Gotcha, boss, he said. Man, I hate seeing that boat.
Three years ago, Blackjack had been enslaved on the Princess Andromeda until
he'd escaped with a little help from my friends and me. I figured he'd rather
have his mane braided like My Little Pony than be back here again.
"Don't wait for us," I told him.
But, boss —
"Trust me," I said. "We'll get out by ourselves."
Blackjack folded his wings and plummeted toward the boat like a black comet. The
wind whistled in my ears. I saw monsters patrolling the upper decks of the ship
— dracaenae snake-women, hellhounds.
giants, and the humanoid seal-demons known as telkhines — but we zipped by so
fast, none of them raised the alarm. We shot down the stem of the boat, and
Blackjack spread his wings, lightly coming to a landing on the lowest deck. I
climbed off, feeling queasy.
Good luck, boss, Blackjack said. Don't let 'em turn you into horse meat!
With that, my old friend flew off into the night. I took my pen out of my pocket
and uncapped it, and Riptide sprang to full size — three feet of deadly