She hopped off the balustrade. “Why?”
I motioned for her to follow and guided her to the edge of the Texas. Far to the front of the boat, we could just glimpse the tall pole with the Lang Company flag waving at the top. “See the glint just below the flag? It’s a pair of gilded antlers. Can you get them?”
“Can I get them?” She snorted derisively. “Of course I can. The question is will I. What’s in it for me?”
“What’s in it for you?” I clicked my tongue. “I reckon you owe us, Jie. After cheatin’ us—and damned near knocking me out.” I was grateful when Joseph didn’t mention that I had also demanded “what’s in it for me?” less than twenty-four hours ago. “Why,” I continued, “we could just tell Lang about that bar fight last night. I bet he doesn’t like his footmen startin’ brawls.” I tugged the pliers from my pocket and held them out to her. “Or you can climb the jack staff and get the horns.”
“Hmph.” Her expression didn’t change, but she did snatch the pliers from my hand. “All right,” she said at last. “I’ll help. But”—she pointed to the pilothouse—“I’m pretty sure the captain’s gonna see me.”
I huffed out a relieved breath. “Don’t worry about the captain. I’ll deal with him and you deal with getting those gilded antlers down.”
“What of the first mate?” Joseph inserted, looking from me to Jie and back. “He is stationed at the boat’s bow and can also see you.”
“You mean that old man yelling about twains and bottoms?” Jie arrogantly tossed her head. “He’s too focused on that rope of his to notice me. I’ll be up and out of sight before he can even read the next depth.” She rolled her shoulders and turned to me. “I’ll count to two hundred before I climb. That means you have exactly two hundred seconds to get that pilot distracted. You can count, yeah?”
“Make it three hundred,” I said. “There’s someone I gotta see first, and it might take a few minutes of . . . persuading to get her to my side.”
Jie nodded, twisting as if to go—but then she paused and wagged her finger at us. “If I lose my job because of this, you’re both dead.”
“Should anything happen,” Joseph said, “I will compensate you.”
“Fine.” She swatted at me. “Go on! I’m already to three in my head. And you, Mr. Boyer”—she turned to Joseph—“are coming with me to explain exactly why I’m risking my neck for a pair of golden deer horns.”
I hurried over the Texas and counted—fourteen, fifteen. Three ghosts floated toward me. My pulse kicked up. I ducked into a shadow and flattened myself against the wall. They slid past, hissing for blood. . . .
How much blood would they take if they could actually touch me? The thought flashed in my mind . . . and my gut knotted up. The idea of a hundred spirits demanding I pay—a hundred spirits piercing me with guilt and physical agony . . .
It wasn’t the way I wanted to die.
The apparitions passed out of view, and with a fortifying breath I forced my feet back into action. Twenty-two, twenty-three . . . Once I reached Cassidy’s cabin door, I briefly debated knocking—but then decided I didn’t have the time.
So I barged in.
“Eek!” She sat up in bed, still in her uniform and her sheets clutched to her chest. Then she realized it was me. Her breath whooshed out and her shoulders slumped. “Heavens, I thought you were . . . I don’t know. Someone who shouldn’t be in my cabin.”
My lip quirked up at that—knowing she qualified me as someone who should be in her cabin—but then I shook my head and forced my mind back to the matter at hand. Thirty-five, thirty-six.
“Listen, Cass. There’s something I need to tell you, and there ain’t much time to tell it.” I scooted to her and knelt at the foot of her bed. Then I told her all about Joseph. I told her how he had found me on the street—sixty-four, sixty-five—and how I agreed to let him on the Queen in exchange for a job. I told her how I’d seen him touch the ghosts—seventy-nine, eighty—and how they were here because of a curse. A curse that could, at any moment, rip a hole between worlds and make the spirits solid.
I lost count shortly after one hundred. After I told her we needed the horns off the jack staff . . .
After, she started trembling, and her knuckles turned as white as the linens she gripped. “Why didn’t you tell me about the curse?” she whispered. “If we could all die from it—”
“Joseph just figured it out.” I pushed off the floor, slid my arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. “And I didn’t tell you about Joseph because I thought you might feel the same way as your pa—that you wouldn’t trust him. But I should have told you. It wasn’t right for me to keep it secret.”