Live to Venture (#0)

05 | The Gauge of Adventure

Oh by the Devil, it was painful. It wasn't a muscular pain; it was a splitting headache right down the back of his skull—from what, he had no clue. There was very little he had any clue about, other than the fact that his cell was musty and that his feet were on solid land. He also knew the lock was not easily picked.

The last solid memory Vallin could recall was speaking to Everson about birds on his desk. There had been no birds, apparently. Bates, who was lying facedown in the cell next to Vallin, said it was a Siren attack.

It pissed him off, to say the least. Sirens weren't supposed to be an issue for him; he had a deal. The moment he was able to speak to someone, he was going to ask for the Queen and give her very very limited time for explanation.

Everson said he was out for two days. When Vallin reached up to the side of his head, his fingers came back with dark, dried patches of blood. Miller tried to get a look at him from her cell, but she couldn't reach. He wasn't quite sure how he'd been knocked out or what happened, but his memory gap didn't particularly bother him. His broken deal, though, that irritated him.

He waited for someone to come. As he did, he planned out his conversation with Kretch. He decided he would skip the charm, go straight to confrontational. She was a soft-spoken woman who seemed to be quite fond of Vallin, so he'd make her think he'd lost his patience.

Footsteps came down the call, heavy and unsure. Vallin glanced up, leaning against the front bars of his cell. The crew immediately perked up, but the approaching man wasn't much of anything. He was just a boy—someone any one of them could easily beat, but he was a boy, someone the Siren Queen wouldn't have on her island. This whole thing was just weird.

"Which one of you is Captain Bardarian?" the boy asked to the cells, bright eyes darting.

"Guess," Vallin said.

The boy pursed his lips, moving forward to unlock Vallin's cell. Glancing at Everson, they silently agreed that cooperation was the best idea in this situation. They needed a lay of the land, an understanding of where they were and who was who. He let the boy tie his hands, fighting with his ego to do so.

"Come with me," the boy said, turning around.

Vallin glanced at his crew as he was led down the hallway, footsteps echoing in the musty silence. The was a turn, and then another, and then another. He nearly lost track, but not quite.

The boy led them to a door the same as all the others. It opened to some sort of conference room with tables and chairs. Someone sat at the far end, head down as they wrote something down on a slip of paper. Vallin glanced back at the boy. The woman could be a Siren, and that was so not fair—it was practically cheating. He reconsidered starting the fight now and making a run for it, but the boy was firm on the door behind them before he could decide.

"You can leave, love."

Vallin glanced back at the woman, still writing. That was not the voice of a Siren; it was far too rough. Why would a non-Siren woman be here? Why was this so weird?

Vallin glanced back at the boy, assuming the woman was talking to him. If she was talking to Vallin, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He took a step forward.

"Not you." She glanced up and tossed the pen down on the table. "I was talking to your escort."

Vallin looked over at her, made the eye contact. She was a new brand of stunning, and it was so bizarrely obvious that he found himself letting out a sputter of laughter.

She leaned back, brilliantly hazel eyes amused. "That's new," she said.

Vallin grinned as his escort left the room. He reached out behind him, hands still bound, and tried the door, but it wouldn't budge. He glanced back at her. "Sirens must hate you," he said.