I opened my eyes and groaned as moonlight bathed my face, cool and pale, spilling across the deck in long silver streaks. Above, the sails loomed like dark wings against a star-pricked sky, their edges tugging and snapping softly in the wind. The Skycutter creaked around me, and I could almost feel Raela’s intent.

  Roan’s pipe smoke curled into the night, and when I tried to sit up too fast, the world tilted with the slow roll of the cloudsea. Somewhere nearby, a lantern swayed on its hook, throwing warm light that rocked back and forth across boots and knees and the scuffed boards beneath me.

  “Ugh… what happened?” I groaned.

  The boy, Finn, the one with the open coat, whistled, and the sharp note sent a spike of pain radiating through my head. “He’s up, everyone. Finally! Calls on any bets.”

  I heard the shuffle of feet; soles scraping against wood. A few people shifted their weight as if they’d been waiting for quite some time. How long had I been out? When I blinked the sleep from my eyes, I realized I was surrounded on all sides. Boots and bare toes, and worn leather soles encased me, their bodies blocking out the stars. Someone’s breath fogged in the cold air. Another’s belt buckle caught the moonlight with a brief flash.

  A hand appeared in front of my face.

  I reached for it and grabbed on.

  Strong arms hauled me upright. They were strong and surprisingly soft. My balance wavered. The deck rolled gently beneath my feet, and the smell of the ship hit me more fully now: like old smoke and a faint greasy promise of food somewhere below deck. My stomach churned. I was starving. Steadying myself, I focused, and then I saw a woman a few years older than me with curly red hair and a shirt that cut off just above her navel. It was adorned with little jewels. They spelled out something. They said, “Bad Bitch.”

  The woman gave me a hard look with her piercing light-blue eyes. “What?” she asked as she noticed my blank stare. “It’s called a ‘crop top,’ or at least that magazine I found said it was. Best armor I’ve ever had.”

  I kept staring stupidly, still catching up to the fact that I was awake, upright, and not dead.

  The woman turned and looked up at Raela, who towered over the group at the bow. Even in the dark, Raela was impossible to miss; her carved wings folded like a resting predator’s, her wooden form catching pale highlights where moonlight found the grain. Lantern-light painted warmer tones along her womanly curves, making her look almost alive in the way a statue never could. The figurehead’s presence pressed against the ship itself, and you could feel it in the tension of the air.

  No, not tension… anticipation.

  “I think you hit him too hard,” the woman said.

  “I barely touched the boy,” Raela replied, voice vibrating faintly through the planks. “Although I was still mad at Roan…”

  Roan coughed from my right, as if conjured by his own name. He stood with his shoulders slightly hunched, pipe in hand, beard shadowed by lantern glow. “No need to think about that, eh?” he said. “It’s late. I’m sure the lad is tired. Hungry.”

  The woman continued to stare at me as if she were assessing something fascinating. “I don’t know. He seems plenty rested to me.”

  “Oh, don’t be that way, Vexa,” Roan said. “Let the boy be.”

  Vexa’s gaze drifted down… down… down… towards my—

  I jumped back on instinct, heat flaring up my neck despite the cold.

  “Ah, he gets it,” Finn said. “Vexa takes a run at anyone she finds interesting.”

  Vexa scoffed. “And that’s why you’ve never had your chance, Finn. And you never will.”

  Finn clutched his chest, flinging his other hand to his forehead like a dying actor. “You wound me, my lady.”

  Vexa’s smile turned sharp. “You wanna make something of it?”

  Finn’s grin widened. “Yeah! It’s the only that you get others to do your work, you lazy—”

  Vexa stepped forward and threw a punch.

  Finn’s knife flashed in his hand, but he didn’t aim it at her.

  He aimed it at himself.

  He drew a clean line across his wrist. Red surged from the wound, forming a curved shield in the air. It didn’t splash like ordinary blood; it rose as if pulled by invisible strings, thickening into a glossy barrier that shivered with contained force. Vexa’s fist struck it with an audible clang, as if she had punched metal.

  The sound carried across the quiet deck, echoing up the mast. A few nearby crew members sucked in a breath through their teeth. Somewhere above, a loose line slapped against the sail with a sharp snap.

  Vexa leaned into the barrier, pushing hard. Finn smiled through it, still holding the knife against his wrist as the blood kept feeding the shield. The red shimmered in lantern-light, making the whole thing look like a cruel stained-glass window.

  “Knock it off!” Roan roared.

  “Oh, let them be,” Raela said, clearly amused. “I do so like the spirit of youth.”

