Deception

By April Gray

Pirating is a dangerous occupation suited for those who want to live merrily, and briefly. Following the events in the book Mirage, Capt. Lex Bennet, newly of the Christian faith, thinks she may have lost her taste for the violence and uncertainty the pirating life brings. But what does that mean for her ship, and her crew?

She already dodged a bullet when her identity as a woman, carefully concealed her whole life, was revealed. Her crew had embraced her, but was it only because of her cunning tactics and good fortune at procuring wealth for them in the rich waters of the Caribbean Sea? What will happen when they discover she intends to leave the life and take her beloved sloop Mirage with her?

Lex plays a perilous game, balancing relationships with her fiance Benjamin, her best friend Glenn, and her deceitful crew as she navigates in unfamiliar waters--a journey not everyone aboard the Mirage will survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685263898

Book preview

Table of Contents

Cover

Title

Copyright

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Special Thanks

About the Author

cover.jpg

Deception

April Gray

ISBN 978-1-68526-388-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68526-389-8 (Digital)

Copyright © 2022 April Gray

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

To all the dedicated readers who buoyed me with such love and encouragement doubt could not sink me

1

The Middle

West Indies, 1673

Fiery paths burned across the satin night sky, glowing so much brighter in their final moments than during an entire lifetime of sedate twinkling.

Glenn Davies lay on the foredeck of the Mirage, hands idly combing through his mass of brown curls as he watched the trails of shooting stars fade, leaving white pricks of light sparkle silently in the black sky, a steady backdrop in the dazzling wake of their falling sisters. It was the hour before sunrise, and finding himself unable to sleep, he'd come up to watch the sky.

His life had changed. Again. Sometimes, he felt as if his life were a giant wheel turning this way and that, with no thought to any particular destination. And sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if the changes were a prelude to something more. Something bigger. Like the way people tried to connect all those little stars together into images, make them into something more. Separately, they were just tiny points of light. Together, they were something grander—something recognizable: like the river constellation Eridanus. Those who named it imagined the stars connected as a river, snaking out from the feet of Orion and slithering away from the mighty warrior.

Low in the sky, another star shot across the sky along the horizon, its tail streaking across Glenn's line of vision. Then it exploded.

Exploded?

Glenn propped himself up on his elbows and stared across the water. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the second flash from what had to be a cannon, followed by a shower of splintering wood from the top rail of the Mirage. She shuddered, reverberations from the impact passing through the ship and into his body.

An instant later, his captain and best friend, Alessandro Martin—no, she now went by Alessandra Bennet after her capture by a pirate hunter had revealed her as a woman—appeared on deck. Lex. He'd stick with calling her Lex.

All hands! All hands on deck! Clear! Clear! Ready for battle! Lex shouted as she walked with a quick, powerful stride toward the rail. Opening her spyglass, she leveled it toward the source of the cannon fire. No sooner had she held it to her eye than she fell to the deck, shouting, "Down! Down, lads!"

"By thunder!" she swore, rolling to her back on the deck as another shot fell just shy of Mirage, sending a fountain of saltwater over the side.

Glenn jumped to the main deck, landing beside her as she gained her feet. We're being fired upon!

Lex cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow. Aye. So I noticed, ye dunderhead. She pointed out toward the source of the cannon fire. Looks like a ship of the line. Third-rate.

‘Ship of the line'? Glenn's voice pitched up a notch as he looked out over the dark water. "Blazes! Whyever are they firing on us?" He turned back toward Lex to discover he was talking to himself. Lex had stridden off, bellowing orders to the men.

He looked on as she shouted orders to the men, occasionally pointing to where she wanted them stationed to utilize the sloop to her best advantage.

Another report sounded, followed by a loud crack and sudden shouting. Bar shot, Captain! We've lost the topgallant on the mizzen!

Get aloft! Cut away the lines, lads, Lex cried as she headed toward the bow.

Benjamin approached the stern rail, tucking his shirt into his breeches, his hair tousled from sleep. We're under attack?

