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Chip dreaded meeting Reuben Price again. He’d fucked up, he knew that, but at the time, cursing a deadly glass eye to paralyze its user seemed more rational than handing over a powerful weapon to an unstable, psychopathic maniac. He’d made a pros and cons list, and the numbers checked out.
Still, anytime the crew mentioned All-Port, Chip shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to wipe the place from his mind, but it was the capital. It was inevitable—especially after Gillion pulverized Kuba Kinta—they would have to return, but the thought of facing Price was too overwhelming.
Curled in his bunk on the Albatross, Chip reflected on the last two times he’d met with Reuben. This next time, he wasn’t sure of a victorious outcome. They’d come after Roofus, come after his crewmates. Another confrontation was coming, even if all the wishing in the world could delay it. He exhaled shakily as the ship creaked softly around him.
Fuck it, Chip would make another deal with Niklaus if it meant Reuben Price would vanish off of the face of the earth.
He only half regretted not vocalizing that wish.
His life with Reuben hadn’t started poorly. Chip had missed Arlin so much—missed the Black Rose Pirates and their comradery—and was desperate to replicate that feeling of belonging. Reuben offered it. He’d felt protected and loved. But, like one of Earl’s oranges left forgotten behind the crates, it had rotted and died, nothing good left but disease in its once life-giving matter.
So Chip went scorched earth and burnt the fucker down. He was a coward—he knew that. It was preferable to the hero his crew seemed to believe he was. Chip still hadn’t told them the full truth, just the important bits. He wasn’t ashamed of his actions; he could handle himself and his responsibility, even when the danger closed like a noose around his neck.
Yet, that noose dragged in the people around him.
It was supposed to be a simple and discreet stop at All-Port, just checking in for any sign of Edyn and a few items from the Divine Barkinist. Chip’s paranoia had gotten the better of him, and he’d opted to leave Ollie under the watchful eye of Gryffon, Drey, and the less-than-watchful eye of Old Man Earl. Reuben had threatened the kid, and Chip would be damned if Ollie didn’t stay safe.
Gillion, learning from their last visit, threw a heavy cloak over his coral and armor, looking more like a walking carpet than a paladin. Chip, for his part, dusted off the ole reliable grandmother facade.
“You can be my lovely granddaughter,” Chip shook a magically aged fist at Jay, whose face twisted between amusement and mockery.
“Oh, no, Grandma Chibo. I couldn’t… possibly replace Ollie as the resident grandchild. He would kill me.”
“The disrespect of kids these days.” Chip turned to Gill, who nodded seriously.
“Grandma, I don’t know where Chip went, but I will help you across the street in his stead.” The paladin took Chip’s arm, his face dead-set and determined.
“Gill, I’m not actually a grand—” The triton ushered forcefully him forward as Jay’s poor attempts at restrained laughter followed them.
Instead of being a dutiful granddaughter, their co-captain tied her bright, flame-like hair behind a hood.
They stopped first at the bar. Edyn was gone, her locker just as empty as the last time they’d visited. Chip patted the shoulder of the down-trodden Gill, who looked resigned. He seemed more accepting of her disappearance; he hadn’t smashed any more magic items. Still, Jay and Chip tried their best to reassure the triton man.
The real trouble came when the trio headed towards the Divine Barkinist.
Chip was such a dumbass; he should’ve been more wary than to just walk in, yet the calm serenity of the day had lulled him into a false sense of security.
He now lay crushed against the bare wood flooring of the magic shop, his nose bleeding freely and pooling onto it. His head, held down by an enforcer, was turned so he could see Gillion, grappled by three of Price’s assassins. They’d pushed him down and, for good measure, crashed one of the heavy bookshelves down across his back. Chip could hear the sharp breathing of the triton from across the room, but he was more focused on the man inspecting Gill.
Reuben Price.
The tall, lanky man stood with a chilling confidence, gazing down at the snarling triton with an unreadable expression. He knelt, one outstretched hand carding through Gillion’s hair with unwarranted gentleness—as if he hadn’t just beaten the shit out of Chip.
With one deft movement of his hands, Reuben snapped a piece of coral off, rolling it between his fingers as he turned back to Chip.
His scarred eye stood out in his face, the scar tissue taught against his sharp features. His eye between the talon-like scar running down his face glittered with malice. The reptilian slit in the glass eye only added to Reuben’s snake-like appearance.
“You fucked me over, man. And then you tried to get away? I have eyes everywhere.” He tapped the glass eye, chuckling with that hyena laugh Chip detested.
“Yeah, well. I thought it would paralyze you for a little longer.” Chip grinned up at Reuben, though his heart raced.
Jay had gotten away. Jay wouldn’t just run, not like Chip would. The wiry redhead must be formulating some grand rescue plan, which was good because Chip’s thoughts were fuzzy with panic. He’d always been quick on his feet when it came to wordplay, but Reuben knew him too well.
