Chapter Text
The next day comes and goes sluggishly. Duke and Mac have become glued to each other's side, unwilling to let go. She supposes it is a little out of necessity since Duke is in no condition to walk or function on her own, but Veronica knows the underlying reasoning is much more tender. Chandler is running around sporadically, giving orders and checking in. She's in full-on captain mode and It's both arousing and exhausting to watch.
Veronica, when not checking out Heather, can't keep her eyes off her brooch. She gently runs her fingertips over the metal, willing it to glow again. Maybe then, she can convince someone of what she saw. She may have been groggy that night, but she knows she didn't hallucinate. The glow. The siren's angry eyes. A healed wound. It was all terrifying and beautiful and real.
She sits slumped against the wall, looking out into the sea of crew members. They're all waiting for the okay to leave this damn cellar which she's not sure will ever come at this point. Time passes slower down here. That or Veronica's impatience has taken a turn for the worse.
In the corner of her eye, she spots a sword lying limply on the floorboards next to her. Veronica reaches for it, pulling it towards her. The shiny metal gleams up at her.
Images of a siren's teeth flash before her eyes. Blood draining from her arm and washing away with rainwater.
An idea passes over her like a shadow. If it healed her wounds once...
Maybe...
Veronica brings a fingertip to the edge of the blade, glances down at her brooch, and slowly presses her skin into the-
"What the hell are you doing?"
Startled, Veronica throws the blade to the side. She quickly folds her hands into her lap, feigning a casual pose, and looks up into the confused eyes of Heather Chandler.
"Uh- what? Nothing. What are you doing?"
Chandler eyes her suspiciously, arms folded.
"Okay, spazz. It's safe to go up now. Mermaid bitches fucked off to feed somewhere else."
Veronica looks behind Heather's form and watches the flood of people climbing the ladder. Mac catches her eye and waves an excited hand to follow.
"Right, yeah," Veronica scrambles to her feet, brushing off herself. Finally, she can get out of this tiny room.
Chandler pauses for a moment, lips pursed.
"Look, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, no I'm good."
Chandler raises an eyebrow. Veronica knows she doesn't believe it. She doesn't even believe it herself.
"We're throwing a rager to celebrate not dying and you're going to have a good time," Chandler says.
Veronica, smiling now, takes a small step forward.
"I gotta admit I've never been to a party. But, with you there, I'm sure it'll be a smash."
Chandler rolls her eyes, the corner of her lip just barely tugging up.
"Whatever. Let's go," Heather says, turning in her heel and heading towards the exit of the cellar. Veronica chances another look behind her at the sword before following close behind.
Pirates sure know how to throw a party...
Crew members dance and swing each other around as a few tall men play the guitar off to the side. It's the first time Veronica has seen a lot of these people smile.
Veronica dodges a few women as they run by, swinging their swords in the air as if they were flags. Looking at them as they pass, she thinks she can see one of them holding up a bloody, severed finger.
Dear diary,
Why is my life at the moment a fucked-up mix of absolute gore and the plot of a homoerotic romance novel? And why am I enjoying it as much as I am?
"Still writing in that diary of yours? Even at a party, Ronica'?" Duke sighs, appearing next to her. The shorter woman has a small, wooden crutch in one hand and a beer in the other. She takes a long chug before smashing it on the ground. Veronica flinches, cautiously kicking away some of the shards.
"Still a bitch? Even at a party, Duke?" Veronica teases, sliding her diary back into her pocket.
Duke chuckles.
"Nothing better to do."
"Where's Mac?" Veronica asks.
"Off getting bandages somewhere. She fusses over me too much."
"Don't pretend you don't like her kissing you better," Veronica giggles.
"I wish it would be more kissing and less bandage-replacing. But she's in full-on nurse mode," Duke relents with a small eye roll.
"Well, you're a babe and she'll totally jump at the chance if you just shoot your shot!"
Duke ponders this for a moment.
"Not literally," Veronica is quick to add.
Duke laughs, pushing Veronica's shoulder.
"Thanks, Ronica'."
Veronica nods as Duke makes her way back into the crowd, leaving her alone. She turns and faces the ocean. She rests her arms against the railing and peers into the gently swaying waves. The surface sparkles in the bright moonlight.
She misses Martha like a lung. She had been a wallflower at parties too. They were the first to sneak off when the crowds got too thick, venturing into more abandoned streets and giggling about some tale she'd heard from her wacko neighbor, Ms. Flemming.
"Veronica, I ordered you to have a good time," a familiar voice chastises from behind.
She hums in response, a small smile on her face.
"You should send me over the plank."
Heather appears at her side, leaning her back against the railing.
"Don't tempt me," she drawls, nursing her beer.
Veronica looks at her. Those grey eyes pierce like diamonds in the dimness of night. Her skin glows smooth and bright. She almost reminds Veronica of the moon. The proximity they are sharing is enough to send chills up and down Veronica's arms. She looks back at the crowd, everyone drinking and laughing boisterously.
"I just don't really know how to..."
"Have fun?" Chandler teases, easy as breathing.
"Very funny."
"Dance with me."
Veronica turns to her, caught off guard. Did she hear that right?
"Uh- what? I-" Veronica sputters, searching for a complete sentence.
"Wasn't a question, Ronnie," she says, grabbing Veronica's hand and dragging her deep within the crowd. They find a small opening in the crowd and face each other.
