Page 21 of Shiver Me Satyr

“And if they’re loyal to their captain?” I shouldn’t love the way he purrscaptain,with his lips against my earlobe, but I can’t help it. He’s a master seducer. My singular relationship was a lie that I bought. All my other liaisons were lackluster bed partners I saw once and never again. I’m outwitted and playing a game I have no business playing.

“I’ll execute them,” I sneer, recovering some of my decorum. This isn’t the time to blush like a virgin sweetheart. “The only way this prize leaves intact is if the birds are too much and we cut them all adrift.”

“That makes this easier,” he replies, but there’s no time to ask him what he means.

“Watch your stern,” calls the captain of the other ship. He holds his feathered hat on his head with one hand while the other holds his palm toward us. The pride it takes to wear a hat while under attack doesn’t escape me. His type is unmistakable.I bet he’s the jackass who whips his crew on the sea and sings their praises on land.

Three of his sailors throw lines to me hearties I have stationed on the rail. They don’t know our sailors are side-show acrobats who stand on the shoulders of larger crew members. Me hearties stand tall and motionless against the tumultuous seas—caused by my tentacled family members.

“There’s a kraken in the abyss. Bastard wants our birds.”

Ha! Not likely. Sabrina was never an animal lover.

“What type of birds?” Hybris says over my shoulder. He steps around the helm as if he’s the captain. What’s his game? With his fancy clothes and elegant accent, he plays the part perfectly. The other captain doesn’t bat an eyelash when I stay at the wheel. Bastard probably thinks I’m the doxie for Hybris and the crew. My palms itch for my whip to behead them both!

I see red until I spy the barrel of a long gun between their mizzenmast’s lower sails. We’re not the only ones with snipers up the ratlines. With the rocking of their hull, the loose sails wave and reveal the hiding places of the merchants, who aren’t battle-hardened. Our snipers are tucked into the tied corners on our booms, so no matter how the sails flap, their positions are concealed.

“Kraken have very specific tastes,” Hybris continues. His monologue about kraken, birds, and marine ecosystems would be laughable if the gun barrels didn’t follow his every move. The satyr is an insufferable liar, but our opponents lap up his lies like cream.

Hybris’slaissez-faireattitude takes the captain aback. He never suspected the kraken would find his birds distasteful. Based on his hat’s feathers alone, I know he loves those birdsmore than the crew who have to manage them. I bet he’s one of the mollies with exotic birds as pets.

“Do you know whether the species of kraken you saw was the species that liked your species of birds?”

Hybris waltzes to the railing, so his head is directly below the less-than-hidden barrel. I understand he’s blustering to give me hearties time to shoot, but does he know he’s in danger? Do the sharpshooters in our rigging? Do they know who to shoot?

No, because they have orders to let him die, as I was too cowardly to do it myself. I have the signal to start the war, not Hybris. It’s like he's taunting me with the possibility of these merchants taking him out for me. He doesn’t know about the contract, so why would he stick his neck out like this?

“No—no, can’t say I’ve studied the different types of kraken. I assumed all tentacled monsters were the same,” The merchant captain stammers. “Say, we’re Englishmen who sail the lanes to Mexico—for the birds, you see. While we’re forever indebted to you for frightening away the monsters, I must be loyal to my king and country. I must know if our nation is your nation. I’m guessing, from your accent, that you are as English as we are, but your Union Jack was lost in the wind. Shall we give you a replacement?”

Oh, no, thank you. We have a closet full of Union Jacks from ships this boat has sunk. We keep those flags next to our Jolly Roger. My smirk at the thought fades as the click of a gun’s hammer rings between the groups. It didn’t come from our side. Hybris tilts his head at an angle to show the merchant he heard the show of force. The other captain pulls at his collar as if he’d love to tug open the button buried in lacy frills.

“I’m Hybris Astor—”

“Humphrey Astor’s son,” the merchant says, his eyes widening and his color draining from his face. He thinks for a moment before splitting his face into a wide smile. He waves at the merchants on deck to connect the two boats with planks. If he’s preparing to board—or host Hybris aboard—why doesn’t he tell his ratline climbers to lower their guns? Is he trying to hide the fact that he drew muskets on us sight unseen? I’ve read about this in Magda’s journals when merchants mistook Chub at the helm for a poor Irish sailor instead of a pirate protecting his she-devil Captain as she hid from the sun.

“One and the same,” Hybris says, lifting his hoof to rest on the railing. With his hair blown from its confines, I guess the merchant sailors missed his satyr horns. They are the same color as his hair. Despite the merchant knowing exactly who Hybris is, he doesn’t signal his crew to lower their guns.

Could this bird ferry be a part of the Astor fleet? My blood runs cold. What if they were stationed to verify that we killed Hybris? I should be elated. The gunner over Hybris has lifted the sight to his eye. He’s aiming to take care of my biggest problem, but wasn’t I supposed to be under the gun? Would I have noticed them if I stood in Hybris’s spot? How did I lose control of this situation?

The merchant banters with Hybris as if they’re old chums in a tavern. All the while, more gunners in the rigging load their weapons and aim at our False Captain. He’s facing a firing squad on my behalf. I won’t allow it. My heart jumps into my throat. He’s my guest until I decide to kill him, and the crew loves him. Some bird-brained merchant isn’t going to shoot down me hearties—even if I’ve been hired to off them myself. Any merchants we take onto our payroll wouldn’t respect me in the slightest if I allowed Hybris to take a captain’s bullet. Yeah, I’msaving his arse for respect…not because I want to explore what lending me his strength entails…

Assuming the soft, merchant mollies don’t miss his fat head.

“I’ve sailed the Pacific and dove into the abyss to swim with kraken. Have you?” Hybris blusters at half volume as he roams the sterncastle deck. The gun barrels follow until they’re pointed away from the helm. Is he protecting me? I unhook my whip from my belt and allow the coils to drop noiselessly to the floor.

“No, I can’t say I have—” The merchant captain approaches the railing, leaning over it to hear every lie Hybris spews.

“Then we must give you the chance today!” I shout as I crack the whip over my head. It snaps toward the merchant and wraps around his neck. The hooks at the end lodge in his chin. As he grabs at his wounds, he’s too busy to give the signal to shoot. Hybris has time to hit the deck and crawl behind the sterncastle mast. My elbow bends, and the captain is flung overboard. I flick my wrists to retrieve my whip before I’m pulled overboard too. Bits of the merchant are stuck to the hooks when they slap the planks at my feet.

Bullets splinter our booms and mast as the merchants try their one shot to avenge their captain. I knew those lily-livered scoundrels couldn’t shoot worth a damn. Our hearties return fire, and I squat behind the helm to protect myself. With the way both sides shoot, I’m more likely to be hit by my own nutmegs than the enemy.

The merchants drop from their perches like dead birds, and the irony brings a maniacal cackle between my lips. Theexotic birds answer me as each thump on the deck frightens the occupants below.

“Are you okay?” Hybris whispers as he crawls over to me. “I saw you crouch and was worried you had been shot.”

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” I whisper. His thigh is warm against mine as he pulls his knees to his chest next to me. “Why did you do it? Why did you step into my place at the end of those muzzles? They wanted to shoot you.”

“Because if they shot you, everyone on this boat would be at risk for death, imprisonment, or worse. Who would mourn me? If I never returned, it would be assumed I joined the sweet trade or moved up in my father’s fleet. But you… If the world lost you, it would end for everyone aboard.”

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