Swashbuckling in the Dark

Chapter Thirteen

The wind was favourable today. They would reach their destination a day sooner than he had anticipated. He checked the location of the sun in the sky before returning his gaze to the deck. A couple of the men were slacking off, so he barked a quick order at them. They jumped, returning quickly to work.

Sykes shook his head and adjusted their course slightly. He'd been in a foul mood all morning. It wasn't that the men were anxious for another stay on land where they could forget work and drink themselves silly. It wasn't that Dark had been particularly prickly since Zaina hadn't been feeling well. Even Raoul had been a bit more agitated than usual, ignoring everyone and keeping to himself. The sea, Sykes thought with another head shake, drives everyone mad. It wasn't the collective mood of the crew that had Sykes on edge though, nor was it his concern for Zaina's health that he had carefully hidden. No, he was agitated because of a certain crimson-haired lass.

His hands tightened on the helm, his mouth pressing into a thin line. His eyes narrowed, focusing all his frustration on a single spot. Unfortunately, the point of focus his eyes found happened to be Johnny. The lad soon felt eyes on him, and started when he raised his head and met Sykes's decidedly angry gaze. He ducked his head quickly. Sykes continued to glare at him, needing someone to be angry at.

"Sykes," a female voice said cheerfully.

Sykes hadn't quite funnelled all his agitation out at Johnny. He whirled on Tallera. "What!?" he demanded, his tone sharp.

Tallera arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, good afternoon to you as well, cheerful," she muttered, her expression annoyed.

Sykes sighed, the tension he felt settling in his shoulders. "What do ye need Tallera?" he asked.

She flipped her long hair out of her face. "I've had nothing at all to do since your extremely irritating captain stuck me on this ship. And now that Zaina's out I've had no one to talk to but bloody pirates," she huffed, crossing her arms. "You try enjoying yourself in that case."

Sykes almost chuckled at her indignant tone, but stopped himself. "If ye've nothing to do, ye could always go make yerself useful," he replied, jerking his chin at the men working on deck.

Tallera shrugged her shoulders, arms still crossed. "They'll manage. I came to see you...ask if you needed any help."

Sykes grunted. "Not from you."

Tallera looked affronted, her arms uncurling and resting at her sides, her fingers rolling into fists. "Were you hit on the head this morning?" she asked, "What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," he muttered, glaring at Johnny again to avoid looking at her.

He wasn't really certain as to why, but he'd been avoiding Tallera the past few days. He'd decided not to pursue whatever it was he'd felt the other night, thinking it was for the best. Sykes's only goal was to hunt down Grimm; he had no room in his life for a woman. Particularly not one as brash and frustrating as Tallera.

She was right next to him now, forcing herself into his personal space so he'd look at her. "You know, sometimes I'd really like to crack open that skull of yours to find out what's really going on inside it," Tallera said to him, dark eyes narrowing in annoyance.

Sykes gave her a dirty look in response. He turned to face her, towering over her from this close. Tallera blinked a few times at his sudden change in attitude. His broad frame completely blocked out the sun behind him.

From anyone else, Sykes wouldn't have tolerated the kind of behaviour she exhibited towards him. But then again, she wasn't a crew member. He wasn't her superior. Her boldness both infuriated and fascinated him. He couldn't remember anyone daring to challenge him. Still, it would be much easier to put her in her place.