Looking back on it, Caleb figured that it had been the long-haired woman who’d made the difference.

He’d seen plenty of beautiful young women in Key West before. They descended upon Florida like vast flocks of migrating birds on Spring Break and again during the holidays at the end of the year. And the ones that lived there year-round weren’t the type he’d kick out of bed for eating crackers, either.

But this one made the paint sizzle on the boats she passed as she made her way down the dock.

High-cheekbones, full lips, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. A firefall of red-blonde hair cascaded down to the small of her back. She wore a short-sleeved scarlet blouse that had been tied at the waist, revealing a flat tummy that slid down into a pair of tight denim slacks.

Her chest jiggled just the right amount as she neared where Caleb’s boat was moored.

The sight made Caleb turn off his power sander. He carefully set it down on an inner railing so it wouldn’t fall overboard. Then he took off his protective goggles and dabbed at the sweat that cascaded down his forehead.

His goatee was still a barely-there blond patch of hair. His temple bore a still-red wound, and one of his eyes was nearly swollen shut. Even so, he gave his best toothy grin.

She walked right on by without noticing him.

The tic-tac of her shoes on the dock faded as she walked on, a bottle of champagne dangling from one hand. Caleb turned and watched hungrily as she passed his pockmarked little sailboat, as well as the next five larger and larger craft. Finally, she stopped before the largest boat, a triple-decker luxury cruiser. A wave, and she made her way up the gangway and disappeared.

“Bro! Hey, Bro!” a male voice called, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Caleb turned and spotted the tanned, fit man strolling up the dock towards his boat. Actually, catching sight of him was easy enough. He wore yellow sandals, neon green shorts, and a safety-cone orange shirt that read Use Sex Wax: Do It Slick!

“Make it easy for you, Jace,” Caleb called back. “This is my casa from now on. Postmark all my mail to the Bolsa Chica Boat Basin, slot A-12.”

He got a laugh as his friend made his way along with the loose, long-limbed stride of an athlete. Caleb had known Jace Ancona since even before high-school. They’d shared an interest in any sport happening on the water, bikini-clad girls, cutthroat billiards, and pot.

A lot of pot.

Ancona hopped aboard Caleb’s boat with the grace of a cat. He surveyed the craft from stem to stern, taking in the Swiss-cheese flaking paint, faded sail covers, and the scuffed-up deck. The cabin was in slightly better shape, even if the seat cushions were held together with silver bandages of duct tape.

“Man, I can’t make up my mind,” Jace said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“About what?”

“About which is sketchier looking: this boat, or your face.”

Caleb snorted and tried not to crack up. “Fair enough. But stop trying to make me laugh. Hurts too much with this cut up here.”

Jace leaned forward and squinted at the wound on his friend’s temple. A faint zig-zag of black thread held the edges of the cut together. He let out a low whistle.

“Damn. You have to visit Saint Anthony’s for that?”

He got a nod in reply. “ER was open at two in the morning, thank God.”

“Got the word from the barflies down at the Drum & Monkey. Said that the Monroe County sheriffs picked you up,” Jace shook his head. “Can’t believe they cracked you one over a pound of MMJ.”

MMJ was what he and Caleb jokingly called their stashes of ‘medical marijuana’. The two had been running kilos of it stashed in boat hulls, bike seats, or inside hollow surfboard racks since junior year. Jace recycled most of the money back into harder drugs. Caleb had saved up just enough to buy the sailboat that was now his home.

“They didn’t,” Caleb replied. “All I had on me was enough for a misdemeanor. Vehicle got impounded, folks bailed me out. Dad’s the one who dished out the cut.”

Even as he said the words, the memory seemed every more distant. Both of his parents had been after him since the disciplinary reports started piling up. Everything from falling asleep in class to threatening other students.

They hadn’t let up after he graduated, by the skin of his teeth and the good graces of a principal who wanted him out of her school.

His mother’s face was a pink, angry blur. She wanted him out. Before he became a bad example for the rest of his family.

His father’s face was a pinker, angrier blur. A flash of pain as he clocked Caleb in the eye with a fist. The smash of a bottle. He wasn’t sure who’d broken it. Only that his father had been the one to swing it.

Caleb remembered standing up to the neighborhood bully when he’d been nine. He’d taken a cracked rib and two shiners as payment for putting the bully face-down at his feet. He remembered standing up to a drunk who’d been harassing his date. Trading a broken nose for a knockout blow.

But standing before his father in a bleeding, scarlet-haze of rage, Caleb knew exactly what he was capable of. He could take that bottle, turn its razor-sharp edge around on his attacker. And then he’d grab him by the throat and draw a scarlet circle before–

For the first time, Caleb did something new.

He turned and ran. Before he turned that vision into reality.

“Holy–” Jace cursed and spat off into the water. “That’s messed up, man. Majorly messed up. I don’t even – I mean, your Dad, he was the guy who used to take us out sailing. He collects the music they play in elevator cars. He drives a minivan, for Crissakes!”

Caleb shrugged. “Like he said, either I follow his rules, or I wouldn’t be allowed under his roof anymore. And besides, I think he was pissed off more about the minivan. That’s the vehicle the cops impounded.”

