“Why do you check your pocket watch so often?” Kane gently scratched at his chin with the tip of his dagger. “You late for an appointment or something?”

Lucian pulled his gaze from his watch and snapped it shut, frowning at the man. “Yes, I have a meeting with your mother in ten, but I’m afraid she’s already quintuple-booked with other men.”

Kane lowered his eyebrows. “Not cool, man.”

“I know, she should have let me know beforehand. I never said I was opposed to sixsomes.”

They were up on deck after having finished breakfast. Traumatized from last night’s events, Kane had happily sat aside to allow Lucian to go into the kitchen to prepare them food — toast, scrambled eggs, bacon. It was a mostly a very American breakfast, Kane had to say — although there were a few choice foods that Kane wasn’t familiar with, such as Dutch waffles and something called “polvorones.” He’d still chowed down with glee, however.

Esau had waltzed in while the two were in the midst of eating and chatting, appalled that they had entered his sacred space without his permission. But his anger — or more so, his mild disappointment — was short-lived, and soon he’d wheeled out more food and was scarfing it down alongside them.

All things considered, Esau was mostly on board with the plan to teach Kane how to fight with a blade. He didn’t think it was quite enough — fair coming with from the man with fire powers — but he’d made it clear he had faith in Lucian’s judgment.

Which unnerved Kane perhaps a modicum. Perhaps he’d need a second opinion.

“Where’s Tal?” Kane had pushed his emptied plate away from him, leaning back in his chair with barely-concealed satisfaction from his finished meal.

“The lazy-ass is still in bed,” Esau muttered with a grin. Just like the night prior, their chef had eaten thrice as much as the others had so far.

Kane considered this for a second, picking at his teeth with a fork. “He seemed pretty beat last night, nah? Is he getting enough sleep?”

Esau and Lucian had made eye contact for a moment, and then Lucian shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. Best you hear it from him; I’m tired of running my mouth.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not.”

So there was something more to Tal’s condition, as Kane had figured. The ship’s resident Sleeping Beauty had been drowsy since early the night before, falling asleep at their little navigation meeting, and barely conscious during dinnertime. At first Kane had figured he’d simply gotten off an all-nighter, but the fact that he was still asleep had him thinking otherwise.

“How many layers deep does everything here go?” Kane had finally asked, after the others had continued munching for a minute.

Lucian shrugged, taking a sip of hot tea. “At least nine, Kane.”

—

“Alright. Come at me.”

Kane blinked twice, giving Lucian a funny look. He was still recovering from the Your Mother joke. “Excuse me?”

The captain was wielding a dagger of his own, however it was rusted to hell and would likely give Kane five types of tetanus if it cut him. “I need to assess where you are, skill-wise.” He’d already sunk into a combat stance, knees bent, dagger raised, body loose, eyes sharp.

Kane looked down at the kindjal in his own hand. “I’ve never knife-fought before.”

“Counterpoint: Would you remember if you had?”

It was a mediocre point at best, but Kane didn’t feel like arguing. “Touché.”

The day was especially bright now, and somehow, the Sea looked somewhat beautiful. Kane hated himself for thinking it, but he couldn’t help it. The breeze ruffled his jacket and swept through his hair; the sun was hot on his back; and the sporadic cloud cover above in the red sky was menacing and beautiful in the way he imagined a nebula would be up close.

Kane glanced over at Esau, who was sat behind the wheel. The chef-healer-hybrid offered him a smile and a fist-pump of exaggerated encouragement. The man’s attitude was a hard 180 from when they’d first met yesterday; Kane would simply believe that the guy’s front had been a façade for self-defense, at least while he got to know Kane.

It wasn’t the best explanation, but those seemed to be hard to come by down here regardless.

Esau’s presence with them on deck was two-fold. For one, Tal and Saul were out cold, which meant he was the only one who could steer the ship. And for two, he’d be prepared to heal any wounds that resulted from today’s sparring session.

That was mildly reassuring, but as Kane assumed it was like in Canada, just because he had free healthcare available didn’t mean he wanted to get hurt.

However…

That small part of Kane from the night before, the part that had somehow decided to unequivocally take all of this bullshit head-on and in stride, roared at the proposition.

Get cut, get good, and sooner than you think, get out of here.

There truly was no time like the present. Kane sunk into a stance that mirrored Lucian’s, then took a series of quick steps forward, with one goal in mind: wipe that stupid smirk right off the captain’s face.

A quick, shallow swipe to the cheek should suffice for an opening move. But it was only after he’d followed through with the motion that he realized that Lucian was no longer in front of him, but in fact, behind him.

Kane could tell by the warm puff of air on his nape, by the cooling shadow now cast onto his back, by the end of the captain’s purple cloak fleeing the edge of his peripheral vision. His breath caught, and he could feel nothing in his gut but giant lurches screaming DANGER. He stepped aside, Lucian’s dagger slicing through the air that had once been occupied by Kane’s torso.

The entire exchange had only taken a second, and it had woken Kane the hell up. Lucian’s blow was no-nonsense; the man was willing and able to maim Kane, and something told him he wouldn’t feel any regrets for doing so.

