“Captain,” Cressia’s voice roused Elisabeth from a deep sleep, her dreams clinging to her like cobwebs as she was pulled back into the waking world. Blue eyes and warm breath, strong hands around her wrists. She shook her head slightly to clear the blurry recollection from her thoughts.

  “Awake,” she croaked, the taste of gravedirt and rotten meat strong in her mouth. A waterskin was held out to her, and she pushed herself into a sitting position to accept it. “How long?” She asked before taking a long drink.

  “Ten hours.” More than she anticipated, but her limbs still ached, the bruises settling into the flesh. She swirled water around her mouth, letting its coolness bring her further into wakefulness. One more sip and she pushed the lid back into the bottle.

  “Status?”

  “We’ve determined that the Jester is in pursuit and gaining on our position.”

  “Bastard!” Elisabeth exclaimed and ran a hand across her face. A thrill of excitement ran through her and she turned away from it, unsure why she felt that way. She wasn’t a thing to be hunted, wasn’t prey, and that’s what the situation made her feel, that she was a deer running from a wolf. With a growl worthy of her train of thought, she pushed herself from the bunk and began sorting through her pile of clothing, finally pulling out a reasonably clean shirt and trousers. Both of them held the usual assortment of charms sewn into seams and pockets, giving her the baseline feeling of safety. She went to a trunk at the foot of her bed and rummaged through it for another handful of magical trinkets. These she shoved into the pockets of her coat as she pulled it on. Next came her boots, and then her hat. Cressia handed her weapons, and they disappeared into hidden sheaths.

  A vague dream-memory of blue eyes and the scent of lightning and cigar smoke floated to the surface of her thoughts as she turned to leave her cabin. It was an inconvenient distraction. Everything about Henry Mortimer was inconvenient. The recollection of his body pressed against hers swept through her and she shook her head to clear it. Being curious about a man was an unfamiliar sensation, after years of chasing power and infamy. She strapped on her belt and cutlass, tugging tight on the leather to bring herself back into the present. Fully armed and mostly awake, she was ready to confront the ship following in their wake.

  “Let’s go,” she said, more to herself than to Cressia, who followed her better than her own shadow.

  On deck, the crew was hard at work on another course change, trimming sails and hauling the wheel, Helen directing the sailors in their tasks. Elisabeth walked to the stern and looked out across the heaving sea. The Jester was definitely closer now, no longer trying to hide that they were in pursuit of the Silence. Moira joined the captain.

  “What do you think, quartermaster?”

  “Mayhap he just really liked you.” Elisabeth shot her a venomous glance, catching the gleam in the other woman’s eyes. “But lovely as you are, he’s probably working for the Skeleton King. Keeping an eye on you.”

  “Let’s find out,” Elisabeth decided and walked toward the navigator’s station. She rolled out the map and studied it for a long moment. “Here,” she finally said, pointing at an island. “Take us there, slow her down, put up parley. It’s neutral territory if we set up on the beach in that lagoon on the West side.”

  “Aye, captain.” Moira walked away shouting orders, sending the crew off again. Helen was already whispering to the sailor at the wheel. A cup of steaming tea appeared at Elisabeth’s elbow, with the scent of cinnamon swirling through the air.

  “Thank you, Cressia,” she mumbled over her shoulder and wrapped her hands around the mug, letting them warm against the metal. She took a deep breath of fresh sea air, took a sip of tea, and tried to ignore the unease curling cold at the base of her spine. Every time she thought about the visit to Hag’s Rock and her sisters, she felt a dread so profound it made her nauseous. The last time she’d seen them, she’d nearly died. Not this time, she assured herself, turning her back on the map to look over her ship—a reminder of all that she had accomplished in the years since that incident. She wasn’t weak anymore, wasn’t a child. In a decade, she’d built up her strength and reputation. Perhaps it was time for her hag sisters to cower when hearing her name.

  A half hour of negotiations led to only six people being on the beach for the parley—the two captains, and two guards each.

