Fallen Angel

by Swanz, Peppa

  Eliza!

  Chapter 8

  Another scream had the pirate lunging from his bunk and running up onto the deck.

  Smith laid unconscious, blood already congealing on his head. James looked around, his agitation growing when he could see nothing of the woman.

  “Eliza!” he yelled but the wind shaking the sails was his only response. “Eliza, blast it, Wench, answer me.” Still nothing. The quiet broken only by the wind was all too eerie.

  He ran across the deck and tripped over something large and fell. He felt a warm wetness under his hands. Sticky and metallic smelling.

  Oh god.

  Turning on his hands and knees he felt the body. It was motionless. There was a lot of blood and he had the feeling that if it were daylight the sight would be horrific. Feeling was bad enough.

  Another search of the body revealed that it was a man. He let out a relieved breath then cringed at the repulsive wave of guilt. He didn't bother to check for a heartbeat, there was no saving a man who had lost so much blood.

  What the hell had happened here!?

  “Captain?” The voice of Carter sounded through the gloom. “I heard a scream.”

  “Get lamps!” James bellowed. “And wake the men, we're under attack.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  James listened to the man's departing footsteps closely followed by barked orders, the sounds of weapons being pulled and the tinkling as lamps were lit. He ran to the side. Seeing nothing he ran to the other but still he could see nothing but the choppy sea beneath them. He glared up at the dark, grey sky. No stars, no moon and the wind was just getting stronger.

  Hamilton arrived at his side with two lamps. “Is it true we're under attack, Captain?”

  “I can't be certain,” James muttered taking one of the lamps. “Take three men and search the ship.”

  “Yes, Captain,” he said with a nod, but he hesitated. “If I may, Mr. Smith said that he saw Miss Jackman up on deck, moments before he was attacked. Is it possible that...”

  “No, Mr. Hamilton,” James growled giving the man a stern look. “The wench has a temper to be sure, but she is not capable of this.” He raised his lamp to get a better look at the bleeding man. The gash across the man's stomach was long and deep, vicious and meant to kill.

  “Are you sure of that Captain?” Carter spoke as he approached, a lamp in one hand and a pistol in the other. “I mean no disrespect but we have known the lass barely a month and she was mighty angry earlier.”

  “I just know,” he snapped. “She might be crazy but she's not a murderess.”

  It struck him that mere hours earlier she had insisted the same of him...

  A gasped breath made James spin on his heel just in time to see the stranger—and Eliza.

  The man was short with bald head and a single hoop earring. The flame from James' lamp reflected red in the stranger's eyes. He hissed revealing a mouth full of sharp little teeth.

  He held a wicked looking knife to Eliza's throat and she whimpered when he pressed it harder against her flesh. Any more pressure and she was dead.

  Rage burned hot and wild up James spine. “Let her go,” he growled dangerously but the man simply grinned. James held up both hands, revealing that he held only his lamp. His eyes flicked to Eliza's terrified expression and back to the grinning stranger. “Please, the woman is worth nothing, no family and no ransom. Let her go and come with me. You can choose what you want from our latest haul.”

  “We have no interest in your pathetic bounty,” the stranger spat with a sneer.

  “We?”

  “He gave me a message for you, Captain.” The stranger grinned wider at the dark understanding that lit in James' eyes.

  “Kingsley,” James growled and Eliza whimpered again as the man gave her hair another sharp pull, a thin line of blood trailing down her throat from where the knife pressed.

  “He says,” The stranger started, his lip curling. “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, let him have this one and he stop chasing.”

  Eliza's eyes widened on James, her lips trembled.

  James swore inwardly and took a long breath. The deal was simple, give Lord Brooks the woman or the Fallen Angel would be blown out of the water. James had no delusions, Caroline's Virtue was faster and better armed. They had a few days on the other, but their chances were always going to be slim.

  A thought struck him. “How did you get here?”

  “I been here a long time, my Lord ask Baba to watch and wait till it be time.” He nodded and leaned in to sniff Eliza's red hair. “Now be time.”

  James dropped his hand to the handle of his sword, but hesitated when the stranger tipped his head to the side and grinned. Sure he could pull his sword and the little bastard would be dead in less then a second. It would be even faster for the man to kill Eliza.

  The man grinned again and started backing away towards the side of the ship.

  In all his life James had never felt more helpless. All he could do was glare as the little man dragged the love of his life away.

  “Ellie,” James rasped as he watched. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many they filled his mind and blocked his speech.

  She gave a watery smile, the fear in her eyes stopping any thoughts of mirth. “I guess it's true what they say, you should never meet your heroes.” She swallowed hard as she was dragged slowly backwards. “But I'm glad that I did, no matter what evils are in your past, you were well worth meeting.”

  There was no time to dwell and his own words fell from his mouth unchecked. “Every day since we met I wished that I was a better man,” He rasped. “If I had the chance I would take back every cruel word, and you should know that I meant not a jolt of what I said. Untrue words spill from my fool lips to hide how I feel in my heart.”

  “This is all very sweet.” The man sneered as he pulled Eliza closer to the railing. “But it is time for Baba and the Miss to go.”

