by Toby Tate
Jonathan woke up on his back in his stateroom, rubbed his eyes and saw Caesar on one side of the bed and Lisa on the other. He also felt a large knot on the front of his head where he had knocked it on the wooden deck when he passed out. The intense pain nauseated him.
Caesar, as usual, held a large grin on his face. “You’re lucky you don’t have a concussion. You fainted like a frightened schoolgirl,” he said.
Jonathan groaned as he rubbed his head and tried to sit up. “I never could stand the sight of blood, especially when it’s dripping from the jaws of a demon. Did you see that thing?” Slowly, he dropped his feet over the side of the bed and sat with shoulders hunched, looking down at the floor for several minutes as he tried to regain his composure.
Lisa cleared her throat. “Well, I guess you’re not the he-man you make yourself out to be.”
Jonathan looked up at Lisa blankly, and then turned his gaze back to the floor in defeat.
“Don‘t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” she said.
As if on cue, both Aiden and Blackbeard appeared in the stateroom doorway. Teach, dressed in all black and looking every bit the part of his infamous persona, eyed the group in the room one at a time, stopping at Caesar. “We’re getting very close to San Salvador. Anyone thinking of trying to escape should understand the consequences after witnessing the fate of those unfortunate Haitian pirates.”
A faint smile played across Teach’s lips.
Jonathan didn’t want to seem as if he were gushing, but the power the demon possessed boggled his mind. He would likely never meet anyone like Teach again. Jonathan was first and foremost a scientist. A very curious scientist. “Captain Teach,” he started, unsure of what to call the man. “Mr. Blackbeard...how do you do that, change your molecular structure from one form to another, make things move on their own? I mean—it’s, it’s—well, it’s amazing. Does that book really give a person that kind of power?”
Everyone in the room stared at Jonathan and then at Blackbeard. Jonathan felt like an idiot.
Teach eyed Jonathan, but said nothing, then turned and left with Aiden following close behind like an obedient puppy.
Jonathan looked from the doorway back up at Lisa. “You know, those two make a fine couple—Yin and Yang—except I think they’re both Yang.”
Lisa nodded in agreement. “They definitely have some kind of connection. It’s too convenient that Aiden somehow got accidentally involved in all this. It seems planned, as if it was meant to happen this way.”
Caesar chuckled, and Lisa and Jonathan both looked over at him.
Lisa crossed her arms. “What’s so funny? I’d like to know so I can laugh, too.”
Caesar shook his head slowly. “We’re just puppets and Blackbeard is pulling the strings. It has always been that way, even when he was a pirate. And whoever is in cahoots with him is being used as well, though likely they don’t know it yet. And when he is done with them…” Caesar drew a finger across his throat.
Jonathan shook his head. “That’s a sobering thought.”
“And to answer your question,” Caesar continued, glancing at his grandson, “it’s not just the book. The demon gives him the power to do the things he does. He is the Death Defier, the Shape Shifter, the…”
“I know, the Nightmare Walker,” Jonathan finished.
Lisa turned and looked out the portal, saw the shore beginning to draw closer. But they seemed to be out of sight of any harbor, or even another boat. The sun shone under a bright blue sky.
She turned back to the old man. “Caesar, have you ever been here before?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s been so long. I seem to remember something about it. A lot of the pirates came here to escape the watchful eyes of the Royal Navy and to hide their treasure. I know Captain Blackbeard hid some things here, some gold coins and wine casks we plundered from French vessels, probably other things. But I do know that the book is here, somewhere, and only Teach knows where. He was alone when he hid it. It was the one thing he wished to keep completely to himself. After I foolishly gave it to him, that is.”
Jonathan got up off the bed and stood, feeling a little unsteady. He reached out to Lisa and she grabbed his hand. They stared at each other for a brief moment, caught off guard by the sudden contact, like a small jolt of electricity. Lisa felt her cheeks flush and let go, and Jonathan turned to the door.
