Against the brilliant black canvas of night, Viscount Winthrop's best illegal vessel burned a vivid orange and red.
As the fire slowly became more and more dire, the crew ran around shouting at each other in a hopeless endeavor to save the ship.
Meanwhile, Wolf and I calmly sifted through drawers in the captain's quarters.
The captain himself was out on the deck barking orders, which conveniently left us free to snoop but also meant we couldn't politely insist (threaten his life) that he show us the log's location.
"Where is this f[omitted]king thing?!" Wolf grumbled, tossing a drawer of useless documents to the floor. He kicked at the papers before adding, "How about I go bring the good captain here and he can tell us himself?"
"And alert the entire crew to what we're doing?" I clicked my tongue. "You do know they'd probably toss us both overboard and go straight back to panicking, right?"
"ARGH!" Wolf sank down in the captain's chair and slammed his head on the desk. The poor dear just wasn't cut out for this sort of tedious office work.
Thankfully, instead of causing more trouble, he stayed obediently like that for the next few minutes, watching me while I worked. It seemed all my warnings regarding his temper had finally gotten through to him.
But after a while, he growled, "I still can't believe you let that b[omitted]d hit you." This time slamming his fist down on the desk.
Click.
"Wolf. For the last time, it's only a small-wait, did you just hear a click?" I paused, raising my finger to my lips.
My lackey shook his head, but then suddenly jumped to his feet.
"Hey. This just fell into my lap," he exclaimed, raising a small shiny object.
"Your genius never ceases to amaze me," I smirked, nabbing the key out of his hand. "Now, where do you suppose the lock this goes to is?"
Wolf climbed under the desk and in no time at all had procured a shiny black lock box.
"It was wedged up in a secret compartment," he explained, "only secured by a simple combination lock. Pretty easy to crack."
Honestly, the way Wolf can shift from pouting brute to lock-picking professional is terrifying. But, as demonstrated just now, we often need both of his 'talents' to secure evidence.
"You're such a good boy," I grinned, petting Wolf's soft silver hair. He melted into a puddle of happiness while I worked on opening the box. Just as I suspected, the log was nestled neatly inside (with a few other bonus treasures, but more on that later).
"Fantastic!" I slammed the box shut and quickly secured the key around my neck before rousing my dazed companion. "Shall we go for a moonlit boat ride, Good Sir?"
Soon enough, we were rowing away from the fiery mess that was once the Viscount's best illegal trading ship. Wolf made big smooth strokes with the oars, hastily putting distance between us and the wreck.
Getting off the ship hadn't been too difficult. A few crewmates shouted at us, some chased us, most were too occupied with the fire. Wolf got a few good punches out of his system when a couple beefy men tried to stop us from grabbing a lifeboat.
But all in all, our escape was pretty smooth. And I had the very detailed, extremely incriminating log in my possession.
We sat in silence for a while, enjoying the moonlight and brilliant orange flickers on the water. Other life boats soon made their way from the ship as well. They were tiny shadows against the night ocean. No doubt an angry Viscount was seated in one of them.
"Oh, how's your head, Wolf?" I suddenly blurted. I had nearly forgotten about the two solid smacks he'd received from a hefty cast iron pan.
"I've got a bump," he shrugged. "No blood, though."
"You're inhuman," I remarked in awe as he bent to reveal the nasty purple lump buried in his silver hair. "This still looks painful though."
He rose and held my gaze with those striking emerald eyes of his.
"I've had worse," he insisted.
I fought the urge to reach out and caress his cheek. As annoying as he was, I hated seeing him in pain. Especially because of me.
"You can rest for a while and focus on running your territory when we get back," I offered, turning to look out at the ocean again.
His territory, the Wulfstan March, was where we first met. I was a servant boy there (yes, I did say boy), and he was the Young Master. It's almost funny that now I'm the one paying him to do tasks for me. The tables have certainly turned.
Before our 'moonlit boat ride' got too long, a ship emerged from the harbor's mist. Wolf rowed us right up to it, and the crew quickly pulled us aboard.
"Opal!" A middle-aged man with an eye patch grinned as I stepped onto the deck.
He wrapped me in a tight hug—too tight, I would have smacked him if he were anyone else—and ordered the crew to turn the ship back toward the shore.
"You're too skinny these days, Young Lady. And what's this mark on your cheek?!" The eye-patch man gripped my shoulders as he squinted his single eye at my face.
"Enough, Henry," I laughed, knocking his hand away. "I'm not a child anymore."
"You'll always be cute little Opal to me," the man smiled sadly, pretending to wipe a tear. He was one of my father's acquaintances back when he worked at the docks. I've kept in touch with him throughout the years, and he was more than happy to oblige when I approached him a few days ago about pickup duty tonight.
The ship made fast progress to the dock—Wolf and I made even faster progress with our evidence—and Viscount Winthrop's life was ruined before his little rowboat even landed on the shore.