Page 6 of Traitor Witch (The Deadwood #1)

Chapter Six

NILSA

N ausea roils in the back of my throat the second I step onto the boat. The rocking combined with the constant sounds of the sea and the smell of brine is my worst nightmare. On the way, the shifter starts explaining boat terminology to me as he points out different rooms and levels with blurring speed.

Why sailors need a different name for every room is beyond me. I barely manage to pick up that ‘mess’ means dining room, ‘galley’ means kitchen and ‘cabin’ is their word for bedroom.

Oh, and apparently the Deadwood is a ship, not a boat.

So, of course, I resolve to call it a boat in front of Valorean as often as possible.

When I enter the ‘galley’ with Cas, I fully expect the sight of food to turn my stomach.

The warmth of the room is what hits me first. A huge black, crystal-powered stove keeps this area of the ship cosy. It’s so warm that I slip my cloak off without thinking about it.

The huge, battered table in the centre steals my attention. The surface is covered in burn marks and claw-shaped gouges and it’s surrounded by mismatched chairs. Several worktables line one wall on either side of the stove and the rest of the space is filled with barrels and crates of dried food. It isn’t exactly the pristine kitchens of the Solar Tower, but it has a rustic, functional kind of charm.

There’s even a sink, much to my confusion.

“How does a ship like this have plumbing?” I ask.

“Val.” Cas just shrugs, like that explains everything.

Maybe to someone who knows more about bond mages, it would do, but mages aren't exactly common in Coveton. I've probably only seen a handful in my life, and at least one of them was a target.

My cluelessness must show on my face because Cas chuckles. “He controls everything about the ship,” he explains. “But what happens to one happens to the other. If the ship is damaged, Val gets hurt. If Val’s injured…”

“The ship gets damaged,” I finish for him, moving over to the crates.

I peer inside one, curious to see what these pirates eat, but I’m disappointed to find them completely empty.

“I suppose this is your domain now,” Cas shrugs. “Kier usually cooks, so it’ll be good to have something different for a change. You do know how to cook, right?”

“Cooking and potion-making aren’t that different,” I say, still peering into crates trying to find any kind of fresh ingredients.

All I’ve found so far is a barrel full of dry biscuits.

At least it’s food. Worst case scenario, I can transform it into something edible.

Witches can transfigure like to like, so one form of food to another is no great stretch. But bland food will remain bland, sweet food remains sweet and so on.

A couple of jars look promising, there’s some kind of jam in one and pickled… something in another. Oh, and plenty of salt and dried spices.

“I can probably make something passable with this,” I muse. “I might need to add a little magic to make it taste good.” Hopefully, whatever I can come up with will be good enough to satisfy the pirates.

The intimidating vampire is another matter.

Goddess, just thinking about him makes me shiver. I’ve seen large men before, but he takes it to a new level. His hand was twice the size of mine, his arms as thick as my thighs. I’d asked him to wear a shirt because those nipple rings just kept daring me to play with them.

His eyes were so deep and soulful. They’d promised me safety even as they’d prepared for rejection.

Cas lets out a huge barking laugh that breaks me out of my fantasy and reaches past me to grab a biscuit out of the barrel.

“If you want revenge for Val’s assholery just slip something in his food to mess with his precious hair.”

I grin, because I can easily do that. The mental image of the pirate, his arrogant face wide-eyed with horror as his white locks fall to the floor makes me smile wider.

Baldness hexes are a party trick to a Lunar witch.

Cas grabs a bowl and ladles it full of some kind of broth from a pot on the stove. He ushers me to the table, then places it in front of me with a flourish.

The first mouthful is so salty I can’t help but spit it straight back out.

His blush is adorable. “We were supposed to be getting fresh supplies today but…”

“But I happened?” I guess. “Don’t worry about it. I can make charms for freshness so you won’t need salt in the future.”

The awestruck look the shifter gives me makes me smile.

He doesn’t need to know that those charms are something I came up with to keep the bodies of my marks from decomposing. Sometimes it’s useful to stop corpses rotting and making a smell that gives their location away.

I sip slowly at the stew, unnerved by the way Cas watches me. He has pretty, honey brown eyes. They seem to swirl between light and dark, and I find myself wondering if Nos’s were the same before Fate touched him.

Otherworldly turquoise eclipses that warm brown for a second, then flickers back. Cas’s shifter side peeking out, examining me through the eyes of the man. There’s an alphaness to the presence that examines me, something primal and ancient that instantly sets my teeth on edge.

I straighten my shoulders and stare back. Something as predatory as the creature looking out of Cas’s eyes can’t ever be allowed to see me as weak.

“You’re staring,” I point out after a few minutes.

“Just mesmerised by your beauty,” he quips, but the turquoise is gone in a blink.

