The stench of the seaside tavern could practically be smelled before we even made port and the singing and laughter could be heard far out as our ship. Some tension already among the crew on staying here, and Will couldn’t have blamed the lot as he pushed through the crowd of drunken sailors. The flour-de-lis that flew from the local buildings and forts a sign the Englishman was only recently welcome here, and probably not long.

  Even still, Will had decided to go to port alone for this job and wasn’t exactly blending into the poorer environment he walked in. His wool and linen clothes not a fancy material, but the bright red of his cloak, cravat around his neck, and tricorne on his head easily making him stand out in the crowd. That was to say nothing of the four flintlocks he kept strapped across his body, two armed with lead and two with silver, and the two cutlasses at his sides, also of silver and steel.

  Will wasn’t planning on getting in a fight, that would have been a poor move in this place, but he also knew there was always a chance of one meeting him. He’d never been in this port and was just working on a series of leads that started with a fey in Florida. That had led him to talking to an old friend, the tea woman Elizabeth, in Port Royale, tracking down a merchant in the middle of the water, and now this. His crew was quickly beginning to question his methods and reasons, and why they weren’t tracking pirates and Spanish ships.

  Will felt like he particularly needed this to work out in his favor.

  The inside of the tavern was packed, what felt like a hundred people stuffed together laughing and talking in languages he couldn’t begin to understand. In the center a circle formed as two men fought and everyone cheered and placed bets, and Will slowly pushed through to the bar.

  “I’m looking for the Wolf of Paris,” Will declared before the man had any time to ask a wierd, leaning on the counter and getting a strange look in return. Will sighed, pulling a Spanish dollar from his pocket as he realized one of two things had gone wrong. Silver slid across the wood counter top as he specified, “le loup de paris?”

  “Sa petite amie est à l'étage,” the man said in French as he pointed toward a set of steps going to the second floor. “Elle t'attend, je crois.”

  “Thank you,” Will answered hesitantly, giving a brief nod as he assumed the man was telling him to follow the stairs. The privateer probably should have brought his first mate, the man actually spoke French, but he also didn’t support his captain’s occupation. He knew monsters were real much like most of the crew, and that Will hunted them, but he saw little reason in targeting them specifically.

  A werewolf that hunted the seas as a pirate was little more a priority than any other such member of their occupation, and didn’t pay anymore for the risk. It was only the fact Will continued his family’s tradition that he felt a need to do so, and the knowledge that they were more dangerous in deceptive ways. Besides, the man had a personal history with this particular monster, and a point to make in bringing them in.

  With a nod and thanks in English, Will went upstairs onto the second floor that looked over the first floor from its wrapping balcony. He didn’t see Cosette, though it didn’t take long to see the woman that sat in one of the corners who seemed to observe him coldly. Tall, wearing a pair of linen pants and with a bandoleer of pistols draped across the chair on one side and a woman leaning into her other, she stared at Will from under her wide brimmed hat. One blink to bring out yellow wolf eyes and another blink to send them off as she nodded the man over.

  Will gave a nod, slowly walking forward with a hand testingly resting on the handle of his silver cutlass. The woman frowned, and Will heard the small click of a pistol under her table through the laughter below as she asked, “êtes-vous le nouveau gar?on d'Cosette?

  “Afraid I don’t speak French,” Will admitted, even as she gestured him into the seat across from her and he asked. “Do you know any English?”

  “Quel genre d'Anglais ne conna?t pas le Fran?ais?” the woman muttered, sounding annoyed before she asked, “?Sabes Espa?ol?”

  “Eu sei um pouco de portugues?” he offered, with very little hope.

  “Ou konprann mwen kounye a?”

  “How about fucking Gaeilge?” Will muttered in the language, about to give up and leave to find his first mate or someone that spoke something they could get by on.

  “Enough to get by,” the woman replied in the language, muttering something Will didn't catch in French as she shook her head. “You understand fucking Gaelic, but not French, what sort of Englishman are you?”

  “Gaeilge, and one looking for a certain pirate,” the privateer admitted, shrugging at the thought as he knew not what else to say.

  “So you’re the Lord Taylor I’ve heard so much about,” the woman confirmed with a nod, chuckling at the thought, “I don’t get what she sees in you.”

  “I’m hoping to see my blade in her, for what that’s worth” Will admitted, not much up for the small talk. “I’m not actually a lord until I claim the prize for her head you know.”

