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His theory proved correct when he was shadowed the moment he stepped out of the bar, weaving around the street in his pretend-drunk state. Marko and Arty were there, ready, so he used them to pretend-support himself from falling until they were out of the district.
“Disguise off. Lie low.”
In a less crowded corner, they separated. He arrogantly sang his tune, leading the trail away from the two. When he turned another corner, he was already running and losing the shadow in no time. Isaiah paused to take a breather behind a parked ship, mapping the path that led to his ship. Getting followed was good, proof that the ghost ship story—and in turn, Isaiah—would hold Ven captivated for a while. He took out the bag he had hidden under a rock earlier, removing his hat and stuffing it inside.
“Run.”
The whisper was light, but the tone had his body going on alert. When Nicola tugged his hand, he didn’t hesitate following as she led him through twists and turns that she had probably scoped out earlier. They covered a lot of ground, leaving behind the rowdy area and other nearby districts. Yet she didn’t stop, as if something was snapping at her heels. What was it?
Isaiah got his answer soon enough when a line of garbage cans got knocked over behind them, and a sound pierced the air. He didn’t recognize the thin, high-pitched roar, even while he tried to recall all the creatures he had traded with. Not a vampire. Not a shifter or a witch, unless the latter used magic or ran insanely fast. A Fae?
“This way.”
Nicola’s voice was so low, he almost missed it. More objects were slapped back, the increasing sounds signaling that it was getting nearer. An assassin? No.
Something not human. Not the usual. That something was after them—not the shadows from earlier but far sinister. He could feel it pulsating in the air as it drew near, tightening his belly with trepidation. His senses turned agitated, if only because this running would probably never end—
She gasped, sharp and dumbstruck. He glanced ahead and registered where they were going, then realized there was no turning back, with the noises behind them getting louder. There had to be a reason why Nicola was running instead of fighting. Isaiah turned their hand until he was the one gripping her.
“Jump.”
Her breath hitched. “I can’t—”
“Trust me.”
She did, not stopping. He would think about that unhesitating trust later, but right now his priority was to get them away from harm, even if it meant putting her in this spot. Isaiah gripped her tighter when they jumped from the path's edge toward the waters—one of the Sky’s few water parkways, meant to imitate the ocean below and housing some of the larger ships in their pirate abode.
Ice hit him hard upon his dive, the darkness disorienting him for a second. Then the adrenaline kicked in as he shimmied to the first shadow he spotted, continuously falling like a weight was upon her. He banded an arm around her waist, hitched her up, and swam upward until their heads were above water. She grasped for air and panicked, but didn’t let a sound out as he led them to a nearby ship’s chain connected to an anchor.
The roar pierced the air once more, frightening in its intensity. He waited, urging her to hold on to the chain as he took out a knife—for all the good it would do. There was a clanging sound, a scrambling pair of not-human feet. A light turned on.
“What’s going on? Who the fuck is the asshole interrupting my goddamn sleep?”
“We are all assholes here,” someone called out. More voices piped in, some sleepy and others highly annoyed, with more lights turning on. Isaiah cajoled her into letting go of the chain and clinging to him again as he retreated into a darker corner.
“This is a peaceful place! That includes where we park!”
“You are the only one yelling too much—”
“My deck! Someone tried to get into my ship. All right, you bastards, which one of you was it?”
“You must have a weakling if someone got in that easily.”
“Why, you little punk!”
It was chaotic, but it was better than facing those roars. He listened to them scream at each other, point fingers, and throw the most creative insults that would normally have made him guffaw in delight. Now, he could just be quietly thankful as the clash provided its purpose: distraction. Whatever was after them had been trained not to attack in a crowd—at least, not this one.
They were safe. For now.
It took a while for the commotion to die down, with no one figuring out what had caused it in the first place but agreeing that getting their rest was more important than getting involved in yet another fight. As soon as most lights were turned off, he got out of the water with Nicola in tow and somehow managed to make it to his parked ship without incident. Even then, he only stopped to deposit her in his cabin before he left again to erase any careless marks left behind. On his second return, Marko met him at the ship’s deck.
“Captain, what happened?”
“The seed’s planted. We lie low again.”
“I see. But why are ye wet—”
“Can’t talk, man. Fucking cold. See you later.”