The shouting and music are suddenly drowned out by Heather's intense stare. There's a smile tugging at her lips and the slight arch of an eyebrow. Heather slowly pulls her in close, one hand resting on her shoulder and the other on her waist. Veronica's heart hammers in her chest.
Veronica has danced before. She knows how to. Really, she does. But Chandler is hot and holding her hand and so now she isn't entirely sure how to stand, let alone dance.
She gulps, trying to follow Heather's lead. Chandler's wraps her fingertips around her waist, so Veronica loops her's around her neck. She's uncomfortably aware of everything around her. The weight of her clothes against her body, her breathing, Heather's blonde hair that is shifting gently in the soft breeze; she processes it all.
"How do you manage to overthink dancing?" Chandler says with a sigh, lifting Veronica's hand and motioning for her to do a twirl.
Veronica spins on Chandler's fingertips and goes back into the embrace. This time, though, Chandler pulls them closer together. The retort Veronica was ready to make dies early in her throat as she stares up at Heather, chest-to-chest.
The air vanishes from her lungs as she looks at her, sharing the air between them. Veronica is caught off guard at how human Heather looks now. Her lipstick is smudged just a bit on the right corner of her lips. There's a small, barely noticeable scar above her left eyebrow. And there is a sadness behind those stormy, grey eyes she hasn't noticed before. She can tell Heather hides it well behind a steel wall of stern orders and sarcasm. But at this moment Veronica can see through it.
"What happened to you, Heather?" Veronica says without thinking. She doesn't even know why she said it. She wants to eat her foot the moment the words leave her mouth. She feels Heather's hands tense against her and watches as the blonde's eyebrows draw together.
"Excuse me?"
"I just meant- not a lot of people want to be a pirate, you know? Living the life of a criminal isn't for most. So, I just figured something happened to make you wanna do all this. Like your parents died or something tragic like that," Veronica fumbles for something to backtrack this. "Jesus, I sound like an asshole. Sorry."
"Nothing happened to me, Veronica. Sorry I'm such a fucked-up human that I wanted to be an awful criminal," Heather begins to pull away from Veronica.
In a moment of bravery, Veronica reaches out and catches Heather by the wrist, tugging her back.
"That isn't what I meant! Look, can we just rewind like thirty seconds? I just wanted to get to know you more, that's all."
Heather sighs, stepping back into the embrace. Veronica breathes a sigh of relief. A comfortable silence falls upon them. Veronica could definitely fall asleep like this.
"Being a pirate is all I've ever wanted," Heather says, barely audible. Almost as if she didn't really want Veronica to hear it. She does, though, and Veronica smiles softly up at her.
"Oh, yeah?"
Heather hums. "My half-brother took over the role of captain after Mac's parents died. Then he died and I took it over from him. I smiled all the way through his funeral. He was a total sleaze, don't feel bad for him."
"Shouldn't Mac have been captain if her parents were the ones that died? Next in line or whatever?"
Heather scoffs. "Mac? As captain? Please. Girl's the biggest pushover I've ever met."
Veronica shrugs, she isn't wrong.
"How did he die?"
Heather just stares at her for a moment.
"He was betrayed by someone close to us. Stabbed him right in the back, literally."
"Jesus, that's horrible."
Heather shrugs.
"He should have seen it coming. Pirates shouldn't be trusted. If you wanna fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly."
Veronica rolls her eyes. "Still. Do you miss him?"
"Not really. Frankly, he scared me and that's saying something. Nothing scares me but he did."
"Why did he scare you?" Veronica asks carefully.
"What is this, an interrogation?"
Heather twirls her again to the beat of the music, before pulling her close again.
"You're the one who brought up the dead brother, not me. You can't expect me to not ask about it."
Heather huffs.
"He was...gifted."
"Gifted?"
"He could use...magic. Spells. Enchantments. That sort of thing. It was some freaky shit."
"Really? Oh my god, he was a wizard? That's...awesome. Honestly, I'd be more shocked but I just fought evil mermaids," Veronica says. She leaves out the part about the glowing broach, but she is still positive that happened, if not more so now. What if it was enchanted and Heather just didn't know?
Heather chuckles.
Veronica gasps.
"Wait, do you have magic too? Oh my god, show me a magic trick! Wait wait wait wait what number am I thinking of?" Veronica closes her eyes tight, concentrating.
She feels Heather's hands pull away from her waist and slide up to cradle her face gently. Veronica slowly opens her eyes. Heather is closer than she was before, so close that they are practically sharing each other's breaths. Her heart stops inside her chest. Heather's hand lazily pushes a strand of Veronica's hair behind her ear.
"I don't have magic, pillowcase. What I do have is growing impatience for dancing around a certain subject."
The words are said gently, endearingly. Veronica, dazed, blinks up at her, unwilling to believe her ears.
"What?"
Heather takes a deep breath and lets it go slowly, left hand trailing down Veronica's cheek to rest on her neck.
"Here's my problem, Veronica: A fumbling loser stowaway sneaks onto my ship, gets caught, and stands at the end of my plank. One word from me, she would have been dead a second later. And I was going to and she was going to be."
"So, why didn't you?" Veronica asks, eyes darting to Heather's red lips. Heather clearly catches her, smirk unfolding onto her features.
"Because I saw that you had the potential to fly with the eagles- and look hot while you did it."
Veronica slides her hands from the back of Heather's neck to the collar of her white button-up shirt. She gently begins to tug her forward.
Bang
The gunshot is loud, piercing through the still peaceful air like the crack of a whip.
