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Peter could not believe his eyes.
Never mind that he’d been to all corners of the world and seen most things that people still thought were wonders, he had never in his life laid eyes on such a creature.
A mermaid.
Well, maybe not a maid exactly, though that did little to make the situation feel any less unreal.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Erica said, blond hair slapping around in the wind, making Boyd sneeze when the strands flew into his face.
“What should we do with it, Captain?” his first mate, Deuc asked. He was standing a step back from the net, and Peter could see the nervous twitch of his fingers. Deuc was a good man, but also prone to superstition.
He couldn’t fault him, sailors were like that by nature, and pirates - if possible - doubly so.
‘It’ looked like a male, and despite what Peter would have expected from merfolk, his lower body was less like a fish, and more like a dolphin. The skin of the tail was smooth and shiny, dark brown with tiny black spots on the back and pale on the front.
The upper half of him was just as intriguing; a light skinned young man, chest lean and bare… and covered in a array of moles that almost looked like they were the continuation of his tail pattern. He had a cute, upturned nose and long lashes, head covered in short fuzz. Peter haven’t investigated yet, but it seemed more like the fur of seals than human hair.
The merman was unconscious, but alive. If his theory was right and he was more like a dolphin than a fish, then he probably fainted due to getting tangled in their net without being able to come up for air.
“Do we still have that big, brass tub from that galleon?” Peter asked nobody in particular. The thing weighed a ton, but they hoped to sell it for a nice prize ashore.
Erica snorted.
“Aye, Captain. Where do you want us to put it? Cause let me tell you, the boys won’t want to share lodgings with this thing.”
Peter hummed. That was reasonable.
“Put it in my cabin and fill it with seawater.”
***
Peter had a ship to run, so he made sure that the tub was secured by the wall, and far away from anything to reach and then went on with his day. It wouldn’t have been good for his crew to think that he was preoccupied.
He checked with Isaac in the crow’s nest - thankfully no pursuit in sight - and went ahead with his day.
He didn’t exactly forget about the merman, but to tell the truth he was still surprised to be greeted by a pair of clever, brown eyes locked on him as soon as he walked in when night fell. He put his tray of food down, acting like there was nothing unusual going on.
“You must be the captain,” the merman said in perfect English, and that might have been the most surprising part of the day so far.
“You speak our language.”
“Ah, I see, you must be Captain Obvious,” the merman said, rolling his eyes. Peter wondered if it was too late to throw him back.
“Oh, I might be, but I will still sell you for an obviously high price the second we hit the next harbor,” he said with a grin, enjoying the way the creature’s eyes narrowed, his lean fingers grasping the rim of the tub just a bit tighter. Peter couldn’t read his smell, the merman’s scent being way too alien for even his sharp nose, but he didn’t need to. The tension was thick in the air.
“I… I can pay you,” the boy… - because really, with only his upper body visible, he was just a boy - said. Now that made Peter pause.
“With what? I’m not interested in pebbles, or whatever your kind uses for currency.”
The merman had a rather mulish expression. It was charming.
“I could get you pearls,” he offered, face lighting up as the idea struck him. Now, that was more up Peter’s alley.
He sat down by his table, looking at the merman in consideration before shaking his head.
“No.”
“No?! What do you mean no?”
Peter grinned.
“I highly doubt you would be fond of having a leash, and let’s be honest, the second you’re in the water again you will be gone before I can blink. So, no. It will be safer to just sell you to a royal something-or-other.”
“Fuck you,” the merman snarled, showing off two perfect rows of white, conical teeth. It made him look fierce and wild. Peter tried not to show how charming he found it.
He just hummed, unimpressed by the outburst. It made the boy pause too, quickly regaining his composure.
“So, what can I do to make you let me go?” he asked finally, still sullen, but understanding the hopelessness of his situation.
Peter pondered that for a moment, digging into his food.
“Well, first of all, you could tell me your name, if you even have one,” he said. It would be a start.
The merman huffed.
“My name-above is Stiles,” he said finally. That was interesting.
“Name-above?”
“Yup. I have another one, but that only works underwater.”
Peter nodded his understanding.
“Well, Stiles, welcome aboard the Shewolf . My name is Peter Hale, her captain.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Stiles said, smile a little too sharp, a bit too full of teeth.
Oh, he did like this boy.
“And the same to you. So… what do you do? Lure men into the ocean?” Peter wasn’t worried, he was relatively sure that whatever charm these creatures possessed, it wouldn’t work on his kind. Humans were weak and impressionable.
Stiles actually laughed.
“Those are syrens. I - unfortunately - can’t sing for shit,” he said. “I’m not saying I haven’t got the drop on the occasional sailor, but it’s more of a ‘Help! I’m drowning!’ shtick.”
Now that was something he liked to hear; he did appreciate it when people were assertive.
Thinking about it, he had the uncertain beginnings of an idea forming.
“So, your kind… you live underwater?”
