i. The sea was rough tonight, even Stephanie could see that. Waves beat at the dock and the occasional spray dampened her feet. It made the air feel colder, though the man beside her didn't seem to notice; she supposed she wouldn't, either, if she were a skeleton.

The man, who had given his name as Skulduggery Pleasant (which sounded like a very good pirate name to her), slowed as they approached one of the largest ships in the dock—in fact, she realized, it was some type of frigate. The dark made it difficult to see, but it looked much different than all the drawings of pirate ships she'd seen before. They were always dirty and battered, with ripped sails and damage all along their sides. This one looked clean, certainly respectable, all strong wood and soaring masts and thick rigging. Stephanie grinned, impressed.

"This is your ship?" she asked, standing on her tiptoes, trying to catch a glimpse of the deck.

"It is indeed," Skulduggery said. There was fondness in his voice, and Stephanie could imagine how this vessel was kept in such good order. "And now that you've seen it, you can go back—"

"No, hold on!" She grabbed him, stopping him as he began to turn around. "I've only seen a bit of the ship. I've only seen a bit of the outside of the ship. I haven't even seen the inside at all! You can't expect me to be satisfied with that. Besides," she added, aiming for the pride she'd glimpsed, "don't you want to show it off?"

Skulduggery tilted his head and for a moment she feared he'd make her go home. Then he picked her up, took a few long strides to the edge of the dock, and lifted her a few inches so that she could grab onto the rope hanging from the ship. Hauling herself up was difficult, but she was stronger than she looked. When she neared the top, she looked down at Skulduggery, and somehow she could tell that he was impressed.

"I forgot to ask," Stephanie said as she took hold of the edge of the ship and let go of the rope, "what's this ship called?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he caught the swinging rope and climbed up until he was beside her. Together, they pulled themselves up over the edge, Skulduggery managing to land with dignity and Stephanie just barely keeping her face off the floor.

"Welcome," Skulduggery said as she got to her feet, "to The Black Bentley."

Stephanie had never been on a boat like this before, so there wasn't anything she could compare The Black Bentley to. Maybe all of them smelled this fiercely of wood and salt and felt so sturdy beneath you, but as she spun around, taking in everything unremarkable around her, a feeling settled inside her, and she didn't think all ships gave off such a sense of fate.

There wasn't a soul in sight, although that was probably due to the late hour. "Is the rest of the crew sleeping?" she asked. "How many are there? When are you leaving?"

"Not even on board a minute and you're already interrogating me," Skulduggery said, shaking his head in mock sadness.

"Yes. Are you going to answer?"

He began walking, and she fell into step at his side. His boots made an impressive clunk on the wood, while Stephanie's slippers barely made a sound. "Some of them are asleep," he said. "The rest are probably still out at the tavern. They'll be back before we set sail."

"And that will be…?"

He pulled a pocket watch from his jacket and opened it. "Three hours," he said. "With the sunrise."

"Oh," she said. She'd expected longer. "Shouldn't they all be sleeping? What if they're too tired and they crash the ship?"

Skulduggery laughed. "We've been doing this a long time," he said, "and they've never crashed my ship before. Well, except once." He shrugged. "But those were…special circumstances."

"Special circumstances?" Stephanie prompted. She wanted to hear everything, all their adventures, all of it told in Skulduggery's velvety voice. "Like…? Go on."

They came to a stop in front of the crow's nest, which was so tall she had to crane her head up to see it. Skulduggery tugged once on the rope ladder, and when it proved secure, he started to climb. She followed after him.

"It's a long story. A good one, too. I'll have to tell you about it sometime," he said.

Stephanie's eyebrows rocket up her forehead. "Will you?" she asked, failing to keep the delight from creeping into her voice.

It took Skulduggery a moment to realize what he'd said, and another to respond. "I would, hypothetically, if, hypothetically, I wasn't taking you straight home after you're done looking around. Hypothetically."

"You don't have to take me home," she replied, almost immediately. "Er, hypothetically. You shouldn't, really. It'd be much more responsible not to."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Well." Fate intervened, as Skulduggery reached the top and then helped her onto the platform. She was trying to think of an answer for him, but all of that fell away from her mind once she stood. The crow's nest looked out over the ship, the sea, the dock and the land beyond it. She laughed without meaning to, but it felt good so she laughed again.

"It's beautiful," she said before she could stop herself. Then she turned her head and saw Skulduggery looking down at her.

