Lost at Sea Bk. 02 Ch. 10

"Enchanted with what?" Morant asked.

"Nothing. As far as we can tell, the makeup is made from something that has its own magical resonance, but none of the costumes or makeup are actual sigils or magical works," the Chalice priestess said quietly. "The magic in the makeup is fading as the night goes on. I expect it will be inert by morning.

"Then what is the purpose?" Morant asked, struggling to find meaning in what he was hearing.

"They want to look like spirits," the Chalice priestess shrugged.

"You mean demons. I thought it was bad enough that these savages paint their faces in masks of death, but you are telling me that it is deeper than that? They are enchanting the costumes as well? To more accurately impersonate the monsters they revere?" Morant was disgusted.

"Yes, but not exactly. There's no enchantment. Not anymore than getting the blood of an actual monster on you would enchant you," the Centurion corrected.

"There are monsters whose blood does exactly that," Morant said grimly.

"The point is, it doesn't seem to do anything other than look like something inhuman. Just like the costumes and paint. It's another part of their celebration ritual. It just isn't one we thought to look into beforehand," the Hammer priestess clarified.

"Well why would we?" Morant scoffed. "Who would think that an entire town would be making themselves indiscernible from demons? Why would any rational person want to do that?"

"They think the demons are their family," the Chalice priestess said. "I think this is so the demons don't stand out in a crowd. They want to help them blend in."

"They are deliberately hiding demons?" Morant shook his head in disbelief. "Blasphemy. Why did we not scour this island of these people fifty years ago?"

The Chalice priestess looked uncomfortable. The Hammer priestess gave her a bitter, sidelong glance.

"So, after months of planning and preparation for this one night when we were most likely to be able to find and catch one of the Traveler's brood, instead we catch a drunk painted up to look like a demon, who leads you three on a merry chase, rallies the crowd behind him, and puts you in an armed standoff without backup?" Morant glared cooly.

"That's the short of it," The Centurion shrugged. His armor clanked gently.

"Again, not quite. Our captive wasn't painted up. He actually was enchanted with something. He didn't look like the crowd," the Chalice priestess corrected.

"And you could not tell an enchanted human from a demon?" Morant's voice dripped with scorn.

"Not at first," the priestess in white shook her head. "I've never seen an enchantment like that. There was no anchoring sigil. It was more like a net across his whole body. I wish we'd been able to capture him just so I could study it in more detail."

"He said he was registered with us," the Centurion reminded the priestess. "Maybe someone already studied him? "

"Right! What did he say his name was?" the priestess said excitedly.

"Will something," the Centurion said.

"Not important," the Hammer priestess said angrily.

"Wait." Morant went completely still. "Sterling? Was his name Will Sterling?"

"Yes! Thank you," the Chalice priestess smiled. "I was hoping to look him up."

"Something seemed off the entire time I was dealing with him. Who is he?" the Centurion asked.

"A mistake," Morant snarled. He turned on his heel and stalked back toward the docks leaving the three witch hunters looking at each other in surprise.

___________________________

"This is a terrible mistake!" Will said. Or tried to. What came out of his mouth didn't quite sound how he'd intended them to. His head was spinning. How many drinks had he accepted? What had been in them. He had no idea. So many people. Grinning happy faces painted like skeletons thanking him, drinking to his health, giving him things, feeding him. Had he blessed a baby? How many women did he have his hands on right now? Two? Three? They were laughing and pulling at his clothes, and each others. More Sorrel drink was poured into his mouth, and a pair of lips clamped down on his, swirling it and sharing it. Someone was sucking his cock.

The only light was from the glow coming off their bodies. Theirs, luminescent body paint to make them look like skeletons and flowers. His, a golden net beneath his skin. He'd never gotten a good look at it before. He stared at his arm in fascination. At each intersection of narrow golden lines was a small circular sigil. They seemed to be shifting as he watched them, but his eyes were doing strange things. It was hard to concentrate on them. It was hard to concentrate on anything.

