Page 141 of Liar Witch

Klaus’s mouth twists in a half smile. “I’m not familiar with the rules of land-based sports.”

“And the pitch is bigger to account for immortal speed,” Val mutters, looking over his shoulder at the patrons who are staring at him. I guess no one is used to seeing the Captain of theDeadwoodon land. “I don’t want to chance getting that far away from you just yet.”

I can understand that, given how uncomfortable he seems. Val on his ship is a creature of arrogance, a lord who controls every inch of his space. On land, he’s a fish out of water.

I have to shake off the insane urge to comfort him. At least I won’t be alone in watching from the sidelines.

Group sports have never, ever been my thing. Even with my coven, I was always the worst at teamwork. Not because I didn’t see the value in it, but more because I prefer to work alone. It’s part of the reason being a Shadow fits me so well.

“Besides,” Val continues, whispering despite how loud everyone else is being. “While they keep the others distracted, we’ll see what we can discover about Cirio.”

Klaus nods. “It makes sense to split up, given how big this place is.”

He’s got a point. Although the cove from the sea looked massive, it continues even farther inland than I expected. There’s enough space for a whole town, and Cirio has certainly tried to fit one in here.

A door at the back of the alehouse opens out into another side street. From there, it’s another five-minute walk through one of the most insane towns I’ve ever seen until we reach an opening that leads out of the cavern and onto a grassy field which has already been marked up properly. At the far edge, a six-foot fence has been painted with salt to serve as a deterrent to the wraiths.

There are huge craters across the field—no doubt the remains of past games—but the pirates look thrilled rather than wary as they start peeling off layers of clothes and running into position.

When my men start stripping off their shirts, I grin.

Maybe I can get behind group sports as a spectator after all. Even Kier is unlacing his shirt. The wounds from the assassins of before are now barely pink lines across his yummy-looking torso. He catches me looking, seems to consider me for a moment, then grins and tugs the fabric over his head slowly. Taunting me.

Yeah, he knows he looks good. Typical arrogant fae.

“What does a witch have to do to get some wine and a comfortable chair around here?” I mutter as someone throws Cas a battered-looking rugby ball made of… Surely not?

Yep. That’s definitely metal.

“Doesn’t that make it too heavy?” I ask.

Valorean, still glued to my side, just shrugs. “Solid metal’s the only thing that will survive an immortal game. Our strength makes the weight a non-issue.”

One of the other spectators wheels a barrel full of something through the tunnel from the cove and immediately alcohol starts to flow. Klaus gets both Val and I one, but I barely manage a sip before the game begins.

Immortal sport is explosive. Immortal sport played by pirates is chaos. Cheating. Magic. Draining the opposition of blood until they’re too woozy to throw straight. Everything seems to be on the table here. The only rules seem to be no decapitations or heart-shots—the only things which might actually kill them. All of the madness is happening at a speed that makes it hard to keep up. From the whoops, cheers, and insults coming from the pitch, everyone is just as caught up as I am.

I know we should be splitting up to search for Cirio, but watching my harem battle it out shirtless in the mud is a little bit too captivating. I might even be drooling as Kier’s arms flex to throw the ball across the space to Nos.

Klaus wades in at half-time, apparently having caught enough of the rules that he manages to join theDeadwood’s team with no problems. I’m quite happy to stay and watch my siren strip off in the mud, but Val has other ideas.

“Leave them to it,” he advises, after an hour has passed and the game shows no signs of stopping. “We need to find out what happened to Cirio and our cargo. The two of us will draw less attention than the full crew.”

“How exactly do you plan to find out anything? No one’s in charge.”

“There’s one room in this place where someone will know exactly what happened to him.”

Before I have time to question him, Val grabs my hand and tugs me back into the chaos that is Cirio’s pirate town.

We don’t go the way we did before. Instead, we pass a different street of ramshackle buildings. We dodge a mage trying to fist-fight with a rooster shifter in shifted form and a vampire trying loudly to convince her date to let her drink his blood from his foot in an alley.

Somewhere in the distance, a canon booms as we make it to a huge, imposing, stone door set into the back of the cavern. A carved skull takes up most of the stone slab. Rubies the size of my fist have been set into the eyes, and they gleam with magic as we approach.

“Password?” the door asks, the jaw of the skull moving with each word, as if it’s truly alive.

Val lets out an impatient huff. “Floccinaucinihilipilification,” he mutters.

“Bless you,” I snort.