I awoke in a cold sweat, bolting up right. Siobhan barely stirred, rolling over and grumbling about something in her brogue. I'd been having nightmares since the attack on the boat. Had Alma and Siobhan not taken care of the sirens, who knows what would have happened to me. Or worse, the Scythe. I remembered very little, after Alma's possession, but Siobhan filled me in, loudly. To make my life even more miserable, I had spent the hours after her possession vomiting ectoplasm.

  It must have rattled Siobhan to see Alma inside me, wielding the Scythe. The whole situation had her on edge to begin with, but this incident seemed to have filled her with even more stress. I felt bad. I had done this to her. I brought Alma with me.

  What's worse, is I brought death with me, wherever I went.

  Every night, I saw myself in my dreams, standing in the middle of downtown Toronto. The sky was blood red and everything decimated. Craters littered the ground and the buildings, toppled and ruined. Everywhere I'd ever known and loved, destroyed. The worst was the bodies; the bodies of everyone in the city. The bodies of everyone I know. I could see their faces staring up at me, vacant eyes accusing me. Erik, Orion, Amelia, even Siobhan.

  All dead. All of them.

  I could hear their souls screaming at me from within the bloody Scythe in my hands. I looked on in horror, and I knew that it was all my fault.

  I reached for my glass of water beside the bed, but stop, instead, reaching across the bed and grabbing Siobhan's whiskey bottle. I cringed as I chugged it down, my throat so dry. I didn't care how much it burnt. I wanted to forget.

  I turned to face Siobhan, her naked body covered with just the wisp of a sheet. The moon shone through the windows at the back of the ship, giving her pale skin an eerie glow. Her fiery hair was splayed out all around her head. I found myself gently tracing her tattoos with my fingers.

  "Y'alright love?" She rolled over and brushed her mess of hair from her face. Normally, my eyes would have wandered to her voluptuous curves, but instead I stared at the cabin walls, my hand still tracing her skin absently.

  "No." I said honestly, unable to find a mask quick enough to hide myself.

  "What's gotcha up? Havin' dreams again?" She sat up and grabbed my wrist gently. She slid her hand over mine and traced the lines on my palm. She rested her head on my shoulder, and kissed my neck. My skin felt her warmth, but I felt nothing but cold.

  "I can't stay here with you. I'm too dangerous." I croaked from my hoarse throat.

  "Naw, ya make things interestin'. Nothin' I can't handle" she whispered sleepily, her fingers tracing from my palm, up my arm.

  "You don't understand. I literally hold the power of death in my hands. I've got this darkness deep within in me and I feel it tugging me deeper each time I use the Scythe. But at the same time, I can't stop myself. It's intoxicating, like a drug." I explained, hoping she would reject me. I wanted her to send me from the ship, to forget I ever existed. Siobhan shifted away a bit and pulled her knees into her chest.

  "We all have a darkness in us lad." She said distantly. Every time she got close, I shut her out with some rhetoric about darkness. I knew it was killing her to see me this way. But it would hurt more if I stayed.

  "Where are we headed? I need to get off at our next stop." There was finality in my voice. Siobhan put a hand on my shoulder, but I stood up and pulled my pants on. She slid to the edge of the bed, grabbing me from behind and pulling me into her, hugging my waist.

  "Smuggler's Den, on a small unnamed island out in the middle of nowhere. One o' the only places I can walk on land. That's no place to be leavin' ya. Let me take ya home." She was practically begging.

  "I don't have a home to go back to. I can't go back to the Order. I'm just as much of a danger to them." I told her, letting her hold me there. Images of my former companions dead bodies flashed through my mind, blocking any affection from the gesture though. The nightmares have seeped into my soul and scarred me; I'm useless to everyone.

  "Maybe you should call someone?" She tugged tightly on my waist, trying to pull me back into bed.

  "Everyone I would call is here on this ship." The words surprised me after they left my mouth. Alma, the Reaper girl, connected to me through death and Siobhan, the pirate captain, who was connected to me through passion. I tried not to think of Orion, who had worked so hard to be my friend when I had none, or of Amelia, who was certainly the right girl, at the wrong time.

  "I need to get away from everyone." I tried to pull away from her, but she pulled me close, turning me around resting her head on my bare stomach.

  "Yer just a little shook up from yer dream. Come back to bed and I'll help ya forget about it." She moved to grab my junk and I got flashbacks of Erin, trying to sleep with me for money to support her drug addiction. I could feel bile rising to my tongue.

  "Siobhan, please..."

  "No, yer not runnin' away from me!" Her cry shook me, so sudden and out of character as it was, which brought me out of my cloud of doubt.

  "I'm sorry." I slowly moved back to her outstretched arms, wrapping my arms around her head, holding her close.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

  "Don't ya do this to me." Her tears glimmered in the moonlight and I felt my heart break. I couldn't help but go to her, crawling back into bed, cradling her in my arms. I pressed my face into her shoulder and smothered myself in hair, which had become my safe space.

  "I'm so sorry." I told her, stroking her head, and holding her tightly.

  "Er'ry time I start to care about someone, they leave me. This curse, it makes it so damn hard to have any relationships. I'm stuck on me damned boat ninety percent of the time, sailing with the undead, all by meself. I like 'avin' you 'ere with me." She clutched at me like a child, and the illusion of the fierce pirate captain was broken.

  She was just a woman, alone and broken. And I was just a man, much of the same. I kissed her forehead, leaving my lips there a little longer than I normally would, my arms holding her tightly.

  "I like being here with you too. When I left, you were the first thought that crossed my mind." I told her, tracing the her back tattoo, the tips of my fingers sending goosebumps down her arms.

  "I think I love you." Siobhan whispered into my chest, tears running down her face to burn into my flesh with guilt.

