The main deck of the Dutchman was littered with feathers. The undead crew picked up the birds, two at a time, and cast the things overboard. I was surprised and a little impressed by the devastation around me. Just minutes ago, the sky had been full of life.

  I had never imagined the Scythe would have such a devastating effect. Well, that’s not totally true. I was no stranger to the powers of Death, but in the hands of a person like Dyson...

  I had assumed he would be to chicken to actually use the thing. I suppose curiosity gets the better of us all eventually. And I had promised to teach him how to keep that power in check.

  Dyson was up by the steering wheel, getting a lecture. Something about killing things on the ship without consulting the Captain first. I tuned her out. She was pretty, I guess, but her voice grated on my nerves, as most living creatures did. While it was true Dyson had been a little reckless, the only one truly at risk, was her. Luckily, she had been at the far end of the ship and well out of his current range. With how quickly he was learning, I wondered if she’d be so lucky the next time.

  As his soul intertwined with the energy of the Scythe, I sensed my own powers fluctuate. Like somehow, through him, I was more powerful. I felt… bigger somehow. I was filled with a vague flash of guilt for the animals. Something inside me told me I should cry over the poor dead birds. Like it used to break my none existent heart to see animals hurt, but as I watch them being dragged away, I remind myself that I feel nothing. Not truly. Reapers were incapable of feelings. Or so I believed.

  I nudged one of the carcasses with my bare toe, making myself materialize. I feel it shift and jiggle and makes a nauseating squishing sound. Not an ounce of life left; its soul ripped clean from its body. There was no coming back from that.

  “What a pity.” I sighed.

  “Could be worse.” A man's voice replied, nonchalant.

  “How so?” I asked, unsure who had spoken. One of the undead crewmen shuffled over to pick up the bird at my foot. The crewman tipped his head, his hollow eye sockets fixed on my face. I wasn't sure any of them had ever actually looked at me before. Staring, sure, as all undead were drawn to Reapers, but not actually looking at me. I stared back at his expressionless face, bits of flesh hanging off his cheekbones, remnants of a man lost, but still trapped on the mortal plane.

  “You can hear me, lass?” His jaw didn’t move, incapable from one side hanging too loose. I nodded, not sure which one of us was more confused.

  “I… didn’t know you guys could talk.” I mused.

  He shrugged, “We talk to each other, sure enough. Them mortals can’t hear much more than moanin’ and gruntin'. Makes sense you can hear us, when you try to listen, Reaper.”

  "You'll address me with more respect." I demanded.

  "Meanin' no offense miss." He bowed his head again. "We don't see many of your kind, bein' that we've long since passed that point." He gave a raspy chuckle.

  I got the sense he would be looking at me quite skeptically, if that were possible. “Right… Well, little lady, you can call me Jimmy.” He said, flinging the dead bird over the railing.

  “I’m Alma.” I started to reach to shake his hand, some long lost gesture, then think better of it. “Pleasure to meet you.” I said without any hint of emotion.

  “Aye. As I was sayin’ before, bein’ dead ain’t so bad. Better than bein’ stuck here, like this.” He hobbled along, picking up more dead birds as he went.

  “Why are you here, Jimmy?” I dematerialized and floated along behind him, following him on his routine.

  “Made a deal with the devil. A thousand years of service, for a meager pile o’ gold.” He laughed, or the approximation of what a laugh from a rotting corpse would be. Then he heaved the carcasses over the rail again. The sound of the bodies as they hit the waves was unsettling for some reason. Strange.

  "The gold got me a ways, it did. But the devil caught up to me eventually and got his due." He croaked out.

  “Was it worth it?” I asked, generally interested at this point.

  Jimmy seemed to pause. He looked up at the grey sky and shrugged a bony shoulder, “When you been stuck in limbo a few hundred years, lass, come back and ask me again.”

  I stared at him, as he stared at the sky. How long had I been a Reaper? Had I not always been a Reaper? What was time to the timeless?

  I opened my mouth to comment, but Jimmy held up a fleshy finger. His skull tilted to raise his remaining ear up then he skulked back to the rail and peered over the edge. I floated up beside him, trying to see what he might be looking at. I found nothing but endless ocean.

  “D’ya hear that, lass?” He whispered. I shook my head and frowned. All I heard was the ocean against the hull. I suddenly felt like I was being left out of something. “There it is again!” He hissed. I concentrated, but still nothing.

  “What is it?” I asked, frustrated. I swear he smiled.

  “That is the song of the sea witches; No man alive can resist their song. He be destined to be dragged into the depths, ne’er to be heard from again.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Why do you make that sound like a good thing?” I asked.

  He cackled and began to shuffle away, “Sure as heck beats moppin’ the deck.”

  I raised an eyebrow. He went back to collect the last few carcasses. I wondered if he was joking.

  I hoped so…

  ~*~

  Night fell like a blanket over the Dutchman. Siobhan left Jimmy in charge of the helm and headed below deck to her quarters. She shot me an uneasy grimace and muttered something about needing a drink. I pretended I didn’t see her. My feet dangled over the black waves, my palms resting on the grey wooden rail. Maybe there was a time when I would be terrified of falling into the sea, being swept away and forgotten. Lately, being vulnerable like this had begun to bother me. What I was should have granted me freedom of such things.

  “Hey.” Dyson leaned against the railing to my left. He tipped his head; his shaggy hair falling to the side with the movement. “How are you doing?”

  I blinked a few times, unsure of the intent of the question. “I am as I always am." It seemed silly of him to ask me. But I forget sometimes that he is mortal and such is their ways. We sit in silence for a long time before I remember he is expecting me to ask him the question back.

