The Ghost-killing Wind Lantern hanging from the stern of the Mist suddenly went out. Its green light seemed to have heard some command, instantly shrinking back into its glass cover.
At the cabin exit, the siren lost in thought and the male demon hanging upside down in midair turned at the same time to look at the lantern. Not just the two of them—even Ryan, crouching on the rail fishing, and the burly Arno, hanging from the mast, looked toward the stern at the same moment.
"Set sail!!" Harry fell from midair with a THUD, yet still remembered to throw back his head and howl at the top of his lungs.
As though to footnote his words.
On the mainmast, the fully unfurled black sail came rustling down. Water-soaked hemp ropes as thick as arms slithered wildly along the mast, deck, and cabin roof like pythons emerging from a cave, tightly binding the fallen sail.
"Due north! The destination has already been told to the siren at the bow... Harry, Ryan, go scrub the deck again! We are the great Black Ship, not those filthy seabed barnacles from the Vortex! If I see another salt bloom beneath my feet, you two will soak in the water for a month!"
A lame old man abruptly appeared on deck, roaring at Ryan, who had just put away his fishing rod, and Harry, who was climbing up from the deck.
The Blond Youth and the dark-haired youth did not say a word. They scrambled toward the stern deck, with wooden buckets, thick brushes, and several mops clattering after the two male demons like little Wolfdogs.
Nikita shot her two companions a pitying glance. Normally, such rough chores were done by the dark, scrawny white-eyed elves aboard the ship. She had no idea why