So Kane readied himself for another knife swipe; he could feel in his gut it was coming.

His trust in his intuition was dashed on the rocks when Lucian took a step into Kane’s range and, instead of swiping with his knife in his right hand, hit him with a mean left hook to the jaw.

Kane fell onto his ass, and Esau flinched from his spot by the wheel, apparently rapt at the humiliating ass-beating taking place before him. Lucian wasted no time, lunging down to pierce Kane’s neck, and Kane rolled away, getting to his feet with sloppy, unsteady form.

He held Lucian’s gaze, which was cold and focused. The point the captain wanted to make was immediately clear; not every enemy of theirs would play by their tacit, arbitrary rules. One had to be prepared for anything.

Kane clicked his jaw, and was surprised to find that it really fucking hurt Unfortunately, he’d now have to keep shit-talking to a minimum.

Which was fine. Kane wasn’t especially talkative; he’d only been talking so much as of late because he had to make sense of his new setting.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Now, his actions would speak up a bit.

He gripped his dagger tightly and approached Lucian, his mind moving at light speed as he did so. From what he remembered, he’d been in a good number of fights, which had mostly served to teach him how to take a good amount of hits rather than land them.

Kane knew he depended on his stamina most. If one keeps getting back up, they’ll win eventually. Of course, getting stabbed in the Adam’s apple just might keep someone down for good. So he couldn’t let Lucian land a fatal hit.

And the captain was faster. More precise. His movements were like butter and water and steel all at once. Not to mention the back of his cloak got all flowy when he moved, causing Kane to feel a tinge of distracting jealousy.

A plan forming in his head, it was decided: Kane would finish this now.

He stalked towards the captain, a savage grin on his face, one that seemed to give both Lucian and Esau pause. It probably didn’t help that his teeth were bleeding.

He made a sudden swing towards Lucian’s heart, and naturally, the man dodged back, as if the air itself had shifted to make room for him. Kane didn’t let up, making another diagonal swing as if drawing an X, which prompted a concerned look from Lucian — concern not for himself, but for Kane’s sanity given this seemingly poorly-thought-out attack. Likely deciding he would teach Kane yet another lesson, the captain dodged to the side like he had for his first move of the fight.

Kane didn’t even have to look. His hand shot out, snatching up the end of the man’s cloak as it floated upwards, and yanking it back.

Turned out Lucian was heavier than Kane had expected, but no matter. The man’s momentum was reversed, and Kane stuck out a foot, causing Lucian to trip and land on the deck with a thud.

Kane inwardly chuckled as he leaned forwards, falling on top of Lucian, pinning his body with his own and ceasing the man’s attempted knife with a firmly placed elbow. As he fell, his knife fell with him, straight towards Lucian’s right eye, which widened in horror.

The knife landed on the deck, burying itself deep in the wood just beside the man’s ear.

Kane smiled wide, reddened teeth glinting in the sun.

Lucian, with all the color drained from his face save for the thin gash across his right cheek, frowned deeply.

So Kane smiled even harder.

—

“And you say you’ve never knife-fought before.”

Kane did his best to hide a smirk from Esau. He simply shrugged. “I’m historically best with my fists.”

Esau held a hand to Kane’s arm, nodding as if he agreed with — or perhaps related to — the sentiment. Slowly but surely, the red fire that streamed down from Esau’s palms like a blowtorch closed up the litany of cuts that marked Kane’s skin.

Kane couldn’t lie; the training session had gone immensely well, in his opinion. Despite his victory at the start, Lucian won most exchanges. The man would just barely edge him out with a faster slice or a quicker step. However, Kane’s unconventional amateur style was what typically got the drop on Lucian, which made sense; Kane barely knew what he was going to do himself most of the time, likely making him near-impossible to predict. Additionally, as time went on, Kane somehow got faster, surer, more precise, while Lucian flagged slowly but surely, until they were mostly tying.

Not wanting to ruin his only set of clothing, at some point they’d opted to take off their shirts to feel the hot sun on their backs. It helped that Kane used the amount of cuts on Lucian’s torso to keep score. Of course, Kane had taken far more hits, à la death by a thousand cuts, but notably, Kane’s imposed cuts were much deeper, which was infinitely more satisfying.

Lucian was still waiting to get healed up. He was standing by the wheel, poring over that damn map of his, despite the fact that he was still bleeding from his cuts. His facial expression was contemplative, and if Kane had to guess, perhaps a bit pained. But he was ever the courteous captain, always with their mission foremost in mind and always with people to take care of; it seemed his own pain could wait.

Either way, Kane was still surprised by the outcome. He’d gone toe-to-toe with the crew’s captain, who had pulled off yesterday’s insane stunts with supernatural precision and grace. It didn’t make any sense.

In truth, during the fights, Kane had simply been watching the captain’s actions and making a move in kind. Every move that succeeded had been reactive, matching in the captain’s intensity and flare — and it helped because for some reason, Lucian always wanted to move first, as if countering were some sort of deplorable act he could never partake in. Kane typically wanted to make the first move, but whenever he did, he’d flounder and fail, so he stuck with his strategy and was thoroughly rewarded.

