And if this was all just a product of her drug-addled mind? She had to admit he wasn’t too far off from all the extremely handsome villains she’d dreamt up over the course of her life. With a beleaguered sigh, she followed after him.
Turning the corner, she saw him disappear down another aisle. She had to jog to catch up with him. When she finally did, she sawhim browsing a section of books, tapping a finger on his chin thoughtfully, looking for something.
“Do you have a name?” She studied him curiously. The lighting cast him in sharp shadows, making him look evenmoreunsettling and eerie, not like he needed the help. She kept her distance, but she knew it wouldn’t save her if he put his mind to it.
“You may call me Vile.” He was clearly half paying attention to her, half still searching for the right book. “Though I know it sounds silly to your ears, it’s the best I’ve managed over the centuries for myself. Grown rather fond of it, I must say.”
“So you really aren’t human?” She suspected as much, but it was good to have it confirmed. “You’re more like a demig?—”
“Ah-hah! There it is.” Vile pulled a book from the shelf.
The floor opened up underneath her feet without warning.
The last thing she saw as she fell, screaming into the darkness, was his smiling face as he waved goodbye.
THE UNFORTUNATE ADVENTURES
OF MR. SMEE
By Sasha & Sidney Lancaster
CHAPTER FOUR
Cannon fire boomed in the distance.
A palm tree near her detonated in a spray of splinters and shrapnel. It creaked as the top half folded over, the fronds snapping as they fell.
Sasha jolted awake while standing on her feet. That was probably the most disorienting thing a person could go through—waking up while standing, eyes already open. She was shaking as she tried to process what was going on.
“Get after them, you scurvy dogs!”
People were running past her. Chaos reigned. Meanwhile, her brain was still attempting to boot up past the load screen.
She had a sword in her hand. A boarding saber, which she recognized from all the dumb documentaries she got sucked into watching in her spare time. She stared at it. It had notches taken out of the blade—it had seen some shit. She was dressed in period men’s clothing, in a simple, striped linen vest tied over a muslin shirt. She had breeches and colonial socks on, and her shoes were faded and scuffed. A sash around her waist was made up of about twenty different scraps of fabric by the looks of it.
Over it all she was wearing a once expensive looking, but nowvery battered, 18thcentury coat in shades of what probably was once crimson. Now, it was kind of threadbare and salt had stained it blackish-gray in portions. Something that likely had once been fashionable, but was now very far out of date.
There was no subtle way to put it—she was dressed up in a goddamnpiratecostume.It was a good costume, though. Like, an expensive one from a Broadway production or a blockbuster movie. But a cliche pirate costume, nonetheless.
“What theactualf—” She didn’t get any farther than that.
Fa-boooooom.
More cannon fire.
That time, the heavy ball of lead and steel dug into the sandy beach some twenty feet away, sending a spray of particles shooting through the air.
Someone grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the brush where everyone else was running. “Move yer feet, Mr. Smee—” A grizzled face turned toward her. He was missing teeth, and the texture of his skin resembled leather. “They shootin’ for the Boys, but they hit whatever they hit! Can’t aim cannons!”
Mr. Smee?
What theactualfuck was happening?
Looking down at herself, she had to quickly check to make sure she was still, well, her. With all the nonsense that had been going on that day, there was really a fair shot that she was suddenly a man. No, still a woman, and still very much herself. At least she didn’t have to put up withthat.
But the other pirate was still dragging her, and she started to run to keep up. It was that, or trip and eat the sand, sticks, and bits of dry sea debris that had washed up or been blown into the brushy area where the beach ended and the thicker portion of an island jungle began.
If the pirate called her Mr. Smee…