Aye, ye dunderhead. Best get ready for the wounded. Glenn smirked to himself but didn't wait for a response when Benjamin raised his eyebrows at the insult. Glenn strode off to gather his weapons. After all, Lex shouldn't get to do all the name-calling, and, it seemed to Glenn, Benjamin did not get his fair share of it from Lex. It was true, he thought, that Lex and Benjamin were engaged; but exactly what that meant to them, he couldn't figure. Benjamin had been chasing his newly commissioned ship, the Mirage, all over the Caribbean after Glenn and Lex had stolen the ship right out of the shipwright's hands not a moment after she launched. Then, after finally catching up with them, for reasons Glenn could not fathom, Benjamin had not only let them go but developed an attachment to Lex. Later, they had gotten engaged, and Glenn was not at all certain either one had any idea what they were in for. At least they had decided to wait on any nuptials. That would give them time to realize what a colossally bad idea it was.

With a quick step, Glenn made his way to his cabin and opened the iron-banded trunk that contained his weapons stash. His quarters were tight, but he had his own space. As quartermaster for the crew, he ranked only second to the captain, and he supposed it didn't hurt that the captain also happened to be his closest friend. Even Benjamin had to share the surgeon's quarters with whomever he was treating at the time. Presently, that was no one. That was likely to change soon.

Glenn unrolled his weapons from their oiled cloth, selecting several of his larger knives. An assortment of small knives secreted about his person was standard attire for Glenn, but he liked to have something with a little heft when a ship battle was imminent: if the fight came to close quarters, he would lead the attack. There was a time when he would have balked at the prospect of killing. He'd learned, however, that life rarely presented a simple choice between right or wrong—more often the choice was between action or inaction, and that choice was made in the blink of an eye. He'd once thought himself incapable of doing harm to another. Now he knew differently. Now he knew himself to be a man of action.

He took off his belt-roll of leather loops holding his throwing knives and checked them over. They had no handle covering the tang, as on an ordinary knife: the streamlined shape helped them slide through his hands, and their weight was balanced to stay on target. Satisfied, he buckled it back on, tucking it underneath the sash he wore. Daggers slipped into scabbards strapped to the outside of his calves, and a pair of short extra rigid knives went inside sheaths in his boots. The only visible blades were a pair of daggers with curved quillons but lacking a handguard, sheathed across his back. Wearing them at his hip had never appealed to him. They interfered with his knife belt and, more importantly, got in the way whenever he tried to sit, lean on a wall, or, most importantly, hold a lady close. He did, however, carry a boarding axe in a holster at his hip. Aboard a sailing ship, one was indispensable if you needed to quickly hack through a line—and he wasn't bad at throwing those, either. Lastly, he donned a brace of pistols across his chest after looking to the loading and priming of each.

He left his cutlass in the sea chest. Swords, as far as he was concerned, were a nuisance on board—even the shorter, curved cutlass (more like an overly large knife than anything) could still catch in the rigging; and like all swords, it was not good for throwing. When using swords, you had to get too close (and yet, somehow, not close enough) to your opponent. He could never figure out why Lex liked hers so much. Sure, she used it skillfully, but…well, to each their own.

Patting himself over for one last check, Glenn snapped the lid shut and pulled open the cabin door. Shouting from above caught his attention. Angry and urgent, it didn't sound like a normal relay of orders. He hurried to see what the scuttle was.

"Are you daft? What do you mean by turning us about like that?" Lex gestured emphatically toward the large ship that was currently firing on them. They had been nearly abreast of the larger ship when she'd begun firing, but now they'd turned and were presenting their stern.

Glenn leaned back against the gunwale with his arms folded, grinning. Now this was more like it! It was about time Benjamin got an earful. Sure, he was glad that Lex had found someone, but she'd been far too lenient with Benny when it came to doing his share, by Glenn's way of thinking.

I thought we should put some distance between— Benjamin started defensively, but Lex cut him off abruptly.

"Do you have any idea what happens if she gets a full volley off while we're presenting our stern? She's carrying eighty guns. Eighty! It would take only one well-placed shot at our backside to carry through the ship from stern to stem and send us to the murky deep!"

Burn and sink me! Where is Black? she demanded, even as she opened her spyglass and looked out at the firing ship.

I…might have suggested he go to the hold to settle the livestock…, Benjamin mumbled, looking supremely uncomfortable.

