Fingore’s tavern. It felt like home—better than home. A safe place, unlike any other place I have ever been.

From the outside, it looked like every other bar in San Francisco. It was painted a dull brown color and designed with a perfect square in mind. A dark awning shaded the glass door, and a window next to it allowed customers to catch a glimpse of the golden atmosphere within.

Only the name Belly of the Beast, written in thin, curly letters across the awning, offered a hint at what kinds of patrons Fingore tended to serve. My crew were some of them.

Kieran and Willow stood at the gilded bar, so fixated on each other that they almost didn’t notice the barkeep ask what they wanted to order. Kieran’s scars twisted brutally up the base of his neck, visible above his collared brown shirt, and the scales across Willow’s body were impossible not to notice.

No one cared about markings like that here. I passed the table where Dante flirted carelessly with a group of mundane women, none of whom noticed the tattoos marking him as a Saint. I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

At the table behind them sat a shaggy-haired man who caught my eye. His eyes were rimmed in a deep black that made the green of his irises explosive, especially when they landed on me.

My veins tingled with the warmth of the rum I’d just chugged. My mind floated fuzzily in my head enough that my typical composure dropped, and I let my gaze slide down his chest.

“I don’t often invite beautiful women to have a drink with me.” He smirked and tilted his head. “For a legendary Captain like you, I suppose I must make an exception.”

I planted my hands on the table and leaned forward until my face leveled with his. “What makes you think I’d accept?”

“The way you’re looking at me, for one.” He said the words so casually that it took a moment for them to register. He leaned closer to me, and this time, his gaze was the one that dropped. “The way I’m looking at you, for two.”

“And how, exactly, am I looking at you?” My words were breathless. He smelled like the very spiced rum I’d been drinking. I’d have been lying if I’d said he wasn’t tantalizing.

“Like you want me to whisk you upstairs and tear your clothes off with my teeth.”

“Forward, for a stranger, aren’t you?” Later, when the rum wore off, I’d realize I should have asked him what he knew about me and how. At that moment, I couldn’t think beyond the beat of my heart. “It’s a shame I don’t take strangers to bed.”

“We don’t have to be strangers.” His eyes glinted. He sipped something of a dark burgundy color – wine, perhaps – and his heart-shaped lips dripped with it. He had a demeanor almost as relaxed as mine but not quite there. Briefly, I wondered if he could feel the same warm buzz in his body that I could. Something about that thought made me not trust him, but surely, no one sober would say such blunt things.

Unless he meant to do me harm. I straightened; my blood slightly colder than it had been moments ago. This very well could have been an act to catch me unaware. Then, I wondered how he’d known who I was; there were plenty of enemies in Arnexis who wanted a young, famously in-control female captain dead. Some I knew of. Some I didn’t.

I didn’t want him to notice my distrust, so I winked before slowly walking away.

“Unfortunately for you, we are. Trust doesn’t come easy.” I'd learned the second half of my words from Theo, the bosun. He’d taught me almost everything I knew, especially the harder lessons, like not very many people in these worlds are out to be kind.

“Either they want something you have, or they want to kill you,” he’d told me from a very young age. “If anyone on your crew is driven by one of those two, you’re either dead or betrayed. Find the rare few who will help you and grow with you.”

The stranger said nothing as I left. I dropped my hands to the rough outline of the belt I wore under my shirt, strapped with daggers. The ones in my boots pressed against my lower calves as added comfort. I listened for the thud of following footsteps, but he didn’t pursue me.

Perhaps he really had just wanted a good tumble in the net. I couldn’t deny that desire had washed over me, too.

When I returned to the booth where Lyra sat, her eyes shifted colors. She studied me through deep orange curiosity. I looked away, trying to swallow my embarrassment.

“Stay out of my emotions,” I growled. People often remarked on the beauty of my multifaceted blue eyes, but they could be lagoons or typhoons, depending on my mood.

“Right, I’m sorry.” To her credit, she startled backward and nervously adjusted her dark gray blouse. “I’m just more used to doing it than not. All of my friends at the Guild were open books and much easier to connect with.”

I huffed out a breath and looked out the window as my newest crewmember blabbered on. The rare, sunny day the city had been earlier slowly started its retreat behind a haze of familiar fog. Hope bubbled in my chest.

