It didn’t take long for word about Pearce to get out, and with no surprise from Ambrose, several members of the crew were less than eager to risk their necks for buried treasure.

“What if there’s nothin’ in there, cap’n?” one pirate argued. The crew was all in a half-circle around Eli, lanterns strung up to light the council. “We’d be sailing to our deaths for nothing!”

“There is that risk, yes,” Eli said. “But we won’t be sailing to our deaths. We have to get away to actually use the treasure, don’t we?”

A smattering of chuckles around the council—but several were unconvinced.

“Captain Jae didn’t survive Pearce’s fleet.” This was Zoe, perched uncertainly on a crate near Ambrose. When the crew’s eyes all landed on her, she hesitated. “What makes us think we can escape them?”

Eli tapped the bottle in his hand—purely decorative, he hadn’t taken a swig of it in an hour. “Aye, Captain Jae was one of the best. But there were several things she didn’t have. She didn’t have the Sunset at her back.” Nods from around the half-circle. “She didn’t have the best potioneer the seas have ever seen.” Louder affirmations there. Ambrose blushed and looked down. “And she didn’t have all of you.”

By the end of the council, the crew seemed to have been swayed—but Ambrose noticed Zoe still fidgeting as the pirates all split off for the evening. He remained where he was until they were relatively alone on deck.

“Mr. Beake,” she ventured, “are you sure you’ll be able to get us away from the fleet?”

Ambrose took a deep breath, the chill in the nighttime breeze masking the salt in the air. Truth be told, he already had an idea of how to escape Pearce’s fleet with almost—almost—no risk to the crew.

He just didn’t think Eli was going to like it.

“Absolutely,” he said. “But I’ll need all the help I can get to prepare the potions.” He smiled at her. “Do you think you’re up for the task, sailor?”

“Yes!” She swung her legs on the crate, reminding Ambrose of how terribly young she was. Far too young to be facing off against someone like Pearce. “When can we start?”

#

The Sunset and the Griffin’s Claw sailed close together over the next week, but Ambrose hardly saw much beyond the four walls of his workroom. As his bruises gradually disappeared, he holed himself up with his cauldrons, brass instruments, and piles of notes, and set to work brewing something he never thought he’d consider—an invisibility potion.

“Are we going to turn the ship invisible?” Zoe asked, standing on her tiptoes to gather jars from the highest cabinet. “Sail right past Pearce and blow raspberries as we go by?”

Ambrose’s arms ached just thinking about another potion that required stretching across the entire ship. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “It’s difficult to cover a ship’s wake, and Pearce is quite clever. This potion will need to have a smaller scope. Now, don’t forget to stir that cauldron. You pirates drink up my healing vials like they’re rum.”

Once Ambrose had several vials of an invisibility potion ready—glossy purple liquid in hexagonal bottles—he found very little difficulty in sourcing a tester.

“Me!” Banneker nearly leapt straight down from the crow’s nest. “Me, pick me, don’t let anyone else take the bottles before I get down there, please pick me!”

“Hm.” Ambrose made an exaggerated frown and held the bottle to the light. “I’m not sure. Could be dangerous, I can’t imagine anyone on board is willing to risk their life to test this out…”

“Me!” Banneker practically shrieked halfway down the rigging. “Ames, mate, dearest blue-haired brother, beau of the captain, light of my life—“

Zoe muffled a laugh behind him. Ambrose clicked his tongue loudly. “Suppose I’ll have to try it myself. It’s the only way—“

“Goddammit.” Banneker thumped to the deck and yanked the bottle out of his hand. “Let me have it, man!”

“Oh! Banneker.” Ambrose blinked, as if he had never seen the man before in his life. “Yes, you can certainly assist, I had no idea you were even interested.”

Banneker glared at him and brought the vial up to the forecastle, where the others were already waiting. Dawn had somehow brought over a blanket and a cheese platter, and handing Sherry and Grim crackers when Ambrose and Zoe caught up with them.

“What?” She shrugged when Ambrose cast a sideways glance at the tray. “If Pearce is going to have my guts for garters, I’m going to live a little before he catches up.”

Zoe went pale, and Ambrose guided her towards the blanket. “Do be so kind and give my junior potioneer some, Captain. She’s worked very hard on this potion to ensure that none of us become gut garters.”

“Are we testing out the potion?” Eli hopped up the stairs. “Ooh, cheese—“

Dawn slapped his hand away, then smoothed out a corner of the blanket for Zoe. Eli made a face and turned to Ambrose. “Are you going to tell us the plan now?”

“Only if this works.” Ambrose rearranged the vials in his bandolier—test two, test three, test four, reversals— then opened his notebook and pulled a pencil from behind his ear. “Banneker, could you read out the number on the vial before drinking it, please?”

The first test was quite literally half successful, as Ambrose suspected. Banneker’s lower half disappeared, while his top half remained visible.

“Weird,” he mused, then hopped up and down. “Are you seeing me tap dance right now?”

“No.”

“That’s for the best, I’m not very good at it.”

The second test was too successful.

“Banneker?” Ambrose called to the empty air that once housed the man. “How do you feel?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m…” Banneker sounded woozy. “Not real? Is this ship real? Is the ocean real?”