  Eliza sobbed and reached a hand out to him even as the man tugged harder on her hair and continued to pull her towards the side. “James...”

  He watched, the pain in his heart unbearable as a single fat tear escaped and traveled down her cheek. He could feel her fear and it mingled with his own. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and knew that it matched hers.

  With a final cackling laugh the filthy little man leaned back on the rail and tumbled both himself and Eliza over the side.

  James heard a loud splash moments before he reached the side, but looking down he saw nothing but more black choppy sea.

  Chapter 9

  James knelt next to Smith, who was now awake and holding a cloth firmly against the gash on his head. He handed the older man a cup of rum and helped him to keep it steady as Smith pulled it to his lips.

  “I be ever so sorry, Captain,” he slurred. “I tried to save the young miss for that murderous demon, but I underestimated the bastard, him being so small and all.”

  “Do not trouble yourself, Smith,” James replied and gave the man a shaky smile. “I know you did your best to save her.”

  Carter leaned against the side and shook his head, looking back over his shoulder at Caroline's Virtue. “Do you believe what he said? About him not hunting us no more?”

  James nodded. “Yes I believe that he will keep his promise. If we let him have the wench the Caroline's Virtue will not take chase.”

  He let out a shuddering breath, guilt and rage filling him with such intensity that he had never felt. God's teeth! This was the reason why he avoided bloody wenches and all the complicated emotions they brought with them. The occasional romp had suited him fine...

  “Blast!” He swore and lunged to his feet, slamming his fist against a mast.

  “Captain?” Smith said, looking up carefully. “It be a mighty tempting offer to be sure, Sir.” He poured a little of his rum over a cloth and pressed it back against his head with a grimace.

  “It is, indeed, Mr. Smith,” James
said with a long exhaled sigh.

  Carter removed his hat and pursed his lips in thought. “It doesn't sit right, does it? She be just a wench and a nosy, troublesome one at that. But we were all but dead at that last plunder, if not for her.”

  “Aye, and we've all heard the tales of Lord Brooks.” Smith shook his head. “He is said to bring a black heart and a sharp blade to his bed.”

  James felt sick. For a moment he thought he might actually throw-up. “No,” he growled, low and dangerous. “Not Ellie. He will not touch her.”

  Carter chuckled. “And here we were thinkin' that you'd gone cold on the wench.”

  “Life would be a great deal easier if I had, Mr. Carter.” James took a long swig of his own rum and strode to the side of the Angel, gripping the railing tightly till his knuckles turned white before turning with an almost crazed glint in his eyes as he looked around at his crew.

  “She says that she is from the future, and I am inclined to believe her as odd as it sounds.” He was relieved to see the men nodding in agreement. “She also says that we are in the history books. Stories are written about the Fallen Angel and her crew that are told throughout the world two hundred years from now.”

  “Two ’undred years and we’re still talked about?”

  “Now that’s somthin’ that is.”

  “The men must be frightfully dull --”

  “-- Aye, if the wenches are still dreamin’ of long gone pirates.”

  James couldn’t help but smile as his men spoke and guffawed between themselves.

  After another moment of this he cleared his throat loudly, looking around as the men quietened. “The question, Gentlemen, is how do we wish to be remembered? As the spineless cowards who let a woman fall to her death so we could plunder one more day? Or do we want to be the fearless bastards who stood and fought against the most bloodthirsty pirate hunter ever known. The few who stood against the impossible to take back our seas and claim the freedom we seek?”

  Cries of, “Aye!” shook the ship making James grin and laugh proudly.

  “Sweet Caroline's Virtue has been a scourge on our backs for long enough, I say it's time we send her and her captain to the depths!”

  He was met with a chorus of “Aye!” and a loud uproar of laughter.

  “Send the Blackguard to Davy Jones!”

  “Run the bastard through.”

  James turned to face the Virtue again a fiendish smile curling his lips. “I’m coming for you, Ellie.”

  * * * *

  Eliza's head hurt. At length she opened her eyes to complete darkness and fear clenched at her stomach.

  Where was she? What had happened?

  She blinked her eyes, open, shut, open, shut, open...Darkness.

  Her fingers wriggled in front of her eyes and she could just make out the slightly darker shadow of her hand and arm.

  Wonderful.

  The last thing she remembered was James' face. The fear and the anguish etched over his features. That crack in his voice when he said her name. It was like everything that had happened over the last few hours had simply vanished as had her doubts.

  With a gushing breath she focused her mind on the problem at hand. That disgusting little man had killed one of the crew right in front of her. Grinned as he did it. He had enjoyed the blood.

  Then he had come for her.

  Blood stained his fingers and he smelt like nothing she had ever sensed, and hoped she never would again.

  And that gruff, repulsive giggle had made her shudder. But before she could run he was on her. His bloody hands his repugnant smell oh god that grin with those tiny teeth...

  An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, let him have this one and he stop chasing. The man’s words to James rang through her mind. It was a trade, clean and fair if James gave her to Brooks then the ship would stop chasing and James and his crew would be free. Would James take the deal? After all the cruel things he’d said, she wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t, and yet there was pure angst in his eyes as he held his hand out to her, fear on his face when the little man held his knife to her throat.