Reuben gestured to the man holding Chip, who hauled up the young man like a kitten. Chip spat blood on the floor and watched Reuben’s dress shoes approach. His vision spun slightly, likely due to the blow he’d received right when entering the Divine Barkinist.
Looking up, Chip met Reuben’s gaze. Chip had once called this man his brother, but he couldn’t recognize love in the monster before him.
“Where are the shop owners?” Chip tried to make it sound airy and light, but Reuben’s eyes bored into his.
Reuben just wheezed a laugh again. “Dead. That bitch of a fox was hard to kill, for sure, but they were animals, and we slaughtered them like it.”
A vise wrapped around Chip’s heart, almost as tight as the grip around his neck. A warm image of Roofus flashed before his eyes, gentle and friendly and a reminder of home. Arlin, Captain Rose, now Roofus. And it was all Chip’s fault. He’d dragged them into this.
Reuben kneeled in front of him, clicking his tongue wistfully. “I did say I would leave you alone. And then you went and stabbed me in the back again. Tell me, Chip, where did all that bravado go?”
Chip glared up at him through his bangs. Up close, Reuben smelled like booze and expensive cologne, enough that the cloying smell choked Chip’s breaths. He couldn’t manage to get a full inhale, gasping shallowly.
A nightmare. A dream, something spurred on by the rakshasa’s claws. Except Chip hadn’t had those demonic dreams for weeks, and this was very much real.
“I told you I would take from you.” Reuben held the piece of Gillion’s coral up, turning it in the low light. “What, no witty comebacks? Where is that sense of humor now?”
Gillion heaved an indignant sound, and Reuben’s head snapped back towards the downed triton. “Chip has an excellent sense of humor!”
“Shut up, Gill,” Chip snarled, desperate to keep Price’s attention. Reuben, for his part, let out a surprised cackle.
“That’s funny! You have some funny crewmates.” He stood up in a flash, flashing a wide grin at Gillion as he paced forward, his braided hair swaying like a cobra’s deadly dance. Chip knew that smile—it spelled murder.
“But you’re not in this conversation, fish.” Reuben glanced at the assassin holding down Gill’s arm, the one not pinned by furniture. The killer gave a quick nod, then slammed his knife down into the flesh between armor plates. Gillion hissed a pained noise, and Chip could see blue blood when the assassin pulled the knife away.
“So, as our friend Chip said, shut up.” Reuben turned back to Chip, his face set into a cold, gleeful expression. The shadows washed his face, with only the slight glow of the glass eye showing. He stalked forward and stooped in front of Chip again, taking the younger man’s chin in his grip. Chip tried to wrench free, but the furious glare stopped him short.
“What was it you said? An eye for an eye?” Reuben raised a thin knife, one meant to slip between ribs rather than to butcher. The point traced Chip’s cheek, resting against the corner of his left eye. Chip abruptly found breathing impossible, ragged sounds only coming from his mouth instead of formed words.
Gillion was shouting something; Chip wished he would stay quiet. As bad as this was about to be, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if the paladin got hurt.
Reuben, however, was hot-headed as ever. Chip saw the fury flash in his eyes as Gill spat something that must have struck a chord. He slammed the knife down into Chip’s leg, and the brunet saw white.
“If you know what’s good for you,” Reuben hissed, turning those venomous eyes back on Gillion. His grip on Chip’s jaw tightened viciously. “You will keep that pretty mouth shut.”
The triton’s eyes glowed a faint white, small arcs of electricity building on his coral crown. “If you know what’s good for you,” he growled, the sound more animalistic than ever, “you won’t touch him. Because I’m Gillion fucking Tidestrider, and you better pray I don’t get up. I’ve fought monsters far worse than you, and you will be a fight I will not bother to remember.” He paused. “This is not the time for the other titles, but I should mention that I am an acclaimed singer-songwriter.”
Chip screwed his eyes tight. If there was a will and a way for Gill to perform some act of self-sacrifice, the triton would be damned if he didn’t partake.
“Oh yes. ‘The Hero of the Deep.’ Bested by a bookshelf. Now that is a fight I am willing to put gold on.” Reuben looked back at Chip, his eyes crinkled with laughter before he gestured to the small assemblage of his troops. “Kill the triton; me and my brother here are going to have a chat about repayment.”
Chip slammed forward, baring his teeth at Reuben, who only laughed. “There’s that bravado!” He withdrew the knife from Chip’s leg and leveled it again toward Chip’s face.
“Hold still. I promise you won’t feel a thing, ever again.”
A bullet exploded through the hand; the knife went flying as Reuben screeched in pain. Three more gunshots sounded, and then the awful creak of wood grinding against wood as Gillion Tidestride threw off the bookcase like it was nothing.
Four more of Price’s men fell as Jay Ferin vaulted over the side of the counter, her face flushed and eyes cold with fury. She leveled her pistol, her chest heaving .
Chip could only watch agape as Gill tore through the assassins around him, vicious and brutal. The man’s lessons with Caspian clearly did him some good; he sliced into a fleeing man before turning back to Reuben and Chip.
