Title: Santa Muerta

Genre: Horror / Humor

Rating: T

Warnings: Language, mild blood, haunted ghost ship, eldritch abominations


Thirty-one in his employ
Their voyage ended not in joy
Flee this vessel, or soon you'll know,
The grisly fates of those below


"The crew seems to be in high spirits. Investing in some extra drink for the trip has paid off nicely, which is good, because it's looking like we've hit some dead winds. It'll pass in a day or two, of course, but bored, dry sailors make their own trouble."

"Day four of no winds. Odd, but not unheard of. It's given me time to work on that thrice-damned puzzle box that merchant pawned on me at last harbor, so I guess that's my silver lining. If this dead spell keeps up, though, I might have to start asking the crew if one of 'em is secretly a wind mage! Imagine! A sailor causing the winds to stop blowing! Ha! That would be crazy."

"It's been almost two weeks without wind. We're stocked to be comfortable at sea for a few months, but any longer stalled here and I'll have to start rationing our supplies. I've taken to fiddling with the puzzle box before bed each evening to get my mind off my worries enough to sleep. Popped a hidden latch last night, but it's apparently got multiple locks hidden in the woodwork. Clever thing, but not cleverer than me."

"The night watchman keeps pestering me about 'weird lights, sir, never seen anything like 'em before,' like I don't have enough to worry about. Told him if the lights weren't bothering us none, then he shouldn't bother me about them none. Lad is making things up to stave off boredom, but he won't trick me with them. Infuriating, but it was offset by finding another hidden latch. Stupid box must have three; I should just throw it overboard and be done with it, but I can't seem to let it go after spending so long on it."

"Caught one of the boys snooping through my things when I came back from my meal tonight. Just about bit his ear off when I saw him making off with my puzzle-box. Like I would let him take whatever treasure it's hiding after finding three of the four latches! Still, I'm sure he's told the others about it. I'll have to guard it better."

"Can't trust 'em, any of 'em. They're whispering about me behind my back, giving me strange looks, I'm sure of it. Well, there won't be any mutiny on my ship! I never have to walk out that door. That box had all I expected and more. It'll be me and my friend against the world. Nothing will stop us, never mind a bunch of unwashed apes."

OOOOOO

"Saw the oddest lights on watch last night. Got our cabin boy to confirm what I was seeing. They're too close to the water to be pirates, and they aren't moving closer. Whatever they are, they don't seem to be a threat."

"Those lights were back again tonight, off the starboard bow this time—always three long, one short. Odd things, those. This is the sixth day, and we see them even in the rain."

"'The lights were gone tonight.'"

OOOOOO

"Ma was wrong when she said I'd never make it as a sailor. My first voyage on the open seas has been everything I dreamed of! Hard, honest work! Clean sea air! New lands! Adventure! Brotherhood! And a fat purse to boot when we get back from this last leg of the trip! Sure, I'm just a cabin boy right now, but the first mate has noticed me, and he's hinting at climbing the first step up the rigging if I stick around!"

"The night watchman asked for my opinion last night! Or, rather, he asked for my eyes, but it meant the same, I'm sure. He spied some strange glowing off the prow, and couldn't make out what it was. He's an older man, still strong, and can hear fish leap thirty knots away, but his eyes aren't what they used to be.

Anyway. Lights. They were there alright: a cluster of glowing spots maybe twelve knots away, in the water. I thought maybe they were fish—ma used to tell me about fish that glow under the moon—but he says there aren't any of those in these waters. He seemed worried about, them, and maybe he's right. But what can we do? The wind is dead as a corpse, so we can't leave. Maybe whatever it is will go away tomorrow."

"I should have listened to ma and stayed at home to be a paper boy. This ship is going tits up from a curse, and nobody believes me! First it was the wind dying, and then the strange lights, and now I swear something is moving around in the hold! I can hear it when I go to refill the cook's water! Mark my words, people are going to go missing next!"

OOOOOO

"Captain hardly ever leaves his room these days. He's too busy making love to that box of his. Sure defends the damn thing like a jealous lover, anyway. But whatever, it's no business of mine what he's putting his wood in, I guess, and it's not like we need a captain right now with no wind to push us along."

"First mate held a muster today. I think he's trying to keep up appearances with the crew, for all the good it does us. 'Course, the captain didn't show up, but it's odd. Including the captain, we're thirty-one men. But didn't we start this journey with thirty?"

OOOOOO

"Our cabin boy's gone loony. He's ranting and raving about evil spirits and curses, saying the wind stopped because we angered some sea monster. Dumb kid, the wind just stops sometimes, that isn't anything otherworldly. We laugh him off every time he starts, but if he keeps it up, we're going to have to lock him in the hold. Don't need crazy wandering the deck, after all."

"Kinda miss the cabin boy's ravings. He's completely bonkers, of course, but laughing at him lightened the mood during meals, if nothing else. Still, that just means more booze for the rest of us. I'm sure he'll regret hiding wherever he is when he learns we cut him out of the drink!"

"We tapped the vintage '17 wine today. Cap' stays shut in his room longer and longer, so I doubt he'll miss a glass or six, and we can all use a drink with the weird happenings. Feels a mite wrong to be stealing, but I can't argue that the taste beats the usual grog."

"Maybe it's just the mood of the crew, since we had to write off cabin boy as lost—overeager idiot probably fell overboard during the night—but the wine tasted funny tonight. Kinda metallic."

OOOOOO

"I swear I'm going to gut whoever keeps slamming the galley door in the middle of the night! I get needing a midnight snack, but come on! Some of us are trying to sleep!"

