Page 4 of Wicked Tides #1

Vidar

Stabbed too many times in the heart,

a man’s soul splits in two…

and he is the space between.

~Father Eldrich III

“Truly?” James said, a mix of excitement and nervousness in his voice. “Whitton wants us to bring ‘em back alive?”

Gus chuckled before filling his mouth with another big gulp of ale. Not much bothered him at his age. Nor did much surprise him. Not with all the tales he could tell.

The rest of the men at the table had stopped drinking like they were expecting me to have a fit over the matter. I skimmed their eyes and brought my mug to my lips, taking two big drinks.

I would need a lot if I was going to go along with Whitton’s request.

“Drink up,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “You earned it, boys.”

Anastasia slid to her feet as I stood and attempted to follow me out.

Most days, I would have welcomed her company.

She was a gorgeous woman. Foreign and sweet.

Easy on the eyes and good with her hands.

But my mind was a mess and unless I had a few more mugs full of ale, I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy her company.

I turned and kissed her on the forehead before giving her a gentle shove to tell her to stay while I headed out to the porch.

Outside, the sound of music was muffled behind the wooden walls and all I could hear were the waves at the docks and some faint giggling whores as men chased them down the muddy streets.

I took in the stale sea air mixed with the scent of mud and fish.

The only damn smells I knew and they weren’t even pleasant.

But they were home… and Whitton wanted to stain the place with those she-demons from the deep.

Imagining our brothels filled with tongueless sirens dressed in pretty costumes with powdered cheeks sickened me.

Sitting like a sleeping giant on the waves was the Burning Rose, waiting to set sail again and dye the waters red in the hunt. Only I would have to tell her there was no killing to be done. Only harvesting… like a damn, greedy fool.

I felt the particular rhythm of Gus’s limp before he announced his presence.

“Crew’s excited,” he grunted, leaning on a wooden post beside me with a mug in hand. “A bit scared to show you, though.”

I sighed sharply. “I won’t fault them for being interested in money. Half of them don’t even have a bed to sleep in.”

“And half of them don’t care. Those men live on the sea, same as you. Boys like Mullins and Billy would follow you to the bottom of the ocean if you asked. Why? Because you gave them a life better than they had.”

“What’s your point, old man?”

“Point is, if you want to refuse whatever deal you may or may not have made with that cunt, Whitton, say so. The Burning Rose will be a pirate ship again and we’ll sail the water for different coin.”

I laughed at the simplicity of it. And the sarcasm .

“I took her from pirates,” I said. “I’m not putting that stain on the Rose again. Besides, she likes hunting more than she likes plundering.”

“You talk about the bitch like she’s your wife.”

“She’s pretty enough with an attitude that makes her as wild as any woman,” I laughed again.

“Well, I suppose I didn’t survive that night to throw you in a loony bin. You know I’ll be behind you, no matter your decision. Just like I stood by your dad.”

I nodded, glancing down at my gloved hand. It was a harsh and grotesque reminder of why I did what I did.

“So?” Gus asked. “You reluctant to bring ‘em ashore because they’re dangerous or you just can’t stand not killing ‘em?”

“Both,” I sighed. “And neither. They’re only good when they’re not breathing.” I turned to look at him. “And I won’t be part of a slave trade, no matter who I’m trading.”

“Is that your morals or your caution speaking?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know anymore, Gus. I just know this whole thing is wrong.

Bringing them on land for people to play with, with or without tongues, will end in a lot of blood and I doubt it will be theirs.

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But when you play with fire, eventually it catches something you don’t intend and by then, it’s out of control. ”

His eyes fell on my gloved hand as he took a drink from his mug.

“You know what I think?” he said, nodding toward my missing fingers. “I think you’re terrified she’ll show up one day and tear this whole damn world apart trying to get to you.”

A slow chill rolled down my spine and I straightened, rolling my shoulders back.

“I haven’t been scared of a siren since the day they ate the crew.”

“Nah, I’m not talking about being afraid of what they’ll do to you. I think you’re afraid of what they’ll do to us . What she’ll do to us. Don’t think I haven’t seen it, boy.”

“Seen what?” I asked though I knew what he was going to say .