  "A poor choice, really." I chuckled, hoping she would laugh. She did not. Siobhan did not sob or whine as she cried. But tears fell so quickly from her eyes, my chest became drenched with her pain.

  "I thought what we had was just physical. We enjoyed each others company. That's what you had..." I tried to defend myself, but she cut me off.

  "Would'cha just shut up for once?"

  It wasn't malicious or angry. It was an honest question. How many times had I become defensive when Erin would express her feelings? How many times in my life had a weaseled out of emotion moments with an ill-timed joke? Why couldn't I let myself feel anyone else's pain, when I was so eager to bitch about my own?

  "Okay. Shutting up." I agreed.

  "Just tell me you'll stay. Not f'ever, but for a while more? Tell me ye'll hold me like this and make love ta me like there was n'ver another." She wasn't begging. This was a Captain's command, spoken gently into my chest.

  "I will." I promised, reaching down to lift her chin gently, so I could kiss her soft lips. I could taste the salt of her tears, briny like the sea. Her emerald eyes stared up at me and if there had been a mask to wear, her gaze would have shattered it.

  ~*~

  The Smuggler's Den was exactly what you would expect. Like, straight out of a Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Siobhan led the way through the little island port town, with her normal pirate swagger returned. Decidedly, it was better to leave Alma on the ship. She'd been getting rather chummy with the crew anyway.

  People here recognized Siobhan and either fawned over her or sneered in what I assumed was either lust or hatred. Or both, knowing her. I followed along beside her, and I was the one getting weird looks. Dressed in jeans and a hoodie, with my headphones around my neck; I stood out like a sore thumb with all the traditional pirate garb.

  We reached a crappy little tavern and Siobhan kicked in the door and stared everyone down. There was a hush that rolled over the crowd, before everyone saluted her and cheers rang out as people returned to their drinks.

  "You're quite the legend here, it would seem." I chuckled. Siobhan turned and winked at me, her eyes still red from crying last night. We got drinks and settled in at a corner table that was quickly vacated by its former patrons. Siobhan saw to business, working out trades and playing the odd game of dice, settling right into the whole theme of things. She introduced me as her partner to those who she dealt with. I remained quiet mostly, taking in the scenery and enjoying the foamy ale.

  "That one of yer ugly spawn, Siobhan?" A man came up to the table. He was dressed in all black pirate attire and even had a hook for a left hand. He was relatively young, and wearing more eyeliner than an emo kid.

  "He's my man." She growled back. She threw an arm around me and pulled me close to her chest. "Dyson, this is..."

  "Nice to meet you Captain Hook." I offered a cocky smile and stood to shake the man's hand. I noticed Siobhan shift uncomfortably.

  "Name's Trystan Rhys. Captain Rhys to you." He didn't bother with shaking my hand, and instead turned back to Siobhan, leaving me standing around awkwardly.

  "You owe me a rematch, wench." He snarled.

  "Alright, listen here Jolly Roger..." I immediately got defensive.

  "Dyson!" Siobhan hissed. Her eyes shot daggers and I took the hint. I sat my ass back down and shut up. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

  "I'll be more than happy to kick yer arse again Rhys." She leaned over the table, letting her cleavage spill out a bit more. There was some growing tension, and then Hook's hand went to his belt, real fast. Siobhan was faster, her legs going over the table. The first one clipped Rhys in the head and then second one wrapped around his neck and pulled his head down to the table, trapped between her thigh and her calf. As someone who had been tangled up in those gorgeous legs, I'm really not surprised.

  Rhys lifted his hook to plunge into her leg, and Siobhan wasn't fast enough this time. She yelped and slipped back off the table as the hook tore her thigh.

  There was a surge in me then; seeing her hurt, seeing her bleed. There was no conscious effort to summoning the Artifact. The Scythe was just there.

  "Dyson stop!" I heard her call, but it sounded distant, like a shout from a far off place. The butt end of the weapon drove into his gut, and I swept his legs out with a kick. In seconds, I was on top of him, the blade looming close to his throat. The pull of the Scythe screamed in my mind, waiting to devour his soul.

  "Dyson, please stop!" I heard the distant call again, and I tried to pull back. I tried to stop the Scythe from ripping the man's soul out. I reached out to it, and pulling it back into myself. But it wouldn't dismiss. It was like I had no control. It felt like swallowing nails. The Scythe disappeared into my arm, becoming sickening smoke. Black veins covered my flesh, as it ran through me. Not only was I losing control of it, it was gaining control over me.

  The Scythe, now my arm, decided to fill his face with fists. Each hit was painful for us both. Each time I connected with my right hand, I felt fragments of his soul shatter. I could see the rot setting in where the bruises and blood should be. I watched as the skin tore away to reveal jaw and eye socket, each hit decimating the living fiber of his face. Suddenly I was being pulled off of him. An entire bar fight had broken out, with me at its center.

  The call of Death beckoned, like a death knell in my head. I tried to ignore it and the sound of my heartbeat throbbing in my ears. I could feel the souls of every living thing nearby as the Scythe further moved to control my body. Flashes of the dead animals from the boat cross my mind and I panic. I feel like a ticking time bomb. I look for the door and try to run, but my legs feel like molasses. Or time was moving slower. Something was wrong. It had to be. I clamored as fast as I could to get as far away as possible. I no longer had control of the Scythe. If I ever did even have it to begin with.

  I looked back at Siobhan, her face going from anger, to shock and concern. I had never been volatile before. Why now?

  I told her I needed to leave her. I knew she would get hurt. I knew I would ruin everything. Even before the Order, before the Scythe, everything I touched rotted and died; my family, my friends, my relationship.

  In that moment, I learned the Scythe was not the weapon of Death, it was a conduit for the power.

  I was the weapon.