It occurred to him that he felt more than just drunk. He vaguely remembered kissing something sweet off of a pretty skeleton's tongue, and her friends reacting like they were impressed and excited. Things slowly had gotten weird after that. The pretty skeleton was riding him now. It felt good. Amplified somehow, but also distant. It didn't make sense. Another pretty skeleton was making out with the one straddling his hips. The ground was cold and damp beneath him, but he was so hot that it felt good. More sorrel was poured into his mouth. He coughed a bit and swallowed. Warm lips licked up the overflow. He tried to wipe his mouth but hit his hand on something hard. He stared, trying to focus. Was that a headstone? Were they in a graveyard? Of course they were. That's where skeletons go.

The pretty skeleton on top of him slowly slid off and her friend dove down to put her lips around his cock like it was water and she was dying of thirst. He was trying to read the name on the stone, but he was interrupted by lips finding his.

"What's a name?" he slurred. Did he say that? That wasn't what he was trying to ask.

"I'm Mona," the pretty skeleton said. "Tha slut wit' her mouth full is Samara." She grabbed a fist full of her friend's hair and pulled her up off Will's cock. Samara moaned in disappointment. "She bad at sharing," Mona teased. Will forgot what he'd been asking about. Mona pushed Samara's head back down on his cock. Samara sighed happily and went back to bobbing and slurping.

"If kissing a Loa bring good luck, what's fucking one gonna bring us, aye?' Mona asked with a smirk on her skull-painted lips.

"I'm notta Loa," Will said, laughing.

"That's what a Loa would say," Mona shrugged. "No matter. We gone this far. Maybe you just lucky."

"I am, sometimes" Will agreed with his eyes half lidded. "Most times, not."

"Well, may as well enjoy the good luck now then, aye?" Mona smirked, bringing his hands up to her small breasts. "Maybe it rubs off on us."

"Sometin's gonna rub off on us," Samara said around her mouthful. Mona laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Will lost track of time again.

The stars were gorgeous. Every one of them seemed like it had a small corona, rings of color. Mostly faint red and green lines that slowly spun as he tried to focus on them. He'd seen a device called a kaleidoscope once in a traveling carnival. The night sky reminded him of that. It occurred to him that they weren't glowing as much anymore. The light was much fainter. How long had they been there. Time seemed disjointed. It was all a jumble of soft skin, body paint getting smeared by wine, feminine laughter, glowing lights. It was hard to concentrate.

They were definitely in a graveyard. He could make out the outlines of the headstones and mausoleums. A feminine figure sat on one of the stone tombs a short ways away.

"Who's watching?" Will asked. Mona took her lips off Samara's breast and looked where Will was gesturing.

"Don' know. Let 'em watch," she grinned. "Tonight is the night for it."

"Hell, let her join," Samara said breathlessly as she rolled her hips and churned Will's cock inside her.

"You are such a slut," Mona laughed.

"I know," Samara breathed.

Mona beckoned to the figure on the tomb. "Don't be shy, you!"

The figure on the tomb shook her head. Mona shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Samara turned herself and spread her knees wide, putting her body on display for their audience. She pulsed her thighs and bounced hard on Will's cock, her cries getting louder. The woman sitting on the tomb just took a drink off a tin cup. Mona brought her hand onto Samara's butt with a loud, firm slap. Samara groaned happily and ground down, a small tremble rocking her body.

Will squinted into the dark, trying to see who it was that was watching. The figure on the tomb raised her cup in a small, silent salute.

Time skipped again. He was on his knees, his hands holding tightly onto soft, round hips. He was pounding against a dark skinned backside that rippled and bounced with every thrust. It felt amazing, but muted. The other girl was beneath the one he was fucking. They were making out, writhing against each other. He looked over at the tomb. Their observer was still there. He couldn't see clearly, but it looked like her hand was between her legs, her hips rocking slightly. He smiled blearily and went back to fucking the girl in front of him. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. Was he in a graveyard?

Time skipped again. He was cumming hard. The two pretty skeletons were on their knees in front of him practically fighting over each thick rope of cum. The glow was nearly gone. He had no idea which one was which. They made out around the head of his cock. The echoes of the pleasure felt delayed and distant. His brows furrowed. Was he dreaming?

"Mmm, thank you, lover," one of the skeletons said. She finished licking her lips and wiping her face clean.

"S'mara?" he asked.