  “We’re ready, Captain.” Moira strode up to where Elisabeth was standing and glaring across sun-speckled water of the bay at the Jester. The men were scurrying about, mirroring her own sailors as they prepared to launch their boat.

  “The ship is yours, then, quartermaster.” Elisabeth clapped the other woman on the shoulder and swung herself over the side. “Keep a close watch. I don’t trust these bastards.”

  “Aye. Happy hunting, Captain.”

  Elisabeth gave Moira one last nod, then began her descent to the waiting boat. She settled into the prow and tried not to brood. Cressia sat near her, fidgeting with the hilts of her weapons, a hard glint in her eyes. The sign of nervousness in the bodyguard caught her attention—the other woman was rarely anxious.

  “I do not like this place,” Cressia spoke softly, her breath barely disturbing the veil that covered the lower half of her face. Elisabeth followed her gaze to the island that was fast approaching. White sand beaches and palm trees swaying in the breeze undulated as the boat moved with the waves. It didn’t look like much—just a watering hole that barely made it onto a map. As they neared the beach, unease began to twist in her belly, and one of the alarum charms woven into her hair chimed a warning only she could hear. It might look deserted, but the island held enough magic that it triggered the warning spell. Danger, it whispered to the necromancer, danger that wasn’t the unnerving man who helped his men row their launch. She studied him for a moment, the practiced ease with which he bent to the task, the sure movements of his body. It was something so simple, manning an oar, but he looked dangerous doing it. Elisabeth frowned and tore her attention away from the other boat.

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  Another minute, and they crested the final wave to wash up on the beach like just another piece of flotsam. Elisabeth, Cressia, and Marris jumped into the surf and splashed up onto dry land. As soon as her feet touched the ground, her right ear started ringing with another warning, and a low vibration thrummed along her skin.

  “We’ll signal when the parley is over,” Elisabeth called to the women still in the boat, and watched as Marris helped them push off. The fewer of her crew on this island, the better, she thought as she tried to ignore the tingle of magic brushing over her body. She turned to study the jungle, trusting that Cressia was watching the crew of the Jester. The longer she stared at the rippling shadows, the more certain she felt that something was lurking just beyond the treeline.

  “I hear singing,” Cressia spoke at her side, her gaze turned toward a narrow path of sand that led away into the thick trees. She took a step forward and Elisabeth clamped a hand around her arm, digging her fingers into the bodyguard’s flesh.

  “Don’t listen, Cress,” she hissed. “Focus on the parley. Ignore what you’re hearing.” The fact that whatever lived on this island was able to distract Cressia from her chosen duty alarmed Elisabeth more than any protective charm’s warnings could. “Just stay with me.”

  “Captain.” Marris drew their attention to the approaching sailors. All three looked distracted, their eyes restlessly searching the beach and jungle.

  “Ah, finally.” She gave Cressia’s arm one last squeeze, then turned to saunter across the shifting sand, hands moving to hook her thumbs in her belt loops. The two women fell in step behind her, allowing them all room to move if the other pirates threatened them in any way. The spells that warned her of danger remained dormant now that she was on the island, and all stayed quiet as she clasped hands with the other pirate. When their eyes met, a warm, liquid thing moved through her that had nothing to do with magic, and everything to do with the unsettling charisma of Henry Mortimer. A wash of cold fear chased it like a hound after a hare and she dropped his hand and gaze as though injured by the contact.

  “Captain Wolf.” Henry Mortimer swept her a gallant bow and threw her a smirk, fully aware that he’d had some sort of effect on her. Elisabeth rolled her eyes and tried to ignore her reaction to him. A part of her was flattered at the ridiculous gesture, and she found herself wanting to flirt like some young coquette, a thing she never had been or would be. The other part wanted to turn tail and retreat back to the Silence, but retreat was never an option.

  “Mortimer.” the name held every ounce of annoyance that coursed through her body.