Chandler is tackling her to the ground before she can even blink. She groans as she hits the ground with a soft thud. The music that was once playing cheerfully cuts off, being replaced with various shouting.
More gunshots sound. Veronica gets up onto her elbows as she looks hastily around. Heather is already on her feet, gun drawn.
"We're being boarded!" Duke shouts from somewhere out of sight.
Kurt is suddenly standing over her and pulling her to her feet by her forearm.
"Better be ready to fight, hot-snatch!" He yells as he runs by, sword in his right hand.
Her heart is pounding for an entirely new reason than it was a few moments ago. She looks frantically around her.
Her stomach drops to her feet.
To the east, a towering ship sits in the water. Black sails. The ship is massive and looms over them like a lion over prey.
There are foreign pirates, big and buff, climbing up the sides of their ship. They wield guns and swords too. Swords start to clash within seconds.
Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit
I'm gonna die.
We're all gonna die.
Also, talk about a total cock-block.
These douchebags couldn't have waited at least a good two minutes before killing us all?
A familiar hand tugs her to the right. Heather grabs her by the shoulders.
"Veronica, I know you haven't practiced much, but fight hard. Stay close to Mac," Heather orders her before storming off. She watches as she runs up to a woman with an eye patch. The woman is tall and lean, tattoos trailing up and down both biceps. Chandler swings with her sword. The woman is quick to block with her own.
Oh, wow, okay. This is all really happening.
Swordfights.
Christ.
Veronica reaches for her gun holster before pausing. Odds are, if she uses that gun she'll end up shooting someone from their own crew. She draws her sword instead, trying to feign confidence as she scans the deck for Mac.
There isn't a sign of yellow anywhere. Bodies are being tossed against each other frantically. It's like the brawls that used to transpire at her dad's bar except three thousand times worse.
Bodies are falling to the deck floorboards rather quickly. She thinks her team is winning, but she can't exactly tell. Faces are blurring together.
She backs up slowly, sword out in front of her.
She hits something against her back. Large. Warm. Her throat closes around itself.
She spins around, swinging her sword as fast as her hand can carry it. The warm air slides against the cold, sharp metal.
Her sword is blocked by a sword of similar stature. The hands holding the sword art large and meaty. She looks up hesitantly. The man before her is a giant by any standards. Veronica is sure his arms alone are the size of her entire body. He's shirtless, chest hairy and dripping sweat. Veronica gags.
He swings. Veronica catches sight of the moonlight reflecting off the pristine blade.
She ducks with a yelp. She feels the fast-moving air graze her scalp.
She stands up straight and raises her sword just in time to block another attempted blow. Their swords interlock, pushing against one another. He uses this to his advantage, spinning them. He backs Veronica up, she tries to resist but his brute strength far out ways hers.
Her back is pressed up against a wall within a moment. She thinks this is the walls to the captain's courters, but if she's being honest she has no idea. Sword fights are very disorienting, apparently.
He twists his sword, pushing her own from her grasp. Her sword flies from her palm and skids across the floorboards with a soft, scraping sound. Distantly, she wonders if that is the last noise she's ever gonna hear.
The man before her grins something wicked before raising his sword with all the intent of a killer.
She closes her eyes, tight as a cork on a wine bottle.
Please be quick please be quick please be quick please be quick-
"Wait!"
It's a woman's voice, though deep. Unfamiliar.
Veronica peeks one eye open.
A woman, muscular and athletic joins the man's side. Her hair is thick with tousled curls. She wears a black bandana around her neck.
"What now?" The man says, exasperated. He lowers his sword only a little.
"That's the one. The one we're supposed to take with us," she says, jabbing a finger at Veronica.
Veronica gulps.
The man squints down at her, bending low. She can see the blood dripping in his thick beard.
"Huh. Well, you take her back to the ship. I wanna kill more people," He says, grabbing Veronica by the hair and pulling her forward before pushing her into the woman's arms.
Her scalp burns dully as the woman yanks her by the forearm. The woman positions Veronica in front of herself, keeping her close. Veronica feels a dagger being pressed to the side of her throat.
"Don't try nothin'"
"Trust me, I'm all for not dying."
"You're smarter than you look, then."
The woman starts marching her to the side of the ship.
Veronica looks down at the holster still strapped to her side. The gun lies limply inside, ready to be drawn.
Her fingers tingle at her side. Anticipation grows inside her bones. If she could be quick enough...
Could I be quick enough...?
She looks slightly to her right and sees her friends and fellow crewmates fighting with fervor. She sees Mac now. She's bent over Ram who is sitting limply, back against the railing. Her hands are flying over his body, bandaging and tearing clothing. Duke is beside her, hair down for the first time since she's met her. She's saying frantic words that Veronica can't make out.
Chandler has dead bodies at her feet. Some familiar, some enemies. She's fighting with the big, burly shirtless man Veronica had fought with earlier. She's winning.
If they can fight, so can she.
Her hand snaps to her holster, pulling the gun out. She kicks out behind her, foot connecting with the woman's upper thigh. She spins around as the woman stumbles back.
The woman raises her dagger to throw.
Veronica raises her gun.
She fires.
The kickback catches her off guard, causing her to stumble. It is only due to this that the dagger only grazes her cheek.
Veronica feels a trickle of warm blood slide down her chin.
The woman that was before her stumbles back, falling onto the floor with a loud thud.
The woman sits up onto her elbows, hands grasping at the bullet wound in her thigh.
"I'm sorry," Veronica says, hands shaking. Wait, she shouldn't be sorry.
