The Pirate King Ch. 15

I turned my eyes to the man I loved.

And I was lost.

His eyes were so dark, so very dark, but in that darkness was something I had never seen before. A warmth. An endlessness. A promise of infinity that had been lost to me ever since I had last been left by the sea, an extension of promises that I hadn't even known were being kept until he, this man, my love. My husband. Until he promised to keep them for me.

And I trusted him. With my everything. No, with more than my everything, with my eternity, with my endless churning expanses that had never been seen by another, that could never be experienced, I trusted that to this man, this mortal and he knew that and what's more he understood what that trust meant, carried it so carefully, so delicately, so brutally within himself that I was struck down by the force of it.

He loved me. If it was any more apparent he would have written it in the stars. In that moment, I was not convinced that he had not.

"Of course I don't have a choice," he was saying, and his eyes were on me, and his hands were on me, and what was fate, what was destiny when you have something so strong as love and he wasn't looking at destiny he was looking at me. "I mean." His hands tightened against my face, his eyes wide and expansive and the things they held were only the beginning, were so possible. Tangible. Were intangible to anyone but us. "Fuck."

I tilted my head up to gently press my lips to his, hoping that maybe, maybe I would get the shadow of the taste of that curse. The way he somehow pressed so much love, so much desperation, so much hope into one crass and overused word.

"Fuck," Cass suddenly said. I jolted; I had completely forgotten she was there. The Captain apparently had as well. He held me still for another moment, his eyes dark, his lips close, his expression one of hunger and love and wonder and with him, with him were those things ever going to be made separate? I hoped not. I hoped that my love forever made him hungry. I dreamed that his hunger woke wonder in his very bones, that he held it like thunder, that his love for me rolled through his body like storms and promised just as much carnage to those who were foolish enough to try and withstand its winds.

Cass was not foolish, but she was sturdy. She pushed a paper between our faces, oblivious or, more likely, uncaring of whatever moment was happening. "Look at this."

I took in a long breathe, watching it cause the paper to draw towards me. Then the Captain shifted, settling comfortably in my arms and I allowed myself to take a closer look.

When I saw what she was showing me, I snorted. Syb had drawn three figures sitting around a table, one of them obviously Cass with her blonde hair standing out so stark against her dark skin and her short stature, two seated one on top of the other. One of the men had short brown hair; the other, long and curly. Written beneath the picture in neat, children's lettering was written; "BE NICE TO HIM."

"Huh," I said. It was not an excellent likeness, but it was close enough that the message was clear. "Well. The Great Witch has spoken." I could still feel the Captain's love for me pulsing through his body like waves. It made me feel like I could level mountains. It made me feel more like the sea than the sea had ever done.

Cass frowned at me. "That isn't her title."

"Not yet." Presumptuous - neither Cass nor Syb had said such a thing. Cass let me know what she thought of such lowly predictions with a noise of contempt. "Oh? You think it isn't true?"

"I think it is a little early for that."

"A little early?" I shifted the Captain on my lap; his body fit against mine like it was made for this. "That's rich, coming from you. What was it you said when you gave birth?" I closed my eyes and mimicked Cass's voice. "And lo, for she will be the strongest witch in all the land, and she will rule the world." In my arms, the Captain snorted at my imitation of the small woman.

Cass merely narrowed her eyes at me. "And who made it so?"

"You, I think?"

"Me? I am controlled by the fates," she said huffily. "I couldn't deny them when they asked for this. Oh, no." She pointed at me. "This is your fucking fault."

I shrugged. "I don't see how."

"You're the one who chose this! You could have said no!"

"Last I checked, making a child takes two," I reminded her. The Captain was completely relaxed in my lap now, drawing small circles on my leg with his hand. It was mildly distracting. "And you didn't warn me, Miss Seer."

"Didn't. Are you serious! I fucking told you exactly what would happen!"

I smiled softly at her. This was old banter; we argued to communicate, Cass and I, and this was the oldest argument of all. This conversation did as much to sayI love our daughter as any other words did; more, perhaps, because only we understood what we meant. "I remember you being ambiguous."

