Ilona Andrews - Magic Rises

“This is going to be so much fun,” George murmured in a voice usually reserved for lamenting extra work piled on your desk on the last minute of Friday.

“You said it.” Raphael grinned. “This will be the best vacation ever.”

“Boudas.” George wrinkled her nose.

As long as the big tech turbines propelled the Rush forward, the ocean remained lifeless, but as soon as the noise disappeared, life gathered around the ship. Dolphins dashed in the water, launching themselves in the air. Often larger, rainbow-hued fishes joined them, spinning above the water as they leaped. Once an enormous, fish-shaped shadow, as long as the ship, slid quietly under us and went on its way. Glittering schools of fish zipped back and forth next to the vessel.

A week into the trip we saw a sea serpent as we were getting our use out of the helipad. The ocean was smooth as glass and suddenly a dragonlike head the size of a car rose above the water on a graceful neck. The silver scales sparkled in the sun. The serpent looked at us with turquoise eyes, as big as a tire, and dove underwater. Saiman said it was only a baby, or things would’ve been considerably more difficult.

On the morning of the seventeenth day, we passed through the Strait of Gibraltar. It was less impressive than expected. A green shore stretched on one side for a while and then receded into the blue. The lack of drama was thoroughly disappointing.

We pressed on. Three days later, I climbed onto the deck to a beautiful day. Crystalline blue water spread as far as the eye could see. Here and there faint outlines of cliffs, the hints of distant islands, interrupted the blue. Gauzy veils of feathered clouds crossed the sky like thin spears of frost across a winter window. The magic was up, and the Rush slid across the water, a nimble steel bird.

I sat down with my coffee. Wind stirred my hair. Saiman came to stand near me.

“I never figured you for a sailor,” I said.

“I never did either. I was seventeen when I happened to get on a crab fishing boat for reasons completely unrelated to fishing. I smelled the wet salt in the wind, felt the deck move, and didn’t leave for three years. I was truly happy there. I do prefer cold seas. I like ice. It’s the call of the blood, I suppose. Aesir or Jotun, take your pick.”

“Why did you leave?”

Saiman shook his head. “It’s not something I wish to share. Suffice to say, there are times when I think I should’ve stayed.”

He leaned forward, scanning the horizon, and for the first time since we left port, his face was grim.

“Problems?”

Saiman nodded at the endless water. “We’ve crossed into the Aegean.”

“Are you worried senior citizens will start diving off the cliffs because our ship is flying the wrong sails?”

Barabas wandered out onto the deck and came to stand by us.

“I never understood the legend of Theseus,” Saiman said. “Or rather, I understand his motivation for killing the minotaur in an effort to establish himself as a leader. I can’t fathom the rationale behind Aegeus throwing himself into the sea.”

“He thought his son failed to kill the minotaur and died,” I said.

“So he decided to destabilize the country already paying tribute to a foreign power even further by killing himself and destroying the established royal dynasty?” Saiman shook his head. “I think it’s clear what really occurred. Theseus led the invasion of Crete, destroyed their superweapon in the form of the minotaur, returned home, and made his bid for power by pushing his dear old father off a cliff. Everyone pretended it was a suicide, and Theseus went on to found Athens and unify Attica under its banner.”

Barabas barked a short laugh. “He’s probably right.”

“I prefer the other version,” I said.

Saiman shrugged. “Romanticism will be your undoing, Kate. To answer your question, I’m not worried about suicidal Greeks, but about their more violent countrymen. The Aegean is a haven for pirates.”

Romanticism will be your undoing, blah blah. “Isn’t that why you have that gun mounted on the front? Or is it for other reasons, because I would’ve thought that a man with your powers would be past the urge to compensate.”

Barabas grinned.

“I had forgotten that talking to you is like trying to pet a cactus,” Saiman said dryly. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“Always happy to oblige.”

“I’m compensating for nothing. Pirates come in two types. Most of them are opportunistic, situationally homicidal, and driven by profit. They kill as means to an end. They evaluate a vessel of this size and realize that a sea battle would be too costly and their chances of winning it are slim. Unfortunately, there is the second type: the rash, the stupid, and the insane. The Rush wouldn’t prove a deterrent; on the contrary, they would view it as a great prize. Capturing it would at once give them a flagship of decent firepower and allow them to make a name for themselves. They can’t be reasoned with—”

A small cutter swung around the western edge of the nearest island. Saiman looked at it. Another boat joined the first, then a third, a fourth . . .

Saiman gave out a long-suffering sigh. “Right. Please go and get your brute, Kate. We’re about to get boarded.”

“I’ll go.” Barabas jogged away.

Over a dozen cutters now sped toward us. With magic up, the giant gun was useless.

A bell rang: three rings, pause, three rings, pause. A woman barked, her voice deep, “General quarters! All hands to battle stations! General quarters!”

“Shouldn’t you be on the bridge?” I asked.

“The ship must have only one captain,” Saiman said. “Russell is perfectly competent to handle any emergency, and I don’t want to undermine him with my presence.”

The shapeshifters spilled out onto the deck, Curran in the lead. Andrea brandished a crossbow. Raphael strode next to her, carrying knives. The boats headed straight for us. The Beast Lord braked next to me. “Are you planning to ram them?”

“That would be futile. Their boats are more maneuverable. They would simply scatter.”

A person dived into the ocean off the lead boat. That must’ve been a cue, because the pirates began dropping overboard like their boats were on fire.

“What the hell?” Eduardo muttered.

“As I said, we’re about to be boarded,” Saiman said with afflicted patience.

Above us on top of the brig, two sailors manned a polybolos, a siege engine that looked like a crossbow on steroids. An antipersonnel weapon, a polybolos fired large crossbow bolts with deadly accuracy, and just for fun, it was self-loading and repeating, like a machine gun.

Sleek shapes dashed through the water toward us.

“Do they have trained dolphins?” George asked.

“Not exactly,” Saiman backed away, toward the center of the deck.

The dolphins shot toward the Rush all but flying beneath the waves.

I pulled Slayer out.

“Form a perimeter,” Curran called. “Let them get on the deck, where it’s nice and dry. Don’t let them pull you into the water.”

We made a ring in the center of the deck.

“This is utterly ridiculous,” Aunt B said.

Keira stretched. “Fun, fun, fun . . .”

Something smashed into the side of the hull. A deformed gray hand clutched the top edge of the deck and a creature leaped over the railing and landed, dripping water. Nude except for a leather harness, it stood on short muscular legs, hunched over but upright, the sun glistening on its thick, shiny hide. Its body was all chest with a smooth, wide trunk of a waist. Broad shoulders supported two massive arms with surprisingly small hands. Its neck, disproportionately thick, with a hump on the back, anchored a head armed with long, narrow dolphin jaws filled with razor-sharp teeth. Two human eyes stared at us from the thickly fleshed face. A big bastard. At least four hundred pounds.