Blast it! I'll lay hold of the helm. She snapped the glass shut and took the whipstaff. She looked up to the men in the sails. Ready to bring us about, lads! And run up our colors!

Glenn straightened from his spot on the rail, giving a half smile and a lift of his eyebrows to the abashed Benjamin, whom Lex had succinctly dismissed by route of ceasing her tirade and going about the business of the situation.

Whadya make of it? Who do you think it is? Glenn asked as he watched the men aloft taking in sail, their outline becoming more distinct by the minute as the sky turned the drab gray-green before sunrise.

"I believe they are bloody pirates!" Lex lowered her eyebrows in a fierce scowl and set her jaw.

‘Pirates'? Blazes! Glenn found it ironic that they should be attacked by pirates on their first run as an honest vessel. What's the plan?

Lex glanced at him, a gleam in her eye. Bleed me, but Benjamin has given me a notion.

Glenn furrowed his brow, thinking, and then slowly nodded.

Lex had held the turn, and they'd quickly come around—their sloop was fast and agile, even missing a few of her sails—and Glenn looked out toward the stern of the larger ship, now in line with their bow.

All sail! Sharp now, give me some speed! Lex shouted; her gaze leveled on the larger vessel ahead.

Hurrying off to make sure the order carried throughout the ship, Glenn brushed past Benjamin, standing as if frozen and looking out over their bow, presumably trying to figure out what was happening.

Dr. Benjamin Avery scowled at the congenial pirate as he sauntered off. Lex shouted commands; and Mr. Glenn Davies, quartermaster and highest-ranking officer, relayed them as he strode the length of the Mirage, ensuring every man knew his duty and was at his post. Glenn had been correct in saying that Benjamin should be readying his supplies to receive wounded. He had been acting as ship's surgeon since they left Bermuda, but he wanted to do more. He turned to watch the men hoisting up her flag—a sword standing upright, white on a field of black, flanked by a dagger pointed outward on each side of the crosspiece. Despite the situation, he smiled at its resemblance to a cross.

Crowd on sail! Captain says hang it all out! Even the petticoats, for she's got no use for them! Glenn called to the men in the rigging.

What was her plan? Benjamin didn't understand why they were closing on the bigger ship. His instinct had been to run; but Alessandra, Captain Bennet, had certainly let him know that he'd erred on the course he'd set. The Mirage carried eighteen guns, impressive for a sloop; but still, against this behemoth, they were unquestionably outgunned and most certainly outmanned. What was she doing?

Glenn somehow seemed to understand the plan without discussion. Benjamin glanced back at the helm and then forward to Glenn. He decided he'd rather risk Glenn mocking him than getting another dressing down by the captain.

Glenn? Benjamin called out as he jogged down the length of the ship, dodging men stowing barrels below that had been on deck, readying guns, pulling on lines, and completing other various tasks to ready the ship for a battle. He narrowly avoided stepping in a coil of rope before he finally caught up to the quartermaster.

Mr. Davies, Benjamin huffed, putting a hand on his elbow to slow him. Glenn looked back at him, an eyebrow raised, and then glanced pointedly at the hand on his arm. Benjamin pulled his hand back. What's going on?

Lex is taking your advice, Glenn answered succinctly and then started to turn away.

He wasn't sure what he'd ever done to earn the man's dislike, but he always felt…something was…well…off between them. Mr. Davies, Benjamin started again, "what do you mean? What's she doing? Why are we in chase? It will obliterate us!" Benjamin threw his hands up in the air.

Glenn turned to face him and sighed, adopting an expression that seemed more sympathetic. Aye. She has more firepower, but she sails like a lumbering sea cow. She can't change direction as quickly as we can.

Benjamin waited to see if Glenn would explain further. The fact that the ship was slow seemed to support Benjamin's earlier gambit to outrun it. Glenn seemed to be waiting for something. I…what? Why does that…?

Glenn's sympathetic look changed to one of long-suffering. "Even though she's slow, she was already too close for us to outrun her before she got a volley off if we'd stayed on her broadside. We've come about, and now we're behind her. Since she can't turn as fast as we can, we can rake her. With any luck, we'll board her before supper."

Red light streamed over the water as the sun broke the horizon, setting the sky afire. The Mirage had nosed to one side of the enemy ship's stern, presenting her larboard side.