"Seven nights of broken sleep, and I'm ready for murder. Told the other boys during muster that I would unman whoever keeps slamming doors at fuck-awful-o'clock, and hang their balls from the mast. They all still swore up down and sideways that there hasn't been any slamming. A stake-out tonight'll change that tune."

OOOOOO

"Boys shut me in the hold for a spell today. It wasn't too bad, I guess, but I wish I knew who it was so I could get 'em back—swap their grog out with some fish fat—but they were all keeping muff. A prank or two's a great way to stave off boredom, but I need something to work off to figure out who got me."

"Alright, the first time was pretty funny, I admit it. Even the second time, fool on me. But this third time? They locked me in the hold until after supper! Five hours, sitting on my duff, communing with the rats thumping about behind the crates!"

OOOOOO

"I swear, if one more moron tells me that I need to fix the lock on the hold... The damn door doesn't even HAVE a lock! It's not my fault they're all too stupid to work a gods-damned door. Idiots probably push when they need to pull. I'll go down tomorrow and hang a sign with a couple letters backwards, so they can read it."

OOOOOO

"I hate to say it, but I think our captain might have lost it. He talks to himself all night, and he just about killed me when I touched the jewelry box he has on his bed rail. I'm trying to cover for him, but it's hard when the only times he talks to us he looks like he hasn't slept since we last saw him. To make matters worse, the crew has started breaking into the trade stores, and I don't think I can stop them without sparking a mutiny. They're only in the wine for now, but I can't imagine that holding for long at the rate they drink it."

"Something's gone horribly wrong. I don't know what's the cause, but people are going missing and turning up dead. We're down to a skeleton crew, and no one wants to leave their rooms for fear of being attacked, unless I come get them first. If something doesn't change soon, if the winds don't start and the spirit isn't appeased, then this will be the final voyage of the Santa Muerta."


Sea birds screeched from where they were perched all along the dock, feathers fluffed against the chilly autumn sea wind. Every wave that crashed against the breakers sprayed cold mist into the air, a darker gray against the cloudy sky. Matt led the way, hands jammed into his pockets, eyes flitting from one building to the next. Behind him, Natalie and Anna shared a quiet conversation, while Lance trailed at the back, nose buried in the print of a newspaper.

"This should be the place," he announced, coming to a stop before a nondescript shack.

Lance glanced up from his paper before folding it with a sigh. "This dump? You sure he has money?"

"If he can buy an entire sailing ship, then probably," Natalie replied, though she sounded skeptical.

"Yeah, a haunted ship. Owners probably gave it to him for free," Lance muttered.

"Well, we can always go back and tell those pilgrims we're happy to escort them to the northern peaks and back," Anna suggested cheerfully with a threatening little smile. "It's only a two-month journey, up a mountain, in winter. I'm sure they'll have lots of suggestions on how to save your soul, too."

Lance mimed gagging until Natalie smacked his shoulder. Matt huffed a laugh and shook his head.

"As entertaining as it might be to watch Lance drive a bunch of priests, and Natalie, insane, I'd rather not go that far out in the winter. Come on."

The swordsman trudged up to the door and knocked twice before standing back. A few moments passed, long enough for another damp wind to wind its way down their collars. Finally, wooden hinges groaned, and sharp silver eyes set in a weather-beaten face peered out at them. A flash of satisfaction crossed the features, and the door opened wider to reveal a stocky man dressed in the fitted jacket and pants of a ship captain.

"Fine bunch of do wells, aren't you? Here about the ship?"

Matt grinned as he led the way inside, "Yup! I'm Matt, and this is Lance, Anna, and Natalie. We saw your request on the bulletin. You need some wraiths cleared out, right?"

The man shrugged as he moved to sit down behind a desk strewn with old, yellowed pages. "Wraiths, maybe. Evil spirits, definitely. Lot of blood spilled on that ship, I'll say. Inherited it from a relative, you know. It used to be the most dependable ship to sail the straits."

Lance frowned from where he'd been studying the barren shack. There was nothing beyond some old nets hanging from wood pegs, and a few odd oars—nothing to signify wealth, and the man's words only furthered his suspicions. "We were under the impression that you bought this ship. Can you even afford us?"

"Lance," Natalie hissed, swatting his arm, "Don't be rude."

"It's a fair point," Lance drawled with a pointed stare at the captain. "I could be just as happily ironing out bugs in my programs. I don't need to be here if he can't pay a decent wage for my time."

Natalie shot an exasperated look at Anna, who merely offered a resigned shrug. Luckily, the captain was only amused, if his crooked smile was anything to go by. He reached into an inside pocket and withdrew a leather pouch fat with coins.

"Aye, I can pay. This is only a small taste to whet the appetite. I keep my fortune locked in the vault back home," the captain promised, tossing the bag to the table with a dull thunk. He nodded to the pouch Matt snagged and opened. "You'll get fifty times that if you can come back with news that the ship is safe again."

Matt arched an impressed brow at the sizable count of gold coins in the purse before he tossed it for Lance to inspect. The gunner blew out a sigh through his nose and nodded, tucked the pouch away, and crossed his arms

"Alright, what do you know about the haunting?"

A flash of satisfaction lit the man's eyes and he nudged the papers on his desk closer to the team. "These are the journal passages recovered from the final crew of Santa Muerta. They detail a range of... odd occurrences and behaviors surrounding her last expedition—strange lights off the prow, slamming doors in the night, the hold door sticking, among other things. I've taken the liberty of attempting to order them."

"Santa Muerta?" Anna repeated in a bemused tone. "I swear I've heard that name before..."