The woman grimaces, pulling another dagger out of her vest.
"I forgive you," she spits, flinging the blade towards her.
Veronica throws herself to the floor. Hiding her face in her arms. She hears the dagger stick into the railing a few feet behind them. Veronica stumbles to her feet and scrambles away from the woman.
She surveys the deck. She knows they are winning now. Only a few more enemy pirates stand.
Her cheek stings. She wiped at the blood, painting her fingertips red.
Looking back at Mac and Duke, she sees them somberly looking down at Ram. They have stopped their hasted movements and are crouched next to his limp body. Lifeless.
Veronica's heart clenches in her chest. She begins to jog over.
"Fuck you!"
She stops suddenly, turning towards the voice, gun still smoking and clenched in hand.
There, a skinny looking man stands with long blonde hair about ten feet in front of her. He holds Chandler out in front of him in a tight grasp, sword pressed up against her neck. She's mumbling curses at him and thrashing against him.
Veronica feels her stomach twist in knots. Her blood runs ice cold.
"Leave her alone!" Veronica shouts, surprised at the acid in her tone. Anger shake at her fingers. She lifts the gun in her hand towards the man.
The man's eyes widen, clutching Chandler closer to his chest.
"Don't worry, she's a lousy shot," the woman she'd shot in the thigh says, strained. She's hunched over the railing to Veronica's left. She can see the blood trail the woman left behind her. Veronica takes comfort in the fact that this woman has lost too much blood already to be strong enough to do anything but clutch the side of the railing.
Veronica tries to pay her no mind, finger twitching against the trigger. She's terrified she'd hit Chandler. She would never forgive herself. But what is she meant to do?
"Tell you what, lass. Shoot. See what happens."
"Veronica, don't," Heather says through gritted teeth. "They want you alive. I don't know why but they do."
"I can't let them kill you, Heather," Veronica's voice cracks.
"Yes, you will. That's a fucking order."
The man barks a laugh. He presses the sword against Heather's throat. Veronica can see the blood.
She fires.
The man drops his sword as soon as she pulls the trigger. His hand flies up in front of him.
A bright yellow light leaves the man's fingertips like a bolt of lightning. It hurdles towards her.
He's gifted, like Heather's brother had been, Veronica supposes with dread.
Just my luck.
She can hear Chandler screaming as the bolt of yellow energy hurdles towards Veronica's chest.
This is it. I die by some random wizard.
Veronica shrinks into herself, hands flying up to protect herself. She knows it won't do any good.
The bolt of yellow magic reaches her, but it doesn't connect.
A flash of blue appears in front of her like a shield, a wall of light surrounding her. The spell is absorbed, leaving Veronica unharmed. She looks down. Her brooch is glowing vibrantly.
The shield fades, so does her brooch.
The man who had cast the spell gapes, mouth open.
"What the fuc-"
He doesn't get to finish his sentence. Chandler used his surprise to her advantage, sliding out of his grasp. Using his own fallen sword, she plunges the weapon deep into his chest. Blood leaves his mouth as he stumbles to the ground, sword still buried deep into his chest.
Veronica looks to where the woman with the thigh wound had been, but she's gone. She does a twirl, scanning the deck. No enemy left standing. She looks up to the massive ship that was once looming over them.
She can see it moving slowly away. She hears a few cheers from their own crew. They won.
"They're retreating!" Duke calls.
"Let them," Chandler says, too quiet for anyone to hear but Veronica.
Veronica looks at her warily.
Heather walks towards her hastily with intent. Her footsteps ring in her ears.
"Heather, before you kill me, I know it was stupid. I shouldn't have gone against your orders or whatever. But-"
Heather reaches for her by the collar, pulling Veronica close. She brings their lips together desperately, as if the world would end a moment later.
Veronica drops the gun in her hand, letting it clatter to the ground. She reaches up and loops her arms around Heather's neck, deepening the kiss. Heather's hands trailed down Veronica sides, nails gently scraping against her shirt.
Heather's lips are soft, softer than Veronica had ever imagined. It's impossibly addicting. She is overcome with a rush of emotion that she can't describe, but she imagines Shakespeare felt something similar when he received his very first round of applause.
Heather breaks the kiss, pulling away.
"You are so stupid, Ronnie. Christ on a fucking cardinal. Did you eat a brain tumor for breakfast?"
"I gotta admit, Heather. You're giving me a little whiplash right now," Veronica says out of breath.
"I mean Jesus, Veronica. If it wasn't for that brooch you'd be dead!"
"Oh my God, you saw it! You finally believe me."
Heather sighs.
"Yes, I saw it."
"It must be like...a shield for magic or something? Maybe it belonged to a wizard or witch or something? Where'd you say you got it again?"
Heather opens and closes her mouth a few times. Veronica raises an eyebrow.
"Veronica, there's something I-"
"Heather!" Mac shouts distantly. Both of their heads snap in her direction.
Duke is standing next to Mac, hand on her shoulder.
"Come help us," Duke says, voice aching in a way Veronica has never heard.
She then sees the pile of motionless bodies at their feet. Nine or so.
Chandler nods, jogging over. Veronica follows.
They join up with Duke and Mac as the other remaining crew members crowd around them. She watches as they all remove their various hats, holding them close to her chest.
She looks at the lifeless bodies slumped up against the railing. She recognizes all of them. Most she's only seen in passing. Some have given her a quick smile or a helping hand carrying a crate.
