Happy release day! The Farther Reefs anthology is finally here. Just to whet your appetites, here is an excerpt from my story, “For Want of Treasure.”
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So a treasure hunter, a hardened sea captain, and a merman walk into a bar.
Isn’t that how all good tall tales begin?
The Jolly Roger wasn’t even a nice bar, but that was the point. It was a seedy, scurvy hole-in-the-wall with cheap alcohol, easy access to whores, and plenty of the worst scum imaginable.
You know, my kind of people.
I strolled in first. I usually did—I was the muscle of the outfit, being 5’11’ with a stocky build and piercing russet eyes. People knew to stay out of my way. Nevermind that I was a woman; by now, my reputation preceded me and only fools were stupid enough to have something to say about my gender. I’d blackened enough eyes and broken enough limbs to get the point across, so no one paid me any attention as I strode over the creaky floorboards towards the corner table.
Same as me, no one really noticed when Kida walked in. She was the shortest of our trio at 5’6’’ and slender of frame but with plenty of lithe muscle to back up the scowl on her face. She hated criminals. Which, of course, was hilarious, since I was one. And technically, so was she, but that was a long ongoing argument that no one wanted to hear. Like me, she wore fitted pants, boots, and a blouse. She had a cutlass on her hip and her long, brown hair trailed over one shoulder in a tidy ponytail. If one looked close enough, they’d see the freckles dusting her light brown cheeks, but calling her cute would get you a broken nose. She kept a hand on the hilt of her weapon as she walked, fully expecting a confrontation as she always did when it was time to talk to vagabonds. And she had enviable perfect posture—but that was no surprise. Most ship captains that were ex-Navy did.
However, people did look up when Thomas brought up the rear.
For one, Thomas was pale. That didn’t happen a lot in ports and places where people sailed the seas for a living. I was fortunate with my dark brown skin and thick shoulder length curls to not have to worry as much about burning under the sun. He didn’t get sunburn, either, but only because he wasn’t completely human. Aside from the paleness, he had delicate features that were a mix between handsome and pretty, with his waist-length inky hair and blue eyes. He was taller than me at 6’0’’ and he too was relatively lithe with muscle. He also looked the friendliest of the three of us, glancing around curiously to survey his new surroundings. Men and women alike stared at him in wonder, for he always had this air of being from somewhere exotic and strange, not like the seamen nor the landlubbers.
And they were right. After all, he hailed from Atlantis—the lost city beneath the sea.
Arty was at the corner table drinking with three of his crew members, laughing into his beer. As soon as he spotted me, he sat up straight and wiped the suds off his beard and pot belly. The other crew members noticed me and Kida and grabbed their drinks, hustling off to another part of the bar without being told.
“Arty,” I said as I slouched into one of the empty chairs. “You look well.”
“Ehehe, well, I try,” he said, nervously glancing at Kida before nodding to her respectfully. “I see your troupe is out in force today.”
“Thomas was getting stir crazy,” I said. “So I thought I’d bring him along to have a look at the locals.”
“He’ll find plenty of entertainment if he wants it,” Arty said, gesturing towards the whores now abandoning their clients to flock to his side. I sent a withering glare over my shoulder. The four women stopped dead and then whispered to each other before adopting sullen looks and returning to their posts. Typical.
“The map,” Kida demanded, narrowing her eyes at Arty.
“Ah, yes’m, one second.” Arty reached into his boot and withdrew a rolled-up map. “Them’s the coordinates. Lots of men have tried to get at, but between the cliff and the reef, no one can dive far enough down to get to the contents of the sunken ship.”
“Which are?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Rumor is it’s stolen sterling pounds from Scotland. Last I heard was two-to-three thousand, but you know how it goes in our line of work.”
I snorted. “Damn right I do.”
I glanced at Kida. “If you would, love.”
Kida glared at me, but sighed and withdrew her change purse. She counted out Arty’s cut and left it on the table, understandably not wanting to touch the filthy sailor. He scooped up what he was owed and tucked it into his waistband, lifting his mug. “Much obliged. When can I expect my share of what you find?”
“If we find anything,” I said curtly, standing up. “I’ll call on you within three days to pay you. If you hear anything good in the meantime, don’t be a stranger.”
Arty winked. “Never to you, Lila. You keep me wallet fat as me stomach.”
He broke into chortles and I rolled my eyes before turning to leave.
We were almost to the door when trouble came a-knocking.
A dark-haired man with a goatee stuck his leg out, blocking my path about four tables away from the door. He tipped his wide hat up and smiled at me. “Sorry to interrupt, but you wouldn’t happen to be the same Lila who’s wanted by the British for crippling the son of the commander’s fleet after having an eye on your girl here?”
He lazily pointed at Kida. I smiled. “He didn’t have ‘an eye on her.’ He had a hand on her. A hand that I kept.”
I leaned in towards him. “And I’ll do the same to you if you don’t move your smelly ass away from me.”
“Well,” he said, clapping his hands together. “That’s admission by your own will, isn’t it? You are the infamous Lila—feared from Tibet to Timbuktu!”
His beady eyes gleamed with greed. “And worth about fifty-thousand pounds. British sterling, of course.”
“Of course,” I said sweetly. “And, what? You’re gonna bring me in all by your lonesome?”
He laughed. “I’m a fool, not suicidal.”
Seven men in the bar stood up and locked their eyes on me. “They are.”
TO BE CONTINUED