O Night Divine: A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales

by Kathryn Le Veque

  How dare the ghost insult him. “Have ye never heard of Demon Mackenzie?”

  Queen Augusta rolled her eyes again. “Only thousands of times in that girl’s endless wishes. What she sees in ye is beyond me.” She held up two fingers and wiggled them. “Before this night is over, two more of my kind will visit ye to beat some sense into that thick skull of yers. It’s Christmas Eve, and the North Star craves some peace and quiet.” She poked him in the chest. “Listen to us. That girl’s life depends on it.”

  “Wait? What do ye mean?” He would not have Ellie endangered. She’d already survived so much.

  The pirate queen answered with a chilling smile and smacked him right between the eyes with the ruby.

  Something hit his boot. “Ahoy, mate! Wake up!”

  Tait dreaded this, but he had no choice. The demon Queen Augusta had threatened Ellie. He risked cracking open his eyes and found himself in his armchair rather than the bed. Standing in front of him was a youngish man, garbed in a white tunic, dark trews, and a fine pair of tall black boots cuffed at the knees. A brightly colored headcloth peeped out from under his cocked hat, keeping his long silvery hair from floating into his face. Both his eyes were thickly outlined in black, as though he’d smeared charcoal around them. Under one arm, he cradled a jug as tenderly as a babe.

  “Open yer eyes all the way, man. Ole Cap’n Dax brings ye no harm.”

  “Captain Dax?”

  The man smiled, revealing several missing teeth. “Aye, Cap’n Dax Willet at yer service, mate.” He toasted the announcement with his jug, took a hearty swig, then shuddered. “Blimey! Been drinkin’ this here clap o’ thunder forever and still hate the taste.”

  “Then why do ye drink it?” Tait stared at his visitor, somewhat relieved to discover this one didn’t look as see-through as the last one. Cap’n Dax just looked a little dustier than the average sailor.

  The pirate belched, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Hafta drink it. Payin’ for me sins, I am.” With an intense look of concentration, he held up two fingers, frowned, then slowly uncurled two more. “Gots to straighten out four more souls afore I can pass.” His confused look deepened. “Maybe. Could be a mite more than that.” He kicked Tait’s boot again and winked. “From what I seen ’bout yerself, this’n should be easy. Come on, mate. Show a leg now.”

  Tait pushed himself to his feet, more than a little disturbed when the spirit in front of him grew both taller and more muscular. “What the hell?”

  “Well, I can’t verra well be lookin’ up to ye now, can I?” Cap’n Dax held out the jug. “Here, mate. Have yerself a healthy snort. I’ve a few things to show ye. Won’t take no time at all.” As Tait went to take the vessel, the ghost pulled it back. “Word of advice, though. Hold yer breath ’til well after the swig goes down yer gullet.” He winked again. “Taste willna be so bad that way.”

  With a nod, Tait took the jug, bracing himself for whatever noxiousness it held. As soon as the mouthpiece touched his lips, it set him on fire. Water sprang to his eyes. Near as he could tell, it had no taste—just a searing burn as though he’d just sipped from the hottest pit in hell. “Dammit, man!”

  The pirate laughed. “Told ye was a clap o’ thunder.”

  As Tait shoved the jug away, he realized they now stood in the sitting room of Hobbs and Ellie’s quarters. An unnerving tenderness came across him as he looked around. His quartermaster had spoken true. Ellie had decorated every nook and cranny of the place—the same way his mother always had during every Yuletide. Ivy. Pine boughs. Red ribbons and sashes. A warmer or merrier place could not be found on the Cove. And something smelled wondrous. His mouth started watering. Roast goose. He loved roast goose. He could almost taste the crispy skin and rich, succulent meat.

  Ellie bustled into the room, a covered platter held between her hands. “Surely, he’ll come. He’d nay be so rude as to ignore the invitation.” She stepped aside and waited for her father, who followed with a steaming bowl of roasted potatoes and carrots and a basket of bannocks.

  Hobbs set the items on the table. The look on his face was tight. He obviously didn’t wish to answer his daughter. “He said Christmas was for fools. I dinna wish to hurt ye, daughter, but I have me doubts he’ll show. Remember what I told ye last night.”

  Dax jabbed an elbow in Tait’s ribs. “Did ye really say that?”

  Tait gave a curt nod, wishing the ghost would shut his maw, so he didn’t miss a word of Ellie and Hobbs’s conversation.