"Maybe not beautiful," she corrected herself, worried that she'd said the wrong thing. "It's just…something. You know."

She waited for him to say something, but he was silent, and she looked away, out towards land, trying to spot familiar houses and shops. She knew there was a tavern a few minutes off the dock, although she couldn't see it now; that was probably where the crew was. Did Skulduggery ever go with them, or did he always roam the streets by himself in the middle of the night? It sounded lonely to Stephanie, and worse than that, it sounded boring. She was going to suggest investing in some playing cards when Skulduggery finally spoke.

"Hypothetically," he said, "your parents would kill me."

"You're a skeleton," she pointed out.

"Well, yes. But just because it wouldn't work doesn't mean it'd be pleasant."

"Well," Stephanie said with her eyes trained carefully on the sea. "My parents died two years ago. I don't really think they'd mind."

She could feel another bout of silence creeping in, so she continued. "Are you worried about what everyone else is going to say, all your mates? They'll love me, trust me. I'm great."

"I can't argue with that," Skulduggery replied dryly.

"And I know I'm—"

"Inexperienced?"

"Yes—"

"Prone to falling?"

"That's—"

"Still wearing your sleeping gown?"

"We can fix that," she said, crossing her arms and looking straight into his—sockets, she supposed. "Surely you've got something on board I could change into. You can give me your hat, for a start."

"My hat?" He said it as though she'd just blasphemed against his god.

"Or one like it," she said, shrugging. "I'm not picky."

Skulduggery Pleasant stared at her, or at least that's what she assumed he was doing, so she stared back. She was doing quite well, really, until a cool wind swept through the nest and sent a shiver through her, which probably ruined the image a bit.

"How much do you know about pirates?" Skulduggery asked.

"Enough."

He started moving, the gas lights of land making a silhouette of him, and Stephanie didn't understand what he was doing until he was draping his coat over her shoulders.

"You're going to need a new name," he said.

ii. Valkyrie Cain had had a long night.

She and Skulduggery had been up until four trying to decode the bloody ruins scratched into a map they're recently acquired. The map led, supposedly, to an island where they would find a tomb full of treasure. Legend called it the final resting place of the last of the Ancient Pirates, and held that when he was buried, everything around him turned to gold.

The problem was that while they could make out enough to tell the treasure was cursed, their crude translation was too vague to reveal what, exactly, the curse was.

"Is that really important?" Valkyrie had asked, rubbing her eyes and trying to stifle a yawn. "I mean, we know it's cursed, right? So either we risk it or we don't. Most curses end up being rubbish, anyway."

"Of course it's important." Skulduggery was wide awake, as always, and it made her feel a bit like punching him. "Some curses are more likely to be true than others. And some are more worth risking than others."

"Really?"

"For example, if the curse required a captain's sacrifice, I'm sure you'd be willing to offer yourself up for the cause."

She raised an eyebrow. Her feet stirred noisily under the table, ready to kick into him if she saw fit. "And where are your gentlemanly manners in this scenario?"

"Curses are picky," he said, and she could tell that he was trying his best to avoid being kicked. Ghastly made strong boots, after all. "They only take the prettiest."

Valkyrie rolled her eyes but withdrew her foot, and so the night had carried on like that for several more hours before she finally gave up and let herself fall asleep on the bed they'd moved into Skulduggery's quarters for exactly that purpose.

Except she'd barely had any sleep when a storm had struck, and though Skulduggery told her to go back to sleep she wouldn't have been able to even if she'd tried. The storm raged until the sun started to color the horizon, leaving Valkyrie with a grand total of definitely-not-enough sleep.

So she really shouldn't have been surprised when one of the cooper's hands shared with her the news that they'd found a stowaway on board.

"He was hiding in one of the salt barrels, Captain," the boy said.

"Did he give his name?" They were on the bow of The Bentley, where Valkyrie was examining the map again to keep herself awake.

"He refused. Only thing he'd say is he's some kind of Pirate Supreme."

She dropped the map and brought her head to rest in her hands. In fairness, she probably should've expected him. It'd been almost three months since his last stowaway attempt. "Pirate Supreme?"

"Yes, Captain."

"His name's Scapegrace," she said with a sigh. "Let him stay. Put him with the deckhands; he's proved himself there, at least."

The boy ran off, and Valkyrie rolled up the map in resignation. They'd just have to find out what the bloody curse was when they got there, which annoyed her some, but mostly it excited her. What would there be to love in freedom if there was never any danger?