“Well, let’s go up and see what there is to see,” he said.
Sixty-two
Jason and Hunter watched the GPS signal. They were approaching one of the outer islands, beyond New Providence. The area looked like it hadn’t been inhabited for quite some time. They could see the shoreline—bleached-white sand thick with palm trees and underbrush. Crystal clear water. Colorful tropical fish, sea urchins, even a small sea turtle.
Jason steered the yacht, and Hunter prayed that they were following the same route to shore that Lisa and her captors had taken.
Then, they saw the boat. It was huge, two decks with a pilothouse on top. As sleek and modern as any boat Hunter had ever seen. Its bow was facing out to sea, as if it was prepared to get underway quickly.
And it was unoccupied.
He glanced sideways at Jason. “Looks like they took off already. Are we still tracking them?”
Jason glanced at the GPS indicator. “So far, so good. I think they’re moving inland, away from the beach.”
“Where the hell are we, anyway? I thought you said they were heading to New Providence. This is one of the outer islands.”
Jason shrugged. He reached under the console and pulled out an old, well-worn map, then opened it up and ran his finger across it. After a few seconds of searching, he looked over at Hunter. “I think this is Cat Island, named after Arthur Catt. Most believe it was discovered by Columbus and named San Salvador, until they eventually changed it back to Cat Island.”
“Who was Arthur Catt?”
“A pirate—a contemporary of Blackbeard’s. Legend has it that Catt frequented the island, so I wouldn’t be surprised that Blackbeard knew about it.”
“Figures. It’s a beautiful place, though. Any other time, I’d probably like it here.”
“Too bad you’re afraid of heights—this island has the highest elevation in the chain—over two-hundred feet above sea level.”
Hunter glanced at him. “Funny,” he said. “I’ll let you know if I get acrophobic.”
As the pair drew closer to Aiden’s boat, they could see it was tied to a small, ancient pier, boards and pylons rotting and covered with white seagull droppings. Hunter also noticed something else. The main deck of the boat was covered with dried blood and sported a couple of bullet holes.
Jason whistled. “Must have been a massacre on board.”
“More than likely the people from that boat we saw a ways back. Probably pirates. Blackbeard obviously didn’t see them as kindred spirits.”
Jason reversed the boat’s propellers, slowing their momentum and allowing them to gently slip in next to the pier. As they drew close, Hunter leaped over the side onto the slimy wood, nearly slipping, and then caught his balance. Holding the nylon rope from a cleat on the bow of the boat, he quickly moved aft and tied the boat off to the pier. He jumped back onto the boat and grabbed another nylon rope from the stern and tied this one off near the forward part of the boat, effectively crisscrossing the ropes. He looked up to Jason and gave the thumbs up, and heard the twin engines slow to idle, and then stop.
The silence was eerie. Hunter glanced into the jungle and saw an open path leading through the undergrowth.
Jason climbed over the side of the boat onto the pier. “Well, my guess is they went through there,” he said, pointing to the opening.
Hunter glanced at him. “Brilliant, Sherlock. That would have been my guess, too.”
He noticed a bulge beneath Jason’s shirt, near the waistband of his pants.
“Are you packing?”
“Of course.”
Hunter nodde
d. “Let’s go.”
* * *
The path through the jungle wasn’t nearly as clear as they had hoped. Hunter found himself wishing he had a machete to chop through some of the thick foliage. Brambles, vines, and thorny bushes crossed the path, impeding their progress and making Hunter all the more frustrated. The vines were so thick, they managed to create a canopy in the trees above, effectively blocking out much of the afternoon sunlight. In the distance, a woodpecker chipped away at a tree, and he could hear the wichety wich of a Bahama Yellowthroat. Unfortunately, Hunter was not in the mood at the moment to appreciate the fauna of Cat Island. A large mosquito landed on his arm and he slapped it, leaving a speck of blood on his skin. “How the hell did they get through this stuff, anyway? It seems like they would have left a path behind them.”