Ready to fire, sir! one of the men called from the guns on the main deck.

Ready below! another called from the hatch leading to the gundeck.

‘Board her'? What…? Benjamin raised his voice as Glenn rolled his eyes and continued toward the prow, his boots beating out a quick staccato. "Why…oh. Oh!"

Aim high, lads. Take out the helm! If they could take out any point of steerage, from the helm down to the rudder, the ship would lose maneuverability.

The gunner, Spade, was lean, with a pockmarked face and thick corded arms. He was a quiet man until it was time to do his duty. He checked the aim of the crew and waited for the Mirage to rise on a swell before bellowing, Fire!

The Mirage stuttered and rocked as the larboard guns fired in quick succession toward the stern of the massive ship, and Benjamin stumbled across the deck, catching hold of the mainmast to keep from falling. He grinned as the smell of gunpowder drifted past. A prick of guilt plagued him as his adrenaline rose. He shouldn't be excited, but he couldn't help it. He was in a real sea battle.

No luck on the helm! She's comin' about! someone shouted from the stern as they continued past the larger vessel.

Aye, I see her! Lex called. She pulled hard at the whipstaff. Ready the starboard guns—hands to braces!

The sloop stalled as she began a turn to bring their starboard side to face the stern of the larger ship, still maintaining their position at the rear, surging forward as the sail snapped when they caught the wind, completing the turn.

Benjamin hurried to one of the six-pounders on the starboard rail where Gary Kinney was ramming the gunpowder down the barrel.

Hey, Doc. Watcha doin'? young Kinney asked.

Helping. Benjamin grinned as he took up position behind to aim the gun.

Kinney gave him an objectionable look and started to say something but then seemed to think better of it and, instead, rammed the wad into the cannon barrel.

Benjamin helped him roll the six-pound ball of iron into the barrel, and they pushed it toward the rail.

Mind your aim, and fire when ready! Lex commanded from the helm.

Carefully watching the rise and fall of the enemy ship on the swell of the waves, Benjamin stepped back with a hand in the air and dropped it when he judged the line was right. He saw Spade scowl at him as the man tracked his crew, but before he could intervene, a crewman applied the slow match to the touch hole, and Benjamin put his hands over his ears.

The gun went off, and the ropes holding the gun strained against the sudden, forceful recoil. A black gaping hole appeared at the waterline of the enemy ship's stern. Acrid smoke burned his eyes, and his ears were ringing a bit, but Benjamin looked at his target and felt a sense of pride. It was a devastating shot at that range and looked to have entered the stern at an angle and blown out the starboard side, creating not one hole but two.

"What goat-feed-for-brains idiot fired below the waterline? I said aim high, ye pox-filled lovers of scurvy rodents and spoilt milk!" Lex glowered as she turned their prow toward the foundering vessel.

Catching Kinney's wide-eyed stare of accusation, Benjamin ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends as he tried to figure out how he'd gone wrong, again. Avoiding Spade, he left the guns and made his way back toward the helm.

Make like the Dutch, ye sea dogs! All speed! Give me every scrap of canvas you can find!

"Like the Dutch?" Benjamin asked as he reached Lex's side.

Aye, we've got to board, and quick now that some dunderhead's gone and put the ship to sinkin', she tersely explained. Muskets to the top! Clear the deck for us!

The Mirage bore down on the behemoth ship, her outline now dark against the brightening sky, with her prow set to ram the ship from behind. Benjamin remembered this as a favorite tactic of the Dutch.

Brace yourselves! Get ready to board! Lex shouted.

The Mirage slammed into the other ship, and shots rang out from the men hanging in her yardarms with long-ranged muskets. Grapnels flew, and the men heaved on the lines, bringing the ships together.

Lex took off toward Glenn, poised to lead the pirates in boarding. Make it quick, she said to Glenn. We've opened up that stern hole wider, and there's not much time before she goes. Bring me that long nine if you can. I'm not sure why they didn't fire it when we were at her stern, but we will make better use of it than they did. He turned to go, but she stopped him. Glenn! Don't stay long enough to taste the salt, she warned, and he jerked his head in a curt nod, adding a wink with his crooked smile.

She turned back to Benjamin, who had followed her from the helm. Stay.

