The Scrolls of Gideon (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 7) Page 5

  “Oscaihl,” I said under my breath, gesturing at the door. There was a click as the lock slid back. I waited a moment. When no one rushed out with guns blazing at the sound, I pulled the door open and stepped through.

  Immediately inside, a short flight of wooden stairs led down to a fairly large wood-paneled room. A counter ran along one side with cabinets above and below. On the other side was a table with bench seats, where Junkyard and the twins sat playing a card game.

  That was all I got a chance to observe before Junkyard was on his feet, palming the cold iron crowbar that must’ve been on the bench next to him and sliding out to stand beside the table. The twins didn’t get up, but they tensed into alertness and watched me with identical pale blue eyes. “How did you get in here?” the first mate demanded. “That door was locked.”

  “I, er … no it wasn’t,” I lied. I was still hoping to avoid an all-out war on a ship in the middle of the ocean. “Listen, I need to talk to the captain.”

  “No, you don’t.” He took a step toward me. “Get back up on deck.”

  Something in his tone caught my attention, and I suddenly realized he was more scared than angry. Alex might know a lot about the Fae, and she’d probably interacted with a few of them before. But I suspected this was the first time any of her crew had been around Others.

  Maybe I could convince them I wasn’t a threat.

  I held my hands up in surrender. “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” I said. “Can we talk a minute?”

  Junkyard watched me warily and didn’t relax the crowbar. “About what?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever. Anything,” I said. “How about this — am I right that you two are twins?” I said to the pair at the table. “I assumed you were, but maybe I’m wrong.”

  They looked at each other, then at me. But they didn’t answer.

  “Kjell and Solveig don’t speak much English,” Junkyard said. “But yeah, they’re twins.”

  “Kaksoset,” Kjell said.

  Solveig nodded. “Kaksoset.”

  “Okay, then.” I tried to smile. “Uh, do you mind if I put my arms down?”

  Junkyard glanced at the crowbar, then shrugged and lowered it slowly. “Guess this wouldn’t do much good against you, anyway,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s just metal. The stuff you did up there…” He shook his head. “Alex — Captain Walsh said it’d hurt you, but I don’t see how.”

  “If it’s cold iron, it will.” I took a chance, lowered my arms and started down the stairs. “It may seem like just metal to you, but it’s poisonous to me,” I said.

  “How?”

  “Well…” I could’ve tried to explain it, but a demonstration would be more effective. And maybe it’d put them a little more at ease. Show them I wasn’t invulnerable, and I wasn’t going to hurt them. Of course, it’d hurt me plenty.

  I was probably going to regret this, but I’d risk it.

  “If you’ll hold that crowbar out, I’ll show you,” I finally said.

  His brow furrowed, but he held it out. I only hesitated for a second before I wrapped my hand around the other end.

  The pain was immediate, and the hissing sound of my skin burning was loud in the enclosed space. Junkyard’s eyes widened as I winced and let go, spreading my hand to show the damage. “Poison,” I repeated. “Enough of that can kill me.”

  “Holy shit,” he said hoarsely.

  Solveig reached out and touched his arm. “Hot?” she said.

  “No. No, it’s not,” he murmured, passing the crowbar to her. While she and her brother exclaimed over it in whatever language they spoke, Junkyard stared at me. “You’re not going to die now, are you?”

  I almost laughed. “Nah. It’d take a little more than that,” I said.

  “But your hand…”

  I waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. I heal fast.”

  “Yeah?” a voice said from somewhere behind me. “Let’s see how fast you heal from this.”

  Alex.

  I turned toward her. She’d come through a door set into the wall behind the stairs, and she had her gun out. “I told you to stay in the guest quarters,” she said. “What do you think you’re doing down here?”

  “Looking for you,” I said. “We need to talk.”

  “I have nothing to talk to you about, Fae.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re going to tell me why you want to kill my brother.”

  She glared at me. “That’s funny. I thought he was the one who wanted to kill me.”