"Well, she was the most dependable, once upon a time," the captain suggested idly.

Lance picked up the loose stack and began rifling through the pages, eyes rapidly scanning messy scrawls while a line slowly deepened between his brows. "'Those lights were back again tonight, off the starboard bow—always three long, one short. Odd things, those. This is the sixth day, and we see them even in the rain,'" he read aloud, glancing towards Natalie, who had her head cocked in thought. "Might be some kind of code, I guess. What do you think?"

"Could be a lot of things," Natalie replied slowly. "Will-O-Wisps, bioluminescent sea life, sea sprites... Does he say anything else?"

"Not much, just, 'The lights were gone tonight.' And that's it. The next page is from somebody else complaining about the hold door sticking closed," Lance replied slowly, thumbing past the remaining pages to be sure. He raised his head and hefted the pages. "Can we take these and look them over at the inn? We'll board the ship tomorrow morning."

The captain's expression flickered before he nodded slowly. "Very well. Don't damage them, please."

"Alright, let's head out," Matt said, stretching his arms over his head as he turned. He glanced back over his shoulder, "What pier is this ship docked at? The...Santa Muerta? Did I say that right?"

"Yes, and she's moored at the end, Pier Seven. Happy hunting."

The four left, shivering as they were hit by the damp sea wind once again. That evening was spent in the local inn, hunched over a table or sprawled on beds, sorting through papers. The noise from the dining room downstairs was dying down as people headed for their rooms, and Natalie had just lit a second lantern, when Lance growled and threw down the pages he'd been reading.

"These don't make any sense! One guy is seeing lights in the water, another is hearing slams. Somebody is getting stuck in the hold every day, and the captain is a paranoid shut in. And how the hell did they add a brand-new crew member?!"

"Well, the cabin boy who was cracking up went missing," Matt noted through a yawn. "Maybe they hired on a new guy to replace him?"

"In the middle of a six-month voyage on the open ocean?" Lance asked scathingly.

"What I don't get is why there are only three or four pages for each incident," Natalie hummed while drumming her fingers on the table. "And all of them end right after they seem to be getting close to unveiling answers. It seems strange that so many people on the same crew would pick up journaling only to stop after a day or two."

"You have to admit the incidents are... kinda creepy," Anna added. She lifted her sheets and began reading aloud, "' We tapped the vintage '17 wine today. Cap' stays shut in his room longer and longer, so I doubt he'll miss a glass or six, and we can all use a drink with the weird happenings. Feels a mite wrong to be stealing, but I can't argue that the taste beats the usual grog.'"

"I could go for some vintage '17 wine," Matt sighed. "That stuff is the shit."

Anna snorted and flipped a page before saying, "That's a perfectly normal thing, but here our unfortunate author mentions the missing cabin boy. ' Kinda miss the cabin boy's ravings. He's completely bonkers, of course, but laughing at him lightened the mood during meals, if nothing else. Still, that just means more booze for the rest of us. I'm sure he'll regret hiding wherever he is when he learns we cut him out of the drink!' And that's followed immediately by, 'Maybe it's just the mood of the crew, since we had to write off cabin boy as lost—overeager idiot probably fell overboard during the night—but the wine tasted funny tonight. Kinda metallic.'" Anna looked up with a furrowed brow, "I mean, I might be jumping to conclusions, but... blood tastes metallic. I wonder if a body wound up in the wine barrel?"

"Given that the entire crew wound up dead, that's not much of a leap," Natalie snorted. She tapped the sheets she'd been reading to line them up, before setting them down with a thoughtful frown. "I don't think we're going to learn much from these journals. I mean, we know the captain went insane—something about that puzzle-box, probably—and the crew was picked off one by one to the last man. I'd say it was just a common, if creepy, serial murder, if it weren't for these unexplainable bits. The lights, the extra crew member, the sticking door… those all strike me as something less mundane. We'll have to do a little investigating on the ship."

"Yay, poking about a decrepit, creaky, sailboat, looking for bodies," Lance deadpanned. He slid back his chair and shuffled over to throw himself down beside Matt. "Idiot should have splurged for security cameras instead of booze."

Anna rolled her eyes and sighed feelingly as she gathered the scattered pages. "You just hate anything not made of metal."

"And would you look at that? I've never been possessed or murdered. Coincidence? I think not."

"Correlation is not causation," Natalie replied dryly. "And I might add that you would have been murdered if Matt weren't such a sap."

"…I take offence to that."

"She's right, man," Matt mumbled, face buried in a pillow, "you're only alive because you fight good."

"Fight well. I fight well," Lance grumbled. "And I'm so glad you all think so highly of my existence. I hate all of you."

"We love you, too," Anna replied cheekily. "See you all in the morning."

OOOOOO

"Huh, this is a bigger ship than I thought," Natalie mused as she peered up at the three masts through the light fog. "It's going to take a while to search."

"We can always split into pairs to cover ground faster," Lance suggested idly. He scanned the ship's length with a muted distaste. The sails were tattered and needed replacing, several rails were missing from the deck, and the rigging looked to be in sad condition. "I place the opening bet of twenty splinters within an hour. And who the hell would want to keep a ship that needs so much maintenance? It'd be cheaper to sink this junk and buy a new ship. With an engine."

"You have no appreciation for sentimental value, do you?" Natalie chided. "It belonged to his family, remember?"

"You're right, I do see the sense of ascribing lots of value to the site of a relative's murder."

"Sarcasm isn't attractive, Lance."

"If we take away his sarcasm what's left?" Anna wondered with a smile tugging at her lips. She studied Lance with a raised brow. "I guess he has a pretty face. And he sometimes hits his targets."

