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“Not to ignore the obvious, but what are we going to do with this damn thing?” Francis motions to the pirate ship.
“We need to get it to port. I don’t know how to sail something like this,” Connor says.
“I do.” Thorne stands. “I know how to sail it.” He moves quickly to the helm, turning the wheel back toward the city of Charleston. “I need the lycan to man one sail while Elias and Abram man the other. As we move into port, you’re going to have to lower them when I tell you.”
“How do we do that?” Elias asks, moving toward the first set of sails.
“I know how…I think,” Micah answers. “Switch with me. Between the four of us, we can figure it out.”
“I know what to do,” Francis announces. She moves between the two teams. “Tell me when you’re ready,” she yells toward the helm.
“Why does this feel sketchy?” Luna asks.
“Because it is,” I answer.
We enter the river, pass Fort Sumter, and move closer to the main port of Charleston. Tourists at the fort have already noticed us and are either pointing or staring at the huge pirate ship passing next to them. Small boats begin following the ship as we move further into port.
I move next to Thorne. “Think this thing will fit?”
He huffs a laugh. “Things have changed quite a bit from when I did this before, but I think she’ll fit.” Out of nowhere, a harbor patrol boat appears, lights and sirens blaring. “Shit,” he sighs.
“Just ignore them,” Francis yells as she flashes her middle finger toward them.
The wind has picked up, moving the ship faster than necessary. “Francis, bring them down!” Thorne yells toward his granddaughter.
She starts barking orders at the two teams, who follow her every command perfectly. The spectacle of watching a nearly eighty-year-old human telling lycan and vampires how to lower sails on a three-hundred-year-old pirate ship is something that’s not lost on me.
Between the two teams, the sails are lowered, and the ship begins to slow slightly, but not enough. “We’re going too fast,” I state the obvious.
“Aye, I know,” Thorne answers. “We’re going to hit the other boats.”
The police boat speeds in front of us, slowing down enough to allow the stern of the ship to ram into the back of them, slowing the ship even faster.
“Hide what’s left of Bertram,” Thorne warns. “They’re going to come aboard.”
I follow the directions, lifting the powdery remains of my brother and hiding them in the captain’s quarters.
The ship slows to nothing several yards from the marina. Everyone on board sighs in relief. Applause echoes from nearby boats, as unsuspecting humans stare in awe at the pirate ship that just entered the port of Charleston.
Just as Thorne suggested, three policemen board the ship, hands on their weapons. “What’s the meaning of this?” the shorter of the three shouts toward Thorne.
He moves quickly in front of them with his hands at his sides. “I steered her into the wrong port,” he lies. “It was completely my fault.” He smiles a smile that can charm just about everyone he meets. “Thank you for your help, officers.”
“Where are your papers?”
“I’m not sure,” he answers. “However, I will cover any damages that may have occurred.”
“Gentlemen,” Connor greets the officers. “I’m sure we can work this out.”
“Mr. McFadden. I didn’t realize you were on board,” one of the officers responds.
Connor straightens his now untucked shirt. “This ship is owned by Wolf Tours. I have all the paperwork at my office in the city. I’m afraid I neglected to bring it withme today.”
“Yes, sir,” the men answer. I’m not sure what kind of fuckery is happening before my eyes, but Connor must have major control of the city and the people who run it.
“Why don’t you stop by tomorrow, and I’ll give you copies?”
“That will be fine. Thank you, Mr. McFadden,” the taller of the three answers before leading them off the deck.
