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Stede’s only recollection of ever seeing Buttons angry was the time that Karl had died. Frustrated, certainly. Sad—well, Buttons always had a sort of dour, gloomy air about him. But angry?
Stede put on his very best impression of a proper, authoritative piratical captain, brightly cheerful and yet brooking no shit from even the most experienced of sailors, and tapped the man on the shoulder. Buttons whirled around. Well, at least he wasn’t naked this time.
He was, however, surrounded by most of the crew, who looked pinched and pale in the dim light of the foggy day.
…He hoped it was merely the light.
“Hullo, what’s this? A bit of weather got you all down? C’mon, men, we’re pirates, aren’t we?”
“This fool,” said Buttons, and the Swede made a soft noise, “has made a mistake that endangers this entire ship. Cap’n, I cannae stress enough the peril we are in.”
“Surely not,” said Stede, and Buttons’s chest swelled with a deep breath, his eyes glittering with fury, and Stede realized he’d grievously erred. “Not that I’m doubting you, of course—”
“I am well aware that ye do not understand the underlying workings of the forces which hold this world together,” said Buttons. “I respect that, even, I hold my knowledge in sacred secrecy, and tell ye what is necessary only, so as not to bother the rest of the crew with the why’s and the how’s.”
“And, er, we’re very grateful—”
“Look, man,” said Roach, “it can’t be that bad, right? Quit picking on him. He didn’t know.”
“Swede,” said Stede, “may I have your version of events?”
The Swede looked to Buttons. Buttons threw up his hands.
“Your captain has given an order, has he not?”
“I…” said the Swede, “…might have picked up something from the shore?”
“Might have,” said Buttons, with a scathing sort of sarcasm that Stede had never heard him use before.
“It was so pretty,” said the Swede, desperately. “And it shouldn’t even matter, because I lost it. Well. I put it somewhere special so I wouldn’t lose it. But now I don’t remember where it was.”
Ivan covered his face with his hands, groaning.
“Aye, so lost it ye did,” said Buttons, “cap’n, we come to the worst of it now. For the idiot has gone and lost that which the sirens pursuing us are after, and they will sink this vessel without a second thought to search the wreckage when our bodies are at the bottom of the ocean, and then count it a boon that they can make a supper of us as well.”
“Oh, well, that’s not that difficult,” said Stede. “I mean, there’s a limited amount of space on board—hang on, did you say sirens?”
“Aye.”
“That’s—surely, that’s not real.”
“Oh, no,” said Ed. “Yeah, they’re real. This is a siren fog, all right.”
“Well, what was it doing on the shore if it was so important to them?” said Stede. “How does that make sense?”
“Can’t retrieve their jewelry when it’s on shore,” said Ed. “Have to rely on sailors to pick it up and bring it back on a vessel.”
Buttons raised his eyebrows.
“Been around, mate,” said Ed. “Not my first time in a siren fog. Let’s hope this one ends better, yeah? Last time I found myself clinging to driftwood from the wrecked vessel for hours—lucky enough that a passing ship saw me. Had only the rings on my fingers to my name. Sold ‘em to gain passage and won ‘em back for bravery in battle, of course.”
He waggled his fingers at them, displaying the glittering rings in question.
“Wow,” said Pete.
“That’s so cool,” said Frenchie.
“All right, we got a dwindling fuse on our hands, folks,” said Ed. “Swede, can you remember anything about what it looked like?”
The Swede had begun trembling, and he shook his head.
“I think it was blue? On a gold chain?”
“And you lost it, er, sometime between now and when we were last on shore two weeks ago.”
The Swede nodded.
“Well,” said Ed, “good news is, we can narrow it to this vessel, or else they wouldn’t be pursuing us! What the fuck are you all doing still standing here?”
He clapped his hands together.
“Search!”
“This is fucking insane,” said Jim, as they shook out the fifth burlap sack in the galley. They’d gone through the floors under the tables, and Roach kept a tidy and clean cooking space, which meant that it had been short work to rule out any of those frequented places for missing siren necklaces. Unfortunately, that left them with going through all of the food in the galley.
“I mean,” said Oluwande. “Blackbeard sounded pretty sure.”
“Mermaids aren’t real,” said Jim. “I thought they were just… something you all made up when you were trying to get me off the ship.”
“You thought we—” Oluwande stared at them. There were two ways that the sentence could go, and he shortly realized he wasn’t sure which one he was going with. He went with the safer one. “You thought we made up mermaids? Like you thought we had literally, on the spot, made up the concept of a half-person half-fish creature to explain you?”