Lance shot her a dark scowl. "You're about to find out firsthand how good my aim is."

"Alright, let's put a pin in this discussion before we start adding to the body count on this ship," Matt interrupted, stepping between Lance and Anna. "Should we split up to search? It would be faster, but if there's actually something living here that likes to kill people, then that might not be safe. Natalie? You're the resident expert on evil magical spirits."

The mage shrugged and frowned at the ship. "Whatever happened here killed a bunch of people, yeah, but they weren't fighters, and had no magical backing or experience. Besides, I don't really sense anything coming from the thing from here, so I think pairing off would be fine."

"I call dibs on Anna," Lance interjected.

"Planning on murdering me and blaming the evil spirit?" Anna guessed with a suspicious squint at him.

"No, I just know Natalie doesn't like working with me, and I can already see Matt sweating over the possibility of dead stuff. Annoying as you are, you don't freak out over dead bodies."

"Hey! It's not wrong to think dead stuff should, y'know, be dead. Not… moving around… and stuff," Matt protested while surreptitiously wiping his palm on his thigh.

"And I rest my case. C'mon, Anna, let's go check out the hold. Natz, you and Mister Bravery can investigate the crew's cabins, galley, and the captain's cabin; try to keep him from putting any new holes in anything. We'll meet up on the deck in an hour with whatever we find."

"And if one of our groups encounters anything hostile, kill it," Natalie agreed. She offered a smile to Matt and added, "C'mon, you know I'm the best thing there is against ghosts and wraiths. If you're good, I'll let you pretend to man the helm."

The pair headed up the gangplank with Matt muttering, "Do I look like I'm five to you?"

Anna chuckled and turned to lead the way after them. "Glad this thing isn't moving. I get so seasick on boats," she confided.

Lance snorted, "You barf on me, and I throw you overboard. So, what should we investigate first?"

They paused on the deck of the ship and looked around. Natalie and Matt had already vanished into the captain's cabin below the helm, and could be heard occasionally thumping as they shifted whatever furniture had survived. All around them, the ship creaked and groaned as it swayed gently on swells. Overhead, the sea wind caused the tattered sails to billow and rustle, while below, the water lapped at the hull. Fog curled along the deck in long clouds, parting around the masts, abandoned coils of rope, and over their feet.

"Well, it sure looks like a ghost ship," Lance admitted uneasily, finally breaking the eerie quiet. It seemed colder to him now that they were on the ship, which he knew was dumb, because it was likely just his head messing with him.

Anna nodded mutely before leading the way to one of the hatches that would lead below the deck. Rusted hinges screeched in protest at being moved, and one fastening pulled free from rotted wood. Anna winced a little at the damage, and cast an apologetic look back at Lance, who shrugged.

"I won't tell, if you don't. I stand by what I said earlier: this thing is junk."

Anna quirked a smile before swinging down to the ladder. "Watch your step, the third rung is rotted through," she called up before cursing. "Ow!"

"Got a splinter?" Lance guessed smugly.

"Right at the base of my thumb," Anna grumbled. She gazed idly down the narrow, shadowy hall as she plucked the sliver free, and inhaled deeply. "…Something smells rotten."

"Rotting wood, or rotting flesh?" Lance asked as he landed beside her and pulled out a small light. He passed one to Anna before he flicked his on and shone it down the length of the hall to reveal open cabin doors. This would be part of Matt and Natalie's search, but he spied the entrance to the next level in a cranny off to the left.

"Mostly wood, but there's something else… Might be rotting meat, but it's old if it is," Anna replied slowly. "How long ago did the crew die?"

Lance paused with his hand on the handle to the next hatch. "…I didn't see any dates on those journal pages. How old do you suppose this ship is?"

Anna frowned to herself and drummed her fingers on one thigh. "It looks pretty old, and sailing ships are falling out of favor. I think I remember one of the dock workers saying one of the merchants was retiring a ship because it was over twenty years old. I don't know if that's standard, though."

"Well, rot and decay would be what does one in before anything else, if nothing happened to the rudder or hull. Saltwater is hard on materials," Lance mused. He finally pulled the hatch up and cursed when it pulled clean off. "This hunk of junk certainly seems to be past it's due date."

They descended to the next level, which was far more open. The ceiling was low, but there were no walls separating the space, to leave room for cargo and supplies. All that remained were some broken barrels and crates, and a few motheaten sacks. The air was filled with the overwhelming stench of mildew, and Lance coughed with one hand over his mouth and nose. Behind him, Anna landed lightly, nose wrinkled, and stepped past to study the space.

"Think this is the hold?" she asked.

"Maybe the first level. See? There's a stairwell at the far end," Lance replied, shining a dusty beam at half a stair rail. "Besides, there aren't any puddles, so we can't be below the water level, yet."

Anna cast him an alarmed look. "Puddles? Doesn't that mean there's a leak? Wouldn't this thing sink if that were the case?"

Lance shook his head, "Yes, and no. You'll always have small leaks from the wood expanding and contracting, but she'd have to take on a lot of water for her to go under. A crew would typically bail the water out after enough gathered, and would fill any cracks as they appeared. This ship is riding kind of low because no one is maintaining her, so she's probably got a fair amount of water on the lowest level, but not enough to worry about."

"I think I'm beginning to agree with your assessment of her worth," Anna murmured as she moved to begin searching the debris. "Let's see if we can find any clues here. Look for stains, suspicious marks… bones or clothing, maybe."

"Does rat crap count?" Lance asked in disgust as he found a pile under a crate.

"Unless you find a mutilated rat with it, no."