She glared at me. "I told you, 'If you sleep with me I will bear the greatest witch this world has ever seen.' What the fuck is ambiguous about that?"

"Really?" The Captain turned to me, a smile playing on his lips. "What do I get for sleeping with you?"

"Get?" Cass raised her voice further, and I felt the Captain start. "My daughter is not a fucking party favor. You think it was fun, carrying something like her around for nine fucking months?"

The Captain looked stricken, shaken from his easy way of relaxing against my body by Cass's directed anger. "No. I didn't - I mean -"

"Fuck," Cass said, sounding easy and relaxed. She stood, throwing her towel at him as she swept from the room. "He's easy, isn't he?"

Then she was gone, leaving the Captain with his confusion and a square of damp cloth.

I reached out and took the cloth from him. "Fuck," he said. "I thought. I mean."

I smiled gently. "You get used to her."

He turned to me, his brows showing me just how confused he truly was. "Does she hate me or like me?"

I had to laugh. "I'm not sure there's much a difference for Cass."

The Captain took a breath. "Fuck," he repeated. When he turned to me, I was pleased to see a smile playing at his lips. "I was serious. What do I get?"

I smiled back. "Me."

He leaned forward and kissed me, his lips soft against mine. "I think I can live with that."

***

I found Cass in her divination room, sitting silently over the jeweled bowl of water she used when she was casting. I waited, silent, not wanting to disturb whatever it was she was working on.

"Fuck," she told me without opening her eyes. The word drew a smile from my lips even as my arms crossed in expectation of another barrage of anger. "You really did a number on this place."

"I know."

She sighed, finishing whatever spell she'd been working on with a splash and a quiet word. When she looked up at me, her face was open. Quiet. "It's good to have you back."

I said nothing. There was nothing to say that she didn't already know.

"Well." She stood, less quickly than I remembered her doing so in the past. "Let's get your boy checked out then."

"He's still nameless." I was sure of it. He had to be, or else the sea would have told me, or else we wouldn't have a future together. Or else I would have to kill a ship full of men I had come to at least somewhat enjoy the company of and that did not sit well against my soul.

Cass just shrugged. "We'll see. In the meantime, why don't you go and check in with Dave?" She smiled at me, more a smirk than anything else. "He's justdying to see you."

She probably thought I would protest, that I would try to get out of it. That the prospect of speaking to the Lord of the Underworld as a dead man would frighten even me, and maybe it should, but I had questions for him and I had held court with him enough when I was alive and how, then would this be any different?

I shrugged. Besides, he was going to want to talk to me at some point. Better to do it on my terms than on his.

Much, much better.

"The Captain is in you kitchen," I told her as I turned around to leave. "I'll be in my office."

"Shit," I heard her call as I left. "Wait!"

But I had never been one to wait, and so I strode down the hallway to the room that had once been mine.

***

I stared down the wall of flesh before me, listening to hooves strike cobblestone, watching carefully as long teeth bit down on air. Feeling small for the first time in a long time. Unsure how best to proceed.

"Hello," I began.

There was no response.

I was out of my comfort zone. My fingers found my knives, my body readying for use.

"For gods sakes," I heard behind me, "don't fucking kill my gelding."

I didn't turn, unwilling to take my eyes off the monstrosity before me. "Cass," I said, keeping my voice even and low. "Why is there a horse in my office?"

"You mean my stable?" She brushed past me, putting herself between me and the offending creature. "You were dead."

"So you took over my office?" I was frustrated; I was concerned. But Cass shrugged off my complaints.

"Three years is a long time. And imagine this, babe; sometimes I need to get places faster than walking pace."

"My love." The Captain was behind me, sliding his hands around my waist. I heard amusement in his voice and frowned. Could he not see how dangerous this creature was before us? "Are you afraid of horses?"

I was not afraid. I had already identified three different ways it which it was possible to kill this creature, four more ways to disable it. But cautious. I was cautious, yes, and unsure. I frowned as the Captain moved away from me, heading over to press his hand to the thing's neck.

"Look," he said with a laugh. "He's a friendly enough fellow."

The horse turned to me and gave me a baleful look. I narrowed my eyes and readjusted my calculations to include getting the Captain out of there alive.

