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Chapter 2

  Chapter 2

  As he stumbled down the dirt road, Jonathon’s mind drifted back to his dream.

  “Eighteen years,” he mumbled to himself. “Can’t believe it’s been that long since Mom first told me about The Spectre.” He paused and laughed drunkenly to himself, “Can’t count the number of times I’ve dreamt about that damned ship since then. Feels like it's practically every night.”

  He thought back to a conversation he had had with Grieg one night.

  “Oi Jonathon, what makes this ship so special?” following one of Jonathon’s failed expeditions to find The Spectre.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, brows raised, the validity of the man’s question never crossing his mind.

  “I mean how many ghost ships ye figure ye’ve ‘eard of all these years? I don’t see ye chasin’ after those any. So why’ve ye got to be so dead set on huntin’ down this’un?”

  Jonathon smiled, “Easy Grieg, those other stories are mere fantasy. The Spectre’s the real ghost ship of The Stern Sea. Why else would I dream of her every night?”

  Grieg gave a defeated smile and shook his head, “Aye, can’t argue with that, can I? Still, I worry what your obsession’ll cost ye eventually. There’s always a price.”

  Jonathon laughed and shook his head. “Grieg and his ‘cost of obsession’ superstition,” he mumbled as he stumbled further down the dirt road.

  The nearby laughter of a child caused him to slow his pace. He looked around to see a mother and son laughing in the living room of a nearby home. The scene quickly made him think of his own mother. He turned away from the home and looked up toward the night sky. “Besides, if the story was nonsense, why would you tell it to me every night, Mom?”

  It had been a little over a year since she had passed, and ever since then, he had noticed a shift in his dreams. He still dreamt of the ship, but now it was in the setting of her telling him the stories as a child. He didn’t mind; it gave him the opportunity to see her again every time he closed his eyes.

  He turned his attention back to the road and continued his journey, his steps wavering as the ground seemed to tilt beneath his boots. As he neared his destination, the sounds of laughter and merry-making shook him from his reminiscing and reminded him where his mind had absently been leading his body: The Sleeping Siren, serving the riff-raff of Gravenfair for…well, who cared how long–it was still serving this riff-raff, and that was all that mattered as far as Jonathon was concerned.

  As he turned the corner of the dusty road and looked upon the manor-like building that housed the thriving business, Greig’s words replayed in his head. For a moment, Jonathon genuinely wondered how much of what he saw was from his own pockets…then he shrugged and continued onward. No good pondering that now, he thought to himself.

  As he entered the building, he was greeted by the unmistakable sounds of satisfied customers that so frequently permeated the establishment's air. The unique mixture of cheap perfume and sweat led to a scent that felt almost like home to Jonathon–at least, what had come to feel like home while he was ashore.

  “Welcome to Ze…,” the Madame started, her expression brightening as she recognized him. “Ah, Jonathon! I vas beginning to vorry zat ve vere not going to get to see you tonight. I’m so glad you vere able to make it. Shall I summon Scarlett? You’ve seemed to ‘ave fancied her as of late, no? Or shall I call for ze full lineup?” She flashed a playful smile, already knowing his answer.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Though the Madame had no doubt been beautiful in her day, those days were many years past at this point. Still, it was obvious from the amount of colorful makeup and strategically tight-fitting clothing she wore that she still attempted to be desirable to her clientele. And who was he to deny her that pleasure after having put in so much effort? Besides, it could never hurt to be on her good side.

  “Scarlett will do just fine, Madame,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a wry smile. “Unless, of course, you are part of that lineup now?”

  Blushing and giggling like a woman half her age, the Madame pulled her hand away with a playful swat. “You know, Jonathon, if you continue with zese comments, I’ll have no choice but to acquiesce one of zese days. Then vhat vill you do?”

  “I’ll be the luckiest man in all of Gravenfair, Madame,” he responded without a second’s hesitation.

  She continued to smile and said, “Good answer. Vait here, I’ll fetch Scarlett for you.”

  “No need, I already know vhere to find her,” he said, playfully mimicking her accent as he walked past. He dropped Scarlett’s payment on the front desk near the Madame and flipped a gold coin to her before ascending the stairs. “Thank you for the tantalizing conversation. I’m sure Scarlett will find I’m full of extra energy tonight for some reason.” He left the Madame blushing in the foyer as he made his way up to Scarlett’s room.

  Despite how she made it sound, it wasn’t like he had any feelings for this particular employee. Admittedly, he knew where everyone’s room was here. It just so happened that Scarlett had been his flavor of the week…well, month…okay, the last few months, but it’s not like it was his fault she was as good at her job as she was.

  As he approached her door, he paused, taking a few moments to place his mind elsewhere and collect his thoughts before entering. He wouldn’t want to be seen as too eager now, would he?

  As he entered the room, the smell of lavender hit his nose. He looked up to see Scarlett lying seductively to one side, a thin sheet draped over her undoubtedly naked form.

  “Ninety seconds,” said a voice that would make silk jealous as Jonathon entered the heavily scented room.

  "I beg your pardon, my fair lady?" Jonathon asked, teasing her with the eccentric nickname.

  “Ninety seconds you stood outside my door before coming in. And after making me wait all night for you. Do you know how many clients I turned down tonight expecting your arrival?” she asked with an accusatory glance from her silk-draped canopy bed.

  Jonathon smiled and looked the woman over. She truly was splendid. Her almond-colored skin and curvaceous body were enough to make his ninety-second vigil for naught. As he closed the distance from the door to the bed and slid towards her, his rough hands moved across her smooth skin. He wasn’t sure what it was she did to it, but it was the softest skin he had ever felt in his entire life. Smooth as…well, silk.

  “Are you sure you don’t belong in the hold of some pirate ship, Scar?” he asked suddenly.

  “I beg your pardon, my fair lord?” she mockingly questioned back, clearly bewildered by the out-of-place question.

  “Well, it’s just, I was just thinkin’ how your voice was smooth, like silk, and how your skin was soft, also like silk. And you have silk hanging from your bed, and…” Jonathon trailed off, his voice slowly disappearing as he realized how silly his thoughts sounded aloud.

  “And you wondered if I were made of silk, and thus something pirates would want to steal, is that it? That’s the line you’re going with?” she asked, her voice thick with feigned exasperation.

  Jonathon began feeling somewhat awkward at this rare misstep in his flirting from its usual smoothness…like silk? No, now he was just getting in his head. He shook his head and reset. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to gauge how much you’d enjoy being tied up in the hold of a pirate’s ship. Mayhaps we should test that on this bed?”

  Scarlett’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “That’s more like it,” she purred as Jonathon reached for the rope.

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