  Both of them froze, then stepped back as if yanked by a rope. Finn’s blood became blood again, spilling onto the deck in front of me in a dark slick. It seeped along the grain of the wood before the ship’s slight tilt drew it into a thin, creeping trail.

  Roan’s stare cut straight through Finn. “Clean that shit up. You know how Vexa gets when you antagonize her.”

  “But—”

  “That’s an order!”

  Finn muttered something unintelligible under his breath and disappeared toward the stern, where the deck fell away into deeper shadow and the ship’s lanterns grew sparse. His boots thudded and then faded beneath the constant creak of the Skycutter.

  Roan turned on Vexa next. “And you,” he said, voice low. “Fix that short temper of yours, or I’ll fix it for you. Perhaps you need to cool off in the crow’s nest for the next few days, eh?”

  Vexa mumbled a faint apology and melted back into the nearby crowd, shoulders stiff.

  “On second thought,” Raela mused. “I do so love when you take charge… Captain.”

  The word was clearly sexual.

  Roan went bright red. “Oh, dear—I mean; dear, not in front of the crew.”

  “Apologies,” Raela said, batting her carved lashes as if she weren’t sorry at all.

  “Now then,” Roan continued, clearing his throat, “let’s just get this over with. Raela, what class is the lad? You know the crew won’t rest until they know.” He glanced at the remaining onlookers; their faces were half-lit by lantern glow, eyes bright with the kind of hunger.

  Roan opened his mouth to speak again just as Finn returned with a bucket and mop. Water sloshed inside the bucket with the ship’s gentle sway. The mop slapped the deck with a wet thwack, sending a cool, sharp scent of soap into the air. Everyone turned to stare at him.

  Finn stopped and looked around. “What?” he asked.

  Roan coughed. “So, as I was saying; may the Dragon help your souls if there’s any more fighting about bets. If you made a bet, pay it off. If you can’t, then take extra duties from whom you owe, and don’t bet what you don’t have in the future. Now then, what—”

  “He’s a Changer,” Raela announced.

  The deck exploded into conversation—hushed whispers, sudden yelling, jubilation.

  “I’m ruined!” a woman cried. “Ruined!”

  “FUCK… YEAH!” a man screamed.

  Roan threw his hands up. “Enough, enough! Those of you on night duty, get on with it. The rest of you, get some damn sleep.” His voice carried down the deck and up into the rigging, bouncing off masts and spars. “And I swear if I see anyone on watch napping I’ll throw them from—” Roan glanced at me, caught himself, and coughed into his hand. “I’ll, uh… I’ll be very upset with you.”

  “Screw that,” Finn said, slamming the mop into the bucket. Water splashed over the rim and pattered onto the planks. “Torren here is new, right? Let’s have a feast.”

  “We don’t have enough Echoes for a feast,” Roan mused, rubbing his beard. “But, uh… perhaps something small, eh?” He jabbed a finger toward Finn. “Alright, Finn, take Vexa. You three can have extra rations tonight. Tell the cook I said it’s fine. Get the lad a glass of red too, eh? One glass. All of you.”

  “Vexa…” Finn complained.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Or I can have someone else do it,” Roan replied, “and then you can man the crow’s nest.”

  Finn snapped into a mock salute. “I’ll get Vexa right away, sir.”

  Roan tugged on his black beard and smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

  “See you again soon,” Raela mused, giving me a slow wave with her wooden claw. The gesture felt like a promise and a threat at the same time.

  Finn grabbed my arm and hauled me away before I could reply, steering me through the thinning crowd as the crew dispersed. Some were grumbling, some laughing, and some were already slipping into the dark toward their hammocks. Above us, the sails hissed and snapped, and the Skycutter sailed on through moonlit clouds as if nothing on board had happened at all.

  Finn pulled me along before I could reply, fingers locked around my wrist. The deck narrowed as we moved away from the bow, lantern-light thinning into pockets of shadow between masts. Wind slid along the rails and threaded itself through loose lines, making the rigging whisper. Somewhere above, a pulley squealed once, then went quiet again. Behind us, Raela’s presence faded. She wasn’t gone, not really, but less immediate, and it was like stepping out of the center of the storm into something else entirely.

  ***

  “Finn, what are you—” Vexa started, but before she could finish, Finn grabbed her by the hand.

  “Come on,” he said, already tugging her forward. “Cap’n says we get special grub tonight because of the new kid. Thanks, new kid.”

  “I’m older than you,” I replied.

  “Perhaps in years,” Finn said with a grin, “but in experience, I’ve got your number.”

  “Don’t listen to Finn,” Vexa said. “He’s only been with the crew a few months. Thinks he owns the whole damn ship.”

  “I will one day,” Finn replied, as if it were a simple fact. Something everybody already knew.