"Giving up already?" a smooth voice said from behind her.

"I already gave up last night." She turned and handed the map to Skulduggery. "This was more…re-giving up."

"In that case, you'll be happy to know that our problem may have solved itself."

"Go on, then."

"I'm sure your sharp eyes have noticed that land came into sight ten minutes ago?"

Valkyrie jumped up and looked out over the prow. They were still some knots away, but she could already tell the island was bigger than she'd imagined. "Oh," she said. "I mean—right, yeah, 'course I noticed that."

"Of course." There was a lilt to his voice that meant he'd be smiling if he could. "What you most likely haven't noticed is the brig coming up behind us, although I'm sure you'll recognize it."

They walked together to the stern. Skulduggery had understated it; the ship loomed not even a mile behind The Black Bentley, and judging by its speed it would quickly be caught up with them. She recognized it instantly.

"The Reaper's Revenge? Then that means—"

"The necromancers are here," Skulduggery finished.

The Reaper's Revenge was one of the most easily recognizable ships that Valkyrie had ever seen. Nearly every part of it was black—the hull, the deck, the masts and the sails. It seemed almost to suck away the light around it, surrounding itself with shadow. The necromancers, she knew, thought it very intimidating, while almost everyone else thought it cringe-worthy overkill. Valkyrie had to actively resist the temptation to roll her eyes every time she saw it. It was hard to take seriously—until you looked at the fact that it was possibly the fastest ship this side of the Spanish Main, ridiculous paint job or no.

"So they're going for the treasure," Valkyrie said. "How did they find the way without the map? I guess they could've tailed us the whole way. We probably never would've seen them after sunset."

"Very possible. There might also been more than one map, but that would be unfortunate for us."

"And why is that?"

"Because then they might know about the curse."

It all clicked then. "You want to let them get there first," she said. "Use them to test out the curse."

"Precisely."

She thought about it. "How will we get close enough to see what the curse actually does to them?"

"That will be a matter of utmost stealth."

"So, Tanith?"

"Tanith," he agreed.

Valkyrie yelled for her, and a moment later Tanith was striding up to them. Her leather eye patch was on her left eye today. She didn't really need it—both of her eyes were fine—but she liked the look it gave her. Most of the time she only put it on when she sensed a fight was to come.

"Captains," she said with a grin. "What can I do for you?"

They explained to her what they needed; Tanith nodded the whole way through. "I can tail them, no problem. As long as you two can keep up—"

She was interrupted as Dexter Vex approached the group. He was holding his navigator's telescope, and his hair was tousled from his time in the crow's nest. "The Revenge is gaining on us fast," he said. "Do we have orders to fire, captains? Please?" He tossed in his signature grin, famous throughout the seven seas (and probably several lakes), probably because he knew that Valkyrie was partial to it.

"I would enjoy that immensely," Skulduggery said. Valkyrie didn't doubt it, especially since Solomon Wreath had recently been made captain. "However, we need them to reach the island before us, which might be more complicated if they're dead."

"C'mon, they're necromancers," Dexter said. "They won't let it stop them."

Saracen Rue appeared from behind Dexter. He was supposed to be with Shudder, the quartermaster, but Saracen rarely stayed at his assigned post. He mostly wandered around, and for their part, Skulduggery and Valkyrie just sort of let him. No one could deny that his intuition was unnaturally sharp, and it was usually best to let him follow it.

"Can we at least put up the flag?" he asked. He was without Dexter's famous smile, but his puppy-dog eyes were some compensation. "It's been ages since we flew it."

"It hasn't been a fortnight," Skulduggery said.

"Ages," Saracen repeated.

"Oh, go on," Valkyrie said. At least it might keep The Revenge from getting suspicious.

Dexter straightened. "Aye, captains," he said, then he gave a lazy salute and went with Saracen to find where they'd put the skull-and-crossbones.

Valkyrie looked around and noticed that Tanith had run off at some point. She sighed. "We don't have a crew," she said to Skulduggery. "We have a large collection of five year-olds."

The skull-and-crossbones pulsed with the wind, and The Reaper's Revenge was nearly parallel to them now.

"Full speed!" Valkyrie yelled. Crewmates were running around the ship, carrying out their orders—which were basically to pretend like they were preparing for combat, without actually preparing. It was all staged for the necromancer's benefit, as was their pace; it was impossible for them to race The Revenge, but they had to look like they were trying.