For awhile there was no more talking as they dedicated their attention to sifting through the mess, methodically sweeping back and forth. They were halfway down the length of the space when a muffled thud came from below them. Anna leapt a foot in shock, and Lance muttered a curse. Both stared at the wood below their feet, then at each other. Anna shouldered her bow to her hand and flexed her fingers around the grip, while Lance drew his gunblade.

"Chances that was a rat?" the gunner muttered.

"Too loud," Anna replied quietly. "It might have been something outside hitting the hull, but I don't think so. It was too clear for that."

She stole silently to the stairwell leading down to the next level and frowned at the door blocking the way. Lance quietly moved up behind her and studied the worn wood. His fingers smoothly loaded a pair of bullets into the chamber of his weapon, and he raised it.

"My weapon is better for this, so I'll cover you," he whispered.

Anna nodded silently and carefully edged down the stairs to rest one hand on the door. A few tense seconds passed before she abruptly shoved the door open, diving through and rolling to the side to clear Lance's shot. Nothing leaped out at her, nothing stared in surprise, no fangs or claws latched onto her arm, no angry hisses, nothing. After a moment, she cautiously stood up, staring down the shadows, and flicked her light on and around. Oily brine along the spine of the ship reflected her light, littered with a few soggy barrels, and sloshing thickly with the gentle sway of the vessel. Rafters littered with cobwebs cast crooked shadows, across the ceiling. Both walls were lined with barrels still lashed in place, mostly unbroken.

"There's nothing here," she reported in a baffled tone.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing alive," Anna amended as she spied part of a bleached ribcage, half crushed under a fallen barrel. "Looks like some poor sap got crushed, though."

"Sounds more interesting than anything we've seen up here, but let's finish searching this floor before we move down there."

Anna made a sound of agreement, swept one last look across the lowest level of the hold, then turned for the stairs. Abruptly, the door slammed shut, and she let out a yelp while lunging for the handle to heave back on it. Lance pounded from the other side.

"Anna?! What the hell just happened?!" His voice came as a muffled shout.

"I don't know! There wasn't anything there, it just slammed on its own!" Anna shouted back. She heaved fruitlessly one more time before adding in a voice high with fear, "It's stuck! I can't pull it open!"

"It won't budge from this side, either! What the hell? All the other doors just fell off!" Lance growled. He muttered a long string of curses she couldn't make out before raising his voice again. "I'm going to try blasting the hinges off! Get your back to a wall and watch that room."

Anna swallowed heavily as she slid to one side of the door, pressed her back to the damp wood, and nocked in arrow. Before her stretched an empty space, but she didn't take any comfort from that fact. "Ready!"

Twin cracks rang out, smashing into metal and ripping through the wood to lodge in the wall at the far end of the hold. The door remained standing, but Anna heard Lance grunt as he rammed his shoulder into it. The wood splintered, followed by a crack on the second slam, and that was when she felt a shiver run down her spine. Instinctively, she flung herself away from the wall, but not before something ripped across her side, shredding through the hardened leather and enchanted fabric of her armor like paper. Her arrow clattered to the floor beside her light as she gripped the wound and felt hot, sticky blood run between her fingers.

Wild eyes flicked from the wound to where she was sure she saw a long shadow flicker out of sight. At that moment, the door crashed inwards, and Lance tumbled through, glaring and ready to shoot. Anna abandoned the light, lunged forwards to snag Lance's arm with her bloody hand, and hauled him back out of the room. He followed without protest, and she didn't stop until they were at the ladder leading to the cabins.

"What the hell happened back there?" Lance snapped. His eyes fell on Anna's bloody side as she returned to pressing her hand against the wound, and he hissed. "Shit, you're bleeding, let me see. I thought you were keeping watch!"

"I was," Anna said through a pained hiss as she let Lance inspect the neat slash. "It- It came out of the wall! …I think. I didn't actually see it, but there was a shadow."

Lance's eyes flicked up and then back at the broken doorway. He could still see the glow of Anna's abandoned light. "…Why did it wait until you were in there?"

"I don't know, but maybe it can't leave," Anna muttered. "How bad is the cut?"

"Long, and kind of deep, but it weirdly isn't bleeding as much as you'd expect; it's practically surgical, like you got cut with a scalpel—there's practically no tearing in the leather, either," Lance reported while ripping the fabric back and fishing out a bandage to seal over the cut. A red spot quickly bloomed on the white. "How do you feel? Dizzy at all? Nauseous?"

"I don't think I've been poisoned," Anna replied after a moment. She cast an uneasy look at the door before saying, "I think we should regroup. I didn't sense anything until right before it attacked, and I couldn't see it. I can't hit something I can't find."

"And Natalie should heal this," Lance agreed, standing up again. "Come on, they should be in the crew's cabins by now."

OOOOOO

"For the last time, Matt, the portrait's eyes are not following you," Natalie sighed as she turned over another drawer.

"But they are! How can you not see it!" Matt whined. He did nothing to help the search. "Why did you let me take this stupid job? You know I hate haunted places…"

Natalie rolled her eyes and bit back another sigh. She stood back with her hands on her hips and eyed the small captain's quarters. It was in a state of chaotic disarray from their search for any clues—further journal entries, hidden compartments, a travelogue, blood, or cursed objects, like she suspected the mysterious lockbox had been. But other than the odd, opulent knickknack, a sagging mattress, and a dusty oil portrait of the late captain, there was nothing of note in the room. She studied the portrait, with a frown. It depicted a man, still in the prime of his life. Gold painted buttons glinted in the grimy light from the cracked window, lining the fine black coat he wore. A feathered cap perched proudly askew over windswept brown hair, and silver eyes stared back at her from beneath his bangs. He was handsome, in a rough-and-ready kind of way, and there was a kind of arrogant intelligence to his expression in the curl of one side of his mouth and the set of his eyes. Pride and intelligence, she mused, were likely requirements to be a captain of a ship and a crew of burly sailors. Not that his intelligence had saved him from his pride.

