I know one too many pirate captains. I wouldn’t admit it to this stranger but I often traded down at the docks. Be it trades made with stolen goods or a bounty on someone’s head, I always get what I want.
“I am.” He winks.
What a fool. Anger at his antics grows within me by the second. Soon I won’t care whether he dies publicly or in the privacy of his own ship.
“I’ve never met you before.”
I pick apart his appearance. His hands look smooth, not rough enough for years of work pulling at rigging and handling swords like a pirate would. His posture… too perfect.
“There was a mutiny on the ship. I am the new captain.” He gives me a mocking bow. “The name is Marcello Torres.”
I flinch. I don’t need to know his name. I don’t want to know his name. If I know it and kill him, I’ll have to write his name down in the little leather-bound journal I keep between the floor and my mattress. It had been Arron’s idea, before he had passed. Some annoying ritual meant to keep me tied to my humanity.
It’s morbid. But I made the promise to my friend and in his death, I’d continued to do so. Still, if I could get away with murder and not have any knowledge of the creature’s name, there is no need to touch the book. A loophole in my agreement, I reason with myself.
“You know, Ghost,” he teases me, “I could kill you right now if I wanted to. Your fragile Human body would crumple easily.” Just as quick as his words had turned menacing, he lifts his hands up playfully. “I won’t, because I would like to strike up a deal with you.”
“Go ahead, underestimate me. That’ll surely be loads of fun.” I narrow my gaze. “Listen, if you are going to try to make a plea for your life, it will not work on me.” I spit at his feet, not bothering to hide my hatred.
“I’m going to make a plea for a better life,” he corrects, “Come follow, tiny Human.” He walks forward, only glancing to see if I would follow when he is nearly twenty feet away. He sighs reaching for a jacket that hangs over an old rusted barrel across the street. Marcello shrugs himself into the jacket, which can only be described as plush, hot pink, faux fur. It’s a miracle the item wasn’t stolen in the first place. You can’t just leave things lying around here. This Elf, Marcello, has a plethora of Luck on his side tonight.
I remain under the flickering street lamp that puts the door of the bar under a spotlight. If he is going to kill me for the bounty on my head for playing the part of The Ghost, he would have little chance of getting away with it.
“Your bargaining will do you little good, but I’ll allow you to continue. I could use the entertainment anyway.” I let myself look bored. My posture eases into a gentle slouch as I pick at my clean nails.
On the cusp of a breath, Marcello goes from being twenty feet away to twenty inches. The sudden movement causes me to inhale sharply as my arms fall to my belt.
“I want you to be on my team for The Oasis Games.” His saucy grin turns feral. The once shining silver of his eyes turns completely white, making his cat-like pupils look like the never-ending heavens. He’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. I hate him for that even more.
I give a little chuckle at first. This has to be a joke. No Human had ever entered the tournament. It’s created for paranormal creatures, Hybrids, not for me. When Marcello’s face remains straight and serious, I fold over with laughter.
I only right myself as a Vampire leaves the bar, walking at an angle from his near delirious stupor. Marcello reaches into his pocket. Quick as a whip, I have a dagger out and pointed at him. But all he pulls from his pink jacket is two small pieces of paper.
“I wondered where you were hiding your weapons.”
“How did you get those?” I sneer. “You have to go through rounds of interviews and physical training before they pick for the tournament. They haven’t even finished the second draft.”
“Let’s just say I have my ways.” He beams with pride. “One for me and one for you.”
“I don’t want to play in the games,” I say slowly, lowering the blade and sheathing it. “Joining The Oasis Games is a death sentence.”
“Unless you win.” Marcello points out.
“Not likely.”
I don’t like the bubble of hope that clouds my judgement. Winning The Oasis Games means receiving an excessive amount of money as well as being given a home over the wall, where royalty lives. It would be nice not to live in a rotting building shared with other mercenaries.
I’d been into The Oasis before. Snuck over its wall and killed the waiting guard. The streets were what I’d always dreamed them to be, based off the crumbling ones in The Bend. Each house was taken care of and some are three or four stories high. Each home held a single family, and I bet they didn’t have to fight off another family to claim it.
There is more to a place than perfect homes and functional streets, but The Bend feels like home. It’s always been home. On a good day, I am just as bad as any other criminal that lives here. This is my place.
“No,” I say, with a shrug, pushing past Marcello to head home before the safety of the cloak’s scent completely wears off.
Marcello doesn’t pursue me. His shouts