  Ellie placed the platter at the head of the table. Her worried look reflected on its cover. “What have I done to make him dislike me so, Da? What have I done wrong?”

  The pain in her voice cut straight to Tait’s heart.

  Dax jabbed him again. “Oughta be ashamed of yerself. Look how ye’ve hurt that sweet young thing.” He waved his jug, and the scene changed. Ellie stood in the open doorway, looking up and down the hall.

  “Foods gettin’ cold, lass,” her father said as he rested his hands on her shoulders. “Come away from the door, aye?”

  “I thought he’d come,” she whispered. “This be the first Christmas we wouldha had together.” She turned away and closed the door. “I dinna understand why I canna catch his eye. He’s nay unkind about it, but any time we’re in the same room, he stays away as though I’ve got the plague. Is he truly that afraid of growing fond of me?”

  The spirit thunked him in the chest with the jug. “Ye be a damn fool, man. A woman like that chasing after ye? Were it me, I’d stop running, come about, and catch her.”

  “That’s because ye’re a selfish bastard.” Tait shoved him away. Watching this was punishment enough. He didn’t need advice from an inebriated ghost. “Are we done here?”

  “One more,” Dax announced as he moved them forward in time again. Ellie and Hobbs sat at the table, staring down at their plates, the wonderful dinner barely touched.

  “I am sorry, daughter,” Hobbs said. Hands fisted on either side of his plate, he tried a smile and failed. “I enjoyed the meal. Was the finest of fine.”

  Ellie didn’t look up. “I’m glad ye did, Da. Truly, I am.”

  “Maybe come Hogmanay he’ll—”

  She held up a hand and shook her head. “Dinna be a wishful fool, Da. I know I’m done with being such. Come spring, I’ll be ready to go to the mainland and find a husband. I give up on Captain Tait.”

  Hobbs’s shoulders sagged, and he bowed his head. “I am sorry, daughter.”

  “It nay matters,” Ellie said, but her quivering voice called the words a lie. She sniffed and pressed her hands to the corners of her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I always am.”

  Tait’s heart pained him, burned a hole straight through his chest. Because of him, this sweet lass’s fire had gone out. The light no longer shone in her eyes. How could he have treated her so callously? He had to at least talk to her and explain why she could never be his wife. But even as he thought this, deep inside, a simmering jealousy stirred. Another man for Ellie? Nay! He wished so badly she could be his.

  He stepped forward, but Dax yanked him back. “Where do ye think ye’re goin’ to, ye heartless bastard?”

  “I have to talk to her.” Tait tried to pull away, but the ghost’s grip tightened.

  “Nay, ye scurvy dog. The only place ye’ll be goin’ to is to stand afore Cap’n Horace. He’ll show ye what yer cowardice does to that poor lass. How ye steal away her years.” Cap’n Dax grew larger, towering over Tait. He bared his teeth and shook him. “Ye best thank yer stars ’tis now his time to deal with ye. Were it up to me, I’d be keelhaulin’ ye through the seas of hell. Ye think ye’re nay good enough for her? Fine. I’ll punish ye like the bastard ye think ye are.” He shoved his face closer. “I hope they give ye to me once yer dead.”

  “She deserves better!” Tait shouted, hoping Ellie would somehow hear him.

  “Ye’re nay a bad man,” Dax said with a deadly growl. “Ye’re just a damned eedjit.”

  Tait ducke
d too late, catching the cold, hard jug on the side of his head.

  The first thing Tait became aware of was the smell. Nay. Smell wasn’t nearly a strong enough word to describe the inescapable stench. A weight hit his chest, and the stink got worse. Tiny fingers plucked at his eyelids.

  “Ye best open yer eyes, man, afore Nabbers claws’m free of yer skull.”

  Tait found himself nose to nose with the source of the rotten aroma. Nabbers. An almost skeletal monkey, so mangy and repulsive, even sharks wouldn’t eat him. He quickly decided not to remove the animal himself when Nabbers screeched and displayed a lethal-looking set of fangs.

  “Get this thing off me,” Tait said, turning his face aside.

  “Now, that be no way to talk about Nabbers.” A bony hand appeared, and the monkey scampered up the dusty sleeve.

  “So, ye’re Captain Horace?” Tait looked up and found himself wishing he hadn’t. The man attached to the name was even more repulsive than the monkey. A heavy black coat hung on his emaciated body. His ratty white beard spilled down the front of it. Cobwebs hung from everywhere they could grab hold. His ragged, cocked hat rode low on his bony brow with greasy strands of long hair snaking out from under it. The phantom’s eyes were the milky orbs of the dead sunk deep into their sockets.

