Page 36 of Hijack the Seas: Seismic

“They’re more competent than they look,” I told him. Probably.

“I need a drink,” he announced and started pawing through some drawers set into the walls that I hadn’t even noticed. “And can we open a window or something ‘cause I’m about to hurl.”

“The windows would flood the room,” I reminded him, and he sighed.

“That stuff could be a bioweapon,” he muttered because vamps have super sensitive noses, which was not a plus right now. “And what is all this?” he added, coming up with a bottle I hadn’t known we’d had and finally noticing the gossamer stuff on the bed.

“A thank you, I think,” I said, smiling weakly at Pinkie. Because it had been thoughtful, in a demonic kind of way.

He waved a few tentacles in return, which reminded me.

“Hey, you guys like octopus?” Because Æsubrand’s little trophy had come along for the ride, only it wasn’t so little. The severed tentacle would have been longer than a car, except it was all curled up and had to weigh a few hundred pounds. And was still taking up most of the available room.

Pinkie looked quizzical for a moment before his eyestalk bent and peered around me. And then the pupil blew wide, and the screeching restarted, excitedly this time. After which, I was dragged into the bathroom for a confab because Pritkin had finished with the twins and was now ready to rake me over the coals, only he couldn’t do it properly because of all the tearing, ripping, and munching noises going on.

“Do they ever get full?” I asked right before I was pushed against a wall.

Yeah, you could really see the fey, I thought, staring up at him. Æsubrand had had an almost identical expression when he’d slammed in that door. Only when it came to murderous fury demons had the advantage.

Too bad that Pritkin was both.

“Okay, what?” I said, crossing my arms.

“What? What?” This was followed by some outraged spluttering.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be good. When the guy who could swear in a dozen languages and half of them dead, couldn’t even properly articulate the problem. . . We were gonna be here for a while.

And we were. But to my surprise, it wasn’t Æsubrand that he was mad about. Or even the attempted disqualification for helping to murder a guy who wasn’t even murdered. Or the trashing of Nimue’s ballroom, which, in fairness, he’d done himself.

No, the problem was the promise.

“You gave me your word,” he seethed.

“I know, but—”

“And the first time—the very first time—you get a chance to keep that word, you do the exact opposite!”

“Because you lost your damned mind and forgot about tactics,” I reminded him. “And stealth, and even basic—”

“Do not attempt to put this on me!”

“—self-preservation. Even Alphonse said it—”

“Hey, leave me out of this,” Alphonse said from beside the door. Where he was eating squid on a stick and leaning in the archway, watching the show. And was framed by the twins, who had already scarfed down their dinner and were ready for some entertainment.

I didn’t even care.

“—you went HAM on that thing,” I said, my blood pressure rising in memory. “And were about to get yourself eaten—”

Pritkin’s eyes flashed emerald. “You called it over! You didn’t just—you called for it! And I had just seen it kill you, seen your bloody body floating on the waves—”

“That was a doppelganger; I cast Chimera—”

“And how was I supposed to know that? I thought you were dead—”

“So, the idea was to go with me?” I demanded because I wasn’t any happier about that fight than he was. We might have won, but it hadn’t been pretty. And the worst thing was that it wasn’t even part of the Challenge. All that effort, all that risk, and we got precisely bupkis.

Not to mention that that hadn’t been an accident. Someone had sicced that thing on me so Pritkin wouldn’t leave. So that he’d stay around and get eaten. Or beaten to death against the walls, or drowned, or skewered.

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