“You’re just… not what I expected a Solar witch to be like,” he admits as the fae—Kier—joins us.

Now that he’s in the light, I can properly make out his features. His jet-black hair is escaping the messy ponytail he keeps it in, and the shorter pieces at the front fall over his forehead. His iron eyes are hooded and angular, enhancing the sharpness of his ears and jaw.

I’ve always thought the fae look more regal than any other supernatural species and Kier is no exception. He even holds himself like a lord as he ladles his own bowl of broth and comes to sit in the chair on my other side .

“I thought most Solar witches were quiet and studious,” Cas continues. “Not that I’ve met many, but the priestesses in the temples always seemed reserved.”

I grimace, remembering the stuffy, silent rooms and quiet meals I’d endured at the Solar Temple. “I’m not like a lot of Solar witches,” I reply, choosing my words carefully.

Kier will know a lie the moment it leaves my lips.

Bloody fae.

“Did you really kill those priestesses?”

I choke on my broth and glare at the shifter. “No!”

Cas ignores me and stares at Kier.

The fae nods, his hair falling further into his face.

So, the interrogation has begun.

I won’t last. I’m too exhausted to try to keep my secrets from a fae while telling only truths and half-truths.

“I’m not stupid enough to lie to a fae,” I mutter. “But I’ve had a really shitty day. Can this wait until the morning?”

Casimir looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t let up. “Are you a danger to anyone on this ship?”

“Maybe Valorean if he pisses me off enough. Probably both of you if you keep this up.” He just gives me an unimpressed look and I roll my eyes. “I don’t plan on endangering any of you. Happy?”

His sideways glance at Kier to check I’m not lying infuriates me.

“How old are you?”

I raise one eyebrow. “That’s rude to ask a woman in any culture.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Today is my twenty-fifth winter solstice,” I retort, knowing I have to stop this before the questions become too difficult. With no other options, I resort to Danika’s tried and tested advice for getting rid of unwanted men — the emotional female act. “And my High Priestess died in my arms, so if you don’t mind, I’d like some time alone to grieve.”

Kier nods, but Cas is too busy looking down guiltily to notice.

I push my bowl away and stand. “Thank you for the food,” I mutter, storming toward the door.

I almost crash straight into the vampire.

Opal—the traitor—is curled happily in his arms, purring under his attention. I’m not crazy enough to take her away from the promise of food, so I side-step around the two of them and march down the hall to the cabins Cas had pointed out on our way down to the galley.

The crew’s cabins are all on the same level, so it doesn’t take me long to find the one he indicted as mine. It’s the only door that’s unlocked, and I wonder absently if that’s Val’s doing.

The room is empty, except for a pile of crates and a single hammock. Its barrenness is startling. It’s crowned by a single, bare crystal lamp, laced with cobwebs.

I yank on the chain dangling from the old lamp, activating the crystal within. It spills enough light over the room for me to continue my search.

A quick search of the crates reveals they’re full of cannon balls, sailcloth, and ropes.

Now this is definitely Val’s doing.

But even his thoughtlessness can’t erase my awe at the room’s one good feature.

A massive window takes up most of the back wall, letting in the Mother’s light. I can see the Goddess hanging in the sky, and I walk up to the glass and push it open to let Her presence in.

I don’t even realise that I’m kneeling until my knees hit the floorboards beneath me.

“Gracious Goddess, Mistress of Death, Lady of Mercy, Patron of Mischief…” The prayers fall from my lips like water. “Two great witches reached Your dark realm today. Place them among Your stars that they might shine with You each night.”

I sit there for a moment longer, soaking in the Moon Mother’s presence. It’s like a balm after the terror and pain of the last day; a spiritual healing I didn’t know I needed.

Scratching at the door announces Opal’s arrival, and I sigh, rising from my knees with a groan.

But it’s not just my familiar waiting outside.

Kier and Cas stand side by side, Rysen’s huge hands clamped onto their shoulders as he dwarfs them from behind. His braided dreads have fallen over his shoulder, and for the first time I realise just how long they are. On anyone else, they would have softened the lines of his face, but Rysen’s bone structure is so masculine and angular that they only seem to serve to make him more threatening.

“Lady Solar,” he begins, shoving the fae and the shifter forward. “These two have something they would like to say.”

It’s almost comical, watching two immortals blush like scolded schoolboys.

“We’re sorry for upsetting you,” Cas mumbles. “Val just wanted us to make sure you weren’t a danger to the ship.”

Rysen cocks his head at Kier, who just nods.

Apparently that’s enough for the vampire who releases both of them.

It’s odd that the fae is a man of so few words. Usually they love their word games and their tricky bargains. This one is almost too quiet, and I find myself tracing the soft angles of his lips until our eyes meet.

