Wes sighed. It was hard to talk about. He didn’t remember much. “There was a fire,” he said quietly. “Smoke alarms didn’t work. It came out of nowhere and then it was everywhere.”
He gripped the picture tighter. “No, that’s the thing . . . they never found a body. They said she must have disintegrated into ashes, but come on, there would have been something . . . something to identify her . . .”
“She’s alive. She has to be. She’s out there somewhere,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” Nat whispered. She was sorrier than he ever knew.
“It’s okay.” He echoed the words she had told him the other day. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Nat did not respond. She wanted to reach out to him, but it was as if he were behind a wall of glass. He would hate her now. He would always hate her. She didn’t need to push him away, she already had.
“Wes, there’s something you should know about me . . . ,” she said, her voice almost inaudible, just as Shakes burst from the helm.
“More ships!” he said. “Roark spotted them in the trashbergs; kid’s got eyes like a fighter pilot.”
Wes stood up straight. “RSA?”
“Not sure. Still too far to tell,” Shakes said, as he followed Wes out to the deck.
Roark was climbing down from the crow’s nest. He reported his findings. “They don’t carry the flag.”
“The engines are too loud, too,” Wes said. He took out his scope and looked out at the distant horizon. He focused the glass and he could see them better. He could hear them, too.
There was the sound of gunfire and cannons.
Brendon walked off the bridge and stood next to Roark. “What is it?”
“A battle,” Wes said, still peering at the ships through his lenses, watching bullets fly between them. “Between two slavers, it looks like.” He recognized them by their silhouette. The two massive ships were so overloaded with junk, they looked more like shantytowns than ships. It was just as he’d feared when the navy ships left them alone.
“Slavers,” Brendon whispered. “That can’t be good.”
Nat felt dread, thinking of the slavers from K-Town she had seen. Hard men, with flinty eyes and ugly tattoos.
“Looks like they’re both Jolly’s crew,” Wes said, handing her the binoculars so that she could see the skull and bones painted on both of the ships.
“Who’s Jolly?” asked Nat, returning the glasses back to him.
“‘Jolly’ Roger Stevens, otherwise known as the biggest icehole who’s ever sailed the ocean gray,” Shakes muttered.
“So why are they fighting themselves?” she asked.
They watched as the ships converged. One was clearly following the other, its crew preparing to board the smaller ship. They collided with a crash, and a moment later, the two crews were engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Men toppled into the sea. Gunfire mixed with grunts and laughter.
“Slavers rob each other all the time; it’s easier than roaming the sea for pilgrims,” Wes explained.
“With any luck they’ll destroy each other,” Shakes said. “Then we can just drift away . . .”
“Have we ever been that lucky?” Wes sighed. “But go back to the helm and try to get us behind one of the trashbergs. Maybe we can hide.”
Wes looked though the scope, studying the two ships, and realized why the attack had stopped—the slave cages on the defending ship were almost as empty as their attacker’s—there was hardly any loot to fight over.
He zeroed in on the two captains, who were meeting on the deck of one ship. They shook hands and turned, seeming to look straight at him.
The slavers had spotted them.
And it was clear: They were next.
36
WES CALCULATED HIS ODDS. HE HAD Shakes, a blackjack dealer, a sylph, and two smallmen on his side, and none of them except he and Shakes were experienced in combat. He told Shakes to stand at his side and ordered everyone else belowdecks to the lifeboats.
But no one moved.
“We want to fight,” Brendon said bravely, as Roark nodded. “We’re not going to run anymore.”
“You’re not getting rid of us this easily,” added Nat.
Liannan was already scouting the slavers’ approach. “If you have a plan, I recommend you share it with us now. They’ll be upon us soon.”
“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your courage,” Wes said. “But these guys are a rough bunch—Shakes and I have dealt with them before. Let us deal with them now. One wrong word and any of you could end up dead. Everyone get down to the lower deck; if we’re boarded, take a lifeboat out—it has a small motor on it, it might give you guys some time, put some space between you and them,” Wes said, taking out his gun. “Brendon, Roark—do you know how to use one of these?”
“We do not use iron,” Brendon said, pulling out a silver dagger from his pocket. “But we are armed. And we have Liannan with us.”
“She wasn’t much help with the snipers who took out your old crew,” Wes reminded.
“I did not see them,” Liannan said coldly, as she appeared on the deck to join the group. “The ships are made of iron—which repels our power.”
“Too bad.” Wes sighed. “We could really use some help right now.”
“I’m staying up here with you guys. I’m not leaving,” Nat said. “I can fight.” She locked eyes with Wes, until he nodded.
“Okay. But if we’re boarded, we don’t have a chance,” he said.
“Then we’ll die together,” she said. It was all you could ask for, she thought.
“Boss—” Shakes said, turning to Wes. “Remember, if it comes to that, take me out, before they get here. I’d rather die here than in a cage. Shoot me first, okay?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Wes said, gritting his teeth, his heart pumping. “It’s not going to come to that, I keep telling you.”
“It’s not?” Shakes attempted a smile even as his face was paler than the sail.
“Still want to stay up here?” Wes asked Nat.
She nodded. “That lifeboat is a death trap. I’d rather die fighting than starve in the ocean.”
“Have it your way, but if we can’t take them out, we’ll take out each other,” Wes said.
Shakes put out a trembling hand. “Deal.”
Wes slapped his on top. Nat followed suit. “Done.” Liannan and the smallmen added theirs.
Their deaths accounted for, Wes sighed. “All right, if you want to fight, start by staying out of sight. We need to conceal our numbers. Grab something heavy and hide.” He motioned to Nat, pointing out a place behind one of the sidewalls where she could disappear. Brendon and Roark understood immediately and stashed themselves behind some clutter on the deck, disappearing completely. Wes looked around for Liannan, but she was already gone. Nat noticed his confusion and pointed upward. The girl had shimmied up the mast and was hiding among the sails, her slight, elven form almost invisible in the billowing fabric.
Nat crouched down with the boys. They waited, holding their breath, not speaking. She could hear the sound of the engines getting louder.