Jason thought for a moment. “Obviously, there’s another path somewhere, probably parallel to this one. Either that, or they covered their tracks.”
Hunter figured that to be the case. They knew someone would be following them and wanted to slow them down as much as possible.
As Hunter was considering this, the darkness began to diminish and the path became wider, the vines and underbrush less dense.
Soon they were in a clearing. Directly in front of them was a field and in the middle of the field sat a structure about fifty feet long and twenty feet wide. Built entirely of stone, its roof held a steeple, and a small cross protruded from the back portion. Along its sides and front were small, square windows set with stained glass. The door, which looked to be hewn from pine, was also inset with stained glass. The building looked as if it was part of the rock upon which it sat. Hunter thought it was probably a Catholic church, or had been at one time. But surrounding the door and below some of the stained-glass windows were symbols, ones which Hunter had never seen before.
He turned to Jason. “What do you think those symbols mean?”
“I‘m not sure, but I think they’re Voodoo symbols. There’s a lot of that on these islands, especially this one. Many of the people here combined religions from their ancestral homelands with teachings they learned from the Spanish Catholics, effectively creating their own hybrid religions. One of them was Obeah.”
“Obeah? As in the Death Defier?”
Jason nodded.
Hunter looked back at the symbols. “Nice. I just hope…”
His words were cut short by a woman‘s scream from deep inside the church.
They turned to face each other, communicating with their fear-filled eyes.
The scream sounded like Lisa’s voice.
Sixty-three
Hunter was the first to dash for the door of the old church, his white Reeboks making a swishing sound through the tall grass in the open field. Jason followed close behind.
They got to the door and found it already open.
Stepping inside, Hunter realized there wasn’t much to see. The church looked worse inside than did the exterior. Pews had been splintered and knocked over. The wooden altar had toppled on its side. Broken glass littered the floor, crunching under their feet as they walked toward the front of the sanctuary.
They stopped before the fallen altar.
In the desolate quiet, Hunter surveyed the building, his head swiveling in a three-hundred-sixty-degree sweep. “Damn. I know we heard Lisa scream. Where the hell could they be?”
As Hunter spoke, Jason tapped his arm, and pointed down at the floor. The place in the floor where the altar once stood had what looked like a trapdoor, large enough for an adult to climb through.
Hunter moved to it and found an edge, then lifted the heavy wood and let it crash back to the floor, opening the dark void. The dust of centuries puffed into the air like a mushroom cloud.
Inside was black as pitch and leading ominously down into it was an ancient wooden ladder.
Jason glanced at Hunter. “You know what? I’m going to the boat to grab a flashlight. Don’t do anything until I get back.”
Hunter nodded absentmindedly, staring down into the dark pit as if it might suddenly come alive and pull him inside, as it had likely done to Lisa.
He watched as Jason ran out the door, glass crunching under his shoes. Then, he moved to the hole and took a step onto the ladder’s first rung.
* * *
Hunter climbed down into the abyss and thought the ladder, which seemed sturdy, felt as if it were covered in cold slime. He figured it was probably the sweat of his own hands. He had decided that waiting for Jason to return with a flashlight wasn’t an option. Lisa was in trouble and needed him now. He only prayed he wasn’t too late.
On his descent he was hit with a putrid stench, like a mix of decaying marine growth and animal feces. He hoped it was only temporary.
As he descended, he periodically looked up, saw the entrance becoming smaller. He kept going, continuing down for what seemed like forever. Did this thing have a bottom?
As he looked below, he noticed a faint glow of light. It seemed to be off in the distance. Slowly it dawned on him that not only was the space getting bigger as he descended, but the light he had spotted was moving, like someone walking while carrying either a candle or a flashlight. The ladder now had a slow wobble, caused by its extreme length and his movement.