  “Can we talk, or do we have to stay at each other’s throats until everyone on this ship is dead?”

  With a frustrated snarl, she lowered the weapon. “Fine,” she said. “Follow me.”

  All at once, being alone with her somewhere in the depths of her ship seemed like a bad idea. But I’d have to take the chance.

  Otherwise, this wasn’t going to end well for any of us.

  CHAPTER 11

  The captain’s office was a small room with built-in shelves stuffed with books and papers. There was a small table off to one side with a double-burner Coleman stove and a metal coffee percolator that reminded me too much of camping, a subject I didn’t enjoy thinking about. A dented metal desk took up most of the space, with a big black stuffed chair behind it and a wooden folding chair on the side nearest the door.

  At least I didn’t need to ask where I was supposed to sit.

  Alex eased in behind the desk, and I settled in the wooden chair. I didn’t feel quite as queasy below decks — probably because I couldn’t see all that ocean and nothing else. But I wouldn’t be spending much of the trip down here.

  “Well, Gideon, I don’t know what you want me to say.” Alex folded her hands on the surface and looked at me. “Am I wrong about your brother’s feelings toward me?”

  “Not exactly. But he wouldn’t kill you,” I said. “Hell, he’s wanted to kill me plenty of times, and I’m still alive.”

  “He has killed people before, though.”

  I gave her a dry look. “Let me guess. Your aunt told you that.”

  “She told me he’s Unseelie. You both are,” she said. “That’s enough for me.”

  “Then why don’t you hate me?”

  “I do hate you.”

  “Not as much as you hate Taeral.”

  She pushed off the desk with a frustrated sound. “I have my reasons.”

  “For hating the Fae, or just Taeral?”

  “Damn it, why am I letting you interrogate me?” she said. “I hate the Fae.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sharing that with you.”

  Okay. This was getting us nowhere fast. “Look, my brother has a temper,” I said. “And he’s good at rubbing people the wrong way. But whatever’s going on between you two, it seems a little extreme for a couple of strangers — even with your prejudices thrown in. Don’t you think?”

  “My prejudices?” she said. “The way your brother called me a witch wasn’t exactly tolerant.”

  “I meant both of you.” I let out a sigh and folded my hands. Mostly so I wouldn’t cast a spell at her, because she was really getting on my nerves. “I know there’s some kind of longstanding witch-Fae feud, but you and Taeral are taking it personally. Which doesn’t make any sense, because you’ve never met before,” I said. “Or have you?”

  Her jaw clenched. “No, we haven’t,” she ground out. “I guess he just … reminds me of someone.”

  Oh, great. I’d heard that somewhere before. “Who?” I said.

  She tipped her head back. “I don’t know.”

  “Funny. That’s exactly what he said about you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I had her full attention now. “You remind him of someone, but he doesn’t know who,” I said. “He has no idea why he hates you, but he’s satisfied with convincing himself it’s because you’re a witch. Sound familiar?”

  “Ye
s, I guess it does,” she said slowly.

  “So does that mean the war’s off?”

  For a minute it looked like she’d relent, but then her expression hardened. “I won’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking,” she snapped. “But if he crosses me, I will absolutely incapacitate him. I won’t have any Fae causing trouble on my ship. That goes for you, too.” She stood and rested a hand on the holstered gun. “Now get out of my office, and don’t come back down here again. Is that clear?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I got it.”

  I stood, but I didn’t hurry to leave the room. Something told me she wouldn’t shoot me. And though I couldn’t quite convince myself that she wouldn’t shoot Taeral, I did believe she wouldn’t kill him. At least, not on purpose.

  But the risk was still too high. I couldn’t leave things like this.

  “Listen,” I said with a hand on the doorknob. “We didn’t come on this trip for a vacation, or as some plot to take over your ship. We’re just trying to help your aunt out. I’m guessing that’s why you agreed to do it — as a favor for your aunt?”

  Her furious expression wavered. “Something like that.”