"Nope, I'm Mona. She's Samara," the pretty skeleton licked her lips. The other one just laughed around the head of his cock, trying to suck the last drops free.

Mona stood up and gave him a quick kiss. "If you aren't a Loa? Sure fuck like one, you."

Samara stood up and kissed him next. "See you next year?"

All Will could do was nod. The two disheveled women picked up discarded clothes, put their arms around each other and wandered off into the dark, swaying slightly.

Will sat down against a rock. No. He blinked. Not a rock. A tombstone. He stood back up, suddenly feeling like putting his bare ass against a grave might be disrespectful. Why was he in a graveyard? He looked around. A figure was approaching.

"Come on, loverboy. Lets get you home," an amused female voice laughed.

"Lace?" Will asked, blinking. He couldn't see her. The stars weren't bright enough. "Wow," he said, looking up. They were really pretty. "So many colors."

Lace stooped to pick up his pants and boots, tucking them under one arm. "I think one of your new friends took your shirt as a souvenir. And your purse."

"What?" Will asked.

"Nevermind. Lets go," Lace chuckled.

"Alright," Will said. He turned around and nearly fell. Lace caught him and ducked beneath his arm. He managed to get upright again and leaned on her.

"Did we have sex?" Will asked.

"No," Lace shook her head, amused but exasperated.

"Good. Wouldn't want that... like this," Will said.

"Well that's nice to hear," Lace scoffed. She started walking him back toward the docks, taking the winding road down the hill from the graveyard back to the main town road.

"Is Jack a'right?" Will asked. His mouth felt funny, like it was swollen. "She was mad."

"She'll be fine," Lace said. "Worry about it tomorrow."

"I worry 'bout it all th' time," Will shook his head. "She's my best friend."

"You two have a weird friendship," Lace said, mostly just to keep Will talking and moving.

"Yeah," Will nodded. His head bobbed like he didn't have full control of it.

"You two really need to work your shit out," Lace said flatly. "Especially if I'm going to keep having to be your nanny. Neither of you can fake being fine worth a damn."

"She won't tell me the truth," Will shrugged. He didn't sound mad about it, but the sadness and bitterness was unmistakable.

"Oh boo fucking hoo," Lace sighed. "You're both alive, and so is your witch friend. You not knowing everything seems like a small price to pay."

"Yeah, tha's true," Will admitted. "Tha's why I'm not as mad now. I jus' don't know how to act around her anymore."

"Yeah, I can tell. You two need to just fuck and get it over with," Lace shook her head.

"We can't do that," Will shook his head.

"You can get drunk and spun out of your mind and fuck two girls who you don't know, but you can't fuck someone you love?" Lace gave him a judging sidelong look.

"S' different," Will shrugged. "I don't think she loves me, an' I don't know how I feel anymore."

"Like hell," Lace scoffed again. "I'm about as thick as it gets when it comes to this stuff, and even I can tell that the two of you are completely stupid in love each other. Why else would she have risked her life for you tonight?"

"Didn't mean for her to get 'nvolved," Will said. "Just wanted to help the doctor."

"Why did the doctor need your help?" Lace asked. She wasn't sure if she really cared, but she was rather glad for the change of subject and as long as Will was talking he wouldn't pass out on her. It would be a lot easier to get him to the ship if he was walking under his own power.

"Magistrate was after her. A Centurion," he slurred.

"I saw," Lace nodded.

"Oh, right. I saw you too," Will smiled. "Thanks. Sorry 'bout the mess."

"So they were after the doctor, and not you?" Lace asked.

"Mmmhmm," Will nodded. "Did she get away?"

"She must have," Lace said. "They only seemed like they were interested in you."

"Oh, good," Will smiled.

"You lead a strange life, Sterling," Lace said with a patient smile on her face.

"Cursed," Will shrugged.

"Cursed? You faced down two Inquisitors and a fucking Centurion, your friends were willing to die to save you, the locals decided you were a god, and two of them fucked you," Lace said incredulously. "Hell, I want that curse."

"Doesn't sound so bad when you put it that way," Will said around a lopsided grin.

"I guess you did end up getting robbed and now you're being dragged naked through town," Lace shrugged. "So, not all good luck."

"What?" Will asked.

"Nothing," Lace smiled.