Page 22 of Shiver Me Satyr

“Not everyone,” I start, falling into the abyss of his deep brown eyes. “Me hearties would kill every merchant, roast the birds, and elect a new captain. By morning, everything would run as if I had never existed.”

“You can’t believe that. Surely, you must see how unforgettable you are.”

As the merchants reload their single-shot flintlocks, my hearties reach for a second and then a third gun. It’s less than ten minutes before the shots stop, after which only the bird’s pitiful squawks fill the air. The next phase of the battle needs to start, but I don’t want to leave the private haven where I collect Hybris’s sweet words. I don’t care if they are words he uses on every girl. They give me the courage to do what’s required of Captain Betts.

“Life as a pirate isn’t like life in a town with families and a registry. You write your story with every day you survive the seas. Who you are or what family name you wear doesn’t matter—just the story you leave behind. And my story has just begun,” I say, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

He turns at the last minute, pressing our lips together. His lips slide over mine in practiced motions that awaken something inside me I thought dead. His attention is addictive—like an unwelcome addition you can’t shake. Addictions kill more captains than bullets. Pox, green livers, the Bube, and relentless search for the high of finding treasure are the most common ailments of captains. I’m not ready to succumb to my fate yet. I tear my lips from his and stare at him. He’s panting, with eyes more chaotic than his windblown hair. I’m not the only one who got more than they bargained for in that kiss.

Time to put my newly found fire to good use. I jump to my feet and secure my whip around my waist so I can unsheathe my sword.

“Let’s board, me hearties, and show these merchants the devil’s bargain,” I shout to my crew. “Let them join us, or let them decorate our new floorboards with their innards!”

My crew yells in response. Someone throws me a line so I can be the first to swing over the rails to the other boat. The sign of respect isn’t lost on me. I sail through the air with my sword pointing straight ahead. I don’t dare look at Flint…and the dangerous desire flooding his gaze.

12

Flint

My world doesn’t sit on the same axis. A battle rages on the other boat while I sit on our sterncastle deck with a goofy grin stretching my gob--not that I was about to rush into the fray unarmed. My practice time in the bilge taught me that I’m best with books, not swords. I could be an asset in the strategy room and maybe take over some of Chub’s accounting duties to help his transition to retirement. While the crew works daily to teach one another to read and write, I am the most educated crew member to best handle the new contracts and the inventory when we dock at port.

Of course, all this is a ruse to be closer to my lady love, my soulmate, my other half, Captain Betts. I felt it in her kiss. No woman has ever kissed me with a mixture of innocence and repressed fire like Betts just did. Usually, a woman’s kiss is full of need and naughty promises, like she’s communicating her demands. Betts—Bettina—didn’t ask for anything. She shared a moment without expectations or requests for my performance.

Combined with the fact that she has never once thrown herself at me, no wonder I’m smitten. Is it the thrill of the chase or something special about her? I peer over the railing and find her red hair in the melee on the other boat. She’s stabbing and slashing men three times her size. Eze fights back-to-back with her, while Hash’s dreadlocks whirl over her head.It demonstrates the truth in my words. Her crew would be lost without her. I didn’t understand why I stepped into her place when I spied the guns pointed at her from the enemies’ sails, but now I do.

The world would be a dim place without her light.

Dammit, the merchant captain climbs their Jacob’s Ladder to return to the fight. Why didn’t he drown? Why didn’t Teeth or Sabs finish him? If he saw who flung him overboard, he’ll be gunning for Betts. I can’t let him ambush her. Eze or Hash may protect her flanks, but they have no idea this guy is back on board.

If I want to be by her side, I must prove to her I’m more than a dairy chaser. I peer around the sterncastle mast and sigh. They’re still fighting. What would my heroes—Teeth, Branko, and Magda—do? Magda would have flown between the two boats like Betts. Teeth would be one of the sharpshooters in rigging, watching anyone who aims at his hearties. What about Branko? He’d be with the cannon crew, so he’d have the most dangerous trip into the fray. He’d climb up and over the railing, praying nobody shoots him as he raises his torso from the cannon galley. No matter which hero I would emulate, they would all lend their swords to the conflict on the other boat.

They all learned to fight somewhere, right?

How hard can it be? Just point and attack until your opponent bleeds. Easy as pie…when you’re armed.

On my elbows and my belly, I slither across the sterncastle deck and down the stairs to what’s left of the main deck. There are no pointy implements or forgotten pistols in the cannon galley. It was a long shot, but I had to look.

“Flint!” Gunter yells above me. I crane my neck to the upper boom on the forecastle mast where his station is supposedto be. Who knows if he went over the rail or stayed to shoot merchants from afar?

“Gunter?” An arrow strikes the bottom sterncastle step, next to my left hoof. If this arrow came from the other boat, it would have feathers to anchor the base, not leftover herbs from Catalina's kitchen. I recognize the symbols carved just below the arrowhead as the tribal symbols of the islanders who make the arrows—while the rest of us are stuck sewing. “Thanks, Gunter!”

Pulling the arrow from its target in the step, I’m elated to be armed. It’s not a sword, dagger, or whip, but at least it has a sharp end. I slither to the beam along the center of the boat and glide around the cannon galley to the railing. The fighting is divided into pairs or trios, so there’s nobody to shoot at me. They’re busy. If I tell the stories of what happened on deck, will they believe I was there? I am there…here…not engaged in combat…but there are the sharpshooters…they would know…ugh.

Here I go. My first pirooting over the rail.

My legs shake as my hooves clatter on the gangplank connecting the boats.Don’t look down. Don’t look down.Oh, toss it, that’s a long drop to the churning sea below. Was that a wobble? My arms shoot outward as I crouch down. This plank is too wobbly for a safe crossing. Is Teeth down there in case someone falls? Would he save me? I bet Sabrina would—

A bullet flies between my horns. It’s motivation enough to haul my arse onto the enemy's boat. I instantly love their floorboards. They’re stable, secure, and without roaring waves beneath them. Yes, these planks are worth the battle. I will never take them for granted…if I ever cross that terrible divide back to our boat.

“Well, sir! Or should I say, avast ye? Had us fooled for a heartbeat,” sneers a merchant with a beard that reaches below his beltline. I can’t take my eyes off the bugs crawling in it. Doesn’t that itch? “So you owe us a heartbeat—yours!”

As he rushes toward me, some of the bugs take flight. Musty moths, blinking fireflies, long-legged mosquitoes, and tropical creatures I can't identify form a swarm more fierce than the curved blade the man holds over his head. I swat in feverish arcs, whirling and dodging the buzzing insects. My arrow tip cuts through ropes that lead to God knows what as I fight an invisible enemy. The bearded hive gives a choke as the ship’s mizzen boom slaps him in the stomach and sweeps him off his feet. My opponent and his swarm are carried into the air and across the boat as the sail swings a half-circle.

That takes care of him…unless our crew must delice after this battle.

I meant to cut the rope holding the sails. I’m brilliant.

Eze and Betts are across the boat on the forecastle deck, so they missed my first taste of combat. They battle two giant sailors who have the merchant captain stuffed into a corner behind them. I think they have the skirmish well in hand. Where is Chub? Maybe he needs assistance. I’m riding the high of defeating an enemy—shedding blood—triumph!

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