  “Yeah, I figured. That woman doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Alex relaxed a little more. “So what’s your point?”

  “My point is, maybe we could all try to get through this for her without killing each other in the process,” I said. “Believe me, I tried to bow out. I can do what she wants without sailing halfway across the Atlantic, and I’m really not a fan of boats. Or ships. But she insisted that I was needed to get us there, so here I am.”

  The captain frowned. “She did say we needed you and the golem. But not the other two.”

  “Trust me, we’re going to need Taeral. Even Grygg said we would.” I still didn’t know exactly why Grygg decided that we needed him, but I wasn’t going to argue. Despite this mess — or maybe because of it — I was glad Taeral was here. “His magic is a lot stronger than mine, and we have no idea what this barrier thing is,” I said. “Besides, he’s my brother, and he worries about me.” I gave a slight shrug. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

  Alex closed her eyes, drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right,” she finally said. “You tell him to stop antagonizing me, and I’ll do the same. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said.

  Now I just had to convince Taeral to agree.

  CHAPTER 12

  It’d been hours since my confrontation with the captain, and not a single crew member had come above deck — with the exception of Mr. Wilt, who’d remained at the helm all this time. Grygg hadn’t moved much, either. He was still standing at the other side of the pole, facing the deck door and appearing to ignore everything. So pretty much the same thing he always did.

  Taeral, Sadie and I lounged along the back rail, not saying much. Taeral had grudgingly agreed to restore his glamour. Not so much because of the truce, which he didn’t believe the captain would hold to, but because I’d told him the rest of the crew were afraid of us.

  To be honest, I wasn’t so sure Alex would keep her word either. But we’d deal with that if it came up.

  On the plus side, I’d stopped feeling nauseous. Must’ve gotten used to the motion of the ship and the sight of nothing all around us. In fact, I was comfortable enough to be nearly falling asleep when Sadie suddenly bolted upright. “There has to be a reason for it,” she said, like she was picking up a conversation we’d never started. “I mean, one of you reminding the other of someone they hate, okay. But it’s both of you. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “You mean Taeral and Alex wanting to kill each other,” I said.

  She nodded. “It’s just not normal. Two random strangers feeling this strongly from the moment they met, for the exact same vague reason?”

  “It is not completely out of the question.” Taeral shifted and stretched his legs out. “As I mentioned, both witches and the Fae have reason to fear and mistrust one another. Yet I must admit, this does not seem like a typical reaction.”

  “It can’t be. Because she knew,” I said. “Tethys, Regina, whoever she is, told Alex exactly what we are. She was prepared to bring a couple of Fae and a werewolf on her ship, so she had to be at least okay with it. But something about you set her off.”

  “Maybe it’s a spell or something,” Sadie said. “Do the Fae have an instant-enemy spell?”

  Taeral snorted. “I suppose certain Fae spells, when combined properly, may produce such an effect. But I’ve cast no such spells, and I cannot imagine why anyone would.”

  “It wasn’t me, either,” I said. “I don’t think it’s a spell. But … maybe you two really do know each other.”

  “Not possible.”

  “What I mean is, whoever she reminds you of. And vice versa,” I said. “Taeral, you’re four hundred years old. You could’ve met someone way back in her family tree that she happens to look like.”

  “Aye, perhaps,” he said slowly. “I’ve fought a few witches in my time. But what of her despising me? She is human, and she cannot have lived to see four decades yet, let alone four centuries.”

  “True, but all the Fae live for centuries, so it doesn’t matter how old she is. Maybe you remind her of someone she’s heard about, or seen a picture of?” I said. “Or she could’ve met a different Fae who looked like you. Daoin, maybe.”

  “During which of the twenty-six years he was locked in that damned Milus Dei facility might this witch have met our father?”

  Good point. And now I felt like an asshole bringing it up. “Okay, so not Daoin,” I said. “Got any other relatives you could be mistaken for?”