Out of nowhere, he heard a loud screeching, first one tiny voice, followed by hundreds. He recognized the sound immediately, having been in several caves in his lifetime, and hid his face from the coming onslaught.
The bats came in waves, relentlessly streaming out of their hiding places far above. Leathery wings smacked against his ears and his back as he held onto the ladder with both arms wrapped tight around the rungs.
As the torrent seemed to taper off, Hunter dared to take a peek up at the roof of the cave. A lone bat suddenly smacked against the side of his face and he yelped as he threw his hands up to shield himself.
Then, he was falling.
Sixty-four
Lisa couldn’t believe what she was seeing—the stone markers and makeshift wooden crosses of hundreds of graves. Holes for the bodies had been carved with pickaxes into the limestone floor of the cavern. The graves were covered with stones. In the distance she spotted a sarcophagus and a small mausoleum. The stale air smelled like death.
“What is this place?” Lisa asked.
“It’s a graveyard for the followers of Obeah,” Caesar said. “They were put here underground to hide from grave robbers and from the government. Some are hundreds of years old, some only a few weeks.”
Lisa glanced at Caesar. “But why put them under a church?”
“Can you think of a better place to hide a graveyard?”
Lisa played her flashlight beam across the sea of grave markers and slowly shook her head. “Who is buried here?”
It was Blackbeard who answered. “Pirates. Many of them members of my crew, killed in battle.” He glanced at Lisa, his eyes glowing red in the darkness of the cave. “Some were women such as you. Fierce warriors, unafraid either of death or of delivering death by cutlass or pistol. They lived and died by my word; and soon, they will live again.”
Lisa could hear the fury in Blackbeard’s voice. She was reminded of the beast she had seen aboard Aiden’s yacht only hours before. An involuntary shudder ran down her spine.
As she stared at Teach, Jonathan, who was on her other side, leaned in closely and whispered. “I wonder if Anne Bonny is buried here.”
“Who?”
“The famous female pirate. She kicked some serious ass.”
Teach turned back towards the graveyard and began scanning the area, looking for something. He seemed to have no problem seeing in the dark and moved out among the gravestones, as if the cavern was bathed in sunlight. He walked first one way, then another, reading each stone, looking for a name. When he found the grave he was looking for, he knelt on the limestone and began moving the rocks that were piled up inside the hole.
The group watched Teach as they slowly walked to the grave. Aiden stoppe
d in front of the stone, and holding his lantern close, he read the name chiseled there.
His face went slack.
“Oh, my God. I don‘t believe it. I thought he had gone to London after the pirate trials in Virginia.”
Caesar shook his head. “He did, but he returned to Cat Island on a merchant ship to regain his favor with the Obeah. Unfortunately, he died of malaria before he could take advantage of the spell that prolongs life.”
Lisa looked at the pair, then at the grave marker. “Who is he?”
“Israel Hands, Captain Blackbeard’s first mate,” Jonathan said.
Lisa’s eyes widened. She shone her light down at the grave stone. Israel Hands—1725 was crudely etched upon the headstone. “So what’s special about this particular grave?”
Caesar turned to where Blackbeard had uncovered what looked like ancient sailcloth with something inside. “I think we’re about to find out.”
Suddenly the group heard a cacophonous screeching behind them, like a thousand nails scraping on a blackboard. The horrendous noise was followed by a black cloud swooping down from the cave ceiling and into a lone figure cowering against the ladder.
Bats!
The bats continued on to the other end of the cave, and after several seconds, all was silent once again.
The man on the ladder let out a yelp, and fell ten or fifteen feet to the floor. It would be a miracle if he wasn’t impaled on a stalagmite, Lisa thought.
Then realization suddenly hit her.
“Hunter,” she whispered.
Sixty-five
Leaning up against one of the large stalagmites protruding from the limestone floor, Hunter knew how lucky he was to be sitting there unscathed, let alone still alive. Instinctively, he had pulled himself into a ball on the way down, narrowly avoiding impalement.