She sees Kurt and Ram, slumped side by side, still bleeding from their chest. They weren't the best people, but Christ, they were young. Barely any older than Veronica herself. They could have grown up. They could have gotten kinder.
"Why would anyone do this?" Veronica asks, tears stinging at her eyes.
"I am going to fucking kill those pirates. They can't run from us forever," Duke says, gripping onto Mac's waist, supporting herself.
"Don't bother," Chandler says, arms crossed.
"Why not?" Duke asks bitterly, raising her voice.
"Because they didn't do this for their own reasons. I recognized a few of them. They're from The Scrawl. Pirates for hire. Someone else sent them to do this."
Silence falls upon them like the plague.
"Who?" Mac asks quietly.
"Don't know. But we're gonna find out," Chandler says. "We are changing course to Nor'idal."
"Nor'idal? I've never heard of it," Veronica whispers to Duke.
"It's a pirate port. Criminals go there for drinks and supplies. You can buy gossip there for a price," Duke responds.
"Mac, help me grab Ram. Let's start burying them," Chandler says. Mac nods, lifting Ram by his armpits.
"Wh- what are you doing?" Veronica stammers.
"Its how we bury our dead. Live on the sea, die underneath it," Chandler explains grabbing his feet.
"Don't they have families?"
Chandler scoffs. "Trust me, Veronica. We're their family."
"Ready?" Mac asks.
Chandler nods.
With a few swings, they toss Ram over the railing.
splash
"Let get the rest of them," Chandler says.
Veronica wipes the tears from her eyes.
Words are hardly spoken between anyone outside of necessity as the night progresses. Veronica isn't sure if this is a pirate's way of grieving or if everyone is just too exhausted to speak.
Crew members are reluctant to sleep, but they begrudgingly do. Except for Veronica.
"You coming, Ronica'?" Duke asks, hanging onto Mac's form.
"I'll be down in a second," Veronica says. Duke shrugs, hobbling away with Mac.
She makes her way up to the helm where Chandler stands, hands on the ship's wheel.
Veronica stands next to her, arms hugging around themselves.
"Hey," Veronica greets. "Are the waters, uh, smooth or whatever?"
Chandler chuckles.
"About as smooth as you, I'd say. In other words, we're in deep fucking trouble."
Veronica shoves her shoulder.
"You didn't answer me earlier," Veronica says eventually.
"About what?"
"Where you got my brooch? You know, the one with powers."
Heather sighs.
"I found it. It was on a ship we raided. I have no idea where it really came from."
"Why did you give it to me?"
"Because it goes with your outfit," Heather says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Veronica looks down at it. She's right.
"So, we should talk," Veronica says.
"Gross," Heather says, making a face at her before turning her attention back to the ocean.
Veronica rolls her eyes.
"What do we suppose we do, then? Forget the kiss ever happened?"
"Personally, I'd rather skip the talking and just bang but we can if you want."
Veronica feels her face heat up to the temperature of the sun. Her heart picks up in her chest. A familiar heat settles in her belly.
Oh my god
Is this real life?
Did I die and go to gay heaven?
"Buy a girl dinner first, sheesh," Veronica smirks.
"Sure, we can eat out," Heather throws her a wink.
Veronica shakes her head, grinning wide.
"Seriously, though."
A moment passes.
"There's this legend pirates tell about a witch who has dominion over life and death."
"This is one way to avoid a conversation," Veronica sighs.
"Shut up and listen. They say when a pirate dies, she comes to transport their soul to wherever the hell they fuck off too. When she comes, though, they say that a person can offer something to the witch to bring the dead back to life. They say it has to be something super, like, expensive or some shit for her to listen. Story has it that she's never accepted an offer before."
Veronica nods along.
"Well, I never really believed in that crap. I mean, come on, they call her Betty for fuck's sake."
"Betty?" Veronica laughs.
"I know. It's stupid. But, when you had that gun raised earlier and that guy had that knife to my throat. I was thinking of all the things I had that I could offer that witch. To bring you back if you died."
Veronica stares. Heart fluttering.
"It was stupid. Forget it."
Veronica reaches out towards Heather, grabbing her hand and drawing it from the wheel. She tugs Heather closer so that they are chest-to-chest. She rests her hands on the back of Heather's neck and pulls her down for a kiss.
It's gentle, far more soft than their first. Heather wraps her arms around Veronica, resting her hands on her hips.
Heather breaks away.
"You know, it really sucks I'm stirring a ship right now. I'd rather be doing other things."
Veronica hums, stepping back.
"I was serious before. You're buying me dinner."
Heather scoffs, grabbing the ship's wheel once more.
"Goodnight, Heather."
"Night, Ronnie."
Martha's POV
Martha stumbles after JD, looking around at this foreign town. The people scowl as she passes, noses upturned in disgust. She shies away from them, speedwalking closer to JD
"Where are we?"
"Nor'idal. Don't pay the folks here much mind. It's just that they can see you aren't, well, like them," JD replies, guiding them towards a smaller, cozy-looking building. A tavern, Martha figures.
"Not like them how?"
"Oh, you know. Pirates, mercenaries, the likes thereof."
Martha gulps. The streets are dark here. Too dark for Martha's liking. The air smells of alcohol and her impending doom.
"Why are we here? Where are we going?"
"Well, our friends that were gonna help us with our little Heather problems are late. Which means either they're dead or deserters. I want to know any information I can. So, we're gonna stop by a very classy tavern. The guy who owns it, Dennis, is a real gossip. For a price."
