"And have you tried to retrieve them?"
Lincoln's thumb rubs against mine. A subtle warning to withhold the attitude in my voice. I just can't help it. And it's not like these pirates are being all that kind to us.
Well they haven't tried to kill us yet. He reminds me.
Unless those glasses of vodka are poisoned. Why would they keep us alive?
To fix their damn ship, clearly. An uneasy chuckle fills my mind.
"Have we tried to retrieve them?" Beatrice tilts her head back with a loud laugh. She slaps the table and she licks her lips before speaking again. "It's a fool’s errand. I can't just leave our home unattended. Or send a single one of us into the trap that is their home. I can't lose any more of them."
"So how do we get to the queen if not by ship?"
"We don't. Not unless she chooses to come to us. Which she might. Or she won't."
We need to meet this queen. All royalty has secrets. I'm willing to bet her secret leads us right out of this realm. Lincoln's mind circles over what other choices we have. There aren't many.
"What if we get the part for you? Then will you be able fix your ship and get us to the queen?"
"If you fix our ship, we'd do whatever you asked." Beatrice leans back in her seat and snaps at Johanna who is already in motion. "Lucky for you we've done a little digging already ourselves."
Her first mate pulls open a drawer on the cluttered desk, moving aside a few papers before she takes out a scroll tied up with a red ribbon. Johanna moves with purpose, placing it gently in her captain's waiting hand.
Beatrice tugs at the ribbon, the bow sliding away to nothing. She opens the paper, fighting to lay the curling edges flat. A rough map has been drawn on the yellowing surface. The paper is much thicker than what I am accustomed to using. She slides it over to us and I let go of Lincoln to help hold the document down.
A map has been etched in blotted ink, words scribbled across the page here and there with an eloquent old cursive that's near impossible to read. I flick my gaze back and forth between the map and the pirate.
"What am I looking at?"
"Well, it's there. Plain as day." She throws up her hands exasperated. "Inside the forest, many, many paces inside the forest, these beasts have their camp. I've sent a few crew members to scout the perimeter but every time it has resulted in an attack. Their senses are too sharp." She narrows her gaze on us.
Our senses are too sharp, she means. She's right though. Compared to what I was born with as a human, I'm practically an entire new being with these abilities. It drowns out my human side. Dampens it until it's cold and soggy and I want to forget all about it. But it's what makes me Shadow Fae. My mother was human, and up until a few weeks ago, so was I.
As I lean forward in my chair, I ignore how the shift in my weight makes the wood groan. My nose is stuffed with the scents of vodka, of anger, and of old. With the door closed, there isn't any fresh air carried in from over the sea. No, just the musty old smell of a boat that hasn't been moved in years.
"Do you know where they are hiding the parts of your boat? How do you know they haven't just destroyed it?" Lincoln questions.
"Because we've seen it."
"We?" I arch a single brow.
"They. My scouts." Beatrice grabs the iron knife in frustration, resting her hand on its hilt. "They keep their hoard of stolen goods in their camp. Ours is kept separate. Held up in some sort of shrine. They use it to help remind them of their hate for us."
"Aren't pirates known for stealing?"
"Word to the wise." Johanna pockets her hands. "Never steal from pirates."
"Didn't plan on it."
Lincoln leans closer to the map, letting his finger graze over the page. Dirt and blood clings to every crease in his warrior hands. I want to press my lips to each of his knuckles. Kiss away his pain.
But that touch would be too much. After Cordelia forced herself on him... I think most anything is too much for him right now. So I'll save my kisses for when he is ready. I look down at my fingers thinking of the moments I’d gripped his legs so fiercely and curse myself for not giving him space sooner. In all honesty, I’d forgotten. And touching Lincoln comes so naturally.
"I guess stealing from our own kind will have to do," Lincoln mumbles. He glances up at Beatrice who stares back with an acute awareness for someone who just chugged down a partial bottle of vodka. "These circles... are they tents? The triangles mounds, stolen goods?"
"Yes. The small Xs are where they keep their fires. Their weapons are all kept on them individually."
Both Lincoln and I recoil from the paper map. Its edges automatically curling with the absence of our hands weighing it down. Even when I close my eyes, the picture of the map remains engraved in my mind.
This map is our salvation. Our fighting chance to get back home.
"So how many of your crew can you spare to assist us?" Lincoln crosses his arms over his chest.
I settle for clasping my hands in my lap. If I can rise up and become the queen the Shadow Fae are looking for, then surely I can also raid an enemy’s camp. Right?
Captain Beatrice chuckles, though the sound is more rigid and sour than amused. "You may not have any of my crew. This is a mission for you and you alone."
"Just the two of us?" My jaw drops open. "You think that Lincoln and I can just waltz into this camp and retrieve this stuff for you without any issues?"
She shrugs and looks at Johanna who cocks her mouth into a half smile and also shrugs. "You are Fae. Surely, you can find a way," Beatrice says slowly.
"Yeah, well I'm also half human for what little good that's done me."
My stomach is heavy with the weight of guilt. I've been so caught up in my newfound Fae abilities that I've looked down upon all humanly qualities about me. Even after I first met these women, all I could think about was plucking their heads off their bodies to keep them from interacting with Lincoln. All I was doing was claiming...
I forget about the amazing qualities that humans possess. The qualities that still live inside me. Like caring... humans care. They'd live, love, and die by one another while the Fae remain only connected by the need to follow their own chain of command. Clearly, there isn't any loyalty amongst family.
"You are... half human?" Beatrice responds after a moment of silence.
"Yes. And likely the Fae, Barnabus's gang, are half human too. At least some."
"You lie," Johanna accuses, her hand reaching to her belt where she no longer has an axe. The already hateful scowl on her mouth deepens.
"She does not lie." Lincoln's voice fills the room, filled with authority. He commands their attention. My attention too.
Both the pirates turn their gaze on him. Sizing him up with every blink.
"So what are you then? Hmm? Are you half human too? Am I supposed to find comfort in this? That somehow we are all the same?" The captain's sneers.
"Bullshit," Johanna murmurs behind her.
"He's half god," I say the words with certainty before Lincoln can answer himself, just to watch the shock form on their faces. Instead, they both quirk a single brow in unison.