Without a storm, we were stranded here. It had been a few days since we’d last set sail; I glimpsed the very tips of The Fury’s brilliant sails, tucked in between two large warehouses at the ends of mostly unused piers. The bollards were too worn down for ships of this day and age to secure to; they were perfect for my clipper.

Footsteps tapped heavily across the old floorboards. My first thought was the stranger I’d just so carelessly flirted with, and my hand found its place on the hilt of my favorite dagger. On instinct, my eyes darted to the nearest exit at the front of the bar.

“What’s got you in a wreck?” I didn’t have to look to recognize Fingore’s hearty voice or the laugh that followed. His great belly shook with it, and he slammed a hand down on the table as though steadying himself. My finger twitched on my dagger.

I cleared my throat, realizing I’d been fidgeting with my elbow-length gloves. “I’m no wreck, Fingore.”

“Oh, like a shipwreck.” Lyra laughed along politely, but her eyes turned a nervous shade of blue. “I don’t think it’s good luck to speak of a ship going down.”

“Come on, it’s all in good fun!” Fingore’s entire figure slouched. Not a single fiber of his being seemed on edge, and with the too friendly tavernkeeper, there was always a tell. I forced myself to raise both of my hands back to the table. He possessed no physical threat, but his presence made me nervous, especially with a talkative girl like Lyra around.

As far as I knew, she lacked awareness of my crew’s backgrounds. She didn’t know about Kieran’s scars – granted, not many people did – or anything personal about me. Still, I knew firsthand how excellent Fingore was at procuring and trading secrets as though this wasn’t a tavern at all but a market.

“With a Captain like Skylla,” Fingore continued, winking at me, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“As long as you don’t speak a sinking ship into existence.” Superstition didn’t tend to bother me. Today, I took Lyra’s side.

Fingore laughed again. I found it difficult to imagine him a serious man when it came to dealing information. The ease with which he could put such a careless act on made him dangerous. “What can I get you ladies to drink?”

Lyra chewed on her lip as she looked at the menu. “A glass of sparkling wine sounds wonderful. That one, please.”

“And you?”

“Spiced rum. Don’t you dare make it double; I need my head clear.” The first drink had worn off. I promised myself I would drink the second one slowly, especially as the late day continued to darken. My eyes drifted to the window once more. Fingore’s gaze followed mine.

“Planning on setting sail soon, are you?”

     “As soon as we can, we’re going back to—”

Before Lyra could finish, I cleared my throat. Fingore spoke before I could. “Oh, Captain, you know I have a soft spot for you.” His eyes gleamed, and I had to keep from rolling mine. I could tell a trade offer was tickling the tip of his tongue.

“The answer is no.”

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“Well, you haven’t heard what I’ve got to say, have you?” He leaned farther onto the table, hefty arms taking up the center. His rumbling voice dropped almost to a whisper. “There’s a storm coming, Sky. The seas in Arnexis are rumbling and tumbling like old enemies. There are whispers that—” he paused. I pressed myself against the back of my booth, keeping my curiosity at bay with clenched fists. He certainly had a voice for storytelling, but that cut short with his next words. “Well, it’s tough to talk about. I’ll tell you if you offer me something, and I have a feeling you’ll want to hear this.”

“My answer hasn’t changed, Fingore. I’ll take that rum now.”

For a moment, no one moved. Lyra watched me, still chewing on her lip. Fingore’s entire stance became rigid, but slowly, he dragged his arms back and stood straight.

I tossed a few copper coins onto the table. My hands didn’t seem willing to uncurl from fists, but as Fingore returned to the bar, a tight smile spread across his face, then relaxed.

He reminded me of an ambush predator, striking only when he knew the prey was caught. My mind flamed with questions about what his side of the bargain would have been. I even wondered if he could tell me about the supposed stranger nearby, who, thankfully, had his back turned towards me. I reminded myself easily that nothing Fingore could give warranted endangering my crew. The secrets they trusted me with were mine to protect.

“Fingore’s always been so kind to me.” Lyra watched him go, the color of wisteria swirling in her eyes. “In between leaving the Guild and joining your ship, he took me in, let me mop the tavern and, when I turned eighteen, paid me more to serve drinks.” For once, her face appeared serious as she turned it in my direction. “Why were you so harsh to him?”

