By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel(28)

“Quinn!” This time his eyes opened to slits and his delectable mouth turned down in a frown.

“What?” he mumbled, his eyes sliding closed again.

“No, you don’t. Quinn, wake up.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “A man can’t even get a good night’s sleep.”

“The sun’s coming up and we can’t count on having a cool day again. We need to make tracks now.”

“You’re really bossy in the morning, you know that?” He ran a hand through his hair and blinked owlishly.

Damn, he was adorable.

“You’re only just now figuring this out?”

The corners of his lips turned up. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Handing him the last handful of storm nuts and a nutvale apple tart, I tried not to look at him. He kept yawning and could barely keep his eyes open. I’d never seen someone so cute in the morning. Not that I made it a habit to wake up with others. My mom—and most dragons really—weren’t known for their bubbly morning demeanors, but then again, that was pretty much a given at any time of the day.

After we finished our meager meal, I exited our makeshift shelter and took it apart, rolled up the rug, and waited for Quinn. It wasn’t pitch dark, but the sun hadn’t risen yet and the desert landscape looked freaking eerie.

The spectral galleon gliding across the dunes as if it skimmed across water might have contributed to that impression.

Holy handmaidens of hellafuck. It is real.

Three huge masts held large sails billowing like they’d caught a strong draft. Except no wind blew. At all. Still, the galleon didn’t seem to know it and ploughed through the sand, coming our way fast.

“Storm and thunder! What is that thing?” Quinn’s voice carried across the sand.

“Not sure. Since it’s see-through I’m going to guess ghost.” I didn’t have any experience with ghosts. My understanding was some were harmless, and others not so much. “Guess we found your pirate ship.”

“Do you think they’re friendly?” Quinn gulped.

“I don’t suppose you have any Ghost-Be-Gone powder in that bag of yours? Just in case.”

He shook his head, took a step closer. To give him credit, he stiffened his spine and looked ready to brawl if need be.

The galleon sliced through the dunes, the whiteness of the sand making it appear as if the ship was cresting whitecaps. Quite impressive. However, scrawled across the bow were the words ‘The Dishonorable Princess.’ Guess humans suffered from the same problem naming things that magical creatures did.

As it drew near, the sails suddenly went slack and an anchor dropped. The galleon ground to a halt. Four large cannons swiveled until they were pointed directly at us. So, not friendly then. Great.

We stood, not knowing what to do. Where was the crew? How would I fight something I couldn’t see?

“Sail ho! Avast ye scaliwags,” a scratchy voice boomed from somewhere in the ship. “Fools! What be ye doing in these here parts?”

Quinn and I exchanged glances. I shrugged. Honesty was probably the best policy.

“Our flying carpet broke down, so we were forced to walk,” I called back. “We’re just passing through. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

I squinted trying to get a look at the crew, but from what I could see the deck was empty. Ghosts tended to haunt the Hominus Realm, and were only rarely seen in the Elder. Could they actually hurt us? I really couldn’t say.

“Whar be ye going?” the voice said.

“Rottingvale Quagmire.”

A long silence ensued. Quinn tensed and I tried to remember everything I’d ever heard about ghosts.

“Hey, you still there? I mean, ye still be thar?” I called when no further communication was forthcoming.

Quinn elbowed me in the side.

“What?” I mouthed. I could speak pirate with the best of them. Sort of.

Quinn didn’t roll his eyes, but I could tell it was a close thing.

“Now, why be ye doing something so addled?” the voice finally answered.

“We need to speak to Sahara Burningwood. She has something belonging to someone else and we plan to get it back.”

Another long pause. Speaking from the side of my mouth, I said, “Anything useful you know about ghosts, Quinn? I’m all ears.”

Before he could answer, the voice carried to us again.

“Well blow me down, an addlepate and his life be soon parted.” A weird clicking noise followed the pirate’s pronouncement.

“Maybe. Either way, we’ll just be on our way.” I signaled to Quinn to start walking. He nodded and gathered up the carpet, while I collected the rest of our things. No way to outrun the ship, but I didn’t even know if it could harm us. I didn’t really want to find out.

We walked backward at first, but the galleon just sat there. We moved away slowly as if it would pounce if we retreated too quickly. But nothing happened. No voice. Nothing. We clambered up another dune and crossed to the other side. As soon as the ship slipped from sight we took off running like our boots were on fire.

Quinn didn’t have my speed, but he was still surprisingly quick. We stumbled down the dune and ran until he couldn’t continue. Gasping, we slowed to a walk.

“Do you think we’ve lost them?” he asked.