Jim gave an embarrassed shrug.
“I’m not a fucking sailor, am I? I was a fucking revenge weapon raised by nuns?”
“Okay,” said Oluwande, “well, we didn’t make up mermaids.”
“I get that now!”
“And you… you thought we were trying to get rid of you?”
This time, Jim tilted the brim of their hat down, where Oluwande couldn’t see their face.
“I mean, you weren’t happy,” said Jim, “you all got so fucking weird about it. And I lied to you. Which is like, what the fuck does it even matter, but it mattered to you guys.”
“Wow,” said Oluwande. “I kind of… didn’t know you cared.”
“I don’t,” said Jim miserably. An apple rolled across the floor, and Oluwande picked it up, and replaced it. “I didn’t.”
“Okay, well,” said Oluwande, “we weren’t. You know we all think you’re really fucking cool.”
“I get that now! I don’t—I didn’t mean to bring this up. Shit. This conversation is over and the fucking sacks are empty.”
“Okay,” said Oluwande, and as they slipped past him, he caught their arm. If they had wanted to shake him off, they would have, but instead, they allowed themselves to be held in place, as he pressed a kiss to their cheek. “And you’re our friend, Jim. We like you. They didn’t know what to make of you because you—you weren’t what we expected. Ask any of the others.”
Jim’s return kiss, against Oluwande’s cheek, was cool and brief, their lips dry—like being kissed by the wind.
“I know,” said Jim, “but thank you.”
The Swede brought his index fingers and thumbs together in a circle, then contracted the circle by overlapping them until it was the size of a dollar coin.
He had been doing this, and staring at it, for several minutes. Roach, Frenchie, and Wee John were reaching the limits of their patience, and Roach had half a mind to call Buttons back over to strangle the man as he’d been clearly wanting to earlier. Not for a surgeon to get crew blood on his hands—except in the course of his normal duties. But Roach was beginning to find it difficult to keep the patience he’d had earlier.
“What if it like, fell between the deck boards?” said Frenchie.
“Was it too big to do that?” said Wee John.
The Swede expanded the circle again until the circle was as large as it could be with the size of his hands.
“Okay, well, it is not that size,” said Frenchie, “because we would’ve seen something the size of a teacup saucer rolling around on the deck, Swede. Not saying you’re not trying, mate, but I just think—there has to be something you remember about this, right?”
“Literally anything,” said Wee John.
“Can you compare it to the size of, oh, I don’t know, the rim of a mug?” said Roach. It would have been easier, he thought, if the Swede remembered anything at all about the necklace. Any single thing. Even the setting of the stone might have been helpful.
The Swede made a soft confused noise.
“We’re all going to die,” said Wee John. “Fucking hell.”
“It was this size,” said the Swede, once the circle was small enough that the index fingers of his hands had reached his thumbs. He held up a hand to them to demonstrate. Smaller than a dollar coin.
All four of them looked at the decks, and Roach’s heart sank as he realized that this told them absolutely nothing. From the despairing looks on Frenchie’s and Wee John’s faces—the Swede’s look of confusion had not changed for the past few hours—he guessed they might feel the same.
“How… thick was it?” said Roach.
The Swede held up his hands half a foot apart, and then drew them closer together, squinting, stopping when his hands were barely touching.
“Oh, my fucking god,” said Wee John.
“This is crazy,” said Lucius. “I cannot believe we are going to die for this. Do you think we can maybe steal one of the dinghies?”
“Sweetie,” said Pete. “That’s really not fair. We can’t just like, run away.”
“You are way too nice,” said Lucius. “I’m just saying. You would let me die? Because the Swede is—no offense—kind of a dumbass?”
“Blackbeard is still here,” said Pete. “So we can’t go.”
He was shaking out pieces of spare sailcloth, and handing them to Lucius, who was folding them neatly. So far, they had found absolutely nothing except for an enormous spider, which was currently a grimy and shining-wet little stain on the floor next to Pete’s bare feet. Lucius was quite sure he had never been so loved as in the moment when Pete, equally terrified, had squashed it as Lucius had screamed and cowered. His hero.
It would be such a fucking shame, Lucius decided, if he had found true love and lost it this way.
“Look, no one would even notice, in all the commotion,” said Lucius. “And if they survive it, they won’t blame us!”
“I mean, Blackbeard survived last time,” said Pete. “Who’s to say he wouldn’t do it again, and come after us? No thank you. I don’t want Blackbeard hunting me down for revenge.”
