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“I’m Cruz, by the by,” the man says, rowing us toward the ship.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Abe says. “May I ask how many crew members you have? Are they all Brethren?”

“We have thirteen, including one human.” Then he shakes his head. “Pardon me, two humans.”

“Two humans?” Abe asks. “How is that possible? Oh, I see. You keep them as food. I was wondering how you would all feed while at sea. You can’t possibly come across that many food sources in the middle of the ocean.”

“It can be challenging,” he says carefully. “But no, the humans on board are part of the crew. We make a point not to eat them.” He sounds utterly serious, but he flashes a grin at us.

“What do they do?” I can’t help but ask. “As crew. Do they know what you are?”

“Very much so,” he says. “It’s not an easy thing to hide. One of them, Sedge, is our cook. The other, Maren, she’s the captain’s wife.”

“A woman on board,” Abe says. “That’s not bad luck?”

Cruz gives him a knowing smile. “Oh, not this lady. She’s very much good luck.”

“So what do you use as sustenance?” Abe asks. Always with the questions, and he’s like a dog with a bone if he doesn’t get his answers.

“We have our ways” is his simple reply.

“Hunting Syrens,” I comment.

Cruz’s gaze slides over to mine and holds it for a second. “Bones told me you know something about them. Or that’s what your letter said. Is it true?”

I give him a cautious nod. “I do. I’ve hunted and caught one myself.”

His eyes widen. “Pray tell.”

“I’ll wait until I talk to Captain Bones,” I say. “Would hate to have to tell the same story twice.”

Cruz absorbs that with a nod and keeps rowing until we’re at the side of the ship. Up close, her energy hums even greater, the great height of her rising from the sea like a behemoth.

The Nightwind.

Heads poke over the railing and drop ropes down, which Cruz quickly attaches to either end of the skiff before it’s hauled up out of the sea.

Then, our boat becomes level with the deck of the ship.

Standing there are a dozen grim-looking men with swords and pistols pointed our way.

The last thing I see is an oar heading toward my face.

Then, all the world goes black.

Chapter Twenty-Three

PRIEST

Idon’t know where I am.

But my head is slumped over, throbbing with a million, pain-filled stars.

Aragon, Abe whispers inside my head. Aragon, wake up.

Vampyres have always been able to communicate telepathically, but Abe and I haven’t really felt the need to, since it’s usually just the two of us alone.

Until now.