Stay? Benjamin took a step back, scowling. Who are you to…

Lex took a step toward him so that they stood toe to toe and looked up at him, squinting the corners of her eyes. "I am your captain. Then, lowering her voice so only he could hear, she said, And I know who fired that shot. Now, stay, before ya foul anything else up."

Benjamin gritted his teeth, pushing down his ire. He took a deep breath and squelched it before stepping back with a curt nod. Now was not the time.

Shouting filled the air as Glenn leapt the rail and landed hard on the deck of the enemy ship. The knife felt solid in his hand, and he felt a surge of excitement he was only recently becoming familiar with. One thing he knew: he would not be captured again. He thought back to when a pirate hunter, Captain Bartholomew, had tracked them to their hidden cove and captured them. Far too easily. That would not happen again; once was quite enough.

After capture, he and Lex were imprisoned in Bermuda. That was when he'd realized it had made no difference that he'd stayed his hand all those times in battle. He'd relied on trickery, even allowing others to wield their blades and guns so he wouldn't have to. But in the end, he'd still been doomed to die in a dark, filthy prison. By the time Benjamin had rescued them, Lex had been lying near death. He'd been powerless to help her. So he'd set out to do something only he could: rescue their crew from the slavers. Then he'd been prepared to do whatever it took to save them. He would have cut down anyone in his path. True, by the time he'd reached them, they had rescued themselves; but the feeling he had—that resolve, the rush of determination, of confidence he'd experienced at the prospect of doing something—well, he'd been looking for that thrill ever since. And now here it was.

With a bellow and a wild look in his eyes, one of the enemy sailors ran toward him with a belay pin in his hand, poised to use like a cudgel. Glenn brought back his arm, a knife pinched between his fingers, but the man fell to a musket shot from the crosstrees of the Mirage. The man's momentum caused him to tumble, stopping at Glenn's feet. With a grunt and a nod of thanks back toward the shooter, Glenn stepped over the man and surveyed the deck for the next adversary. More than a dozen men lay bloodied on the deck already, many with gunshots from the muskets. Some looked to have died from the cannon fire the Mirage had delivered. The knife Glenn held found its mark in the throat of a short wild-haired man brandishing a short-sword, gurgling blood as he fell. Glenn separated himself from the scene, from these men—each man with his own story, his own life and family. He couldn't dwell on that. He was sorry they'd died, sorry he had a part in their killing; but they were the enemy. They were the ones who had attacked, and this was the result. Still, as Glenn noted the men still standing and the ones already fallen, it seemed too few men to be aboard a ship of the line. Especially if they were pirates. By rights, there should be dozens, not a dozen. A dozen of the most benignly dressed pirates he'd ever seen.

The crew of the Mirage thundered past him, ready to squelch any remaining resistance before they began plundering the goods. He called back a few and set them to unlashing the large cannon Lex had asked them to rescue. The barrel was at least the length of a man and a half, and the gaping hole at the end would fit a nine-pound ball. They would need to check for ammunition for it, but, first, he would see if the captain had anything worth plundering. Glenn sheathed the second knife he'd readied and dropped down the rail of the poop deck onto the main deck, landing right in front of the door to the captain's cabin. After a glance over his shoulder to ensure there was no one sneaking up behind him, he entered the cabin.

His boots crunched when he stepped through the threshold. He looked down to find splinters and shards of colored glass covering the sole. The smell of gunpowder flitted across his nose on a wisp of breeze, entering through gaping black holes that threatened to consume the remaining shards of stained glass in the rear windows. Glenn swept his boot out to push aside planks and debris that lay inside the door as his gaze darted around the room, searching through the light and shadows.

A large table lay toppled to the side in the center of the room, one of its blasted-off legs lying to one side, rolling gently across the sole. Charts that had likely lay atop it previously had slid to the ornate crimson-colored rug. Dust and debris swimming through the air tickled the back of his throat, and he coughed. As he did, Glenn spotted a small chest lying on its side, lid cracked open to spill a pale string of pearls from its innards.