“That is a way high estimation of how much Blackbeard would care,” said Lucius, but he settled back, as Pete rolled his eyes, and handed him another few yards of cloth to fold up, and tried to think of another line of attack.
Fang and Ivan worked in silence, checking the various storerooms. They’d also been the only ones allowed to search Izzy’s quarters, which had been bare and sad as ever. Ivan almost felt sorry for the guy.
“You ever heard sirens sing before?” said Fang. Ivan shook his head.
“Fucking freaky,” said Ivan. “Of course we’d run into sirens on this fucking ship.”
“Never a dull moment,” agreed Fang.
Ivan thought that, perhaps, he might have occasionally wanted a dull moment. Oh, well. You didn’t sail with Blackbeard because you wanted stable employment.
“Are ye sure?” said Buttons. “They move quickly, if so.”
I am sure. Trust me.
“I trust ye,” said Buttons. Livvy stared at him steadily, beady black eyes shining. “But ach, don’t cry for me, Livvy. Ye’ve done more than enough. Now, away with ye, before this mess makes orphans of your wee ones.”
I will not leave you.
“This isn’t what Karl would want,” said Buttons desperately. She made no move to stretch her wings or lift off the railing. She had landed, and he saw she had no intention of leaving again.
Tell the crew, quickly, Nathaniel.
“You’re right,” said Buttons, standing. “Crew of the Revenge! The siren song will begin soon—you must find material to cover your ears, and quickly! Or your fellow crew members will be fishing ye out of the sea as we search the ship for the necklace, and we have not the hands to spare for that task!”
He paused for a minute.
“No shame in being tied to the mast, if it be necessary for ye?”
“It’s a fucking fool’s task to search these quarters,” said Izzy, loudly enough that Bonnet would hear him over the cooling candle wax they’d molded to fit over the openings of their ears. “The Swede wasn’t down here.”
“Oh, the crew visits,” said Bonnet. “And with Lucius and Pete searching the hold, and Oluwande and Jim in the galley, and the rest of the crew on the deck, I would be remiss in not doing my part.”
“You would do better to search your own fucking pockets,” said Izzy. “What, do you think it ended up in one of your jewelry boxes?”
“I think,” said Stede, “that if any of the crew found jewelry that did not belong to them, they might perhaps assume it belonged here, to myself or to Edward.”
Izzy snorted.
“You trust your men a great fucking deal, for a man who ran off and filled a ship with thieves to rob the rest of the high seas.”
“That’s it exactly,” said Bonnet, too loudly and sharply to be a mere attempt to be heard over their ear coverings. “I trust them, because we are robbing other people, not each other.”
“Edward,” said Izzy, desperately.
“No, yeah, this crew would—I mean, honestly, Stede, I don’t think they’d just put it here, I think they’d probably have held it up and passed it around,” said Edward, but he was digging around in the sofa cushions. “More likely the Swede would’ve just have dropped it while he was napping in here, or something.”
“This is so fucking ridiculous,” said Izzy. “We’re all going to die. We should be putting our effort into getting as far away from here as fucking possible.”
“With what wind, mate?” said Edward.
Izzy scowled, and crossed his arms.
“Iz, get to searching,” said Edward, waving a hand.
It was as clear a dismissal as anything, as direct an order as Izzy had ever been given, and yet his feet did not move.
“I can’t,” said Izzy, despairingly.
“Oh?” said Edward.
“How—” said Izzy, his voice going hoarse into a whisper. “How are you two doing it? How are you staying below decks? How are you looking around right now? Isn’t it—doesn’t it fucking hurt, to stay below, when they’re… they’re promising what they are?”
“Easy,” said Stede, “Ed is here. The song is telling me that if I go out into the water, I’ll be with him, but of course, that’s quite easy to ignore when I have him right here, isn’t it?”
Ed leveled a look at Izzy, tilting his head like a bird.
Izzy’s head spun, Edward’s voice ringing in his ears, as the knowledge that if he just leapt over the side—
You’ll sail with me, said Edward in his mind, in his mind, Izzy reminded himself frantically, but it was fucking torture because it was words that Izzy had heard before, this time spoken low and invitingly. You’ll be my first mate, you’ll be loyal to your captain, forever. You’ll be with me, Izzy.
And over it, in the world around him, the real Edward was looking at him curiously, his normal, inquisitive and too-knowing voice overlaying the soft purr in Izzy’s mind.
“What are you hearing, Iz?”
Edward’s head was spinning.
