The “hall,” as the sisters called it, was a large cavern, with a stalactite ceiling twenty feet above their heads, a pool of water at its center glowing blue and green with bioluminescent algae, a fire pit on the right side, and a large, stone table on the left, surrounded by straight-backed stone chairs—eight of them in total. Five place-settings were set on the table, three on one side, two on the other. Witch-orbs, tallow candles, and the cooking fire competed in throwing their light across the open space. The flickering illumination threw shadows into the skulls and bones that covered all of the walls. The decor was consistent, and showed that Hag’s Rock had served as a necromancer’s lair for many years. Shambling corpses rotated a spit over the fire, skin blistering as they stood closer than a living person would. Elisabeth didn’t look too closely at what they were cooking, and did her best to ignore the smell of the meat.

  “Don’t eat anything that doesn’t look like it used to have wings,” she whispered to Cressia over her shoulder as they crossed the room toward the table. The roaring fire did little to dispel the cold and dampness of the cave. Its smoke clung to the ceiling, drifting between oozing rock formations turned black from it. Ventilation was not a concern to the hags.

  “I’m not sure I want to eat even that,” Cressia responded, after a long moment of silence. Elisabeth guessed that she’d been taking in the cavern, studying the exits, the most likely points of ambush. The bodyguard was always assessing, always searching for threats.

  “Wise,” the She-Wolf agreed, but she knew that abstaining completely wasn’t possible for her, not if she was serious about gaining the hags’ assistance with the quest for the Atlas Stone. Even if her gratitude for their hospitality wasn’t sincere, it was still necessary for their attempt to have even the slightest hope of success. So she would eat her share of seabird and drink wine, and hope they didn’t force her to participate any more than that.

  “Do we sit, or do we wait?” Cressia’s eyes were darting around the cave. Even former royal assassins understood the need for etiquette.

  “We sit,” Elisabeth decided, choosing the middle chair, leaving one empty to her right, and allowing Cressia the seat with a better range of motion. Blades were unlikely to do much against the walking corpses, or the sisters, but anything Cressia did in response to a threat would buy time for Elisabeth to conjure up a magical defense—if it came to that. The stone chairs were uncomfortable. The sound of the fire in the enclosed space was unnerving. The mixture of orange and blue light was unsettling. The longer they sat waiting, the more the unease grew. There was no magic to it—Elisabeth checked; it was all atmosphere and anticipation. Leaving them in the hall alone was strategy, just like the easy-to-defeat abomination. A test and a way to knock them off-balance.

  The minutes grew long. Elisabeth ground her teeth, cracked her knuckles, toyed with a charm woven into her hair. She knew the wait was over when the temperature in the room plummeted. A whip of magic lashed at her and she pushed up a shield, deflecting the assault. Another test, another act meant to unnerve. A cackle preceded them, and the three hags sauntered into the room—Eve in the lead, followed by Emilia, and finally Esther. All of them still wore the same rag-tag clothes, but they had added dark paint to their faces. Symbols known only to them. Elisabeth had her own, tattooed into her skin to keep her personal runes on her body at all times. Some for protection, some for strength, and some as simple reminders of who she was at her core—a necromancer and pirate, powerful in her own right. Their permanence gave her a base of power the hags didn’t have.

  “Made yourself right at home, I see,” Eve sat opposite Elisabeth, sweeping into her chair like royalty, disdain clear in the thin line of her mouth, and the deep groove between her brows.

  “The abomination was a nice welcome.” Elisabeth took her hat off and threw it on the empty chair to her right, and fixed her gaze on her eldest sister. “Sloppy work, though.”

  Eve grunted. “Took you long enough to undo it. The world softened you, took away the edge you always prided yourself on.”

  “I don’t play games anymore, that's all.” She shrugged.

  “Don’t you?” This last from Emilia.

  “Seems you’re playing a game with that little man on that island. Skeleton King, what pretentious twaddle.” Eve gestured, and a pair of corpses shuffled to the table, one carrying a tray of goblets, the other two pitchers. “Wine for you delicate travelers. Something finer for us crones.” She chuckled. The cups were distributed and filled. The fire crackled on the other side of the room. Elisabeth didn’t respond, and let the silence build around the table.

  “Tell us why you’re here, sister,” Esther purred, flashing sharp teeth.

  “Hush, Esther, we’ll eat first. We promised our hospitality.” Emilia was still the mediator, always sitting between controlled, but vicious Eve, and mercurial, but equally vicious Esther. At least the family dynamics remained the same; it made it easier to navigate the labyrinth of their difficult personalities and old grudges.

  More undead attendants shambled to the table, this time bearing bone plates. The craftsmanship of the vessels was immaculate, and Elisabeth knew that Emilia’s hands had formed them—each molded into its shape with deliberate care. The walking corpses served the sisters first—a glistening heart for Eve, a charred brain for Emilia, and a bubbling liver for Esther. They all had their preferred parts. If you didn’t know the source, it was just meat. Next, the shuffling things served Elisabeth and Cressia. A blackened bird sat on each plate, the outside burned, blood pooling beneath. Experience told the She-Wolf that it was safe to eat in this state, at least.

  “A toast, before we dine,” Eve announced, raising her goblet once the servants retreated. Everyone followed her gesture.

  “To a family reunited: a blessing, regardless of circumstances.” Eve smiled. “May we never part again.” Elisabeth met her sister’s gaze, and poured her wine on the table. All three hags cackled, again.

  “She’s still so serious,” Esther crooned. “Takes after father in rather too many ways.”

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  “Let’s just get on with it.”

