Lost at Sea Bk. 02 Ch. 29

That had always been the biggest difference between them. Caine hated making sacrifices. To him, winning a duel shouldn't require bleeding. Winning a battle shouldn't necessitate sending fellow soldiers to their graves. Winning a war wasn't worth it if it required the deaths of people who weren't fighting. There were always better ways. They were just slower and less certain. It was the paradox of risk. Over time, being careful was always a bigger gamble.

The Old Man knew that about him, and was counting on it.

In the dim light, the blood that fell on the old stones looked like raindrops. Little black splatters collected on boots and left behind bloody tracks to mark their struggle.

The Old Man's breath started to rattle in his lungs. His blows became less clean. Fatigue started to set in. More cuts opened on his limbs as Caine countered his attacks. If they hurt, the Old Man didn't let on. They just added more rain to the stones.

"You can't keep this up much longer," Caine cautioned.

"I know exactly what I can keep up," the Old Man rasped. He kept up his strikes, but more probing, trying to invite counters that he could counter in turn. Caine gave him what he wanted, letting the exchanges play out longer. He could feel himself starting to sweat, but he was a long way from tired.

"Then you know you've lost," Caine said as he dragged his blade across the old man's knuckles. Pain bloomed in his thigh. He hadn't quite timed that one right.

"Yes," the Old Man growled with a long-armed thrust that pushed Caine back to the edge of the balcony. "I do know." His grin was crazed and his breath was rancid. "But you don't."

Caine winced as another bloom of pain shot through his chest. He was bleeding again. How? That was a clean parry. The Old Man's blade hadn't gotten near him. What was going on now?

The Old Man pressed him, forcing him to circle along the balcony. He used it to defend, pushing his enemy's blade towards the twisted iron. Sparks jumped and the old metal screeched. A green flicker gathered for a moment and ran around the arc of the balcony like witchfire in a swamp. The Old Man disengaged and pulled back to the center.

Caine's eyes narrowed in thought. He looked down at himself. He had three more wounds he didn't remember getting. They hurt, but were already closing. Something very strange was happening. Whatever the Old Man was up to, it obviously involved taking his time.

"Have it your way," Caine growled.

Caine's advance wasn't straight. It juked at the last moment, realigning himself twice in an eyeblink. The Old Man's deflection struck nothing but air as Caine's blade clattered against it and thrust. It wasn't a clean hit. He was trying to avoid his enemy's iron bones. His saber bit through the Old Man's gut and curved up. The point caught on unbreakable ribs and jarred with enough force that Caine had to let go.

Pain bloomed along Caine's side as another unseen strike ripped him open. It was expected. He just hadn't known where the mysterious cut would be. He left his stuck weapon behind and grabbed the Old Man's bloody wrist, pivoting and twisting as the Old Man grunted in surprise. Whatever he'd done to himself to let him ignore his wounds, he still needed to breathe. A sword through the lung was enough to leave his body slack with shock.

Caine twisted under the old strongman's arm and folded it against itself. The shoulder popped and fingers bent wrong. The Old Man turned like a wounded animal, swinging his arm like a sledgehammer. Caine rolled his head and shoulders like a boxer, leaning to the side and ducking. The Old Man's blow deflected off Caine's shoulder with a crunch and glanced off his skull hard enough to make his ears ring, but it wasn't enough to interrupt Caine's simultaneous counter. He wrenched the Old Man's sword free of broken fingers and whipped himself into a pivot. The disarmed saber raked across the Old Man's throat deep enough to ring off the bones.

The Old Man's heavy breath sprayed blood from his ruined neck, but he still refused to fall. He just stood there and breathed. Gurgle and spray, gurgle and spray, his eyes boring hate into Caine.

Caine held his side for a moment then pulled his hand free to see how much blood there was. That one was deep. The witchfire he'd seen earlier was back. The unlit iron sconces along the perimeter of the railing had started glowing.

Caine didn't know much about magic, but he knew that when a fight was as full of unexpected twists as this one, it was time to retreat. The only problem was, the Old Man was in front of the door.

He should have been dead, but to Caine's horror, the massive bear of a man dragged the saber out of his gut. Something had changed. The pale green witchfire was crawling around his boots. It was in all his wounds. It danced through his beard and behind his eyes.

The Old Man's smile was full of blood and promise. "You lose."