Sections of glass that had somehow managed to escape being smashed to dust cracked under his weight as Glenn stepped over to the chest. He reached for it, bending low to right it. A board creaked. He paused for a breath and then subtly reached for a knife as he straightened, his hand closing on the smooth steel of the handle. A pistol shot rang, and pain lanced through his thigh. Stumbling forward, he fell, trying to twist as he did so he could face his assailant. Another shot sounded, and he hissed in a breath, waiting for the pain. Instead, he heard a loud thump. A sailor sprawled on the rug, and a silhouette filled the door, pistol raised in one hand and sword in the other. He held his breath as the figure stepped inside.

Glenn! Are you shot? Lex asked urgently.

Letting out the breath he held, he answered, Not bad… I don't think, voice tight as he felt the wound on his leg. Barely bleeding. He must not have had a full load of powder.

Lex tucked her pistol back in her sash, proffered her hand, and tugged him to his feet. She held him for a minute as he tested his weight on the leg, giving her a nod when it seemed it would hold.

They looked at the man who had shot him.

Lucky for me, Glenn agreed. Wasn't too good-a aim, either.

Lex turned him over with her boot, sucking on her teeth. Aye. He's a young one. Didn't look to be holding that pistol too steady. None of these men have the look of pirates.

You mean like we did on our first run? He laughed, remembering how they had assembled their crew from the cast-offs of cast-offs. Somehow, they'd ended up with a brave and loyal crew, despite the sketchy first impressions.

She picked up a rolled parchment that lay next to the body. Pity.

Don't feel too sorry for 'im, eh? He was fixin' to kill me. Glenn winced as he limped back to the chest of pearls.

He bled all over these charts! Lex answered with dismay. She grabbed up more from the disheveled pile of unrolled charts, sorting through them to see if she could salvage any; but her eyes kept flicking back to the young buccaneer, her mouth pressed grimly.

Glenn snorted softly with a shake of his head. She wouldn't have taken his life if she had seen another way. He knew that. Just as he knew she wouldn't let herself off so easily.

The ship pitched to one side, and a low creaking groan sounded throughout the cabin. Glenn turned his head and met Lex's gaze. Time to go.

Lex scooped up a few of the charts as Glenn limped toward the door with the small, albeit heavy, chest, grimacing at the pain in his leg. It was the same leg he'd injured a few months back in a shipwreck. Just as well. He'd as soon keep it to one bad leg.

On deck, the men from the Mirage were hoisting the massive cannon. The huge ship began to groan and roll, and men were jerked off their feet as the heavy gun swung out over the water. They began to scream and shout, trying to salvage the long nine, but Glenn could see it was already too late. A man slipped off his rope and plunged into the churning waves. Glenn looked over the side and saw the man surface and stroke toward the Mirage.

Let loose, men! Abandon ship! Lex shouted to the men.

They loosed the ropes on the cannon, and the shining black metal plunged into the deep and disappeared as the crew scrambled back to the safety of the Mirage.

2

Mermaids and Sirens

Morning mist undulated in a gentle wisp of a dance. The music of lapping waves accompanied the tap of hammers against the hull in sharp contrast to the harried end of their night. They were currently using a sea anchor, an improvised ordeal that Glenn had rigged at Lex's request from canvas and broken spars, to keep the Mirage from drifting too far while they were repairing the damage of the previous battle. Forming a cone of sorts, the sea anchor provided additional drag for the damaged vessel. The added moisture from the mist crept over the ship and dampened Ben's blond locks as he stood at the rail, making them stick to his face. He gripped the cold, slick gunwale, knuckles standing out palely on his hands. His thoughts wandered over the events of last night as he watched the mist play.

Moments after the last crewman had released the grapnels binding the two ships and scrambled over the gunwale of the larger ship, dropping to the deck of the Mirage, they pushed the two ships apart. As the Mirage drifted away, the larger vessel finally gave way to the water pouring into her hull and slipped beneath the cool blue waters. The whole ordeal, from that first shot to the last glimpse of the mast, seemed to be over in moments. How had everything gone so wrong? What should he have done differently?

He let out a sharp breath of frustration and pounded a fist on the rail. He'd wanted to help. He was capable. Intelligent. Schooled in tactics of ship battle. Still, he had made a tactical error. A critical error. In the heat of the battle, his only thought was to be useful. Well, perhaps not. He'd also wanted to impress Lex. To show her what he could do. Now