Valkyrie joined Skulduggery on the westernmost deck, out of the necromancers' sight. "What happens if they actually try to fire on us?"

"They won't." His rich voice was confident.

She believed him; they were out of range, after all, and probably too slow to even be worth the effort.

"Are you worried?" Skulduggery asked.

"I'm not. They'd have to alter course—"

"Not about us," he said, sounding amused. "About them."

Valkyrie rolled her eyes. "Are you still so bothered about Solomon?"

"The man who aided in an attempt to bring Davy Jones up from the deep and sacrifice the lives of half the sailors in the Caribbean? Perhaps a little bothered, yes."

"That wasn't just him," Valkyrie muttered. "And besides, you hated him before all that."

"I'm an excellent judge of character."

"And I'm not?"

Skulduggery looked at her. "While I do hate to bring up the topic of mermaids—"

"We don't talk about mermaids." Valkyrie shot him a glare that rumor said had managed to kill several adult men in the past four years. It managed to silence him, at least.

"Well," he said. "Then I may remind you about Fletcher."

"There wasn't anything wrong with Fletcher!"

"He was more a pet than a romantic companion."

"Okay, yes," she said reluctantly. "But he was a really cute pet. You liked him well enough when he cleaned the whole ship out for me."

"That was a special—"

"Captains?" Dexter Vex interrupted.

They turned to face him. Valkyrie hadn't even heard him approach.

"While I hate to spoil your conversation with bad news—"

There was an impossibly loud noise, and The Black Bentley rocked beneath them. Valkyrie nearly fell overboard, most likely would have if Skulduggery hadn't grabbed her around the waist.

"—the necromancers are preparing to fire," he finished dryly.

"Hell," Valkyrie said under her breath. She grabbed Vex's telescope and jogged to the other side of the ship, noting the splintered wood running along stern. Her confusion disappeared when she saw raised the 'scope and saw Melancholia St. Clair grinning back at her.

"This was somewhat unexpected," Skulduggery said, coming up behind her. "I'm sure I would have foreseen it eventually, though."

"Do you have a plan?" She lowered the telescope and looked at him expectantly.

"Don't I always?"

"Not really, no."

"At least I'm following a precedent, then, when I say—duck!" he yelled. She did, and together they rolled out of the way as a cannonball crashed into the deck where they'd been standing.

"Sounds like my kind of plan," Valkyrie said. Her hand went to her sword, and she grinned.

iii. The below-decks was filled with music and laughter, and Valkyrie was filled with rum.

"Filled with" might have been a bit extreme; she really hadn't had that much, especially not in comparison to those around her. It felt like it, though, the way her stomach was warm and light. The Dead Men were singing something—an old melody, she thought, dressed up in newer words, and they clapped in time to the music and she danced in time to their claps.

She wasn't dancing alone. There were many other feet spinning across the floor, so many, in fact, that it seemed to raise the temperature, and Valkyrie had removed her jacket and her boots before she overheated. Earlier, during a less rousing tune, she'd danced with most of the Dead Men and some deckhand who she thought probably fancied her. Now she held a half-empty bottle, drinking from it between one song and the next.

There was a creaking from the stairs as someone descended them, and a moment later Skulduggery came into view. He was without his hat, which was a rare sight even for her. His skull seemed almost dirty in the yellow light—it was always impeccably clean, though, so clean that Valkyrie suspected he polished it on occasion.

"Did your hat fall overboard?" she asked, loudly to be heard over the music.

She thought she might have heard him chuckle, although it was hard to tell. "I thought I would take this opportunity to separate myself from my utmost authority as captain and bond with our crew. An idea you've also embraced, obviously."

"Excuse you, Mr. Skeleton," Valkyrie said. "I am the picture of captainly authority. Aye?" she added, and the crew roared in agreement.

"Have you been drinking?" Skulduggery asked. He didn't sound upset; if anything, he sounded amused.

Valkyrie laughed and broke away from the circle. She moved very close to him, until her face was a few inches from his skull. "Yes," she said. "Have you?" Then she laughed again, harder, at her own joke.

He tilted his head. "I didn't think it was possible."

"What?"

"Your jokes can, in fact, get worse."

"Oh, don't," Valkyrie said, a large grin still present on her face. As if just remembering it was there, she took a long swig from the bottle in her hand, then let it fall it to the ground and kissed him on the teeth.

The singing behind them stopped for only a beat before picking up again with even more gusto than before.

"Come on," Valkyrie said. "I'd like to see you dance."