"I don't know, JD. I'm getting bad vibes from this place."
"Martha, you'd be stupid to not get bad vibes from this place. Look, this is is going to help us save Veronica. You want that, don't you?"
Martha rubs her forehead and nods wordlessly. She follows him as he enters a small set of swinging doors.
The inside of the bar is warm and strangely comforting in comparison to the cold, dark streets of Nor'idal. It wreaks of strong booze, but the beautiful saxophonist playing a slow song makes up for it. The floorboards are polished and well cleaned. Veronica would have approved.
People are sat at circular tables, chatting amongst themselves, boisterously laughing. Some groups are playing cards games Martha couldn't name for the life of her. A fireplace burns on the back of the room, bright and flaking out small embers.
JD walks up to the bar and sits himself on a stool. Martha sits hesitantly next to him, hands fiddling in her lap.
The man behind the bar wanders over to him. He's young and well put together. His dark skin is smooth and bright. He wears a white button-up with black suspenders. On his face are thick-framed black glasses and a wide smile.
"Well, if it isn't JD. Rumor has it you are as dead as Davey Jones. Glad to see you're still kicking. And you are?" He holds out a hand to Martha.
Martha takes it and shakes it politely.
"I'm Martha Dunnstock."
"Ms. Dunnstock," He greets. "Can I get you two anything to drink?"
"Maybe later. I was wondering if you'd heard anything about a recent Scrawl job gone wrong?"
He shrugs, cleaning a glass with a white rag.
"Haven't heard anything. Why don't you come back tomorrow? Haven't gotten any shipments today so I haven't gotten any information from the ocean blue."
JD nods.
"I'll take a tequila, Dennis," He says.
Dennis nods, turning around and grabbing a glass.
JD turns to Martha a little, small smile on his face.
"Don't worry, Ms. Dunnstock. We'll wait as long as we have to," He says. "I have a feeling we are going to have to take matters into our own hands.
Veronica's POV
The morning comes quickly. She wakes up a little later than she had wanted to. Rubbing her eyes, she makes her way back up towards the deck. The harsh sunlight hits her eyes unforgivingly as she walks out onto the deck. People are buzzing around as if yesterday didn't happen, just as they had the day before.
"Good morning, Ronnie," Mac greets, appearing beside her, smile warm as a halo.
"Good morning," Veronica says. "What's up?"
"Well, I had to clean up some blood from last night."
"Oh, how very," Veronica says. "Sorry you had to do that, Mac."
Mac shrugs. "Oh, by the way, while you were sleeping, we landed on Nor'idal.
Veronica gasps.
"We're here? Already? We're on land?"
"Yeah, we did."
Veronica looks around her. Fatigue leaving her completely, she finally noticed the town they have made port in. She can see trees and very, very small mountains in the distance. She sees the stone streets and the people walking them.
She sprints towards the railing, where she can see now a large ramp leads down onto the solid ground.
She bounds down the wooden ramp, feet jumping onto the cobblestone road. Solid ground feels strange now. She's gotten so used to the constant gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) sway of the ship.
The port they are on is busy, people buzz around her holding crates and barrels of various sizes. The air is somewhat stuffy and wet, a light morning fog floating on the ground. She can see in the distance the small buildings of the city proper.
The Heathers join her not a minute later, Chandler ordering around some crew members to haggle for supplies at a local shop.
"I never thought I'd see land again," Veronica admits, grinning.
"Land's overrated," Duke says, crutch in one hand and an apple in the other.
"Come on, let's go talk to Dennis," Chandler says, leading the way towards the main part of town. Veronica speedwalks to stay by her side.
It's a somewhat hefty walk from the port to where this supposed bar is. Especially for Duke, who is as stubborn as she is injured. They make it nonetheless, Veronica avoiding eye contact with everyone that walks the streets. The people here all look unkempt and unfriendly.
They walk through the doors of this tavern. It's classy, way more so than Veronica expected from this place. The interior is decorated in a charming fashion. The small circular tables are polished and clean. Veronica nods approvingly.
This place beats out my dad's old bar 10 to 1.
The atmosphere inside is... soothing. Alarmingly so. Veronica wonders if it's like a Venus flytrap in that sort of way; pretty on the outside, but a killer when it comes down to it. From the information Duke has told her about Nor'idal, she wouldn't be surprised if the number of dead bodies the floor of this tavern has seen exceeds imagination.
Chandler walks straight up to the bar, not bothering to sit at a stool. She leans over it, resting her elbows on the dark, shiny wood.
"Dennis," she greets.
The man, Dennis, turns to her. He gives her a knowing look, before pouring clear liquid into a small glass. He takes the glass and drinks it, quickly draining it of its contents.
"Heather," he says, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
Chandler smirks.
"I need some information," she says casually.
Duke and Mac take a seat at the bar a few stools down, helping themselves to the plate of cherries.
"What's new?" He says with a light chuckle. He turns to Veronica, raising an eyebrow curiously. "Who's this? New member?"
"Hiya, I'm-"
"She's none of your concern," Heather jumps in. Veronica's mouth snaps shut.
"No need to be so defensive. Just being polite," he says.
"Dennis, we all know you sell any bit of info you get. The only thing that spreads faster than the plague around here is gossip."
He smiles, smug. "Well, I do have to make a living."
"I want information about a recent hit on my crew. Probably from the Scrawl."
Dennis nods, adjusting his glasses.
"Info on the Scrawl is expensive."
"I know. How much? And don't be a dick about it."