"He's never been one for land animals," Cass explained with just a hint of exasperation in her voice. It wasn't my fault. I'd never even seen a horse until I was well into my twenties. And the horses in the mines had bitten. Which, if I had been treated as they had, I would have too. But still.

"Have you never learned to ride?" The Captain still sounded so amused, so at ease. How could he be so calm standing next to something so, so. "How do you get around?"

"There's nowhere worth getting to that you can't get to by boat," I muttered, and the Captain outright laughed.

"If this were a seal pup," Cass said, "you would be all over it. Is this so different?"

I stared at the horse. The horse stared back at me. Unblinking.

"It's eyes are soulless," I told her unhappily. The Captain laughed again and patted the horse on the neck, causing it and me to flinch.

This being, this creature. This.Horse. It made me uncomfortable in ways I did not enjoy. It did not even seem to understand the danger it was in, standing in the presence of a being such as I. "I am the sea," I told the horse. It didn't even blink. "You cannot harm me. You are nothing; I once killed a sea god. I drank its blood to make me immortal."

"Yeah." Class slapped me on the shoulder. The Captain couldn't seem to stop laughing. "Fat lot of good that did you."

I made a frustrated noise. "Get this horse out of my office."

Cass just raised her brow. "Get your ass out of my stable."

"I need to talk to Dave." I was ignoring how comfortable the Captain seemed to be next to such a dangerous, strange creature. How Cass seemed to have no problem housing such a beinghere.

She shrugged. "Do it in the summoning room then."

I turned and swept from from my office - Cass's new stable - as casually as I knew how. Behind me, I could have sworn I heard the the horse snort, and the Captain reply in kind.

***

The summoning room had a containing circle cut into the stone floor, deep and worn and lined with salt crystals. You could open a sluice gate to let fresh water into a series of channels dug out beneath the stone, adding extra protection against those that were affected by such things. Behind me, shelves and shelves of casting supplies were lined up, labeled and cataloged and ready for used. Cass spared no expense, took no chances.

It was possible that I was not so careful, or else I might not have tried to talk to Dave.

He stood in the center of the circle looking easy and confident, the first two rows of his teeth apparent in a slow smile. I could see the rough edges to his skin where he bent his arms, the way it bunched up over itself in an almost approximation of human skin.

Davey Jones could be described best that way, as an almost. His skin, for example. It seemed almost like a human's, but if you were brave enough, foolish enough to be close enough to touch it you would find that you could wear down the pads of your fingers on it's rough surface, almost like a shark's. His eyes were almost like an octopus's might be, slitted and iridescent, except they were a little too intelligent, held a little too much. Something. He stood almost like he wasn't paying attention, except the small cilia on the back of his hands and neck never seemed to point anywhere but where your eyes looked.

He was good at it. Being almost something. I used to think it was as close as he could get, approximating from corpses. I had been young then. I had not yet learned the energy that could be gathered by holding yourself back just from the edge. From waiting. From making the world tremble at the necessity of your completion, the possibilities afforded by gathering those vibrations up into your very soul and become a vibration yourself.

Dave was not young. He had taken a long time to perfect almost.

"Thought you'd never call," he told me, that smile drawing out further. It was just a bit too wide, that smile, and when he spoke it was possible to catch glimpses of at least three rows of teeth. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

"No," I told him truthfully. "Didn't I make a trade with you not even a month ago?"

A shrug, perhaps. "But nothing for three years before."

I took a moment. "I was on land."

"You were dead." Was he angry? It was hard to tell with Dave; he'd had many lifetimes to perfect keeping his face in some sort of neutral position. He always just looked amused. It could get you in trouble, thinking you were joking and easy with him only to find that he had been angry, so very angry.

And so I tread carefully. "Dead, aye, but claimed."

"Claimed by me,Tch." He narrowed his eyes as a noise escaped his mouth he did not seem to be expecting. "I do not like the way your name dies in my throat."

"I'm surprised you can get it that far," I told him, trying to hide my wonder and slight discomfort. My names had been powerful things even when they had been tied down to my form; I did not want to meet them now that they were free. I watched Dave now to see if he would try to call one forth again.