Caine saw a flicker of witchlight and pain erupted in his chest. A transparent green face grinned for a moment right in front of him, then yanked a spectral saber free from where it had pierced Caine's heart. Through that ghostly smile, he saw the same bloody grin on the Old Man in the doorway. Then the figment was gone, but the deadly wound remained.

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Will groaned. Calli was soft and slick, like warm, wet velvet. He felt like he was floating and his cock was painfully hard. He thought he might have been dreaming, but his nerves were wide awake. He watched himself slowly disappear into her pink depths and slide back out again, noticing every ripple and squeeze inside the freckled brunette's pliable body.

After their negotiations Shae had brought out a pipe. She'd smoked a bit of it, but insisted that he should have as much as he wanted. He wasn't sure exactly what was in it, but he couldn't remember feeling more relaxed. His whole body felt light. An edge of drowsiness made everything feel like a dream.

Shae was propped up against the headboard of her massive four poster bed holding Calli's head between her lewdly spread thighs. Her dress had come off at some point, but Will didn't remember exactly when. The sheer, lacy garment Shae had hidden beneath her dress reminded Will of Janie's bustier. For a moment his heart hurt and he swallowed. All his emotions felt unshackled. Without noticing what he was doing, he stopped moving.

He missed her badly. The guilt made the longing worse. He'd left her behind. For a while, the mirror had taken the edge off. It helped to know she was safe, but now all he could do was worry.

"Will?" Shae's voice cut through his memories and feelings like a blade. "Are you still with us?"

His eyes focused again and he smiled at her. "Sorry, I might have had a bit too much of that pipe." He squeezed Calli's hips and started thrusting again causing happy, muffled moans from between Shae's legs.

Shae laughed teasingly. "I expected a sailor to have a hardier constitution."

"It's been a long day," Will shrugged. "And there was all that brandy too."

"Well I suppose we could stop," Shae said with exaggerated sadness. Calli let out a sound of disappointment.

"Not quite yet. I still have a bit left in me," Will said with a jaunty smile. "I was hoping to have a turn with you."

"Oh no," Shae shook her head. "We simply can't mix business and pleasure. Calli is happy to be the middleman, aren't you dear?"

Calli looked up at Shae lovingly. "Of course, Mistress."

Shae firmly pushed Calli's head back down and inhaled with pleasure as Calli's tongue continued its work. "I'm sorry Mister Sterling, I'm afraid our partnership will need to become much closer before I reward you like that. If you want me, you'll have to earn me."

A surge of happy challenges surged through Will. "Gladly."

"Good boy," Shae purred. "Now show me what you want to do to me."

Will grinned and took a firmer hold on Calli's. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone with such a drastic lower ratio. His hands were big enough to nearly circle her waist, and her hips were wide enough that they felt like perfect handles. Shae's fingers were knotted in Calli's black curls to hold her head exactly where it needed to be, so Will couldn't pull her back to him. Instead He began to thrust. Firm, hard thrusts that sent ripples along Calli's luscious rear, then slowly pulling out through her depths until he was nearly out before driving forward again.

Calli let out noises of pure lust with every impact. Shae watched him with satisfied amusement. "Oh, that does look nice. Slow but hard is such a lovely combination."

"I'll remember that you like that," Will said with a smile.

"Don't finish inside her. I want to watch you paint her sluttish face," Shae smirked.

Calli let out a small whine and Shae bopped her gently on the head. "You know the rules."

Calli made a noise of resignation and said something unintelligible against Shae's soft folds.

"What are the rules?" Will asked.

"Letting a man finish inside her is a reward," Shae explained. "If she is a good girl tonight, I'll let someone I favor use her. Perhaps even you."

Surprise and concern washed through Will, and a bit of revulsion. "That doesn't seem-" Will started.

"Oh pish posh," Shae said, rolling her eyes. "She loves it. Don't you dear?"

"Mmm hmm," Calli said, nodding happily without stopping her enthusiastic lapping.

"I suppose if that's what she likes," Will said as the apprehension drained from him.

"It is what I like," Shae said firmly. "So he's happy to offer."

Calli made another noise of approval. Shae's breathing deepened and she started rolling her hips, grinding Calli's mouth against her clit.

"Now fuck her," Shae commanded. "Hard."