“If you’re this good with knives, then I don’t want to see your fistfighting.” Esau altered the angle of his palm ever so slightly; it seemed healing required moderate concentration, but enough to still be able to keep up a conversation. Perhaps if Esau got distracted and angled the fire wrong, it would begin to burn him rather than heal him; and Kane didn’t want to think about that.

The sensation of the fire was warm and prickly. Kane would describe it as the opposite of the tingling in his foot from whenever he sat on it too long. “There’s no way I’m ever fighting you, man. You could look at me funny and I’d combust.”

Esau shook his head, as if his powers weren’t all that. But Kane wouldn’t change his mind — sure, knives were fun and all, but what was that against a man who could set you aflame with a thought?

“True, my power is pretty great, I’ll admit,” Esau said with beatific humility. “You make a good point. If you swing that tiny thing” he nodded towards the kindjal laying atop a nearby barrel “against the likes of a kraken again, you’re going to get swallowed whole.”

Kane held back a chuckle at the unintentional innuendo, and Esau realized his mistake, biting his lip and brushing it off. “That’s why Lucian has to teach me magic,” Kane said. “That way, he can focus on his fancy rapier bullshit, and I can melt a sea beast with a word. It sounds completely fair to me.”

“Couldn’t agree more, bud,” Esau said. “Couldn’t agree more.”

A silence persisted for a moment — a calm, relaxed one, which Kane hadn’t truly felt since he’d arrived on this infernal ship. Lucian analyzed, Esau worked, and Kane relaxed, the sun warming his hair, his muscles sweetly sore, the sweat on his forehead already having cooled.

In this silence, Kane’s mind shifted away from the knifefighting practice to another matter than had been on his mind for a short while.

“Hey, Esau.” He looked up to the man. “What are Shades?”

Esau scrunched his lips to the side in that way he did whenever he was thinking, and then he put on a look of pity. “You really don’t remember what sunglasses are?”

“No, not that. I… I was checking out one of Lucian’s books and it mentioned something about them. You know, creatures that look like they’re made of static. Can reach you telepathically.”

“Sounds scary.” Esau shuffled to the side to get access to Kane’s back. Kane took the opportunity to run his palm along his newly healed arm, the skin pale and smooth and good as new. “I didn’t know Lucian’s books had anything about Hell itself. Most of them are from, what, the 1600s? Spanish and a tiny bit of English. And the rest are in gibberish, right?” He grinned. “Bilingüe, are we?”

Kane’s stomach dropped as he realized his lie had some holes to it. “So you’ve read them?”

“I’ve peeked at a few.” The man paused his healing for a second, shaking out his hands. “Could you show me the book you’re talking about later? If it’s really a handbook on the creatures of Hell, it could be really useful to know what we’re up against here — anything helps.”

Kane didn’t appreciate the sudden coldness that had resulted in Esau’s little break. And the sincerity in his tone caught him off guard. The result was no small amount of discomfiture. “I couldn’t pick it out from the others if I tried. Doesn’t matter. What I’m asking is if you knew anything about them — the Shades.”

Esau paused, giving Kane a strange look, and Kane cussed internally. Unfortunately, lying convincingly didn’t seem to be a possible power of his.

“I don’t. Doubt I’ve seen them, either. But can you tell me more about them? We should ask Lucian later.” Esau resumed his healing, and Kane breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t like he could be punished for having a strange dream, but for all he knew, getting contacted by Freddy the Shade might just mean the crew might have to sacrifice Kane lest the ship go down or something. It was better to play it safe and secretive for now.

“I suppose I can.” Kane took some time to reflect, squinting up at the thin, stalactite-like clouds that were haloed by bright sun. “From what I remember, they’re sort of like demons. Can contact you in your dreams. They even seem to have a sense of humor. Not that they’re actually funny.”

Esau grinned. He seemed to be genuinely interested in this. “Are they malevolent? Do they try to eat your brain? Make you make a deal with them?”

“The last one, I think. But as far as I know, they can’t really hurt you. I assume they’re in another plane of existence down here or something.” The funny part was Kane could truly be making this all up as a figment of his imagination and he wouldn’t know it himself — but Esau seemed to believe him regardless.

Part of that made Kane feel a bit guilty, even though he shouldn’t have. Maybe they were both equally unstable.

“Interesting. Perhaps that’s why Tal is asleep all the time — he’s in contact with them, literally making a deal with the devil.”

Esau had said it in a jocular sort of way, but the thought still unnerved Kane. He resolved to ask Tal about it later; perhaps his sleep did have something to do with it, meaning he would know something about all this.

“You read about any other creatures? Or did you only read one entry and decide it was too much for you?” Esau shoved Kane teasingly, and Kane nearly fell off of his seat.

“It was in Old English. So yes, it was too much for me.” Kane quickly changed the topic. “But I remember you saying at breakfast that you were considering preparing grilled torrafin for dinner today. What even is that?”

Now Esau smiled wide, and when he began to speak, it was with all the eagerness of a chef who loved his craft. “Right. So imagine three sharks side-by-side and pressed together. Three times as wide, six eyes, and a mouth stretched all the way along the front to boot. Now, that’s what we’re looking at to begin with. Furthermore…”