  "Are you and Siobhan okay?”

  He chuckled and ran a hand through his dark locks.

  “Yea, I managed to calm her down. She was kinda pissed about all the dead birds on her ship. You know how women get.” He winked. I had no idea what that meant. I stared back for a long awkward moment until he takes a deep breath, “Anyway…”

  “Did you know what would happen when you released the Scythe’s power like that? Was there actual intent?"

  He flinched, and started to speak but the words fell short on his lips. His eyes were drawn over the water instead. Lower, and lower… His eyes sort of glazed over, until he moved further forward, his feet in the air.

  “Dyson!” I dived after him, materializing, and caught him by the hood of his sweater, surprised by the extra weight.

  “You need to lay off the ale…” I grunted as I heaved him back onto the ship. He rolled over, stood up, and headed straight for the edge again. I pushed against his chest to keep him from jumping but he kept walking, feet sliding on the damp boards, arms reaching around my tiny shoulders in desperation.

  “Jimmy! What’s going on?!” I screamed over Dyson’s incoherent mumbling.

  The zombie peered around the wheel and shook his head. “It’s the song, lass! The witches have come for ‘im!”

  Over my dead… Something.

  “Hey, you! Go find Siobhan!” I ordered one of the nearby crew. He hesitated for a moment, then scurried off. My feet slip, and we slide a couple feet closer to the edge. “Someone help me hold him down!” I called out. Several of the undead crew grabbed his arms and legs. Dyson buckled under the added weight and tried to crawl instead.

  “What in the…?” Siobhan exploded from the stairway, “The hell ya doin’ to the boy?”

  “Jimmy says the sea witches are coming!” I shout at her. She raised an eyebrow.

  “Who th’ heck is Jimmy?” She asks, genuinely confused.

  “That’s not important! Dyson is in danger!” I snapped back.

  “Witches a starboard!” Jimmy warned in a singsong voice. Siobhan didn't seem to hear him, standing over us with her hands on her hips.

  So I guess it’s up to me.

  “If you care about him, hold him down.” I ordered. The fiery pirate flinched and scowled.

  "I be the only one barking orders here, missy!” She waved her finger in my face.

  Behind her, a blueish webbed hand dug its claws into the wood between the rungs.

  “Yea, okay, we really don’t have time for this. Guys, get over here!” I waved to the other crewmen a few feet away. “You guys keep him away from the witches, alright?” They nodded and piled on top of the scrawny boy.

  “Oi, I’m your captain, not her!” The redhead snapped. The undead barely raised their heads to acknowledge her.

  I reluctantly stood up. There were at least half a dozen sirens heaving their slimy bodies up over the edge now. I realized that I’d never really been in a fair fight before. Anything I touched, simply died. But something inside me tells me to run and hide. Conflict is new.

  The sound of their bodies hitting the deck drew Siobhan’s attention. Finally. She let out a string of curses to make an old sailor blush.

  My palm began to tingle, then the rest of my body. Something began to pull me towards Dyson. I lifted my arm in his direction, confused, only to see a stick appear in my hand. I almost dropped it. As my fist clenched around it in panic, a flash of black light blinded me. I felt it grow, until the great curved blade towered over my head. My mouth fell gracelessly open.

  That's when I feel the pull. I am drawn to Dyson, more than normal, and I submit to that pull. I move towards him, and then surprisingly, inside of him. Once in possession of his body, I slowly wrapped his hands around the cold wooden shaft of the Scythe and turned it on an angle.

  Cold. I felt something. There is something in the back of my mind that tells me I had felt it before. But there are more important things to attend to.

  My gaze fixed on the group of sirens, dragging their long tails across the deck. Dyson body squirmed violently, throwing off a couple of the undead as I forced him to stand and fight. The crewman all move away at my mental command.

  “I think you should stay back.” I advised as I passed Siobhan, possessing Dyson's body. She started at me, at us, in shock and horror. I disregard her and pilot Dyson toward the sirens. All I had to do was touch them, right? Didn't sound so bad. Kind of boring, if I was being honest.

  I waited for them to circle around me. I guess they figured they had the upper hand, but at the same time, they were weary of the huge blade. Each one was hissing and humming, but nothing that sounded like a song to me. Weird. Dyson's body was still twitching and freaking out.

  There was a tickle in my throat, and I snickered with Dyson's voice. Let us see which of us is louder. I slammed the end of the Scythe down and took a deep breath with Dyson's lungs. The siren in front of me scrunched her brow. I opened his mouth wide, filled his lungs to capacity, and released.

  The scream seemed to emanate from his entire body. The siren covered the sides of their heads and cried out in pain. I took the opportunity to swipe the heavy blade, letting the momentum swing me in a full circle. Blood sprayed across the deck, painting it bright blue. The scaly torsos fell over one another. I turned back to check on the others.

  The undead crew laid scattered across the deck. Siobhan glared at me with her hands over her ears. Looming behind them, one more witch had her teeth bared and ready to sink into Dyson's flesh. But I would not allow it. I spin the Scythe in an overhead arch and bring it down on the siren's head just as she lunged forward.

  “What the hell?!” Siobhan shrieked, as she was dowsed in blue oily blood.

  I leaned to the side to see around the siren’s head, as I tore the Scythe free.

  “You’re welcome.” I mused, with our shared voice.

  And then I was shunted, almost painfully for Dyson's body. It initially felt like being torn apart, but once we were separate again, I felt nothing at all.

  "What the fuck just happened?" Dyson gasped, his face pale as a...well, me.

  "She was just inside of ye!" Siobhan exclaimed. Dyson furrowed his brow, staring at me for an explanation.

  "That's what she said." I chuckled.