“You check the face of every damn bitch we behead.” He ran his fingers along his cheek from his ear to his mouth and raised his brows. “You’re looking for the thing you left. So? Would you be relieved if one of them was her? Or would you be—”

“Overjoyed. Maybe I can cut what she took from me out of her stomach,” I joked, holding up my hand.

We both shared in laughter, shaking our heads at the stupidity of it.

“Aye,” he said, pointing at his eye. “I’d do the same, but you already killed the one that took my eye.”

Nothing about it was amusing, but over time, all we could do was laugh about it.

When we started to wind down, I found myself leaning on the railing and staring down the long street to the pier.

The Rose was out there, waiting. My enthusiasm was waning, though.

Perhaps I’d do what Whitton wanted for the sake of my crew and their pockets.

Perhaps, once I was sailing in the black water again, I’d change my mind and we’d hunt like we normally did, with nets and harpoons.

I wouldn’t know until I was out at sea again.

All I knew was that things were changing and not for the better. Things were going to get darker than they’d ever been.

“I’m going to visit Agnes and her son for a day or two,” I said, straightening off the railing. “I need to have a talk with David.”

“Ahh, how’s the young boy now?”

“Not a boy anymore. He’s getting eager.”

“Going to talk him out of sailing with us, then?”

“How’d you know?” I smirked.

“Because you tried to talk all of us out of it,” he said, a solemn tone to his words.

“Yeah, well…”

Gnawing. The ripping of flesh. The slurping of fresh blood and pleasured moans of hungry mouths. Teeth scraping on bone. Tendons snapping .

“Go, then,” Gus said, slapping me on my back. “Take a few days. We all need it.”

I nodded, heading back inside. “We leave in a week. Tell the men to start restocking the food supply and to get more hemsbane oil to clean our blades.”

“And nets?”

I hesitated, biting the inside of my lip. “And nets.”

. . .

Sitting at the dinner table across from Agnes was a bit torturous with the way she kept eyeing me. The lonely woman wasn’t in her right mind. She needed a husband. An old man with money who would stay home and be with her. Not me.

But she wouldn’t see that. I’d have to fight my way back to my ship like I always did and we’d end up parting ways in anger. But then I’d return and she’d cling to me, quietly begging with those sad eyes of hers for me to stay and be with her. Touch her. Care for her like a husband should.

But I wasn’t a husband. I wasn’t a father. I never had been. I was just a fourteen-year-old boy who felt guilty and lonely enough to take her and her unborn child under my care.

That didn’t change the fact that I was all David had ever known.

He sat to my left, scooping up spoonful after spoonful of leftover stew only to dump it back into his bowl.

The silence between us was agonizing. As much as Agnes tried to make us a family, we were both too twisted inside to ever feel something more than fleeting desperation toward each other.

I’d only come to realize that much sooner than her.

“He’s getting quite strong, you know,” Agnes said, feigning a smile. “May not look it, but he can lift grain bags by himself now.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said with a nod.

“He butchers the animals himself now, too. Handles— ”

“It’s good you have him around, then,” I cut her off, eyeing her carefully.

I knew where she was going with the conversation. She wanted me to know how useful he was so I would reconsider bringing him with me, but my mind was set.

Finally, Agnes stood and began clearing the table of dishes.

The candles were nearly burned to the holder and there was dust on the shelves.

She hadn’t been taking care of the place and it showed.

I looked around as she removed my empty bowl from the table and sighed at the obvious neglect, leaning back in my chair.

When one of the candle wicks finally burnt out in its own wax, I raised a brow.

“There’s money enough to get new candles,” I said.

Agnes emptied what food scraps were left into a bucket for the pigs and set the bowls into a wash bin.

I knew she heard me even if she didn’t acknowledge it.

The woman was forgetful. She began scrubbing dishes and I glanced at David, who looked distracted by his thoughts.

The scrawny young man had a head of red, curly hair like his mother and skin too fair to survive the sun on the open sea.

I suspected the look on his face was because his mother had told him about my refusal to bring him onto the Burning Rose, but it couldn’t be helped.

I wasn’t going to put him in the same position I had once been in. It was no place for a young man.

Finally, I stood and walked into the kitchen to help Agnes wash the dishes, drying the ones she’d set aside and stacking them on the cutting table.

“There’s no need to help. Your hands will probably get them dirtier,” she chuckled.

I chuckled back and shrugged. Even after a bath, my hands were calloused and my nails seemed permanently stained.