  “Oh so should I just call you Taylor then?” the woman asked with a roll of her eyes, seeming ready to throw up.

  “William’s fine,” the man said, briefly wondering if he could draw one of the silver ball pistols from his chest and fire before she could pull the trigger on hers. Probably not, but it was worth a thought just in case things turned violent.

  “You’re lucky she wants to see you,” the woman admitted, shaking her head as the click of a hammer came back out and she sat the uncocked pistol on the table between them. “She’s about two weeks east by south east of here with good winds, wandering the merchant lanes out of Haiti. She left for two months at sea, longer with stolen supplies, about a week ago, so she’ll be there when you arrive.”

  “Thank you, you’ve been of service to the crown,” Will said, knowing she wasn’t lying with that excuse as he pulled another Spanish coin from his purse and tossed it to her.

  “How much longer do you get to act so high and mighty?” the woman asked, laughing slightly as she took the coin and rolled it in her fingers. “You’re a pirate for hire, you’re running out of people to attack every year. How long before you admit you’d have so much more fun sailing for your own reasons?”

  “Well, let’s see, I don’t want to attack merchants and ports unless there’s a reason behind it,” Will admitted, forcing an annoyed tone at the thought. Honestly he was a privateer, he probably didn’t sound much better, even as he continued and left, “yeah, I think I’ll pass. You have your fun.”

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  ***

  It was near a month later when they were finally on the seas near Haiti. Will stood at the helm and the soft sound of singing rolling over the waters as he finally spotted Cosette’s ship. The flag their first cue, and as soon as he saw the dark brown fabric in the distance the man called for his brass telescope and stepped forward to the bow to observe it.

  There, flying high above the water, the symbol of a skull under the crescent moon marked the ship of Cosette, the Wolf of Paris. As they got closer Will made out the shape of a low sandy beach the pirates anchored near, and the sight of a large camp set up full of people going about their business.

  “Should we be ready for battle?” Will’s first mate asked, getting the answer to any question he may have had from his captain’s expression.

  “Ready the cannons and powder,” Will confirmed with a nod, clicking his tongue in thought, “additionally prepare the longboat, I plan to do this the normal way.”

  “The normal way always ends with a sword wound and you saying ‘she fucking tricked me’,” his first mate remarked dryly. He wasn’t wrong, but Will truly did wish he had some more fucking faith in his captain.

  “She shot me one time,” the captained tried to counter finally, as though that made it sound any better.

  “It’s a miracle you haven’t dishonored your family and the crown and fucked her,” the man muttered, walking off as he started to call out Will’s orders.

  The privateer ready to correct him, before remembering that that would have only made him look worse. As it was everyone thought Will had a soft spot for the fucking werewolf, and the last thing he needed was everyone knowing it’d gone farther than some tension and flirtation.

  It all started when They’d gotten stuck on an island for a few weeks from a hurricane three years ago, knocked off deck by a wave and forced to work together. Things had… spiraled into each other until her crew saved the two and dropped the man off in Tortuga — well, a half mile swim to shore from Tortuga. From there it’d continued into a couple chance meetings in an inn, a few times when one of them had captured the other before ransom or escape, and last time a few months ago when another pirate had captured the two of them and left them in a cell together.

  It was probably a miracle no one had either put it together, or that neither of them had forced a change in the other.

  Once the ship moved closer, raising the flag of negotiation, Will made his way to the longboat and passed on command to his first mate. He knew what to do if his captain died, and not to let her get away if he was captured, as often as he still did. When Will knew the ship was in good hands, he was lowered into the water and paddled the rest of the way to the shore.

  Three figures walked forward to meet him; Cosette, her own first mate, and a werewolf Will didn’t recognize though knew the nature of from the scars covering one arm. Cosette a tall woman, a half head taller than Will and with black hair freely hanging down around her waist. She walked barefoot, donned in only a pair of cheap linen pants and a blue wool jacket that came to her knees with no shirt underneath, all topped off with a tricorne hat she’d taken from the man his first capture and he never felt the need to reclaim. It was already tainted by a pirate’s ownership, as far as he told himself.

  Cosette stepped toward Will with just a sword on her hip, and chuckled as she looked over him and asked through a thick french accent, “finally come to join my crew? I could do with someone like you on board, or at least in bed.”

  “I’m here to bring you to the English authorities to face trial,” Will answered calmly, drawing his silver cutlass. “Would you like to come quietly, or with the heart quiet.”

