Page 7 of Wicked Tides
“Anastasia,” I greeted.
“Vidar,” she returned in that delicious accent of hers. “Back so soon. But for how long?”
My eyes skimmed my men’s. “Not long.”
~ 4 ~
Vidar
Stabbed too many times in the heart,
a man’s soul splits in two…
and he is the space between.
~Father Eldrich III
“Truly?” James said, a mix of excitement and nervousness in his voice. “Whittonwantsus to bring ‘em back alive?”
Gus chuckled before filling his mouth with another big gulp of ale. Not much bothered him at his age. Nor did much surprise him. Not with all the tales he could tell.
The rest of the men at the table had stopped drinking like they were expecting me to have a fit over the matter. I skimmed their eyes and brought my mug to my lips, taking two big drinks.
I would need a lot if I was going to go along with Whitton’s request.
“Drink up,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “You earned it, boys.”
Anastasia slid to her feet as I stood and attempted to follow me out. Most days, I would have welcomed her company. She was agorgeous woman. Foreign and sweet. Easy on the eyes and good with her hands. But my mind was a mess and unless I had a few more mugs full of ale, I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy her company. I turned and kissed her on the forehead before giving her a gentle shove to tell her to stay while I headed out to the porch.
Outside, the sound of music was muffled behind the wooden walls and all I could hear were the waves at the docks and some faint giggling whores as men chased them down the muddy streets. I took in the stale sea air mixed with the scent of mud and fish. The only damn smells I knew and they weren’t even pleasant. But they were home… and Whitton wanted to stain the place with those she-demons from the deep. Imagining our brothels filled with tongueless sirens dressed in pretty costumes with powdered cheeks sickened me.
Sitting like a sleeping giant on the waves was the Burning Rose, waiting to set sail again and dye the waters red in the hunt. Only I would have to tell her there was no killing to be done. Only harvesting… like a damn, greedy fool.
I felt the particular rhythm of Gus’s limp before he announced his presence.
“Crew’s excited,” he grunted, leaning on a wooden post beside me with a mug in hand. “A bit scared to show you, though.”
I sighed sharply. “I won’t fault them for being interested in money. Half of them don’t even have a bed to sleep in.”
“And half of them don’t care. Those men live on the sea, same as you. Boys like Mullins and Billy would follow you to the bottom of the ocean if you asked. Why? Because you gave them a life better than they had.”
“What’s your point, old man?”
“Point is, if you want to refuse whatever deal you may or may not have made with that cunt, Whitton, say so. The Burning Rose will be a pirate ship again and we’ll sail the water for different coin.”
I laughed at the simplicity of it. And the sarcasm.
“I took her from pirates,” I said. “I’m not putting that stain on the Rose again. Besides, she likes hunting more than she likes plundering.”
“You talk about the bitch like she’s your wife.”
“She’s pretty enough with an attitude that makes her as wild as any woman,” I laughed again.
“Well, I suppose I didn’t survive that night to throw you in a loony bin. You know I’ll be behind you, no matter your decision. Just like I stood by your dad.”
I nodded, glancing down at my gloved hand. It was a harsh and grotesque reminder of why I did what I did.
“So?” Gus asked. “You reluctant to bring ‘em ashore because they’re dangerous or you just can’t stand not killing ‘em?”
