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