  “This is ridiculous. She could not possibly—”

  A sudden, loud bang sounded just behind the door to below decks, and then it opened slowly. The three of us glanced at each other and stood, ready for whatever came out. If the captain wanted to ignore what I’d said and start a war, she’d get one.

  What came out was Junkyard, carrying one end of a long table with folding legs. Kjell was at the other end. Behind him was Solveig with a stack of chairs, and then Dom with a bigger stack.

  Alex emerged last, walking past the crew as they began to set up the table and chairs in the middle of the deck. She wasn’t exactly smiling when she approached us, but she had dialed back the cold fury a few notches. Hooray for progress. She stopped a good ten feet back, fidgeting for a moment before she looked at me. “You must be getting hungry,” she said. “I thought we’d all have dinner together. If you want.”

  “We’d like that,” I said before Taeral could make a sarcastic remark. “Thank you.”

  “It’ll be about half an hour.” She stared past me for a moment, then her gaze skipped over Taeral and looked away. “We really don’t have any spare quarters below, but I’m having some cots brought up for you,” she said. “I just don’t have anything big enough for, uh…”

  “I don’t sleep,” Grygg said without looking around.

  “Oh. Well, then.” Alex made an abrupt throat-clearing sound. “See you for dinner.”

  As she hurried back to join her crew, Taeral stared after her. “I still do not trust her,” he said.

  “Hey, at least she’s making an effort.”

  “Aye, she appears to be,” he said. “But she’s given up too easily. Perhaps she’s planning to poison the food.”

  Sadie rubbed his back briefly. “I didn’t smell anything threatening on her this time,” she said. “I think she’s actually trying to be nice. Or not horrible, anyway.”

  “We shall see,” Taeral muttered.

  I figured it’d be a miracle if we got through dinner without at least one fight breaking out, but what the hell. I was in the mood for miracles.

  CHAPTER 13

  Dinner was some kind of meat, some kind of beans, and something that probably used to be vegetables. Apparently, Low Tide was the cook as well as the engineer. I only hoped he was bette
r at fixing engines than meals.

  At least so far, the food didn’t seem to be poisoned.

  Alex had sent the twins to relieve Mr. Wilt, so he’d joined us for dinner. The captain sat at the head of the table, with me, Taeral and Sadie on one side, and the rest of the crew on the other. Junkyard was across from me, with Mr. Wilt next to him, then Low Tide across from Sadie, and finally Dom.

  True to form, Grygg didn’t join us. He just kept maintaining the post he’d given himself at the pole.

  There hadn’t been much in the way of conversation so far. The sun had started to set on the horizon behind the ship, blazing a red-orange band across the sky that reflected in the darkening water. Ahead, the first stars were visible in a cloudless blue-black expanse. The lights mounted at intervals on the deck railing must’ve had sensors, because they’d turned on by themselves a few minutes ago.

  Honestly, it was a little spooky being on the ocean at almost-dark.

  Mr. Wilt was the first to clean his plate. He put his fork down, leaned back and nodded at Taeral across from him. “What’s the deal with that arm of yours, mate?” he said in a mellow Australian accent. “Never seen a prosthetic quite like that.”

  I tensed, preparing for an intervention. Taeral was touchy about his arm. But he only shrugged, raised his gold arm and flexed the fingers. “It was custom made,” he said. “By an animated Arcadian construct who is thousands of years old and serves the most dreadful tea imaginable.”

  Both Sadie and I gaped at him. At best, he usually refused to talk about the arm at all — and he was more likely than not to fly into a rage and curse whoever was asking questions. What he never did was tell the truth, or talk to humans about Arcadia.

  “What?” he said mildly. “I am simply making polite conversation.”

  Mr. Wilt roared with laughter. “If that’s polite conversation, mate, I can’t wait for you to really get going,” he said, and nudged Low Tide. “Oi, smelly. Make yourself useful and go fetch us some libations.”

  Low Tide grinned and scrambled from his seat, heading for the wooden door.