"…Come on, I don't think we're going to find anything in here," Natalie finally said as she tore her eyes away from the portrait.

Matt practically clung to her back as he followed her out onto the deck. A misty rain had begun to fall, and Natalie irritably brushed her bangs from her eyes as she hurried over to the open hatch. The ladder creaked suspiciously under her weight, but she reached the next level without incident. Matt's weight, however, broke the third rung down, and he snapped two more trying to stop his fall before crashing to the wood with a loud thud.

"Ow…"

Natalie was already raising her staff. "Should have tested your weight before stepping," she chided gently while the soft glow of healing magic illuminated the hall. "How's it feel now?"

"Better," Matt assured with a sheepish smile as he sat up. He pushed himself to his feet and rolled his shoulders before nodding down the hall. "You take one side; I take the other?"

"Sounds good. Don't cause any more damage. And remember you're stronger than any stupid ghost," Natalie promised before she cast a hovering light to follow her, and stepped into the first cabin.

"Yeah, except that over half my attacks can't hit them," Matt muttered under his breath while he lit a small lantern before peering warily into the first room. Immediately, he made a face at a grinning skull, and called over his shoulder, "Found a dead one. Poor bastard died in his bed."

"Yeah, there's one in here, too," Natalie called back. A few moments passed before she added in confusion, "But it doesn't look like it was from a weapon. He's lying peacefully, and there aren't any obvious chips in the rib or neck bones. How about yours?"

Matt gulped and shuddered before steeling himself to move closer to the skeleton with one hand hovering over his sword hilt. The second this thing moved, he was pulverizing it. "I don't think there's any damage?" he finally reported hesitantly in a tight voice.

Natalie appeared in the doorway, and gently nudged him back. "How about I'll check the bodies, and you can search their belongings?" she offered calmly before lowering her voice to a comforting murmur. "We won't be here much longer, I promise."

Matt flashed her a shaky smile. "Sounds like a plan, thanks."

Between the two of them, they swiftly began clearing out rooms. Mostly, their search was uninformative, and uninteresting. Not every room had a skeleton, and those that did were like all the rest. Searches of the standard trunks at the foot of each bed only ever turned up clothing that tore at the slightest touch, the odd pair of di—one of which, Matt was delighted to discover, was weighted, and he pocketed them to scam Lance with later, much to Natalie's amused exasperation—empty bottles, and rusted blades.

"I think we can rule out disease," Natalie was saying as they turned to the last room, a little apart from all the others, and with a real lock on the door. "They all look like they were just sleeping before they died. Anna would be able to tell better, but I don't think they were murdered by any physical means. I mean, there was no blood, no breaks in the bones."

"No sign of any struggle, either," Matt mused as he tried the knob on the final door. It was locked, but the wood was so rotted, and the metal so poor of quality that all it took was a sharp jerk, and the lock warped and ripped through the wood.

"Matt!" Natalie scolded.

The rest of her lecture died in her throat when the swordsman suddenly drew his sword and lashed out. Her eyes widened at the sound of metal on metal followed by a clatter, and Matt staggering off balance with a curse. He straightened up, sword relaxed and pointing at the floor, and turned to arch a sheepish brow at Natalie as he stepped aside. A pile of bones, the pieces of a chair, and a rusted cutlass, blade shorn through, sat on the floor.

"Was it animated?" Natalie asked sharply.

"Well, uh, it was standing there?" Matt temporized with a nervous grin and pink cheeks.

Natalie spared him an unimpressed look. "You mean he was sitting dead at watch in the chair, and itchy slashy finger took over."

"…I can neither confirm, nor deny."

Natalie rolled her eyes and shoved him. "Put your sword away before you hurt yourself."

Matt flushed a little darker and sheathed his blade with a meek, "Sorry."

The mage shook her head once before turning to inspect the room. "Looks like he was the only one to expect trouble. Weird, since those journals kind of implied they all thought there was some kind of menace on board by the end."

"Um, Natz?"

"What is it?" Natalie asked distractedly as she moved to the trunk. Matt didn't reply, and she turned her head to see him staring at the wall beside the door with a disturbed expression, and she asked again, "What?"

Then her mouth went dry when she saw what he was staring at. Words were carving themselves into the cabin wall, dripping with what looked suspiciously like blood. "Say hello to the captain."

"Nope. I'm done," Matt announced in a high voice. He turned on his heel and marched out the door. "I need a strong drink. A bright fire. A mountain far away from this ocean. A holy priest to sanctify my home. A- holy shit, Lance, don't sneak up on us like that!"

Natalie peeked out the door to see Lance shoving past Matt towards her, leading a pale, shaken Anna with a bloody side.

"Something's in the hold," Lance informed them flatly, nudging Anna forwards. "It slammed the door, sealed it with some kind of magic, and attacked Anna. And Anna only caught a glimpse of it."

"It's in the walls, I think," Anna muttered as she let Natalie work her healing magic. She frowned at herself and admitted, "I didn't see it, exactly, but I saw a glimpse of a shadow when I dropped my light."

"I want off this thing," Matt moaned.

"Did you sense anything unusual? Dark magic, something undead?" Natalie asked, ignoring Matt, who was being held back from running by an irritated Lance muttering for him to grow a pair.

