Page 3 of Crossbones
“That went surprisingly well,” Harrison mutters. “Less bloody than last time.”
“Grab Lan and a few others,” I walk back towards town. “I want Jensen watched. We move on him tonight.”
Harrison nods and bleeds away into the crowd while I head straight to theBroken Crown. I need a drink—scratch that, several. The list is dwindling and while that’s an incredibly satisfying thing to think about—to know the scum who ruined my life are no longer taking up space—I now have to acknowledge my real end goal: complete annihilation of the House De’Vero.
Eliminating the men who’d done the physical and emotional damage is important but destroying the House that put me in that position in the first place is paramount and that means I have to take down the King. I realize what an ambitious goal that is—especially since I don’t want help, but sometimes the hardest endeavors are best accomplished through small scale planning—sometimes an assassin is better than a mob.
TheBroken Crownis a quiet tavern of good repute tucked away from the roughness of the wharf district. It boasts a classier brothel, if there is such a thing, and some of the best rum and ale in the city. It’s busy but not distractingly so as I walk in and head for an empty table near the back. I slide into a chair with a good view of the room and within seconds the barkeep, Barlow, has a glass of rum in front of me.
“Keep ‘em comin’, Captain?” He asks.
“Aye,” I answer, offering him a rare smile, although it doesn’t reach my eyes. It never does. “In fact, just leave the bottle.”
Barlow touches his forehead and sets the amber bottle of rum down on the table. I toss him a pouch of coin—one I’d taken off Hall coincidentally. He pulls out a few gold pieces and tries to hand it back. I sit back in my chair and shake my head.
“Keep it.”
Isip the rum, letting the burn warm my blood as Barlow tries to protest.
“Captain, I can’t—”
I wave a hand and top off my glass. “You can, Barlow, and you will. Now, leave me alone.”
He hides a smile and ducks away, used to my temperament because he was once a part of my crew. A good man who gave up piracy for family or something equally as soft. I down the glass in one go and pour another, sitting back to sip it. A few of my current crew members are scattered around the room but they know better than to bother me. I rarely socialize with my crew. Their loyalty comes from the way in which I acquired them. Most were slaves themselves who I liberated and now supply the means to not only sail around Adrasea extracting their revenge, but keeping them well paid while doing so.
However, I’m pretty positive they’re growing tired of my vendetta. Now that the list of sailors is no longer keeping me occupied, moving on to bigger game is causing a strain on the gold and the mens’ attitudes. Harrison mentioned it the other day and I know I need to heed it—a mutiny is not something I enjoy dealing with—most of the men are not keen to rock the boat by going after someone as powerful as the De’Vero King.
Death Before Defeat—the motto of House De’Vero. Those words were beaten into me, carved into my skin, forced into my bones. They echo in my dreams at night and whisper in my ear by day never letting me forget I was once theirs. Key word beingoncebecause I belong to no one now—no man, no god, no king, and certainly never again to House De’Vero.
A few hours—and half the bottle of rum later, I step out into the tepid night with Harrison and Lan on my heels. They’d come to fetch me with word that some of the crew are holding Jensen. We don’t have to walk far before we step into an alley. My eyes adjust quickly to see two of my crew holding Jensen at gunpoint. The man is already beat to shit, swaying on his knees. He lifts his head and balks when he sees me, attempting to scramble backwards. His back hits the wall as I advance.
“You know what I hate?” I crouch down in front of him, my knife already in my hand. “Well, despite De’Vero scum.” He pales and I smile at him coldly. “Liars, Jensen. I hate liars. Now, that may come as a surprise—” I put a hand onmy chest. “Being a pirate and all, but there are plenty of other ways to get what you want without lying.”
“I’m not a liar,” Jensen grumbles.
I move quickly, shoving my knife against his throat so hard his head smacks against the brick behind him.
“Oh no?” I snarl. “Youownedme? Is that right, Jensen?” My blade bites into his throat as he swallows. “Unfortunately, lying is the least of why I’m here. Your other indiscretions are much more damning.”
His breath falters as I dig the blade in further.
“Nothing to say?” I snarl. “Usually this is the part where you plead for your life.”
“I know it won’t do nothin’,” Jensen gasps, venom in his eyes.
I nod once and grip his jaw tightly between my fingers as I loom over him. “Aye, that’s right—and just wait until I join you in hell—we’ll get to do this all over again.”
I shove the knife into his neck and viciously drag it across his throat. It’s messy. Warm blood gushes over my hand—I breathe in the metallic scent, reveling in the destruction. He takes his last choking breath and I savor the look of the light leaving his eyes even knowing this death is too quick for someone like him who’d caused such suffering. The only consolation is knowing he won’t haunt the living anymore and that will have to be enough. I wipe the blade clean on his shirt and stand. One look at Harrison is all I need to do to know he’ll take care of things and I walk back out of the alley.
Killing always sets me off, combined with the alcohol and adrenaline and I have a restless energy I know will make it nearly impossible to sleep anytime soon. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, steadying nerves nearly frayed to the edge. Even though I have a townhouse here, I don’t feel like going there—walking into a sparse, empty house I rarely visit sounds like hell. It’s that thought that has me walking deeper into town and I soon find myself standing in front of a door in a quiet neighborhood. I stop on the stoop, fist poised to knock, when the door opens.
She always did have a habit of knowing when I’d stop by.
“Well, look what the tide brought in.”
“Hello, Celeste.”
The corset she’s wearing displays her lethal curves as she tosses waves of auburn hair over her shoulder and leans one hip against the door frame. I wait for the usual hit of desire to stir my blood but nothing comes. I step up and crowd her, my hand sliding around her waist, hoping the hunger will come with action.