  “You’ve only been here a few months?” I asked. “Weird. I don’t recognize you from Skyreach.”

  “I’m from Eastside,” he replied. “You?”

  “Ah… Westside.”

  Finn nodded, expression shifting into something more thoughtful. “I’ve heard West has been having trouble with gangs.”

  “Same old story,” I said. “Did my best to stay out of trouble.” I let out a breath. “Clearly, it didn’t take.”

  We ducked into the ship’s interior, and the air changed. Above deck, the wind had been cold and clean; down here it was warm and close. Smothering even. Wood-smoke soaked into beams, and cooking grease clung to everything like a second skin. The corridor was narrow enough that our shoulders nearly brushed the walls. Lanterns hung low, their glass chimneys blackened with soot. I felt the rolling tides of the clouds more thoroughly on the inside.

  Pipes ran along the ceiling. They ticked softly as they cooled, and somewhere deeper in the hull something mechanical thumped in a steady rhythm:

  thum

  thum

  thum

  Raela’s heartbeat, I thought.

  Almost I could hear Raela’s soft laugh in my head.

  “Hm. I couldn’t stay out of trouble either,” Finn said. “Ran my own little gang until we got caught stealing an aethermatter.”

  “An aethermatter?” I asked. “Aren’t those a few hundred pounds? How did you manage that?”

  “Leverage,” Finn said, holding up one finger. “But, uh… clearly we didn’t manage. Look where I am.”

  He strolled up to a door at the back of the galley and tried the handle.

  It didn’t budge.

  Finn knocked once. Then again. Then he escalated to kicking and banging on the door. “Oy, Marris!” he shouted. “Let us in. Captain says we get special treatment because of the new guy!”

  The door flung open and smashed Finn in the nose.

  Blood exploded from his face. He stumbled back, and his nose took on a sharp new angle.

  Vexa roared with laughter. “Serves you right, you little prick—”

  “What do you lot want?” a voice snapped.

  Marris stood in the doorway like an iron gate. She was tall and wide, built like a machine. Not old; maybe thirty at most, but she carried herself like someone who’d been tired for years. Her dark hair was tied back, and her tan skin was not too unlike Finn’s. She glared at us all in turn.

  “I asked what in the clouds do you three want.”

  “Ve vant sum fuod,” Finn said, his broken nose turning his voice into something between a wheeze and a badly played flute.

  That only made Vexa laugh harder, bending at the waist and slapping her thigh as if she might actually keel over and die right on the spot.

  I found myself laughing as well. The sound surprised me. My face ached from the expression, the muscles around my mouth pulling in a way that felt unfamiliar.

  With a sickening crack, Finn popped his nose back into place. It still sat a little crooked, but maybe it had always been that way. “There,” he said, wiping blood off his upper lip with the back of his sleeve. “All better.” He cleared his throat. “Now then; the captain has said that Vexa and I are to accompany our new crewmate to the galley, and that we are to be given a feast.”

  “And red,” I added. “Not sure what that is, though.”

  Marris stared long and hard at me, her dark eyes drilling into my soul. She was searching for the lie hidden behind my words.

  “Are you lot messing with me?”

  I shook my head emphatically.

  She turned to Finn. “I don’t trust this one.”

  Finn acted as if he had been stabbed. “Marris, my heart—”

  “I wouldn’t trust him either,” Vexa said. “Little snake he is.”

  “Snake?” Finn repeated. “Snake! If you want to talk about snakes, remember when I saved you—”

  “Fine!” Marris cut in. “If it’ll shut you both up, I’ll get it ready. Give me a moment.”

  The door slammed shut in our faces.

  Finn sniffed loudly through his not-quite-straight nose. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s take a seat.”

  The galley opened up wider than I expected. They were long tables bolted to the floor, benches scarred with knife marks and old burns. Hooks lined the walls with pots and pans that swayed faintly with the ship’s movement, clinking softly. A big stove squatted along one wall, blackened and well-fed, with a faint glow of red coals still lingering inside. The air was thick, and it made my stomach twist painfully in reminder that I hadn’t eaten in… I didn’t even remember how long.

  And still, the thought returned, nagging at me.

  Wasn’t it too big?

  Too many tables. Too much space. Was the ship really this large?

  I shoved the thought away.

  Finn dropped onto a bench. “So a Changer,” he said, grinning. “That’s new. Haven’t seen one of you lot before. Not unlike Brawlers. Ain’t that right, Vexa? You lot are as common as the mist itself.”

  Vexa ground her teeth but didn’t respond.

  “Ha!” Finn said. “Got ya there, didn’t I? Now me—I’m a Manipulator—”

  “You can say that again,” Vexa cut in.