Stiles gave him a calculated look, obviously trying to work out what the real question was, but nodded in the end.
Maybe this could work.
“Then I might’ve just come up with an way to let you buy your freedom,” Peter told him. It was quite possible that he was enjoying the way the merman’s face lit up a bit too much.
“What do you want?” the boy asked, trying to contain his excitement at the prospect and failing miserably.
“Do you know any shipwrecks? I’m guessing gold and the like are useless for you, but they would be very welcome for us,” he explained.
The boy looked perplexed.
“I thought pirates robbed ships, not scavenged them… and wouldn’t you still have to let me back into the ocean to get whatever you want?”
Peter shook his head.
“I happen to have an excellent diver on board - he’s from an island around here - and he can get anything that’s less than sixty feet under. And, if you’ve actually talked to a pirate before, you would know that we will always say yes to easy money.”
To his surprise, Stiles’ face turned dark.
“Oh, I met a pirate once. Was a fucking work , to be honest…. Drowned her myself.”
That made Peter perk up. There weren’t many female pirates around these parts, the single shedevil he knew of was someone he would have loved to strangle himself.
“Tell me,” he ordered, food forgotten.
Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, the thundurus expression stuck on his face.
“She got hold of a little one from our pod, much like you lot did with me, and forced him to lead them to our home,” he said, and yes. That did sound like the pirate Peter was interested in.
“But,” Stiles continued, that unsettling, sharp toothed smile lighting up the cabin, “not even the smallest of us is helpless. He led her ship to a reef, a nasty, tricky piece of ocean. It’s a place we know well, but no man can navigate it.”
Peter licked his lips. His wolf was growling, prancing around in his chest as he watched the boy, almost giddy as he talked about it.
“We always have someone on lookout there, just for this reason. By the time they started to sink we were all there, waiting for them as they splashed into the water one-by-one... “ His eyes were shining as he recalled with a bloodlust that was all too familiar for Peter.
“I got the captain… She was fierce, kicking and screaming as I pulled her down. She cut me with a knife, but I could barely feel the pain. And she kept struggling… I let her go a few times, let her swim to the surface and breathe before dragging her down again and again until the fight left her.”
He trailed off, obviously lost in the memory. Peter would have given an eye to have been there.
“What did she look like? What was her name?” he asked hoarsely. He couldn’t help imagining Kate’s face as Stiles talked; the way it must have turned blue as she drowned, her body finally going limp and cold.
Stiles gave him a strange look.
“I don’t know her name, nor the ship’s as I can’t read your letters, but… she was blond and blue eyed. Would have been beautiful if she wasn’t rotten inside.”
Peter closed his eyes. That was her. It had to be. He didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, he was glad she was dead, that she got what she deserved, but at the same time… It should have been him. He should have been the one to do it.
Stiles was watching him curiously, the sadistic smile gone from his face.
“Did you know her?”
Peter nodded, leaning back in his chair.
“When I was a boy, I was the first mate on my sister’s ship, the Sea Wolf . Our whole family was working on it. We were just leaving a pirate bay - that should have been protected, should have been safe , but alas, Kate ambushed us, pelted the ship with greek fire… Almost my whole family was lost that day.”
Stiles’ face was solemn as he listened, but couldn’t stop asking his questions.
“But why? Why did she do that? Aren’t you pirates supposed to stick together?”
Peter smiled. He flashed his eyes, the red of them reflecting on the water of the tub, making Stiles gasp.
“Because you aren’t the only creature of myth on this ship.”
***
Everyone was surprised the next day when Peter ordered for the merman to be let go. Unsurprisingly most were relieved, being superstitious, as pirates were won’t to do.
Others, like Erica were pouting.
“But why?” she asked, trailing after Boyd who had the merman in his arms in a bridal carry.
“Because I said so,” Peter told her with an eyeroll. All that talk yesterday made him remember what Kate did for a living - for her, piracy was just a side job, she had been a slave trader of the supernatural. And really, as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t do the same to Stiles.
The boy grinned at Erica, laughing at her groan of dejection. It sounded a bit clunky, but obviously overjoyed.
“Don’t squirm, or I will drop you,” Boyd told him, hefting him up higher. Peter had to stifle a smile at the way the boy kept flapping his tail around in excitement.
Boyd balanced him on the rail, but still held onto him, looking back at his captain to make sure that it was really okay.
Peter looked at Stiles, trying to etch him into memory. It was very unlikely that he would have the good fortune of meeting one of his kind - and especially him - again. Stiles grinned, the sunshine glinting off his teeth before he waved Peter closer.
“What is it?”
“I want to tell you a secret,” the boy told him. He waited until Peter was close enough to whisper and then smacked a sloppy kiss to his cheek, pushing himself away from Boyd as fast as lightning and landing in the ocean with a splash.
Peter stayed there for a long time, leaning over the banister and watching the waves, refusing to wipe the wet imprint of those clever lips from his face.