  “Indeed,” Emilia agreed. “Let’s eat, darlings, before the food gets cold.” There were no knives or forks. Elisabeth sighed, and tore a wing off the bird with her hands. Silence reigned around the table as the sisters devoured their morsels, broken only by the sisters’ chewing and smacking lips. Cressia abstained from both wine and food, veil tucked tightly against her neck. From the tension around the bodyguard’s eyes, Elisabeth knew she was observing carefully, and by the way she swallowed slow and hard, she guessed that her companion was repulsed.

  The feast was vile, but she was inured to it—years of living in these caves had taken much from Captain Wolf, including her ability to truly feel disgust at her sisters’ diet. She comprehended that it was revolting, but the knowledge didn’t penetrate her body, didn’t elicit a physical response. Understanding their reasons didn’t absolve them, but she knew that they believed, like their mother taught them, that consuming human flesh amplified their powers. Elisabeth learned the truth the first time she left on a ship with their father: power was innate, and could only temporarily be increased with trinkets, charms, talismans—objects of power often depleted upon use.

  The bird tasted good, despite her misgivings about the meal. The meat was fresh and succulent, tasting of the seabreeze that carried the creature through its shortened life. In different circumstances, she might even have savoured it, but her mind raced, trying to envision a way to convince these three malicious women to give her even the smallest clue about the Atlas Stone and its location. It seemed impossible. But she knew that the only way forward was success. A path would emerge. She trusted herself to find it.

  Without chatter, the feast ended quickly; time was running out. She didn’t have a plan, she didn’t even have anything to offer other than the tributes and trinkets she bargained to get them to the table. An attendant appeared at her elbow, offering a bowl of water and a rag. Elisabeth cleaned her hands, using the warm liquid and the movement to regain her center. And while her stomach churned with unease, the weight of the food helped to settle it. The hags washed off the remnants of their own feeding, and sat quietly while the attendants cleared the table of everything but the pitchers and goblets. Elisabeth refilled her cup, and took a long swallow of strong red wine.

  “Now that we’ve supped, we may discuss what need brings you home, Elisabeth, youngest sister,” Eve declared. The reminder of her lowly rank among the siblings wasn’t lost on the pirate captain.

  “Mother will bear witness,” Emilia added, with a small, satisfied smile. Another shift in temperature, and a blue mist formed at the head of the table, twining around the stone. It swirled for a few long moments, colour gaining strength, and finally settled into the shape of a woman—the ghost of the necromancer matriarch had joined the table.

  “Hello, mother.” The greeting was grated out between clenched teeth. The scrutiny of the spirit was uncomfortable—malice coiling over the table like a nest of vipers. She wasn’t pleased to see Elisabeth, that was clear from the way the atmosphere in the cavern shifted with her appearance. Unease changed to anxiety, tension heightened to pressure, conflict just under the surface, barely suppressed.

  “Tell us why you’re here, little pirate.” The ghost’s voice carried through the space, echoing between the stalactites. Every syllable was heavy with the weight of the ghost’s disdain.

  “I need…”

  “And don’t bother to lie. Mother will know,” Eve interrupted.

  Elisabeth rolled her eyes. “As I was trying to say…I need to find an object. I need to find the Atlas Stone.” It was true, Mother always knew a lie when she heard one.

  “And why do you need this trinket, sister?” Emilia asked, leaning forward, hands moving to cup her goblet. Of the three hags, she was the most intellectual, and the most interested in the world beyond the familial home. Not enough to leave it, but enough to want to know about what lay beyond the tempest that surrounded the Rock.

  “It’s the object of my affliction. You know that I can never stop seeking for more power. And this bit of shine—well, it’s very powerful.” Pride kept her from being honest now, even though she was certain that Mother would know it was a lie. Better to be caught in an untruth, than to openly admit to the defeat on Skull Island. And her desire for trinkets and talismans was a shortcoming in their eyes, had always been. The hags exchanged a look. Mother remained silent.

  “What will you give us in trade?” Eve asked.

  Elisabeth licked her lips, relieved that they allowed her this small bit of dignity, and all too aware that she was about to give them more than she wished. She saw no other way. “What do you want?”

  “Bring us the Skeleton King.” The ghost made the request.

  The request left Elisabeth speechless. Not only did they know that she was lying, but they knew that she was bound to the Skeleton King.

  “Unrealistic,” Cressia spoke into the quiet, her voice firm.

  “Hush, knife-bitch, you’re no part of this,” Esther hissed, and flung a half-hearted bit of magic at the bodyguard. Elisabeth absorbed it into a shield with a sigh.

  “How about a piece of him?” It was the only possible counter-offer.

  “Heart, brain, liver, skull, and at least one rib.”

  “Heart, skull, and a rib.”

  “If you’re bringing the skull, you can bring the brain.”

  “Done.” It was the best they were going to get. Elisabeth didn’t know how she was supposed to kill the Skeleton King, and then bring half of his corpse to Hag’s Rock, but that was a problem for the future. Without the Atlas Stone, she wouldn’t be able to get close enough to kill him. The hags exchanged another long look between them—clearly pleased with their bargain.

  “The pact is sealed. The Sisters will provide information on the location of the Atlas Stone, and Captain Elisabeth Wolf will return with the heart, brain, skull, and rib of the Skeleton King.” The ghost left no room for argument or retreat. The bargain was struck, and Elisabeth was bound to it, as much as she was bound to retrieve the Atlas Stone.

  “You can tell us what you already know on the way to the ritual chamber,” Emilia announced, rising from her chair, her goblet in hand.