He rubs his chin, looking off into the distance past them.
"Give me a moment, I have to check on some of my other client's offers," he dismisses himself, opening a trap door behind the bar and carefully stepping down the ladder. The trapdoor closes behind him.
"Other clients?" Veronica asks.
"People who pay him to keep their secrets," Heather huffs, annoyed. "We'll have to pay more than them."
Heather sits down on a stool. Veronica joins her.
Veronica scans the room. The patrons are all seated at small circular tables. She notices in the corner of the room two women are sat across from each other. They both have their hands in front of their mouths as they talk, speaking inaudibly through their fingers.
"What are they doing?" Veronica asks, nudging Chandler's shoulder.
Heather looks in that direction before turning back to Veronica.
"They're speaking through their hands," Heather says. "It's too avoid any unwanted lip reading. There is a lot of them here. Dennis is one of them. It's why he knows so much."
Veronica nods.
This place is totally the sketchiest town I'm history and it is so, so dope.
The trapdoor opens once more and Dennis reappears. He locks the trapdoor before standing up straight.
"I'll give up the information on your hit for...five hundred gold pieces."
Heather scowls.
"That's bullshit," she says.
"It's sensitive information," he shrugs. "The Scrawl pays a lot to fly under the radar, you know that. They are all about their reputation."
"I know but shit, five hundred?"
"How much exactly do you know?"
"I know who hired them. Trust me, Heather. You want to hear this. Honestly, I wish I could just tell you but business is business."
Heather groans, running her forehead.
"Remember that one time McNamara saved your ass from hay fever. I haven't cashed in that favor yet."
"I'm sorry, Heather. I'm very grateful but I have to make a living-"
"Just a sneak peek then. I wanna know what I'm getting into."
Dennis sighs, leaning forward, hands planted on the bar. He looks between the four of them contemplating.
"It was two people who hired them. One who I will only reveal after I am paid. The other one was like the sidekick or something. Definitely not a professional. Her name was Martha Dunnstock. That's all I'm saying."
Veronica's world feels as if it crashes down around her. Her limbs tingle; she can't feel her hands. Her breath suddenly becomes labored and quick.
Martha?
She would never...
She couldn't have...
"Martha? Who the fuck?" Heather says, looking to Duke and Mac, who both shrug.
"You're lying," Veronica says, voice weak.
Dennis looks at her, eyebrows drawn together.
"I'm not," he says.
Heather turns to her, surprised. She squints at Veronica
"Do you know her?"
Veronica's heart has sunken low to the ground, burying itself deep below the floorboards.
"H-he doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Knowing what I'm talking about it what I do," Dennis says, but the words don't resonate. This can't be happening. Martha wouldn't...betray her. She wouldn't.
"Veronica, breathe. Who's Martha?" Chandler asks, concern in her voice.
Veronica stands abruptly. Heather reaches out for her, but she's already storming away, through the doors and out onto the streets of Nor'idal.
She pushes past a few people trying to enter the tavern and pushes forward, jogging to an ally across the street. She walks aimlessly down the alley and makes a right turn onto a small street. The building immediately to her right is labeled as an inn. She rests her back by the door, breathing heavy.
Her head hits against the stone behind her. She closes her eyes.
Martha wouldn't do this.
She's her best friend.
Then again, the last time they spoke was a little tense. And the people she hired wanted her alive. It would make a little sense.
Goddammit.
She runs her hands down her face.
"Care for a cigar?" A masculine voice says next to her. She nearly jumps out of her skin, hand on her chest. She looks at the man. He's tall and lanky, skin pale except for the somewhat dark bags under his eyes. He doesn't look tired, though, with his gaze as sharp as a lion. He wears a dark trenchcoat.
He holds out a cigar in his hand, a polite smile on his face.
"No thanks, I don't really smoke."
He shrugs. "Me neither. I just care it around in case life kicks my ass just a little bit too far. You look like hell, so I offered."
Veronica laughs, breath slowly coming easier.
"Yeah? I just got back."
He places the cigar back in his trenchcoat before holding out his hand.
She shakes it.
"I'm Veronica. Veronica Sawyer."
He raises an eyebrow, smug smile appearing on his face.
"Really?"
She squints with a confused smile.
"Is that hard to believe?"
"No, not at all. Just picture you as more of a Winona, that's all."
"Huh," Veronica says, unsure of how to respond to that.
This guy is a little odd.
"What's your name?" She asks.
"And kill the suspense?" He says, tucking his hands in his pockets.
"Very dramatic."
"Veronica, what is this all for if not for the dramatics of it all."
"I suppose," she says, amused. She likes this guy. He's...an interesting character.
The Heathers are probably looking for her, though. And she knows better than to leave them waiting.
"I should go. My friends are waiting for me."
He nods.
"I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again soon," he says.
She smiles quickly before jogging back down the path where she came.
She spots Heather in the street when she emerges from the ally. Chandler looks at her and runs over.
"Care to tell me what the fuck is going on?" Heather asks, arms crossed, face stern.
Veronica runs a hand over her forehead, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Can we go somewhere more private? I don't want any lip-readers listening in or whatever."
Heather looks around before exhaling through her nose.
"Fine. Let's go back to the ship. I have to get out five hundred gold pieces anyway."
"What about Duke and Mac?"
"They wanted to stay and hang out a bit I guess. I don't know how this turned into a date night for them but whatever."
Veronica smiles. At least they're having a good time here.
The ship is nearly vacant when they arrive back, only a few guards patrolling the deck and railing. The sun has climbed more of its way into the sky, the fog lifting.
