stagger down to the main deck and straight to my quarters.
“Henry!” I yell, trying to open the door but despite there being no lock, it won’t open, something heavy has been pushed against it. “Lucas! Sedge! I’m coming!”
I look around for the boarding axe that we use to smash through the locked doors of conquered ships but there’s none to be found, then I run a few steps back then launch myself at the door with my shoulder, the door almost coming off the hinges and something toppling over on the other side. I pull back and throw myself against it again, this time the door splintering under my weight and I burst through into my quarters.
I see Ed Smith standing before me, the balcony doors open behind him from where he must have climbed up.
He has two pistols in his hands aimed at the heads of Sedge, Lucas, and Henry, who are on their knees in front of him, facing me.
And I’m having a most awful case of having lived this moment before. But while then it was with Prince Aerik and he had the marlinespike against Henry’s head, I knew that somehow we would prevail, and we did thanks to Drakos. This time I’m not so sure. I feel so unsure that I can’t even feel the planks beneath my feet, as if none of this is happening and I’m not even here at all.
BONES.
I hear Nerissa’s voice boom in my head from over in the cage but I don’t dare look at her, nor do I look at Maren who I know is behind me, gasping softly at the scene before us.
I tried but I couldn’t stop him, Nerissa goes on. I can’t work my magic from the cage. I’m sorry.
I ignore her. I focus on the boys, on the crew, and I try to manage the unfathomable hate for this man before me before it swallows me whole.
Ed Smith looks the same as he ever did, as is the case with us Brethren. But while he may have not aged, evil has done something to his features, hardened them into something reptilian. His nose is more pointed, his narrow mouth twisted into an arrogant, ruthless leer, and he’s wearing a red periwig that brings out the red in his brown eyes, making him look positively demonic. His ship Pembroke has only been under his command for the last ten years, before that it was another, and before that was another. I wonder if he switches his names out as often as he switches out his wigs. It’s not easy to evade notice when you’re in the public service and yet you never age.
The rage licks me from the inside out, a red-hot inferno that I feel spreading to my mind, rendering me into something raw. I’ve never wanted to murder someone more. Make him watch as I rip off his head and shit down his neck.
“Captain Battista,” Smith says in his haughty accent. “Or should I say Captain Battista Junior. You seem surprised to see me.”
“Let them go, Smith,” I tell him, my words coming out like knives, “and there won’t be any trouble for ya.”