Here There Be Monsters: The Drunk

In Adam’s opinion, the man dubbed the Wraith by the general public was not so impressive in person.

For one thing, he was short. Even with heels on his boots he stood a head shorter than Adam, who was a measly one-eighty-two on a good day. For another, he’d been merrily eating the cocoa beans they’d offered in payment raw. The sight was abhorrent. When Her Majesty requested Adam escort the man and his gaggle of fiends to their vessel, the Wraith had piled an assortment of fruits and sweets into Adam’s arms like he was some sort of packhorse.

The only thing remotely mysterious or frightening about the man was his pet crow, which had the beadiest eyes Adam had ever seen. Whenever Adam stepped even a toe too close to its master, the evil little thing would screech and bat its wings violently from its perch on the Wraith’s shoulder.

All the stories of murder and treachery must have been referring to the bird, as the man seemed more jovial and ridiculous than anything. Adam suspected that if he hadn’t been wearing a heavy scarf around the lower half of his face, the Wraith would be walking around with a permanently drunken smile.

Adam jolted as the Wraith let out a sound between a shout and a sigh, his rough baritone echoing in the night.

“Men! I love this country. It’s a shame to leave.”

Adam was momentarily distracted by the movement of the man’s hands. He’d noticed that the Wraith and his entire crew made strange hand signals as they spoke. One of them didn’t speak at all, preferring to communicate using only the signals. Yet another odd thing to add to the list of odd things about the Wraith and his men.

“You must return, sir,” Adam blurted hastily after registering what he had said. “Sightings of the princess have only increased. She’s already made it too far. If you do not capture her, someone else will, and Her Majesty will be most put out.”

The Wraith waved a dismissive hand. It, like the rest of the man’s body aside from his dark eyes and long locs, was wrapped in black cloth. His attire made him blend into the night like a particularly talkative shadow. How he was able to endure the heat was lost on Adam, who wore only a light cotton shirt and breeches.

“Her Highness will be delivered to you in three weeks time, maximum. No need to worry yourself, Aadan.”

“Adam.”

“Right!” The Wraith snapped his fingers and chuckled. “Well, we’d better be going. Thank you very much for the chocolate, Ashton.”

Adam went to protest, stepping forward as he did so. The stack of items in his arms tilted him off balance and he tripped, stumbling into the Wraith and shoving him forward. Fruits and cocoa spilled out of Adam’s hands onto the dock at the Wraith’s feet.

Just when Adam thought the bird was going to claw his eyes out, one of the Wraith’s crewmates grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

It was the big, terrifying ginger—the one everyone had thought was the Wraith before the odd man had introduced himself. The ginger made a deep rumbling sound, like a dragon readying to flay someone alive. Adam writhed, looking beyond the beast of a man to the Wraith, who was standing with his head tilted. His black eyes had turned flat and deranged, almost a match to his homicidal pet. He’d pulled his gun, and it was pointed right at Adam’s forehead.

“Now, Arthur.” The Wraith’s voice lowered to a whisper, and it sent a chill down Adam’s spine. “I know we’ve only just met, but I do not like to be touched. Even by accident. My men like it even less.”

“Please,” Adam pleaded, his voice strained due to the paw around his throat. “I’m sorry.”

A wicked light entered the Wraith’s eyes, and Adam had the sinking feeling that the man would pull the trigger just for the thrill of it.

After a tense moment, his cheerful disposition returned. He bellowed a laugh, and the rest of his men joined in. The beast released Adam, who fell to the ground in a heap.

“Consider yourself forgiven,” the Wraith said, tucking away his gun.

He held out a hand and helped Adam to his feet, patting him aggressively on the shoulder. He then crouched, snatching a mango from the ground and taking a large bite out of it before he turned on his heel and marched to his ship, his men following him closely behind.

“Three weeks!” The Wraith called over his shoulder.

Adam watched him go, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. As their ship began to move, the Wraith saluted Adam before falling into another fit of laughter.

Adam couldn’t help but feel bad for the young princess. If there was anything worse than insulting royalty, it was crossing a pirate.