I thought about not answering. Wasting my time on ignorant questions didn’t often fit into my schedule. I reminded myself that Lyra was one of my crewmembers now, invaluable as the bosun in training now that Theo wanted to retire, and I needed her to trust me. I needed to be able to trust her if it ever came down to it. Theo’s words played constantly on my mind.

“I’d be willing to bet that every single secret you’ve ever offered that man belongs to someone else now.” She paled, and it had nothing to do with her transformative abilities.

A pleasant silence followed until Dante stumbled over, a golden drink sloshing all over the table as he did. Laughter from the group of women he’d left followed him. His smile curled at the sound of it. “We should loosen up around the mortals more often!”

He went to take another drink, but quicker than a snake,

I snatched it and splashed the bright liquid into his face. That earned me a few glances around the mostly crowded tavern, but everyone returned to their chatter soon enough.

“What the hell, Cap!”

I stood. Outside, the skies continued to grey. A shiver raced through my body as though my bones had been dunked in ice. I could sense a storm coming. “You have from here to the gangway to sober yourself up and screw your head on straight.”

In the time it took to sidestep my way out of the booth, Dante seemed to think better of starting a fight he couldn’t win. He was shorter than me, the top of his head barely reaching my nose, and younger. I waited for a moment in case his youthful arrogance won out.

The graceful tattoos curled around either side of his face scrunched as he spoke, stepping backward. “I thought we weren’t leaving until tomorrow.” He bared his teeth.

I nodded towards the window. “By the time we sail beyond the gate, we’ll have the storm we need waiting for us. We leave now. Round up the rest of the crew and meet me at the ship. I won’t wait; if I need to, I’ll do the navigating myself and find a new second elsewhere. There are better, more sober sailors than you out there.”

“Yeah, right.” I clenched my jaw and thought about responding to his under-breath murmur, but the sky cracked with thunder, and I decided getting The Fury ready to sail was more important.

My black, hooded cloak hung by the door. I made sure the ends of my gloves were tucked under my brown, short-sleeved button-up and that the ends of my black pants were tucked into my tall boots. No skin except for that of my face showed, but my hood hovered protectively over it.

I almost chuckled at the irony of a Captain who needed a storm hiding from the rain.

“So, you demand a drink and then leave me hanging?” Fingore caught me just before I left the bar.

“I didn’t leave you hanging. I paid you. Now, you get a free drink out of it.” Before he could say anything else, I stepped out into the cold, fresh air. It sobered the minor remains of my buzz from earlier. I glanced back into the bar; the stranger sat right where I’d left him.

Lyra followed me into the light drizzle, pulling her hefty coat on. “Why the sudden decision to leave?”

I huffed out a breath and followed the straight, almost-empty waterside street towards my ship. As annoying as Lyra’s questions could be, I would have rather had her with me than lose every last secret she possessed – if she kept anything to herself, at least. The more time I spent with her, the less likely I thought that to be.

“Leaving Arnexis is easy, It's returning to Arnexis that's the hard part. You have to truly want to go there, so much so that you’re willing to brave storms and risk everything.”

“I read a legend about that once!” Lyra squealed like an ecstatic child. A couple sharing an umbrella on a grassy strip in between us looked over their shoulder. I placed a heavy hand on Lyra’s shoulder.

“The last thing we want is attention.” My words came out slowly and carefully.

She nodded and spoke as we made our way to the pier. “They say it was The Great Eel who first created storms, that every time one of his children dies, he mourns so furiously that the skies break open. So much emotion pours down that a magic dependent on desire comes to be.”

I’d grown up with the same legend. I didn’t say so; only walked in silence, my head lowered—in part to avoid the rain in part to avoid a physical reaction. My cheeks threatened to spark.

Only a small, rectangular building abandoned by its security guard with two outstretching fences blocked the way to my ship. I let my hand rest on my blade. Although this made it easy for my crew, it also created the possibility of curious minds deciding to check out my ship.

I almost couldn’t have blamed them. Chimera’s Fury floated in all her glory, swaying slightly against the pier. We’d left her sails unfurled in case of urgency. The winds batted them gently as though urging her to set out for sea.

Her figurehead, a roaring depiction of her namesake with its wings tucked smoothly against its wooden body, glistened in the rain. Her gunwale curved gracefully along the bow and flattened down the midsection, the wood underneath interrupted with portholes.