Jace searched his friend’s face to see if he was kidding or not. Finally, he let out a breath.

“I need a drink after that. You got anything with suds, at least?”

“Sure, there’s no cops out on the dock. Mini-fridge is one over from the microwave, on the right. Grab a couple of Stellas.”

Jace disappeared inside the cabin for a moment and came up with the bottles in hand. A quick dig in a pocket for the opener on his key ring, and he handed one over to his friend. Caleb raised his bottle in a toast.

“Yeah, it’s been messy,” he announced. “But here’s to finally moving out on my own. Here’s to my twentieth year on this planet. And here’s to the rest of my life. There’s nowhere to go but up, at least.”

“Dude, I’ll drink to all of that,” Jace said. They clinked their bottles and took a long sip together. His friend let out a beery belch. “Nice and cold, even in this heat. What else you got on board this thirty-foot long tin can? Gimme the deets.”

“She’s a nine-two model, so it’s balsa-cored fiberglass, not tin. Two-burner alcohol-fueled stove, pressurized water, even has a shower. I only need to make a run into town for food or to do some laundry.”

“Pretty sweet. Bet the berthing fee costs less than my rent.”

“Wouldn’t know.” Caleb took another drink of his beer.

“You tradin’ favors? Dealing a little Mary Jane on the side?”

Another shrug. “Guy who owns Bolsa Chica has pains he needs to kill. I got a couple kilos stashed down by the keel. I portion it out, he doesn’t ask for the cash.”

Jace went quiet for a bit. He tilted back his bottle until it was empty. Then he set it aside with a clink and looked out over the tranquil waters of the Gulf. When he finally spoke, Caleb had to strain to hear his voice at first.

“You want to make some more money? Real money, this time?”

Caleb thought it over. He knew what was coming. He’d heard around town that Jace’s newest passion wasn’t green hash so much as white powder.

“I might be interested. Your turn to gimme the deets.”

“Okay. You know that the federales took down Pablo Escobar.”

“Escobar?” Caleb made a rude noise. “That was what? Fifteen, twenty years ago? Old news. Ancient times.”

“Pablo’s gone, sure. But the Medellin cartel remained, slowly splintering into different groups. There’s one faction outside of Colombia making its play now. You know, the Nepomucenos.”

Ice-cold fingers ran down Caleb’s back at the name. The Nepos had a reputation across the state already, a whisper that meant death. The cops in Key Largo had managed to nab one of their smaller hauls. Now the police station at the far end of the keys was a smoking crater.

“You say you know one of the Nepos.”

Jace chuckled. “I’m in good with one of ‘em. Real good. And they need couriers they can trust. Guys with boats like yours.”

Caleb cast a doubtful look over his sailboat. Sure, she’d hold together with enough spit, baling wire, and bubble gum. But the flaked paint and massive fiberglass blisters made the boat look as if it had a simultaneous case of chicken pox and leprosy.

“I think they’d rather pick someone with a turbocharged cigar boat,” he said.

“Naw, that’s only half the plan.” Jace leaned forward, eyes bright. “See, the federales are geared up to chase those things now. They got go-fast boats of their own, too. But if they’re runnin’ down the fast guys, then the little sailboats, the ones nobody thinks to look at? They’re the ones that bring in the stashes of coke.”

Caleb thought about it. The strategy made sense, at least. But there was more to consider. A lot more.

As the saying went: Hard drugs leads to doing hard time.

But he thought about the beating he’d received from his father. The beating life had handed out over the past few years. At the decrepit state of his boat, his very existence.

His eye and his brow ached. The ache went deeper inside to a place he hadn’t even known existed until now. He looked down and let out a breath.

“I don’t know, Jace. That’s a whole other world for someone like me.”

“Maybe changing worlds is what you were meant to do,” Jace said. He pulled a roll of bills out of a pocket and peeled off the top one. Caleb noticed that it was a three-digit bill right before his friend folded it and stuck it in his shirt pocket. “For the beers.”

“Come on, that’s way too–”

Jace held up a finger, silencing him. “You’re my friend, okay? You’ve been there for me in the past, so it’s the least I can do. Hey, you get signal out here?”

“My phone gets three bars pretty regularly. I’ve had it off so I can charge it from the converter.”

“Well, mine’s always on.” Jace climbed back up onto the dock. He looked around, noting that the place was still deserted before continuing. “You change your mind, you call me. Anytime day or night. There’s a lot of stuff that needs to be moved from Point A to Point B. Someone who knows how to sail these waters, especially at night, can write his own ticket.”

“I’ll think about it,” Caleb said. “That’s all I can promise.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Caleb busied himself by putting away the sanding tool. The sound of his friend’s footsteps faded away, to be replaced by the raucous blare of party music. It came from the triple-decker cruiser.

Ignoring the music, he went over to the seat by the transom, where he had plenty of shade. Caleb kicked back, put his feet up, and dozed off. The afternoon wore on into a purple-orange evening, with a gentle breeze making the shoreside palm fronds sway.

He woke with a start.