But he merely waved a hand. "So, why now? Why call me up when you are dead, when you are mine?" Ah, I thought. Heis angry. "What is it that you want from me so badly that you take such a risk?"

"It's no risk," I lied. "And I am the sea's. It claimed me in the hour of my death; there was nothing I could do."

"Youare the sea," he returned quickly, his voice sour. There was a moment when there was no amusement on his face at all. The air was thick with - with something, with Dave, with almosts and the moment before they all come crashing to completions and that energy, those vibrating moments...

But then Dave shrugged, that smile returning. Sharper, yes. Less easy, perhaps. But still, the air returned and I found myself able to breathe without remembering losing the ability in the first place. "Fine. Very well. What is it that you want?"

I wanted you to see me. I wanted to have this conversation in a place that was safe, that was easy to control. But that was something Dave did not need to know, and besides, there was more that was needed by me. "I need to know about Dreyfus and the deals he's making."

An eyebrow went up. Or at least, Dave's version of them. "Dreyfus and I are no type of friends," he told me carefully, a phrase which tried to say nothing but said quite a lot.

"Perhaps not," I admitted. "But you are making deals."

A pause. "Aye." There was a glitter in those unworldly eyes for a moment. "Funny kind of deals that brother of yours makes."

I waited, hoping he would continue, but he seemed thusly uninclined. "How so?"

"It's just. Something new. You always sent me the fresh ones. I don't mind it, per say. But you did deals better. Found the willing ones, the lives ones." He met my eyes now, his grin spreading sharp and fast, his eyes somehow looking more and more dead by the moment. "And you know how I like my offerings fresh."

I suppressed a shudder and waited for him to continue.

"But Dreyfus. He's doing it." Dave paused to think. "Different. He's not finding soldiers, tch, he's making them."

This time Dave seemed to almost delight in the sound of friction that came from the loss of my name. I chose to ignore it and focused on his words. "Making them how?"

"They come, they stay one night or sometimes less. They leave fresh." He smiled. I did not smile back. "He either has offerings lined up ready to go, or he knows that these men will make a visit to my halls."

"He's sending them himself." Dreyfus was killing his men in order to bring them back more powerful. Perhaps in order to demand loyalty as well; after such a deal they would find it very difficult to leave him, because it was his word that kept them from returning to Davey Jones's side.

"I couldn't say," Dave smiled, and both of us knew very well that he could and politely ignored the lie. "Now. About the deal that you have broken."

Had we not already covered this? But of course; this was Dave. Everything was recursive and nothing was ever settled, not truly. He existed in currents just as I did. "The sea claimed me in my death. You know I cannot refuse the sea."

"Aye." A flash of one eye; the other still so dead. "But you still owe me. We had a deal."

I narrowed my eyes. In no universe, on no sea, in no weather could this be good. I would have to be very careful to avoid -

"Sailor?"

I turned to find the Captain standing in the doorway, his eyes trained on where Dave was standing behind me. I watched as his hand moved up to cover his nose, an automatic reaction to the way Dave filled the air with his presence, then watched, happy and proud and in awe of his power as he caught the motion and pulled his hand back down, finding it within himself to even make the motion look casual.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice cold and even. I let myself smile more. Cass had no doubt sent him here to rattle him, knowing full well I wouldn't be done with Dave if I hadn't yet left the room; it seemed her efforts had been in vain. His eyes passed over the being in the circle as if he were not a god, as if he were not surely shifting colors over that skin of his at the precociousness of this man. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No," I told him. There was a quiet push at the back of my mind from Dave which I ignored. "Do you need something?"

"We need to talk." He frowned at me, and I saw a moment of worry pass over his brows. "Will you meet me in the kitchen when you're done in here."

"Of course." I breathed easy as the door closed behind him, the feeling of completeness that this man gave me settling against the almost that was Dave like an antidote. I allowed myself another moment of the sensation before turning back to the god trapped within the circle.

When I saw him, my nervousness returned. His eyes were alight with the death of many things; his hair moved sluggishly in some current I did not feel. "New deal," he said, in a voice I had come to know meant worry for me. "I want him."