Hidden Island Chapter 40, part 1 of 4

Hidden Island
Chapter 40, part 1 of 4

Jack followed the big man with the blue scar to the bar, feeling like her whole world had just been thrown unexpectedly off-kilter. Things seemed wrong, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly how or why. The big Nivali man gave the bartender a quick hand motion and waited.

"How's your head, Hatchet?" the bartender deadpanned as he towled out a dented mug with a dirty rag.

The big man snorted and rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Good. I'm not sure how much more damage your busted face can take before it falls apart," the bartender said with a smirk. "Why do you still let Candy push you around like that?"

"Let nothing'," Hatchet scowled. "I was tryin' to step aside, and she caught me on my heels."

"Don't feed me shit and call it caviar," the bartender said, pointing to the broken fence on the roped-off side of the double staircase. "She catches you on your back foot then too?"

"Piss off, Ben," Hatchet growled. "That little cunt's inhuman strong. It isn't natural, and I know better than to fuck around with whatever witchcraft she's into. Besides, Miss Shae still wants her and her sister on the payroll. I know better than to fuck with that, too. Better to play nice."

The bartender made a show of considering Hatchet's point of view, but the insulting smirk never entirely left his face. "Yeah, fair enough. The boys are still going to give you shit. After watching you get tossed by a mouthy slag, someone might get wild hair and decide they want your spot."

"Let 'em," Hatchet said. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"So, Shae still wants to complete the set?'' Ben, the Bartender, asked with a smarmy leer toward the stairs.

"Can't say I blame her. Those sisters have nasty mouths, but everything else is on the top shelf. Even the chubby cripple's got great tits."

Hatchet shook his head in warning. "I'm telling' you, Ben. Do not fuck with them. Don't even talk wrong about them. Redheads are bad juju."

"What the shit's a juju?" Ben asked with a dismissive laugh.

Hatchet scratched his scar, trying to figure out how to translate the word. "Luck. Sort of. Bigger though. Spiritual debt. Judgement of the Loa. The last thing in the fucking world wants to get on the wrong side of."

Ben raised an eyebrow in amused confusion. "Sounds like fairy stories. What the fuck's that have to do with redheads?"

"They got magic in 'em," Hatchet said like it was apparent. "That's what red hair means."

Ben shook his head and snorted. "Hatch, someday I want to take you to the Casterly Isles and watch you shit yourself bloody."

"What?" Hatchet asked, thoroughly confused.

"Can't throw a rock without hitting a redhead there," Ben smirked.

"I'll pass," Hatchet said gravely.

"Come to think of it, the Casterlys do have more than their fair share of weird shit," Ben admitted.

"See?" Hatchet said the implications were obvious.

Ben rubbed his temples with one meaty hand. "Whatever. I'll try not to piss off the magic redheads. Anyway, what does the boss lady want?"

Hatch tossed a thumb toward Jack. "A boat. Who's here?"

"I think the Scavs are still outside at their usual table," the bartender said.

Hatchet gave the bartender a nod of thanks and walked to the door without a word to Jack. Outside, he crossed to the same group of drunks that Jack and Will had encountered when they arrived. Jack's nerves tightened.

Now that she understood more about the nature of Will's curse, she no longer believed in coincidences where he was concerned. She looked towards where Will was inside, still seated on the balcony with Shae, wishing she could glare at him through the wall. There was a feeling building. Something was different already. She couldn't figure out what it was. Even something as innocuous as having to deal with the same group of drunks again had her on edge.

"Shae needs a skiff," Hatchet said without preamble. It's for a single passenger at the usual rate. Who wants it?"

The men at the table looked up from their card game. Eyes passed between Hatchet and Jack and finally settled on the drunk that Jack had drawn her gun on earlier. Jack tilted her head down so her hat hid her pained expression.

After a long, tense moment, the drunk snorted. "Aye, sure."

The others at the table laughed.

"Are you going to keep your hands to yourself this time?" Jack asked, forcing herself to stay collected and deal with the situation as usual.

The drunk shrugged. "Gonna need 'em for rowing."

Hatchet looked back and forth between them, then grunted. "You two met? Good." Without another word, he returned inside, leaving Jack and her new oarsman looking at each other awkwardly.

"Where you headed?" the drunk oarsman asked.

"Around the curve of the island, north," Jack said. "There's an inlet. Leads to a lagoon where my ship is beached."