The way he watches me from under those black, side swept bangs makes me take a subconscious step back.

That’s how all three of them get their first sight of my new cabin .

Cas growls, his eyes flashing turquoise and staying that way. Rysen’s long fangs drop.

“Did I pick the wrong room?” I ask, glancing behind me.

Cas barrels past and sprints across the cabin. He dives through my open window like his life depends on it, and I resist the urge to run after him.

His shadow disappears into the night as he shifts mid-leap. The golden sparks of Cas’s transformation from man to beast are only visible for a second before he plummets out of sight.

“Excuse me,” Rysen growls, turning on his heel.

Ugh, men.

I don’t wait for Kier to do something. I shut the door in his face.

Pause.

Open it again.

“I accept your apology,” I mutter.

His expression doesn’t change as he nods, turns, and follows after Rysen.

I close the door, softer this time, and turn to Opal who’s investigating the crates with as much confusion as I was.

“You were right. This was a bad idea. We’re on a ship filled with weird-ass pirates and I have no idea how to get in this hammock, let alone sleep in it.”

“You know it’s not so bad, at least you get your own bathroom.” Opal jumps up onto the windowsill, blue eyes scanning the water below. “I can’t see the unstable one? Do you reckon he’s a tuna shifter? I could really go for some tuna right now…”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s get you charged up in case they expect me to use any of my ‘Solar’ magic.” I sink my hands into her fur, focusing on pulling the moonlight down into her as I whisper a near silent prayer.

“They give good ear scratches.” Opal seems undeterred by my preoccupation. “And the big vampire is a good cushion. All nice and warm... Plus, the fae snuck me some nibbles when the others weren’t looking.”

My hands clench in her fur, and I try my best not to think about how warm the yummy-looking vampire with the steel nipple rings might be.

Goddess, the instant I saw him I wanted him. Not that that’s unusual for these pirates. Every single one of them—even the bastard captain—is gorgeous to look at. If I wasn’t concealing my identity, running from two covens, and absolutely certain they’re either lunatics or hiding something, I might invite a few of them to my bed.

Or hammock…

I pull the last of what I need down from the moon, letting the magic settle into Opal fully before I remove my hands from her silky fur.

She settles in to clean herself as I examine my sleeping arrangements. Fortunately, the Moon Goddess is a hedonist. Using divine magic for any purpose involving comfort and pleasure is heartily encouraged amongst Lunars.

It’s only Solars who reserve all their magic for practical purposes.

I raise a hand at the hammock and another at a crate, whispering a tiny transformation spell.

I can’t create something from nothing like mages can, but I can work wonders with whatever’s available.

The wood from the crates and the metal from the cannonballs becomes a bed frame before my eyes. The sailcloth and hammock turn into a plush mattress, firm pillows and soft sheets. I keep going, magicking a fuzzy rug, some curtains to block out sunlight and a desk before I stop.

I’ve used a lot of the crates and it makes me grin to think of how Valorean will react to my improvements.

Bastard should have given me proper furniture and not a bloody hammock .

“Serves him right,” I whisper, slipping off my still wet boots and sinking my bare feet into the rug.

Glenna’s athame falls out, still red with traces of her blood, clinking onto the floor for the second time that evening.

I grimace as I pick it up. I don’t know why Danika had insisted I take it; usually an athame is buried with its witch. They’re powerful magical tools, and dangerous in the hands of someone too inexperienced to use them. Most witches aren’t gifted one until they’re at least a century old. I gingerly rinse it in the bathroom and leave it on my new desk beside the ring on its chain.

An athame tainted by the blood of its own witch… Any sane woman would chuck it in the ocean.

But it’s the last link I have to Glenna. Maybe it's selfish, but I don’t want to let it go.

Opal’s already on my pillow, her claws digging in as she kneads her chosen spot.

I’m so damned tired, and my mind keeps flashing back to the sight of Felicity’s head dangling from my hand.

I look up at the moon again.

Lunar witches sleep during the day as a matter of logic. If you can only use your powers during the night, what’s the point of being asleep for most of it? I got semi-used to the Solar schedule of waking at dawn during my fostering, but I was hoping to go back to sleeping normally.

The pirates will expect me to rise with the dawn…

I sigh and promise myself that I’m getting off this ship the first chance I get, then slip off my cloak and my dress.

I ask the Goddess for a little more magic, just enough to clean and dry my clothes, then tumble nude into my newly made bed.

Opal relinquishes my pillow and settles down on my stomach instead. Tonight I don’t mind so much, her weight the only familiar thing about sleeping on a ship. The rocking, combined with the fact that I’m surrounded by strange males and the vast emptiness of the sea just a few wooden planks away leaves me uneasy, but I manage to slip into unconsciousness anyway.