The marina was quiet, and the stars had started coming out. He sat up as the breeze carried the scents of rum, pipe tobacco, and grilled ribeye past his nose. His stomach rumbled at the mere scent of something besides rehydrated ramen noodles.

He heard talking now, the sounds of happy goodbyes and tipsy partygoers. Caleb watched as people descended the walkway of the cruiser. By themselves or in pairs, people wearing designer clothing or faux-yacht outfits passed by his boat without a second glance.

The last one was the woman he’d seen before.

She made her way with the confidence of a woman who knew someone was at home, ready to wait on her. Her sunglasses were tucked away, and her face had the sated, slightly inebriated look of carnal pleasure. She no longer carried a bottle of champagne in one hand.

Instead, she held a pair of lacy panties between two fingers. The undergarment was the exact same lipstick-red as her blouse.

To Caleb’s surprise, he found that he’d been holding his breath until she’d disappeared. He looked up at the cabin’s entryway, where the former owner had painted the sailboat’s name.

Harbinger.

He’d looked that word up in the dictionary the day he’d purchased the boat. It meant something that foreshadowed a future event.

An omen.

Caleb went into the cabin. He groped in the near-darkness until he’d found his phone. A quick tug to disconnect the charger, and he thumbed the call button.

Jace’s voice came in, filled with static but easily recognizable.

“Hoped you’d call,” he said bluntly. “What’s the word, bro?”

Caleb had thought that he’d have to force the words out. Instead, they poured out easily from his mouth. Like fine Scotch into a crystal whiskey tumbler.

“I think it’s time for me to change worlds,” Caleb said. “Tell me what to do.”

He stepped back outside. Instead of the purple-orange dusk, he found inky blackness.

Caleb fell forward, fell up into that blackness.

He woke with a hard exhale of breath, as if he’d surfaced from a great depth.

Around him, he saw the familiar trappings of the Spitfire’s great cabin. The interior was lit by the silver-gold phosphorescence of a unicorn’s horn. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed.

Breena was nowhere to be found. Instead, Tavia stood across the room, poring over a book set at a low table. She lifted one of her cloven forehooves and was somehow able to turn the page.

“Ah, you’ve awoken,” Tavia said, as she caught sight of him. “It’s evening now, you slept for a few hours.”

“I did?” Caleb scratched his head. “I must’ve been more fatigued than I thought.”

“Your wound was worse than it appeared. My magic burned the pestilence out of it, but it took more out of you than you think. That was a hard slumber, Caleb. Sienna came by, and we debated waking you, for you were having a dream. A not entirely pleasant one.”

“It was interesting.” His mind flashed back to those last moments with his parents. He hadn’t seen them again. And never would, now. “I was dreaming about how I got into...”

“Yes?”

Caleb hesitated. Jaladri was a new world for both him and Tavia. And yet part of him quailed at revealing his past to her. Tavia Morningstar was no ordinary unicorn, if there could be such a thing. She was a paladin, and that made her a mare with a strict moral code. He wasn’t sure how she might react to the morals he’d shown in his former life.

If she knew what kind of man I was before, that would drive a wedge between us. A subtle one, maybe. But I don’t want that. I need her, both as a friend and a fellow warrior against the Myrkur.

“I was dreaming about how I got into the transportation business,” he finally said. “There’s good money to be made moving things between Point A and Point B.”

“Indeed, that seems to be a uniquely human passion,” Tavia agreed, as he looked around again. “If you’re searching for Sienna, she’s out on deck.”

“Actually, I was looking for Breena. She was sleeping on the pillow next to me.”

“The splashcat? I didn’t see her, but I doubt that she could have gotten in or out without your door being open. Which it was not, as best as I know.”

Caleb frowned at that, but decided to change the subject.

“What are you reading?” he asked her.

“You don’t know? This is a book of lunar charts, one that’s quite detailed and complex. Which I suppose is inevitable, given that Jaladri has three moons. If I can understand this properly, it should help us navigate.”

“That’s good news. I’m glad you found that volume out of the all the others. Why did you think that I’d know what book it was, though?”

The mare gave him a puzzled look. “I’d been searching for something like this for a while now. When I entered your cabin, this volume was placed where I could easily read it. Logically, I concluded that you’d set it out for me.”

He shrugged. “Maybe we have a helpful gremlin, then. Or I placed it there as I was searching for something else. Either way, it’s a fine bit of luck that you have that book.”

“Indeed it is. However, I’m at a good stopping point. Would you care to join me at the mess for dinner, Captain? There’s a small possibility that the main course is still available.”

At the word dinner, Caleb’s stomach woke up and voted Aye. He got up and straightened out his clothes.

“Yes, I’ll join you.” He gave her a look as he went to the door and opened it for her. “Wait, why is there only a ‘small possibility’ that they’ll have the main course?”

“Dinner tonight was supposed to be salted fish stew,” Tavia replied, as she trotted past him. “Apparently, there was a mysterious last-minute shortage of fish.”

Mysterious shortage, eh? Caleb shook his head as he followed the unicorn out. Looks like I need to have another talk with the crew before Evie O’Breen goes ballistic.