How the fuck was anyone supposed to figure out this mystery? It was on the vessel, somewhere. There was an answer, and it was very nearly physically painful that he couldn’t figure it out.
There would be steps to retrace, if only he knew how the Swede moved during the course of his daily duties. No, that wasn’t right. If he’d had time to observe. If he’d been paying attention. But then, it had been Stede’s crew, not his own, and Edward had enjoyed the brief reprieve from captaincy and… well, the reprieve from bothering to care about this shit. Izzy hadn’t enjoyed it, but well, that was his problem, not Edward’s. Stede was supposed to know his men. Stede prided himself on it. Which meant that Ed might have been mad at him, except.
Except.
Ed’s annoyance melted, as he looked at the two of them. Izzy, standing firm in the captain’s cabin, though terror crept over his face. He hadn’t answered the question, it was fine. Stede, perusing his things as though he were searching idly for the best pocket watch to match his coat.
In truth it reassured Ed to see them both there. It meant that the song that was echoing in their ears had not ensnared them. It meant that the song echoing in his own ears was a lie, promising him that the three of them could stay together, if only Edward would leap over the railing and into the sea. As Stede had put it, he had what he wanted here.
He’d been knocked out, last time, and the crew didn’t need to know that. There had been no heroics. There had just been Edward Teach, midshipman pressed into service, desperate for a way out, and knocked out when the ship had begun to rock. He’d been picked up on a miserable merchant ship where he’d worked until Hornigold had robbed it and he’d jumped sides. He’d not forgotten the song, that had promised him wealth and glory, the name Edward Teach spoken in fear across the seven seas—that a name would be given to him, spoken like a curse to sailors who crossed his path.
Well. He’d gotten what he wanted last time. It might be too much to hope for a second time, but it was better than a false promise luring him to drown and then being eaten, so. Edward would take his chances on deck.
“Captains,” said Buttons, knocking on the door before opening it. “We need the crew on deck. Some of us may need to be tied to the masts. The song grows stronger, and the seas grow stranger.”
“Got it,” said Stede.
“Everyone on deck!” shouted Edward, down the hallway. “Get up here.”
The crew gathered up on the top of the deck, looking around at each other. Some of them—Frenchie, the Swede—were twitchier than others, and Wee John kept a firm grip on Frenchie’s hand, as Roach held the Swede’s shoulder, as the Swede wept into his hands, and sank to his knees, his clothes pooling around him, making him small and thin, the openings of the pockets of his pants hanging open.
“I’m sure I put it somewhere special,” wailed the Swede, and the singing around them grew louder. The sea churned around them. “I know I did!”
“Where the fuck do you think you would put something special?!” howled Oluwande, over the chorus, and it was then that it clicked for Edward, seeing the Swede in despair on the deck. Fang and Ivan formed a protective wall against the elements, clutching each other and as many crew members as they could in their arms.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” shouted Edward, diving for the Swede.
“What the hell?!” said Roach, “Captain—please, don’t hurt him!”
“Swede, your fucking pockets!” said Edward, desperately, reaching inside them, and finding metal, warm to the touch from where it had been pressed against the Swede’s thigh, drawing out a long golden chain.
Wee John’s knuckles were white, as he tried to get Frenchie’s attention. Edward saw rather than heard the gasp that went up around the crew, muffled as sound was by the wax in his ears and the creaking and groaning of the ship around them as the sirens stirred the seas and the ship pitched and rolled beneath them, and the pendant on the end swung and caught the light.
“Oh, wow,” said the Swede. “You found it!”
“Toss it over the edge, cap’n!” shouted Buttons.
“Let me look at the fucking thing for a second!” said Edward. “I wanna see what we’re all risking our lives for!”
“Oh, Edward,” sighed Izzy, resignation settling into his voice. “If you must.”
“I suppose you earned a look,” said Stede, fondness evident in his voice, even as he clutched at Izzy to settle himself against the swaying of the ship. “You found it, after all. You should see your prize.”
He looked to the two of them, the awe settling over their faces. It was—frightening, in a way—but he’d done it, hadn’t he? He’d lived up to what they needed from him. Blackbeard to the rescue.
The necklace swung on its pendant, and in truth, Edward could see the appeal. Even in the dim light of the foggy day, there was a clarity to the sparkle of the pendant. It was beautiful, a clearer blue than he’d ever seen in his life, rich and warm and deep. It was carved in the effigy of a woman, with a strong aquiline nose that reminded him of Izzy, and a curl to her hair that reminded him of Stede. He smiled.
He’d really had it all along, hadn’t he? And he hurled it into the water.