  He had made it clear that he cared for her, and that he wished her could be the man she needed...But would he forfeit his freedom and that of his crew—for her?

  Enough.

  She was alive, and that was what mattered now.

  With another deep breath she felt around the hard wood floor. Nothing.

  Not wanting to risk falling, she crawled slowly, carefully in a direction, she didn't know which but she tried to keep in a straight line as she moved. The room couldn't be all that big. She crawled slowly, feeling around as she did for anything she could use as a weapon, but found nothing.

  At long last her fingertips found a hard edge of what must have been a wall and very slowly she stood, her hands never leaving the vertical barrier, then just as slowly she moved across. Where there was a wall there was a door, she just had to keep moving till she found it.

  The wall felt good under her fingers, she felt safe just feeling it and she tried to press as much of herself against the hard surface as she could as she felt her way across.

  “God, my head...” Someone groaned. A man.

  Eliza gasped and pressed her back against the wall, trying to see through the darkness, but it seemed to grow thicker the harder she looked.

  The sound was deep and gruff. He groaned again and she could hear him shifting.

  “Oh, Sweet heaven...” His voice cracked and he shifted again.

  There was another groan, lighter than the first. A different man?

  “Hello?” Eliza said tentatively.

  “Hello!” The voice of a young man piped up. “Oh thank God I am not alone in this dark hell.”

  “Yes, I quite agree.” Another, older voice said. “It would be very difficult to hold onto ones sanity while trapped in this darkness alone.”

  Eliza cleared her throat to gain their attention again.

  “Oh, my dear yes, and we have another.” The younger said and as she looked towards the voice she could see a shadow stand only to fall again as he seemed to trip over something on the floor.

  The older sighed and gave a soft chuckle. “I wonder if the lady would mind if we didn't stand, considering the circumstances.”

  Eliza giggled, enjoying their eighteenth century manners, despite her dire situation. “No of course I don't mind,” she said choosing her words carefully as her mind rifled through all the books she had read from this period. “Please, I must insist that you do stay seated.”

  Both men thanked her with more charming words and she leaned her head against the wall as she let their voices flow over her. They were right it felt good to know that she wasn't alone.

  “But we have not been properly introduced.” The younger said. “I am Nicholas Harrington, and the other fellow with me, if I am not mistaken, is Mr. George Morgan.”

  “You are not mistaken sir, and may I say I am most impressed by your hearing skills.”

  Eliza had come to terms with the fact that she was in the past several weeks ago, but it was like the knowledge was washing through her all over again. She felt giddy.

  “May we inquire as to whom you might be, miss?” Mr Morgan asked.

  “Me? Oh well it has been a long time since I was in England so you will have to forgive any mistakes or wrongs in my manners. I am Eliza Jackman.”

  Both men fell into more words of how charmed they were to make her acquaintance and Eliza laughed again. She thanked them both before resuming her careful journey around the wall.

  Something clicked under her foot and Eliza reached down, one hand remaining on the wall, to find a small blade. It was tiny but sharp and would have to do. She slipped it into the sash at her waist and stood again as the two men continued to carry on the slightly out of place conversation.

  Finally as she passed another corner in the wall and moved along the side her hand touched something metal and a hole that must have been for a key below.
/>
  “Hey, you guys I found the…” But her excited words were cut short when the door was suddenly pulled open and she fell out into the light hallway at the feet of a sneering officer. “Door?”

  The man was tall and skinny, uniform seeming to hang on his bones and his face marred by pock marks. “Going somewhere, Red?” he sniggered and grinned to reveal a mouth full of decaying teeth.

  “Who, me?” She tried to look innocent as she lay at his feet and knew by his single lifted eyebrow that he was not falling for her act. “Well it was awfully dark in there.”

  “I say,” the voice of Morgan called from the darkness. “Would you mind letting us have a little light in here?”

  “Yes,” Harrington added and poked his head out the door, letting Eliza see that he was the gentleman with the glasses from earlier. “And I have a party on the twelfth, so would you mind hurrying this whole ransom business. I really must attend.”

  The officer gave the bespectacled man a wide grin and bowed deeply, his eyes flashing with mockery. “Why of course, sir,” he gushed. “Captain Brooks, has requested your presence on deck so you may plead your wishes in person.”

  “That sounds most acceptable, kind sir.” Harrington seemed oblivious to the other man’s mocking tone. “Do lead the way.”

  As they walked behind their jailer, Harrington took a longer look at Eliza, eyes widening with recognition, but a finger to her lips silenced the squeal she knew was coming.

  “I say,” he whispered. “Aren’t you the pirate lady we met earlier?”

  “Yes, but I’m not really a pirate,” she whispered back.

  “You’re not really from the future, are you?” Morgan whispered from her other side.

  “It’s a long story,” Eliza returned impatiently as her eyes flicked around the sparse hallway before they ascended the stairs.

  They reached the deck and she shivered in the chill. Darkness enveloped the ship, though lamps seemed to be holding it back. Above, the sails and masts creaked and flapped in the wind. Beneath, the sea slapped against the hull. All her senses seemed to have come to life making everything louder, colder.