"I- No- Maybe. I felt something when it attacked, I guess. But it was more that instinctive feeling of knowing somebody's trying to hit you from behind, you know? Not really mana from a foe. I didn't sense anything from when the door slammed, either."

"It was like they were complaining about in the journals," Lance admitted. "We heard a thump from the lower level of the hold, but nothing was there when we went to investigate. Then the door slammed on its own, and it might as well have been part of the wall for all we could move it. And godsdamnit, Matt, quit moaning, and focus!"

"We had something happen, too," Natalie informed him as she stepped back into the room with a gesture for him to follow. She nodded at the wall, and watched Lance's brows shoot up. "It carved itself before our eyes. What's weirder is that nothing happened anywhere else, and this guy is the only one who seemed to have been prepared for trouble."

Lance glanced down at the skeleton and frowned. "Was it animated?"

"No, Matt, was just jumpy," Natalie huffed with a tight smile.

"Matt! Get back here!" Anna suddenly snapped.

Lance and Natalie hurried out to see Matt already halfway up the ladder to the deck. Lance rolled his eyes and gestured for the women to stick close as they headed after the swordsman. They were almost at the ladder, when Matt's head appeared from the hole leading from the hold. All three froze and gaped at him before exchanging stunned looks. Matt didn't seem to realize what was wrong until he turned for the next ladder, and saw them.

"H-How did you all get up here so fast?"

Natalie shook her head and moved to peer up the ladder. It was black, no sign of the rainy sky, or the rigging. "Matt, try climbing the ladder again."

The swordsman needed no further encouragement and heaved himself up, clinging to the sides where the rungs were missing, and vanished into the black. Natalie's brow furrowed, and she moved to peer down into the hold in time to see Matt appear, climbing the ladder. He went sheet white when he saw her frowning down at him.

"What the hell?" Lance muttered when the swordsman stood before them once more.

"It a spacial displacement spell," Natalie informed them in a flat voice. "We won't get out of here until we knock out or kill whoever is casting it."

"Ten gold says it's whatever is living in the hold," Anna muttered.

Matt whimpered.

"Well, whatever it is, it isn't undead," Natalie mused aloud. "The amount of magic needed to cast and maintain that level of spell would rip apart any undead."

"We need to stop and think about this," Lance stated. He began ticking points off on his fingers. "This ship wasn't haunted before it set out on its journey. Something happened to it when the winds died."

"Those lights in the ocean?" Anna suggested, casting an uneasy eye between the hold and the hall of cabins.

"No, it was the puzzle box," Natalie hummed. "The lights didn't appear until the captain broke the first lock. It must have been a seal of some kind, and he weakened it. What the sailors were seeing in the water may have been whatever was sealed beginning to manifest in this plane."

"And as more locks were opened, he slipped further and further, and whatever it was, was able to exert more power," Lance continued heavily. "It could begin knocking things over in the hold and slam doors."

"It must have taken on the form of a person, at least for a little while," Matt realized. "That would explain the sudden extra head during the count."

"And once it had a physical form, it could begin hunting its prey, until they were all dead," Anna finished grimly. She frowned suddenly, opened her mouth, then closed it again.

"What's up?" Lance asked.

"…If the entire crew was dead… how did the ship end up docked at Pier Seven?" Anna asked slowly. "Wouldn't it have drifted at sea until a storm blew it under, or something?"

The others froze and stared at each other.

"She's right," Lance murmured uneasily. "This place is rotting apart, no self-respecting captain, or anybody looking to make some coin off of selling a ship would let the vessel get this bad."

"The skeletons are completely rotted, but you can't smell them," Natalie added quietly. "They'd have to be decades old, at least, for that to be the case."

"Natalie," Matt suddenly whispered. "The portrait… the one of the captain with the eyes that followed me. It's the guy we took this job from. His hair is longer now, and he doesn't have the same clothes or tan, but…"

Natalie muttered a string of colorful curses. "You're right, why didn't I see that? He had the same eyes and everything!"

"So, you're saying this was a set up for us from the start?" Lance demanded. He glared up the ladder before turning to the hold hatch. "That does it. Let's kill this damn whatever-it-is, and I'll say hello to the captain, alright. Come on."

"And how do we hit something we can't see or sense?" Anna demanded even as she followed him down the ladder.

Thankfully, the portal didn't open to leave them in an endless loop, and they were back in the hold, surrounded by broken containers. Anna's light still glowed from down the stairs to the lowest level.

"If it casts a shadow, we can use that to find it. I can cast a few mage lights in the corners; they should be far enough apart to pinpoint the thing without getting rid of the shadows altogether," Natalie suggested.

"But can we actually hit it?" Matt wondered.

"It could hit me," Anna reminded him. "If it can hit us, then we can hit it." Her grip tightened around her bow until her knuckles turned white. "Just in case, though, I think it's stuck in the hold, for whatever reason. If we need to regroup and plan a new strategy, then we can fall back in here."

"Alright, let's do this," Lance growled.

He boldly stepped into the room, followed by Natalie who immediately summoned her magical lights. The glowing balls stuck to the corners, filling the room with an eerie half-light, reflecting off the stagnant brine that filled the bottom of the ship. Immediately, the four shadows of a writhing, multi-limbed thing stretched out from the fallen barrel that had crushed half of a rib cage. Whatever it was, it noticed their presence and the shadows began stretching hungrily towards the four.

Anna promptly sent an arrow flying towards the epicenter of the shadows, only for it to slam to a quivering stop in the wood. She cursed and tried again, but with a soul arrow, followed closely by a pair of sparking bullets. This time, the room seemed to shake with an unearthly howl of pain. Half of the shadows writhed back, while the other half snapped on the attack.