  “It’s rude to interrupt,” Finn countered.

  Their back-and-forth rolled on long enough that Marris returned with plates and cups. She set them down with a hard clack that made even Finn pause.

  On my plate sat a slab of fatty meat, still shining with juices, and two pieces of bread already soaking them up. Finn and Vexa only had one piece each.

  Finn’s hand drifted toward my bread. “Hey, I want two—”

  Marris moved so fast I didn’t even see her arm blur.

  A fork slammed into Finn’s hand.

  Finn screamed, yanking the fork free and flinging it to the floor. It clattered and spun under the table. “Marris!”

  “Do not steal what is for others,” Marris said as simply and plainly as she could.

  Then she dropped three cups on the table—one for each of us.

  The liquid inside was red and dark.

  Finn’s outrage died instantly.

  Marris turned and walked away without a backward glance.

  Finn stared at her back, then back at the cup, and breathed a sigh of relief. “As I was saying,” he continued, “I’m a Manipulator. I use Echoes that allow me to augment my own body. You saw it earlier. Currently, I’m running an Echo called Bloodbone, which allows me to harden my blood. As my second, I have Bloodburn, which lets me increase the temperature of my blood.”

  “That explains why you wear so little clothing,” I said. “Despite the chill.”

  Finn snapped his fingers. “See? He gets it.” He looked at Vexa smugly. “Told ya’ I had a good feeling about this one.”

  Vexa leaned back and took a mocking tone. “Nobody ‘gets’ it. Raela couldn’t understand you if she opened your head, peeled back your thick skull, and studied that walnut you call a brain.”

  “Will you three shut the fuck up?”

  A bang echoed from a few tables over. The sound bounced off wooden beams and hanging pans.

  When I turned, I saw a taller man around my age with a shaved head and dark skin. He wore two different gloves: one thick like a blacksmith’s, and the other pink and frilly. Quite the odd combination.

  “If I have to listen to any more idiocy,” he said, “I might just throw myself from the damn ship.”

  “You wouldn’t be missed,” Finn replied casually.

  Vexa kicked Finn under the table hard enough to make him jolt. “What?” he hissed. “He wouldn’t—”

  In a blink, the man reached over, grabbed Finn by the back of the head, and slammed his forehead into the table. The impact made the cups jump. A drop of red sloshed and ran down the side of my glass.

  I silently wondered how often Finn got injured in one day.

  Finn struggled, but the man’s grip was steel.

  A Brawler like Vexa, perhaps?

  “Now apologize, rat,” the man said.

  “We’re all rats here,” Finn snarled beneath his grip. “Hey, Vexa. A little help, eh?”

  “Not all of us,” the man replied.

  “Alright, enough, Dragus,” Vexa said.

  Dragus released Finn.

  Finn sat up and made a show of smoothing his hair. His cheeks were red, but his grin remained stubborn.

  “Anything for you, Vexa,” Dragus said, moving around the table. The hand in the pink glove slid up her arm and toward her chest—

  Vexa caught his hand and, with an audible snap, bent a finger backward.

  “Oops,” she said. “Clumsy me.”

  Dragus gave a derisive snort, but showed no signs of pain. “Cute,” he said. “Real cute. You know, there are plenty of other fish in the clouds.” His finger shuddered, then popped back into place all on its own. “Well then, ladies,” he continued, stepping away, “try to keep it down. I wouldn’t want to have to come back here.”

  “And I wouldn’t want to have to tell you to go fuck yourself,” I replied before I could stop myself. “So maybe just mind your own business next time, eh?”

  Dragus turned his head slowly toward me. He smiled wickedly. “The new rat,” he said. “Head in the clouds. High in the sky. All who fly too close to the sun come burning down.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Remember that.”

  He walked back to his two friends. They shared a laugh between them; quiet, sharp, and probably at our expense.

  Eh, fuck em.

  Soon the lot collected their coats and left, their footsteps fading into the corridor until the galley swallowed the sound down the hallway.

  Finn whistled low. “You’re making new friends, ain’t ya?”

  “Me?” I asked, incredulous. “What about you?”

  “You don’t want to compare yourself to me,” Finn said. “What’s the captain say I have? An ‘abrasive personality.’”

  “That’s putting it lightly,” Vexa replied.

  She lifted her cup, blue eyes bright in the lantern-light. “Now, are we doing this or not? This is supposed to be a celebration of a new crew member. It’s not every day we get a bit of red. Let’s enjoy.” She held up her glass. I followed her lead. Finn did the same. “To Torren, new Skyrat on the Skycutter.”

  We clinked the glasses together and drank.