"Yes, ma'am," Will said with an imaginary tip of his hat. He grabbed Calli again and lost himself in slow, hard thrusts, just like Shae said she liked.

Shae's hips started bucking a bit harder and her eyes bored into him. "How is she?"

"Soft," Will breathed as his hips hammered forward. Calli's groans and muffled squeals ramped up. "Wet too. I can feel her dripping."

"On my floors?' Shae said with exaggerated exasperation. "You'll clean that up when we're done, slut."

Calli moaned out an apology and Shae ground against her harder.

Will's body felt like it was a puppet. He could feel the pleasure, but everything seemed slower and jerkier than usual. His eyes refocused as Shae pulled the cups of her bustier down revealing brown breasts covered in spiderweb tattoos that fit nicely into her slender hands. Her nipples looked like chocolate. She pinched one with her free hand and smiled at Will, clearly glad to have his attention again.

"Your attention was drifting again, Will," Shae admonished him. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stop?"

"Sorry," Will said, focusing on her and redoubling his efforts. Watching her made it easier. There was something magnetic about her. She commanded so effortlessly. Doing what she wanted just seemed right.

"I'm nearly there," Shae said. She gave him a challenging look. "Can you match me?"

"We'll see," Will said with a grin.

He kept his eyes locked on hers, feeling like he was falling into their dark depths. She bit her lip and twisted her nipple, bucking harder against Calli's face. With a shuddering gasp she came. Her back arched and her free hand returned to Calli's head. She ground and rolled her hips, using Calli's face like a pleasure toy. A long hiss escaped her lips as Calli whimpered and held Shae's thighs for dear life. The lewd display was enough to surge Will towards climax.

"I'm close," Will said.

"Tell us when you're ready," Shae panted.

Will nodded. He finally sped up. Calli's body writhed between them. He could feel her squeezing and straining. It was too much.

"Now," he growled.

Shae let go of Calli's hair and the young girl whirled, turning herself around and throwing herself onto her back like she was diving for cover. She took his cock in both hands and stroked him fast and hard, opening her mouth wide. Her whole face was slick with Shae's juices. "Give it tae me," she panted. "Please!"

Pleasure surged through him like it was in slow motion. Instead of his whole body tensing like usual, his orgasm felt like a long relaxing surge of blissful release. Calli's enthusiastic jerking threw his milky spend everywhere. Her face, her neck, her chest. Some even reached her navel. His eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned. Calli pulled his length into her mouth to stroke and suck the last drops out of him. He pitched forward and caught himself on his hands. Calli's stroking slowed. Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock. She worked her mouth like she was nursing.

Shae lifted his chin with two fingers and smiled into his eyes. "That's a good pet."

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Caine's heart's blood leaked across his chest. He felt cold save for the hot pain in his center. Slowly, fighting every inch, he sank to his knees. "Anton..." he asked again. "What... did you do..?"

"I told you," the Old Man laughed in a ragged, bloody whisper. "The same thing you did."

The blood stopped flowing, but his heart still hurt. It was so much slower now. He was dying. He'd felt it before, but it wasn't the sort of thing anyone could get used to. Either he'd come back again, or he wouldn't, and either was fine with him. He'd been through it enough that he didn't have to deal with the instinctive panic anymore. His head was clear. He was hurt, but not so much that he couldn't think. He was beaten, not lost. Not yet.

There was no guarantee he'd come back this time. He had limits, and the Old Man had shown himself to be excessively prepared and difficult to predict. He felt bad for Tonya and Janie though. He hated the idea of disappointing them. A muscle clenched in his jaw.

For the first time he could remember, he found himself caring about whether or not he died.

He forced himself to focus through the numbness and pain and the fog clouding his brain from blood loss. What did the Old Man really want? What had been overlooked?

The Old Man said he'd become like Caine. That meant he knew more about Caine's nature than he'd ever let on. Or at least thought he did. There was a way to find out. He closed his eyes and released himself, ignoring the discomfort and letting his twin souls separate. His body stilled and the pain became a faded echo.

In the gray mists of the Ways Between, there was nothing but the balcony and the fog. The Old Man stood with his own glowing twin, a specter of his former self. His head was shaved and his beard short, and every corded muscle was made of transparent green fire. The gray, ephemeral shadow of his corporeal body glowed strangely, like his bones burned within him.