"Aye, I know the place," the oarsman nodded. "I am not going' out on ocean water drunk, though. I'm going to get some supper and sober up. Meet me at Cat Dock in three hours."

"Which one is Cat Dock?" Jack asked.

"Towards the back of the cove. The one with the cat head," the drunk said, gesturing toward the lift. "Just look down; you can't miss it."

Jack looked at the fading skyline. "Three hours? Won't it be dark by then?"

The oarsman shook his head. "We'll have enough time. Just don't be late."

Jack didn't like anything about this, but she nodded. "You have a name?"

The drunk stood up and offered a meaty hand. "Barney."

"Jack," she said.

They shook hands, each assessing the other a bit differently than earlier. Barney scraped his meager winnings
into his hand, put a couple of coins on the table to buy another round for his friends, and turned his cards face down. "Evening', gents."

Jack stopped atop the small, out-of-place bridge in front of the tavern and looked around. She had hours to kill and wasn't sure of where to go next.

Normally, she'd spend it in a bar but didn't want to return there. In the distance, she saw the redhead from earlier waiting for a lift. It occurred to her that the feisty woman might have helpful information about Shea.

Knowing more about her might prove fruitful. Without much of a plan, she started walking again. She'd just reached the waiting platform when she heard Barney call out behind her.

"Candy!" the drunken oarsman barked.

The redhead turned around and glanced at Jack momentarily before shouting back. "Feck off, Barnacle!"

From the bridge, Barney held up a coin, turning it back and forth so the glint of gold caught the light. Candy looked pained but waved the drunk over.

Candy took a swig off the bottle in her hand while she waited. Even from a few paces away, Jack could smell the alcohol on her breath. Whatever was in that bottle was strong. "What ye want?" she snapped at Barney as soon as he was closer.

"My boat's starting to take on water. Need a patch," Barney explained.

"Talk tae yer boss," Candy said with a snort. "She's got a whole team o' shipwrights an' carpenters for that shite."

"Yeah, but she adds repair costs to my debt, which makes me wait in line. I'll be springing full-blown leaks before my turn, making everything more expensive," Barney said. "Yeah, you charge more upfront, but with waiting and the interest on my debt, I think Shae's carpenters cost more. So, your work lasts longer, and I only have to pay you once."

"This whole time, I was thinking' ye were a stupid arsehole, Barnicle," Candy said with half a smile. "I was wrong. Ye ain't stupid."

"Just an asshole," Barney said with a proud nod.

"Bring your scow round tomorrow night," Candy said. "Six crowns, I'll have her patched an' cured in time fer yer morning shift." She spat in her hand and extended it to Barney.

"Done. " He took the coin he'd lured her over with and spat it into it, and they shook.

Jack looked down at her hand in mild disgust and wiped it on her trousers.

Candy looked at the wet coin critically, polished it on her ample chest, and lifted it to her mouth to bite. She stopped when she noticed Barney leering as she rubbed the coin on her breast. To Jack's surprise, Candy didn't seem to mind the attention. She gave him a wry smile and shook her head in mock exasperation. "Save it for the whores, Barney boy," she said with a small laugh.

"I got enough to go around," the oarsman grinned.

She rolled her eyes and pocketed the coin. "See ye t'morrow, Barn."

"Your boat is leaking?" Jack asked Barney pointedly before he started to walk away.

"Seeping. It's no problem yet. For a short trip like you're taking, your feet might not even get wet," Barney said.

"Just want to deal with it before it gets worse."

"Sensible," Jack said.

Barney gave her a nod and walked away. The four lift ropes started to rise into view, and Jack moved next to Candy to wait. "You were impressive in the bar earlier," Jack said, trying to get the redhead's attention.

"Fuck off," Candy said.

"Apologies, I didn't mean anything by it," Jack said. "I just wanted to ask you about Shea."

Candy gave her a stern look. Jack was a full head taller, armed, and accustomed to danger, but something about that glare gave her a rare case of caution.

Candy looked her up and down, then spat on the ground. "I Dinna know ye. If it ain't about coin changing' hands, I Dinna give a feck what ye want the ask."

"No offense meant," Jack said, surprised at the hostility she was getting.

"Get yer own lift," Candy said. Without bothering to wait for the platform to swing towards them and settle to the ground, Candy walked to the edge, grabbed one of the lift ropes, and hopped onto the slowly raising platform. It swung wildly as Candy landed hard in the middle, but she rolled her hips like a sailor in a storm and used her weight to counter its motion and settle it beneath her.

