The air in the parlor smelled of stale lavender and the damp, metallic tang of the afterlife. Vesper Drake sighed, rubbing his temples as he looked at the translucent, flickering form of Old Man Gable, who was currently floating three inches above a mahogany side table."Look, Mr. Gable, I’ve told you twice already—you’re dead. The inheritance went to your cat, and honestly, the cat has better judgment than your nephew," Vesper muttered, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted his apron."I just think it’s unfair, Vesper! I worked forty years in those docks!" the ghost wailed, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering across pavement."Yeah, well, you’re currently a spirit trapped in a mortuary, so maybe focus on crossing over instead of the cat's new parlor rug?" Vesper retorted."You’re a real piece of work for a mortician, you know that? No respect for the departed," Gable huffed, crossing his arms—or attempting to, at least."I have plenty of respect. I respect the fact th

"Changing the plan?" Vesper squeaked, his voice cracking like a dry twig under a boot. He peered around the edge of the crate, watching as the Sterling’s Pride loomed over the docks like a floating iron fortress. "Does 'changing the plan' usually involve us becoming target practice for a warship? Because I’m allergic to cannon fire. It’s a very specific, very lethal condition."Cassian didn't even look back. She gripped his hand—her palm calloused and warm—and tugged him toward a small, rotted-out skiff bobbing at the edge of the pier. "Don’t be a coward, mortician. It doesn't suit your face. Besides, we aren't going to fight them. We’re going to disappear.""Disappear? In a skiff? That’s not a plan, that’s a suicide note with oars!" Vesper scrambled into the boat, his knees knocking together. He clutched his shredded apron, feeling the residual green glow of his magic pulsing in time with his frantic heartbeat."Watch and learn, Vesper," Cassian said, pushing off the dock with a grun

The wind shrieked through the crags of the cove, sounding uncomfortably like a dying man’s last gasp. Vesper leaned heavily against a slick obsidian rock, his lungs burning. Beside him, Cassian was pacing, her boots crunching on the black sand as she stared out at the swirling mist where the quartermaster had vanished."A bridge," Cassian muttered, her voice tight enough to snap. "He’s not just an ambitious bureaucrat with a tax fetish. He’s trying to invite something… hungry into our backyard."Vesper wiped cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Hungry doesn't quite cover it. He used the word ‘King.’ That’s not a local deity, Cassian. That’s a nightmare you don't wake up from."Cassian stopped pacing and turned to him. She looked at the pallor of his skin, her expression shifting from tactical rage to something far more gentle. She reached out, her fingers brushing the damp hair away from his eyes. "You’re shaking, Vesper. You’ve given everything you had to those sp

The salt spray was no longer just a mist; it was a cold, biting curtain that turned the world into a monochromatic nightmare of jagged stone and swirling foam. Vesper gripped the frozen rope, his knuckles white, feeling the rope fibers scrape against skin that felt more like parchment than flesh."I have to say, for a romantic evening, this is severely lacking in wine and comfortable seating," Vesper panted, his voice hitching as he hauled himself over a slick ledge.Cassian didn't even look back, her boots finding purchase in crevices that seemed nonexistent. "Save your breath, mortician. If you want wine, we can raid the Magistrate’s private stash once we’ve finished turning his fortress into a pile of rubble. Just try not to plummet to your death before then.""You’re very demanding, you know that?" Vesper teased, though his heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Is this the part where you tell me you’ll catch me if I fall, or do you just watch to see how far I

The iron-wrought hull of the Siren’s Call groaned, a sound of tortured timber and grinding metal that vibrated through the very marrow of Vesper’s bones. Beside him, Cassian didn't hesitate; she leaped from the longboat, her boots slamming onto the slick, slime-covered deck of the flagship with the grace of a predator. She swung her cutlass in a wide, shimmering arc, cleaving through the thick, unnatural fog that swirled around the mast."Come on, you walking corpse! Keep up!" she shouted over her shoulder, her voice cutting through the cacophony of the spectral battle raging above them.Vesper scrambled over the railing, his breath hitching as he felt the sheer, crushing weight of the ritual. The air tasted of ozone and copper, and the deck beneath his feet felt like a living thing, pulsing with a rhythmic, sickening heartbeat. "I’m coming, I’m coming! But for the record, this ship has terrible feng shui!""Feng what now?" Cassian lunged forward, parrying a thrust from a shadowy, arm