  “Must you always be so over dramatic?” the woman muttered, shaking her head in disbelief, “I have twenty werewolves and a hundred humans on this island, you’re not going to kill all of them just to get to me. You would have been better off pelting us from the water and collecting the bodies.”

  “I also know you won’t allow an unfair duel,” Will pointed out, not wanting to answer why he hadn’t done that as he pointed his sword at her. “Shall we?”

  “Let’s just fucking kill this human,” the werewolf Will didn’t recognize growled, rushing forward. There was a crack of bone in the air, and by the time Will drew his pistol and fired fur had grown on the creature’s body. The werewolf lurched, the silver ball slamming into his forehead, and its body fell to the ground limp at Will’s feet.

  “Imbécile irréfléchi,” Cosette muttered, shaking her head as she drew her sword. “Alright, just so we’re clear. Once you’re captured, do you prefer to be kept restrained with ropes or chains in your cell?”

  Will chuckled slightly, shrugging as he responded, “I’d ask you the same, but you always react so much better to chains.”

  Cosette smirked, muttering “beau flirt” under her breath before lunging forward and swinging her cutlass hard.

  Will parried it to the side, stabbing forward and nearly cutting into the fabric of her jacket before she stepped back. A crack of bone rang through the air, and he saw fur begin to form on her chest and neck as he quickly drew one the three remaining pistols from his side. The woman spun, her coat came off and flew into the man’s face, and he fired the pistol wildly before a knee slammed into his chest and he was thrown from his feet.

  His back hit the sand, and on instinct he rolled to the side as a scream filled the air and a blade slam into the sand. Will threw Cosette’s jacket off him, and lunged forward with his blade and onto his feet before he even realized his target was no longer in front of him. A growl from behind him, and he spun and gave a wide stab that the woman’s half-breed form easily dodged.

  She was taller, nearly nine feet tall if not for the arched back and twice as wide as normal. Her muzzle and teeth ready to tear, her claws poised to strike and her sword still in one hand with its extended handle, and her thick fur something that would stop his blade on anything but a straight shot. The werewolf crouched low, looking ready to charge forward, and he drew his third pistol and fired.

  She leapt to the side, though the sound of metal shattering said something met its mark. The fighting paused for only a brief moment as the woman acknowledged the blade of her blade, that had been broken by a musket ball six inches from the handle.

  Not what he was going for, but something the man wasn’t going to complain about.

  A smile crossed her maw, and Will lunged forward with another slash she tried to dodge, this time hitting her arm though half-bouncing against the thick fur there. Her claw slashed forward, and he stumbled back even as he felt her catch on his coat and nearly pull him down before the claws ripped through. It was too close, and Will growled as he stabbed toward her shoulder.

  She jumped back, going low and ready to charge, the man readied himself, and as she moved forward he drew his last pistol and fired.

  The ball slammed into her shoulder, and she could not even begin to dodge with the full force of her body moving forward. She tumbled across the sand, and he jumped aside as she landed hard behind him.

  Not letting his chance go he half-ran forward, and by the time Will reached Cosette she was back to being human. She panted in exhaustion, looking up to him as he raised his sword to her neck, and she called out, “wait! I’m pregnant! It’s your kid.”

  Will paused, furrowing his brow as he realized what she said, lowering his blade only a little as he tried to process the words for a moment. After a second, asking, “truly?”

  Cosette paused, looking up to the man with a mix of emotions, her hands planted on the sand before she confessed, “no, but I know you.”

  Will’s side erupted in pain, and he looked to see the remains of Cosette’s sword buried between his ribs, her hand holding it there as blood poured from the wound. He stumbled back, hitting the sand as he suddenly felt light headed and saw the woman rise to her feet and walk to stand over him.

  “Alright, get our healer, I don’t want this man dead,” Cosette said, giving Will a small smile, “also get the camp packed, they’re going to see we beat him and you know that first mate of his is going to be wanting to negotiate. I think he’ll let us leave if we have the captain, he knows we’ll drop him off at the next port.”

  Her first mate said something Will didn’t catch as he started to close his eyes, the pain suddenly overwhelming as the adrenaline left his body. Everything felt numb, and he knew he had nothing to look forward to but some magical paste to speed along the healing and plenty of “I can’t believe you fell for that,” he’d need to explain.

  It wasn’t his fault though.

  She fucking tricked him.