Matt swore when he misjudged the distance of the actual creature based off of the shadow, and it caught his shoulder, piercing clean through, then ripping out the back. He severed whatever it was near his shoulder with a Holy Sword while hot blood splattered the boards. A blind grope for whatever was lodged in his skin revealed that he could feel something that felt uncomfortably like cold, rotting flesh. He ripped it loose with a shudder of disgust, and Natalie sealed the wound while simultaneously focusing her mana for a concentrated judgment on the center of the mass of shadows. A second Holy Sword stopped the advance of invisible limbs as they tried to reach and stop the mage.

Then, a pillar of brilliant light exploded into existence, blinding all of them. Another unearthly howl rose up, breaking into a piercing shriek, before cutting off. The attack ended, and they each blinked to adjust back to the dimness. A tangle of charred, limp flesh lay in the center of the room beside a small, ornately carved box. The creature, whatever it was, defied explanation beyond being a sickly, mottled gray-green color with no discernable body or head.

Natalie lowered her staff with a long sigh, staring at the dead creature. "I've never seen anything like that. Not in real life, or in any of my books… That must be the puzzle box, though."

The others didn't get a chance to respond before the floor suddenly heaved and cracks exploded into being, beginning to flood the hold.

"Everybody out! She's going under!" Matt bellowed, shoving Natalie ahead of him.

The mage scrambled up the stairs followed closely by the other three as the ship groaned and moaned around them. The floor began to tip towards the exit, and they each cursed as they stumbled and slipped trying to reach the deck before the entrance went under. No portal waited to trap them, and they broke into the watery light of a rainy evening just as the ship began to tilt too steeply to keep their feet.

Matt swore loudly, though it couldn't be heard over the sound of the masts snapping and crashing through the deck, and caught Natalie around the waist to hurl her through the air to crash onto the dock. Anna tumbled to a halt against the base of one of the masts and used it and a fallen yard arm to scramble close enough to make a leap to the shore, landing half on the dock and being pulled up by Natalie. Lance and Matt scrambled across the nearly vertical deck, gripping places where the boards had come loose for handholds and footholds until they reached the rail. Anna had a rope already flying towards them, which Lance caught before exchanging a swift look with Matt. Both men dove into the cold ocean, gripping the rope which snapped taut as Natalie, Anna, and several stunned dockhands began hauling hand over hand to pull the two men free from the sinkhole created by the rapidly sinking ship. Soon the dripping pair were sprawled on the dock, gasping for air as the prow of the ship slipped under the water.

"What the sea-devils were you four doing?!" one of the dockhands demanded weakly.

"Narrowly escaping death twice over?" Lance muttered sarcastically. He sat up and glared down through sodden, dripping bangs at where he could see the shadow of a cloud of dust kicked up by the settling of the Santa Muerta at the bottom of the harbor. "I swear I'm never going on a boat again. Ever. And I'm choosing our next job."

"Sounds good to me," Matt replied weakly from where he lay. "No dead stuff, though, that's all I ask."

Natalie pulled out a pair of thick blankets to wrap the two men in to protect them from the cold sea wind until they could get inside and change into dry clothes. Anna had herded the mortified, curious, frightened dockhands further away, and was speaking to them in low undertones, briefly explaining what had happened, and directing them to get a priest to come sanctify the waters. When she came back, she was shaking her head.

"They'll take care of it from here," she announced. "And they reminded me of where I'd heard the name Santa Muerta before. Three guesses, and the first two don't count."

"Famous ghost ship?" Natalie asked with a humorless huff of laughter.

"Famous ghost ship," Anna confirmed bitterly. "She was once the most dependable ship to sail the straits until mysteriously vanishing, only to be sighted during nights with dead winds." Her expression softened when a strong wind caused both Matt and Lance to shiver, even under the thick, wool blankets. "Come on, let's go get the guys dry, and go see our 'friend.'"

"He's probably dead, if he was tied to that… thing," Lance muttered. His voice fell to a low growl. "And if he's not, then I'm going to kill him."

An hour later, and the four stood inside the worn-down shack, staring dully at the skeleton lying in a pile of ash and abandoned clothes.

"Hello, captain," Lance snorted sarcastically.

An envelope addressed to Matt lay on the table, pinned under a heavy key. After a glance at Natalie, and given a short nod, the swordsman picked up the envelope, broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

"Provided here is a map and key to your promised payment. Thank you," he read aloud before glancing at the signing of 'last captain of the cursed Santa Muerta,' and the scrawled map, then eyed the key suspiciously. "Chances the treasure reward is cursed, too?"

"Very high," Anna guessed with a wry smile. "Will that stop you?"

"Oh, hell no," Lance immediately objected. "I get to choose our next task, and I say it isn't going to get some cursed ancient cat gold, or whatever!"

Matt pocketed the map with a grin. "Technically, this job isn't over until we get paid."

"I hate all of you."


A/N: Special thanks to my brother, The Mighty Gyarapie, for providing this horrifying idea, journal logs, and the poem! You're pretty great!

Almost too late, but here is the (usually) annual Halloween fic! This (The intro, the genre, the setting) is something I've never really tried before, so please let me know how you think I did! And please forgive me for my crappy pseudo ship-stuff! I made pretty much all of it up, with some educated guesswork, so don't take it as fact!

Hope you were spooked, at least a little, and Happy Halloween!

As always, it's edited solely by me, and I didn't do much of that this time, so please let me know of any truly horrifying, spooky errors!