"Dammit, Candy!" the lift operator barked. Candy lifted her bottle to her lips and raised her middle finger mid-swig. The lift operator swore under her breath and raised one of her flags. The lift kept rising, not slowing down as it passed the waiting platform where Jack and a few other passersby stood.

The people around her grumbled, and a few tossed rude gestures toward Candy, which were returned in kind, but for the most part, nobody seemed surprised. Jack walked to the edge of the waiting platform and looked down at the tangle of ropes and bridges suspended over the glittering bay, feeling like she was in some dream.

Far down below, she saw what Barney had been talking about. Around the basin of the cove, where the stone curved down into the water, the rocks were carved with giant animal faces. She could faintly make out splashes of color on them. Flecks of old paint, maybe. The main docks loosely lined up with them, but not in a way that made her think it was deliberate. Not every face had a dock, and the docks weren't lined up neatly. The ancient art seemed entirely out of place compared to the shanty towns around it. It was clear nobody here cared about it. Some tacked-together flotsam was used for storage, and shop fronts were built over the intricate carvings.

Heavy bolts that anchored chains and ropes had been driven right into them. Just looking at it made her furious.

These relics of the past deserved better.

She'd seen places where people had built new civilizations on top of old ones before, but none had been so disrespectful about it. This place seemed like a carnival mirror. Everything was warped. It reminded her of fairy tales about people who accidentally fell through portals to the First World and had to make sense of the fae inhabitants who did everything according to strange customs and rules.

Like someone from those stories, she was alone and had no idea what to do. She had no desire to return to the Red Door and watch Will flirt with Shae. She didn't feel inclined to wander and take in the local color. She'd seen more than enough already. She scanned her surroundings and looked back to the ridge on the far side of the cove, where she, Will, and Quinn had spoken earlier. That had been the only good part of the day. She wanted to escape this spider's web for a while, so the only place to go was up. Without much of a plan, she got back in line for the lift.

As Tonya stood there sputtering and dripping, Janie couldn't help but laugh. She retreated to the wall as her friend launched at Caine like a feral sprite.

"What the fuck was that for?" Tonya howled, ineffectively swinging her tiny fists.

Caine sidestepped and gently swatted Tonya's hands away. She followed and kept swinging. He laughed as he danced and parried. Janie retreated further along the wall as Caine got closer to her. It was suddenly a game of tag, where Janie tried to stay away from Caine while he backed away from Tonya.

Janie watched Caine's member flop and swing as he dodged Tonya's flailing hands. Instantly mortified, her cheeks grew red again. She clamped her hand down over her mouth and stared at the floor. She was suddenly very aware of how uncomfortably warm the room was despite all the heavy moisture in the air.

Without looking at her, Caine adjusted his path so he moved past her instead of bumping into her. As she tried to make herself smaller against the wall, she remembered what Caine had been doing earlier and decided to try again. She looked up, watching them but forcing herself not to look inappropriately. She was aware of what was in her field of vision, but she was surprised at how easy it was to... pretend that it wasn't.

Tonya continued to chase Caine around the small, wet room, but she quickly tired. Finally, she stopped and rubbed her right shoulder before letting her arms hang limply. "Ow. You're lucky my arms still hurt."

"You should have seen the look on your face," Caine said with the broadest grin Janie had ever seen on him.

The whole exchange seemed out of character for him, but whatever his reasons for the playful display, it took years off him.

"I'm going to get you back for that," Tonya said with a glare.

"Going to kill me again?" Caine said with a chuckle.

"No. Too quick," Tonya snapped. "Besides, you'd just come back."

"True," Caine said with a shrug. "Better to torture me."

"My arms hurt," Tonya pouted at him. "You're a jerk."

"You deserved it," Caine countered, utterly unmoved by her attempt to guilt him.

"How?" Tonya demanded. "I've been helping!"

"You've been a brat all day," Caine said.

"I have not!" Tonya said, clearly offended.

Caine raised an eyebrow at her.

Tonya spun on her heel. "Janie, was I a brat?"

Janie's face turned scarlet again. "Leave me out of this," she said from behind her hand. The room was still far too warm.

"Just tell me!" Tonya demanded.

Janie winced and gave her friend a tiny nod.


To be continued