Ambrose popped the cork on the reversal. “Take this, please.”

The third test was mixed—he was invisible, but his legs were too heavy to lift—and the fourth unusable, somehow making Banneker’s countenance light-reflecting.

“Ow.” Dawn shielded her face from the sudden brightness. “Ames, give him the reversal!”

“Be not afraid!” Banneker shouted and waved his arms. “Be not afraid—alright, alright, I’ll take it.”

When they reached the fifth and final vial, Ambrose wiped his brow with his sleeve and thumbed through his pages of notes. If this one didn’t work, he was going to run out of ingredients before he managed to balance the solution.

“The fifteen minutes have passed, Banneker, if you want to take the last vial…” He looked up, and the deck was empty. “Oh. Did he leave?”

“No,” Banneker said. “I’m right here, I took the vial while you were frowning at your notes.”

“I see.” He stepped carefully around the empty space. No shadow, not even a ripple in the air where Banneker stood. He reached out—Banneker tapped his hand. “And how do you feel?”

“Fine.” He could hear Banneker’s shrug. “Invisible.”

“Can you walk?”

Footsteps echoed in a circle around him. Then across the deck, the collar of Eli’s coat flipped up.

“Hey!” Eli swatted, but Banneker had moved on. A slice of cheese and two crackers floated upward, then disappeared with a crunch.

“This is great,” Banneker crowed. “Hey, can I go scare the rest of the crew?”

“Stay here, please.” Ambrose scribbled furiously in his notebook, his heart in his throat. He wanted this to work, of course, but if it was truly successful, that meant… “Zoe, the timer, if you would. I need to know how long this will last.”

Banneker grumbled, but remained on the forecastle until he faded back into existence, leaning against the railing and tapping a pattern against the wood.

“Oh, am I back?” He looked at his hand, then shook it out. “Feels a little heavy.”

“How well can you move?” Ambrose watched him jog back and forth across the deck several times before panting. “Good, that’s decent enough. Can’t expect a complete lack of side-effects. Zoe, time?”

A click of a pocket watch. “Thirty minutes.”

“Excellent.” Ambrose found himself sweating even more. “That’s excellent. Now, Dawn, if I could ask you a few questions about your teleport wand…”

“Whoa, hold on.” Eli straightened and raised his hands. “You said you’d tell us the plan if the potion worked, and it worked. I’d like to hear it.”

Yes, Ambrose was sure he would. Eli had been asking him about it for days now, and had become increasingly confused about both his silence and his self-isolation while he worked.

Ambrose took a steadying breath, closed his notebook, and carefully slotted the pencil back behind his ear. “Before I tell you, I’ll need you to promise something.”

Eli’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

“I need you to promise that you’ll let me handle the execution.”

Eli stiffened. “I’ll make no such promises, not until I know what—“

“You must.” Ambrose kept his voice level, but firm. “I insist, or I won’t brew the potion again.”

He hated wielding this power, he hated it. But he couldn’t have Eli, or anyone else, volunteer for this.

Eli’s gaze flicked over to Dawn, who nodded. “Fine. You’ll execute the plan. What is it?”

Ambrose closed his eyes. “I use the invisibility potion, teleport aboard the flagship of the enemy fleet, and blow up the powder magazine.”

The forecastle was alight with protests all at once.

“That’s a death wish, Beake,” Grim snapped.

“What, go by yourself?” Sherry gaped. “No. No, I can’t accept this.”

“You know what,” Banneker rushed through his words, “there were actually a lot of side effects to that potion that I didn’t tell you about, so you probably shouldn’t use it—”

Dawn’s eyebrows shot up as she reached for the wine. “My God.”

The only two who didn’t speak were Zoe, who had her hand clapped over her mouth, and Eli, who looked like he had been shot all over again.

“How could you do this?” he finally asked, his voice broken. Ambrose’s heart sank. “How could you trick me into promising your death?”

“I’ll time the grenade and teleport out before the explosion—“

“That’s too risky.” Eli’s hand on the railing shook. “That’s far too risky, I can’t allow it.”

Ambrose swallowed. This was his only plan. “I’m trying to save both of our ships—“

“And I’m trying to secure a life for you!” Eli burst, pointing at the horizon. “That treasure means nothing if you’re not alive to use it!”

“And it means nothing if we’re all dead!” Ambrose shouted. “This is the most efficient way, and you know it. One man, one grenade. The explosion will disable the flagship and strike its flanking allies before they can even get near us.”

No one had an immediate argument for that—but no one was looking him in the eyes, either. “Please,” he said, forcing his voice to go soft again. “It’s my idea, my execution. I couldn’t risk having you volunteer for this yourself.”

Eli stared hard at the ocean, his lower lip trembling. “Dawn, I can’t approve this plan without you. What say you?”

Dawn slowly stood. Began to speak. Her breath caught in her throat, and she started again. “I hate it. I hate this, but he’s right, it provides the least risk to both our crews—“

Eli cursed and left the deck, not stopping until he reached the man at the helm and took over. Ambrose leaned against the railing and rubbed the spot between his eyes. “Thank you, Dawn.”

“Don’t thank me.” She stepped close to him, her eyes hard. “Come back to Eli alive, or I will find a way to kill you twice.”