  “In the flesh.”

  “Unfortunately. Stop following us.”

  “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.” He waved a hand at his bruised face. “I’m on strict orders to keep an eye on you, your crew, your ship.” One of his men shuffled towards the jungle as he spoke, but Mortimer ignored him.

  “Tell him you lost me in a storm.”

  “No.”

  “Tell him I threatened to keel-haul you and your entire crew.”

  “No.”

  “I will, you know.”

  “No, you won’t. Not if you want to be free of this king, like you are all other kings.” Now he had her attention.

  “You’re proposing mutiny.”

  “Aye. We’re free men…and women, opposed to the…rule of law…” His blue gaze swept away from her and to the jungle now as well. “Do you hear that…?” The sailor who’d been inching toward the treeline, broke into a run towards the path she’d seen earlier, and the other quickly followed. “Get back here, you lazy curs!” Mortimer called after them, but the words didn’t hold any sense of command. Instead, he lurched forward as well, pushing past Elisabeth and her crew. Unlike the two guards, he went slowly, each step seeming to cost him.

  “Liz,” Cressia’s voice was pained. “I can’t…I have to find the song…” The bodyguard stood still, every muscle in her body tensed, tears leaked from her dark eyes.

  “What song? Cress, I don’t hear anything!” But that wasn’t entirely true. There was that hum, that ringing in her ear. She took one halting step towards the path. Mortimer was nearly at the treeline now, and the two sailors had disappeared into the dappled shadows of the jungle.

  “Mariss, you keep her here on this beach, no matter what! Do you understand, sailor?”

  “Yes, captain,” the woman responded by grabbing hold of Cressia’s arm.

  “Get her to the boat if you can,” Elisabeth called over her shoulder as she strode across the beach toward the foot path. The air felt heavy as soon as she stepped into the tree line, close behind Mortimer. His pace had increased—he was losing the battle he was fighting. She pushed past him and continued along what she surmised was a dried-up channel that had once connected the ocean to some forgotten inland pool. The smell reached her before she knew what it was: stagnant water, rot, and death. A pungent welcome as she stepped into a clearing, with a scummy pond of water at its center. Bones littered its shore, a lot of them old, but there were a couple of more recent additions, adding to the stink of decay. One of Mortimer’s crew was on the opposite shore, dead with a look of ecstasy on his face. An abandoned bandana floating in the water and a red sheen on the oily surface were the only signs of the other.

  A wave of desire hit her, heat racing through her body in a surge that left her dizzy and disoriented. Sparks flickered in her hair as a charm came to life, a protection spell settling over her like a cool rain. The rush of lust drained away, and Elisabeth tensed in the aftermath of the attack. She watched with wary eyes as something moved beneath the surface at the center of the putrid pool. Another assault of magic hit her, pulling more talismans to life, and left her dizzy in its wake. And then, a siren lurched from the water with a splash of filth and a surge of stench. Elisabeth had never seen one before, and took a moment to study the creature. Its silver scales were dull beneath a layer of algae and muck. Its hair resembled old seaweed more than attractive tendrils. Eyes as black as the night sky scanned along the shoreline, settling on the path behind Elisabeth. The siren lashed its tail, pushing itself closer. Blood leaked from its mouth in pale red streaks and when it split its lips into the approximation of a grin, Elisabeth saw bits of flesh stuck between its jagged teeth.

  “She’s so beautiful.” Horror filled the She-Wolf when she recognized Cressia’s voice despite its uncharacteristic dreaminess. The bodyguard stood just inside the clearing, her gaze on the monster undulating in the murk. Only a few steps behind the veiled woman, Henry Mortimer stumbled along, still fighting the compulsion, but losing quickly. He was the first to enter the water, wading in without hesitation now that he was closer to the creature and its alluring song.

  “Fuck,” the necromancer swore, realizing that the only way to save her companion was to defeat a siren in its lair with barely any talismans left for the battle.