Chandler leads them into her quarters, where Veronica sits opposite of her, a desk in between them.
Heather sighs, leaning back against the chair. She crosses her arms.
"So, Martha Dunnstock?" She asks.
Veronica swallows hard, arms wrapping themselves around her waist. She squeezes.
"She was...is my best friend. She's the one who was helping me get away from my town when I accidentally got onto your ship," Veronica explains, teeth grazing her bottom lip.
Chandler states, eyes darting around as if trying to piece the information together.
"Wait, so this loser was, like, your bestie?"
"She's not a loser."
Heather rolls her eyes.
"Explains why they wanted you alive. But why hire a bunch of pirates after us then? I mean, as far as she knows you're on a fruit delivery ship on your way to a new horizon or whatever? How did she even know where we were and where we were headed?"
Veronica rubs her arm. She shrugs.
Chandler squints.
"Veronica, tell me. You're a shitty liar."
Veronica looks at the floor.
"She found us a while back. Climbed aboard when I was on the night shift, remember? She wanted to rescue me," Veronica admits. " I refused. I told her to go home, that I would be okay. She seemed fine with it but maybe her worry took over."
She can feel Heather's gaze bearing into her but she doesn't dare look up.
"I cannot believe you didn't tell me! What the fuck, Ronnie?"
"In my defense, I thought you might kill her. I didn't really know you at all back then!"
"Well, don't worry. She's definitely dug her own grave, not you," Heather says, standing suddenly. The chair scrapes loudly against the old wood.
Veronica's eyes widen. She stands too.
"Heather, you can't kill her! She's my best friend!"
Chandler scoffs.
"She killed a few of mine."
Veronica can see the hurt in her eyes. It punches her straight in the gut, almost knocking the wind out of her.
"I know," Veronica says. It's all she can.
"She'll be stuffed and mounted on the wall as soon as I get my hands on her," Heather rounds the desk, walking passed Veronica towards the door.
Veronica turns and catches her by the arm. Heather turns.
"Please, Heather. She wouldn't ever do this. That other person she was with...maybe they have mind control or something. Maybe they are gifted like your brother or the guy on the ship. Maybe they put a spell on her," Veronica pleads.
Heather grabs Veronica's hand from her arm and holds it in her hand briefly, before dropping it, letting it fall back to her side.
"Get crucial, Ronnie. What are the odds?"
"Can we just find out who the other person is first?" Veronica asks, voice quiet.
Heather rests her hands on her hips.
"Fine. Let's go see what Dennis knows. But, if we find out she was acting of her own conscience, I will kill her. "
Veronica nods, breathing a sigh of relief.
Oh, Martha. I hope wherever you are you're far from here.
The walk back to the tavern is filled with a pregnant silence. Veronica's legs are beginning to hurt from all the walking. Chandler doesn't look at her once.
They push through the doors.
Immediately, the atmosphere of the bar is different. It is desolate, all people once dining and drinking have now vanished. Dennis stands in the center of the room, a mop in hand.
The mop is stained red, Veronica notices. It takes her a few more seconds to realize that the puddle on the floor is blood.
Jesus...
We were only gone for 45 minutes...
Chandler pauses in the doorway briefly before continuing to stride forward.
"Bar brawl, Dennis?" She asks, looking around the room.
He says nothing. Veronica looks at him. His hands are gripping the mop like you would strangle a snake. His body is shaking lightly.
"Are you okay?" Veronica asks, stepping forward.
Chandler takes notice too. The sac of gold in her hand goes slack a little. She looks to her left and right.
"Where's Heather and Heather?" Chandler asks, looking him up and down.
Veronica is sure you could hear a pin drop in this room. The air becomes stale. She can feel her heart pick up inside her chest.
Dennis opens and closes his mouth rapidly.
In a flash of movement, Heather drops the gold onto the floor and runs to Dennis. Veronica follows.
Heather grabs him by both shoulders tightly.
"Dennis, where are Duke and McNamara?"
He looks at her. A tear falls down his cheek. Veronica holds both of her hands close to her chest.
"I-I'm sorry, Heather. I tried to stop him. But he used his powers. He t-took them. Duke fought back but it was n-no use," he stammers.
"Who," she demands desperately, fingers digging into his shirt.
He looks to her, a grave shadow falling onto his features. He wordlessly hands a folded piece of parchment to Veronica, never breaking eye contact with Chandler. She slowly takes it into her now clammy fingers.
"Jason Dean sends his regards," he says.
Heather's hands fall from his shoulders, dangling lifelessly at her sides. Her face is deathly pale as if she's just seen a ghost. Her body starts trembling lightly. She shakes her head slowly, backing up.
"No, that's impossible."
He says nothing.
"I-I killed him. I saw him die," she says, voice breaking.
"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Veronica asks. No one seems to acknowledge her query.
Who's Jason Dean?
"I'm sorry," he says.
He looks between the two of them.
He clears his throat.
"Your brother lives, Heather," he says.
The words crash down onto Veronica's head like a crate of boulders. She snaps her gaze to Heather who looks at her, eyes glassy and distant.
Veronica searches for words. For thoughts.
Heather runs out the doors.
Veronica sprints after her without a second glance toward Dennis.
She doesn't have to run far, Heather is right outside the tavern's doors, heaving onto the floor.
Veronica unfolds the parchment she was given, scanning the words vigorously.
' Catch me if you can, their lives count on it '
- JD