Caine could see the ritual now. The balcony was at the very top of the tower adjacent to the Old Man's study. It was a circle. Here in the Ways, the purpose of the decorative carving and wrought iron was clear. Every line and rune that had been painstakingly sculpted into the stone and metal was alight with that hateful green energy. All over the ground, the remnants of the blood sacrifice their battle had left flickered with residual power. The Old Man's plan was suddenly clear.

Caine's angelic twin knelt to take a closer look at the wispy echo of their corporal body. He gave his chained twin a small nod. A heart wound was grave, but not complex. With a little time, they'd be alright.

So Caine needed to buy time. That seemed easy enough. The Old Man loved to talk.

"Good trick," the shackled Caine muttered. "You set a trap, and I walked right into it."

"You gave me decades," the fiery green ghost laughed bitterly. His grin was jaunty and charming. The weight of years was gone from his body, but still heavy in his eyes. The Old Man's ghostly self was young and vibrant. An echo of the past. Somehow, the phantom seemed more alive than the body he'd left behind. Here, he was young again. "I was never sure all this would pay off. I hoped. I wished. I bet everything that you couldn't let yourself do anything but come for me like this. For all your talk of trying to be different than you used to be, you still want to look someone in the eyes when you kill them."

"I never wanted to kill you," Caine said.

The Young Man was a born showman. He walked and gestured broadly as he spoke, using his spectral saber like a ringmaster's cane. "Your mistake then. I always wanted to kill you," the Young Man gloated. He glanced back and forth between the two Caines, his eyes settling on the golden one. "I just knew I couldn't. At first because you seemed unbeatable. Then because I could never catch you off guard. You never slept. You never ate. You never let anyone get close to you. Later, I thought I could wait until you started getting frail. You were already so much older than me when we met. You were smart about staying on the move, never knowing anyone long enough that they'd start asking questions. Then you settled here. In my backyard. To keep an eye on me, I assume. If you'd stayed gone, by the time I noticed how you never age it might have been too late to put my plan into effect. It was Mary that first suggested that you were immortal, as a joke. It took me another ten years to confirm my suspicions. I admit, it's an ironic twist. Who would think that Caine the Deathless was already dead. A ghost haunting his own corpse. Clever."

"Why does everyone think I'm a zombie?" the chained man asked his glowing double.

The angel pondered. "Your lively personality?"

Caine found himself laughing as his gaze swept back to the Young Man. "Wait. All of this. The time you spent. Everything you've lost. You threw it all away because you were jealous?"

"I was never jealous," the Young Man sneered.

Caine raised an accusatory eyebrow. "You neglected the dream of rebuilding your people's culture, drove away your wife, learned forbidden magic, waited for this moment, so you could turn yourself into a monster, all because you wanted to become me."

"Strangely flattering," the angel commented.

"There was no other way to end you," the Young Man barked angrily. "Sometimes it takes a monster to kill one. I have no regrets. Every sacrifice was worth it to finally speak to the real you before I end your misery forever.."

"Tragic," Caine's golden twin said sadly.

"Stupid," Caine disagreed.

"Save your pity, shadow," the Young Man spat. "I am no longer talking to you."

"So what are you waiting for?" the golden Caine asked.

The Young Man spread his hands like he was explaining the obvious. "Your body is dying. I want to see how you bring yourself back. That is the one piece of this puzzle I have yet to learn." A hateful smile spread across his fiery face. "Then I can kill you again."

"Impressive." Caine's golden twin said, sounding more aghast than surprised. "In all my time, I've rarely met such a wretched creature."

"Me?" the Young Man laughed. "Look what you did to yourself. You split your soul apart and bound a simulacra in shackles. It's no wonder he's such a loveless bore. You created a pathetic echo of a man whose only purpose is to die. How many times have you done this now? How much of you is truly left?"

The two Caine's looked at each other, then back at the Young Man. "Oh no, he's on to me," the angel deadpanned.

"You monster," the shackled Caine answered.

The Young Man looked at the two Caines. A flicker of doubt passed through his fiery green eyes. "How are you solid here?"

"Oh, you poor, deluded man," the angel said with a sad smile. "I am not the soul, and the chains are not his."

"And now you're outnumbered," the other Caine smirked.

They moved as one.

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"Who is that man," Sister Victoria asked firmly.