I kept my hands on a couple of my blades as I approached her starboard side. Our rickety ladder leading to the quarter-deck made for a good deterrent against those of fainter heart, but it was still possible there were braver passersby who’d decided to explore my ship.

That thought seethed in my head like the sea.

Footsteps came hurrying towards us just before I could grab the rungs. I whirled, pulling my blades, but the approaching bodies were more crewmembers.

“Good. Ral, search the ship for stowaways. I want it thorough; every single inch should be checked.” The tanned man with light, curly hair practically leapt up the ladder after my orders, a smile as bright as his longsword cutting across his face.

I turned to Noemi and Salvatore. “Make sure everything is secure. I want ropes on each mast, ready to keep us onboard if the weather gets bad. Noemi, once you’re done, make sure your healing supplies are ready. Salvatore, once you’re done, get up to the crow’s nest, tie yourself up, and get ready; we may need to summon some Heralds.”

They looked at each other before nodding and following Ral up the ship. I went next, but Lyra hesitated.

“What can I do to help?”

“Track Theo down and get him back here. Noemi!” She turned from the stairwell she’d been about to enter as my head raised above the gunwale. “Was he with you?”

She shook her head. Gold flaking flared up around her face as she tilted it back. As a Cleromancer, she could sense the heartbeat of anyone whose pulse she’d recently felt. “He’s resting on a beach to the north.” The gold faded as she looked to me, pity lining her face. “I don’t think he intends to return with us, Captain.”

“Find him.” The words came out as more of a hiss at Lyra than a command. Instead of clambering back down the few steps she’d taken up the ladder, she nodded and shifted into an owl. She took off under the guise of fog, swooping low over the distant sands.

I entered the forward house and found the chartroom a scrambled mess. Despite the rain, I shoved open the porthole at the far corner, allowing easy communication between the navigator and the helm. I cursed out Dante for not preparing ahead of time.

Old charts were displayed over even older charts. Most were torn in some parts; the topmost one had what looked like spilled coffee splattered across its lower left corner, making important notes about the bay ineligible. I shoved them off and pulled the newest ones from the drawers below.

We were low on Arnexis charts. I scribbled a note on one of the papers lying around for Dante to purchase more as soon as we made our first port stay before getting to work.

I knew the course away from San Francisco by old, unreliable memory. With triangles and dividers, I marked down our route and estimated times. I scribbled notes for Dante in case we were questioned about our intentions, whether by other ships or Traffic Services.

The set of radios we kept lined the port side of the room, looking dead. I removed one of my gloves and tapped the useless plugs with my finger. I willed my electricity to surge.

Sharp heat sparked from my veins, and the radios jolted to life. A call about a sunken sailboat took over the emergency channel. Two fishing boats bragged to each other about their catches on the communications channel. Everything seemed to be in good working order.

When I stretched out the back, I’d been hunching during chartwork, a throat behind me cleared, though it sounded almost more like a sob. I turned and found Lyra, her eyes pooling and wet.

“Don’t say it.”

“He wouldn’t come.” She spoke the words quickly as though any longer, and she would have kept them to herself. “I tried. I really tried. I told him I’d bring him coffee every morning, even that I’d splice all the new line, but he refused, and—”

“Stop, Lyra.” The following silence seemed to simmer. I looked anywhere but at the new, full-fledged bosun in front of me. I didn’t tell her it wasn’t her fault; I couldn’t. My throat choked itself up with threatening tears at the idea that my teacher, my confidant, the only person I trusted completely with my life, wasn’t coming back.

I darted a glance out the porthole. Though the sea boiled closer and closer to anger, it helped me breathe through the deep ache blooming in my chest.

Some deeper, more honest part of me knew as soon as I’d heard Noemi’s report that we’d lost him. I turned to Lyra, whose paled skin looked even paler, and lifted my chin. “You’re responsible now.”

Not only did I have to worry about Dante’s drunken incompetence. Now, I needed to rely on a girl who’d sailed only once to ensure my ship’s safety. Never before had I trusted such an unreliable crew, but the storm to come brewed farther into its making, and if I wanted to get to Arnexis, I had no choice. There was no telling when another storm capable of transporting us there would come. They were sudden and unpredictable; I hadn’t known one would appear today until an hour or so ago.

“Standby on the bow,” I told Lyra, “and get ready to work the lines. Nothing’s going to stop us from sailing today.”