Jay raised her gun, but Reuben twisted to the side, his movement impossibly fast. The man holding Chip shuddered, his grip going slack, and Chip scrambled away, but not quick enough.
Reuben pulled him up, his mangled hand leaving streaks of blood across Chip as he wrangled the younger man into a tight headlock.
“It’s over.” Jay said between gritted teeth. Despite the fiery rage in her eyes, she held the pistol aloft with deadly steadiness.
“Cliche,” Reuben wheezed. Pressed against his chest, Chip could feel his pulse dancing a tap. The man was afraid, but he still exuded confidence. “Deeply cliche. I thought I had guards at the back. And yet you deus ex machina your way in? I’m disappointed, little girl.”
Gillion retrieved Destiny’s Blade from the counter where Chip’s sword lay. “You will die before you even reach the door.” His eyes still glowed that brilliant white, sparks and surges of lightning turning his hair into a halo.
Price pressed his forearm against Chip’s throat, and he let out a gagged wheeze. Jay started forward, but Price met her gaze, and she stopped. Reptilian green met blazing orange as they stood off.
Reuben cackled, his breath hot against Chip’s skin. “Again, cliche. You said you were a songwriter, but you resort to the same old threats. I want better material, or I snap his neck.” Chip felt sure it wasn’t a mere threat; he could hear a note of sincerity in Reuben’s words. His destroyed hand ruffled Chip’s hair and rested against his cheek, blood dripping gruesomely from where he dug his fingers into flesh.
Chip glanced at Gill’s wrist, where the second of the bracelets glittered. His own twin bracelet sat heavy against his arm, burning thoughts transmitted from it. This whole time, Chip realized. This whole time, Gill had felt his fear. He narrowed his eyes and opened up that fear further, using it. Gillion jerked his head to the side as Chip’s surface thoughts hit him.
Beside Gill, Jay’s eye twitched as Chip counted backward in Thieves’ Cant, his hands hidden below Reuben’s line of sight. Her jaw clenched, a muscle twitching as she held her gun at Reuben’s head.
On the count of two, Chip sunk his teeth into Reuben’s hand, tasting copper, smoke, and something acidic and poisonous. The taller man shouted, instinctively pulling back, then jerked as Jay’s bullet and Destiny’s Blade met their target.
Chip shoved against Reuben, and the man toppled backward, his breathing shallow and decidedly wet with blood. Gill yanked Chip away, his bulky figure a suitable wall of protection between the two. The triton had sprinted forward, and blood sprayed across the Divine Barkinist’s floor from the deep gash he’d given Reuben.
“You ok?” Jay murmured, circling from a distance, her smoking gun still pointed down at the writhing Captain.
“Yeah.” Chip wiped the blood from his cheek, trying to ignore the pain of the multiple hits and the oozing wound in his thigh. “Amber and Roofus?”
“Alive,” was the hissed response. “Though barely. I used one of their superior potions. Amber’s gonna have my ass.”
“No one will have your ass,” Gill snarled, his gaze fixed on Reuben. “And if they try to depart you from it, I will stop them. You have my word.”
“Thanks, Gill.” Jay glanced at Chip. “You do the honors?” She held out his short sword, its edge catching the low light and glimmering.
Abruptly, Chip wanted to run, to break down, run, smash something, cry. The adrenaline still pumped through his veins, but he felt loose, like a snapped rubber band. Looking down at where Reuben lay, choking and twitching, Chip couldn’t see a threat, only a pathetic murderer. He couldn’t stomach any more blood on his hands; Reuben’s doing had already stained them enough.
“Let’s go,” he murmured to his co-captain. “Earl’s probably made juice.”
Jay narrowed her eyes but tentatively put her pistol down. “All right, man. Let’s do it.”
The sound of a blade through flesh cut through the store, and Gillion Tidestrider pulled Destiny’s Bade free from Reuben Price’s still body. For good measure, the triton wiped his sword on the man’s jacket, his expression belligerent and wrathful.
“Cliche. The Hole in Your Heart, cliche? No one will remember him—we’ve fought Electrodons tougher. And handsomer. Cliche.” Still muttering to himself, Gill grabbed Chip’s and Jay’s arms, escorting them out of the Divine Barkinist.
Reuben’s last choked breaths echoed in Chip’s ears, but he found himself strangely indifferent to them. That man hadn’t been his brother for a long, long time.
“Do we tell the others?” Jay allowed herself to be pulled along. “You know, about everything?”
“We’ll talk to Roofus tomorrow when he’s healed up. For now, I need a drink and a nap.”
“I’ll second that.”
“He’s just jealous of your excellent timing, Jay. Deus ex machina for the win.”
Chip managed a laugh, grateful that his crew, though rough around the edges, had his back. The setting sun, which cast a now much less dour All-Port in swatches of gold and red-orange, seemed to agree.
The nightmares could finally end.