  “Aye,” the pirate said in a voice that rumbled like thunder. “I be Cap’n Horace Mabuz.” The monkey sat perched on his shoulder; its beady-eyed gaze locked on Tait. “And this be Nabbers. Although, I think ye figured that bit out.” He shrugged. “Although, both Augusta and Dax did say ye were nay verra bright for a man famed to be such a successful privateer.”

  “How many souls ’til ye get to move on?” Tait refused to let the specter think he feared him or his ratty pet.

  The captain’s face twisted into an evil grimace that Tait realized was the man’s smile. “Oh, I never move on,” he said, sounding as though he had no regrets. He motioned for Tait to stand. “Come now, lad. I’ve a fine bit o’ entertainment for ye this evening.”

  Tait pushed himself out of the chair, not surprised when Captain Horace’s height increased to overshadow his own.

  “Augusta was right. Ye are a big one.” The ghost gave an appreciative nod. “Good. Ye’ll make a fearsome reaper of souls if ye dinna choose yer life’s path wisely.”

  “Can we get this over with?” Obviously, he’d not get his life back until these damned ghosts had finished with their amusement. Damned Hobbs. It was his fault the spirits appeared. He’d called them down with all that talk of Christmas and higher powers. “I need to speak with Ellie. I need to explain to her why she’s too good for a life with me.”

  “So, ye still mean to condemn her to an early grave, do ye? After all we’ve shown ye?” Captain Horace cocked a sparse brow at Nabbers. “Draw blood, lad. This one doesna see sense even yet.”

  “What do ye mean, condemn her to an early grave?” They’d all warned him of Ellie’s death. He had to stop them. “I’ll never let any of ye hurt her.”

  Captain Horace unleashed another chilling grimace as Nabbers jumped from his shoulder to Tait’s. “Oh, we’ll no’ be the ones to hurt her, me lad.” He gave a slow nod. “Ye will.”

  The monkey screeched, then sank his fangs into Tait’s neck.

  Tait tried to knock him away, but the animal wasn’t there. Instead, he and Captain Horace stood in the middle of chaos. Men and women shouted. Gunfire cracked. Screams filled the burning house in which they stood.

  “Where are we?” Tait shouted.

  “Preston. Lancashire. During a poorly planned siege.” The pirate ghost fluttered his bony fingers through the crackling flames beside him.

  “Why?” Tait asked, but then he saw her. Ellie lay motionless against a corner wall, her empty eyes staring out at nothing. Tait rushed over and grabbed her up. He had to get her out of here before she burned. “Ellie!” But it was too late. Color gone, body cold as a stone, his precious Ellie was already gone. He looked back at Captain Horace. “Why?” he roared. “Why?”

  The ghostly captain gave a disinterested shrug. “Because she married another. A believer in the Old Pretender.” Captain Horace shimmered with a wicked look as he chuckled. “Good lass that one was. Committed fully to her Jacobite husband even though she thought him a bit tetched. Fought and died at his side.” His head tilted as he tapped his chin. “A good man she married.” With the toe of his boot, he nudged a dead man next to Ellie. “Aye, he was a good man.” He cackled louder this time. “Is that no’ what ye said she needed? A good man to lead her straight to heaven’s gates?”

  “I said she needed a good man to keep her happy!”

  “Oh, she was happy.” Horace nodded. “Well, in a way, she was happy, I suppose.” He looked down at Ellie and shook his head. “Never had any bairns, though.” His dark stare slid back to Tait. “She thought her husband took unreasonable risks, so she took herbs to keep’m from seedin’. Seems like the only wee ones she ever really wanted would have been from yerself.” Captain Horace shrugged again. “It appears ye’ve quite a lot to be proud of, Cap’n Tait. Not only did ye guide Ellie to an early death, ye kept yer children’s souls from entering this world.” The specter swept off his hat and bowed. “Well done, fine sir. I look forward to working with ye. With so many jilted souls to yer credit, we’ll be walking Christmas Eve through eternity.”

  Tait hugged Ellie’s limp body tighter and closed his eyes. “Nay, this canna be so,” he whispered as he rocked from side to side. “This canna be so.” How could protecting Ellie from himself end this way? He didn’t give a damn if he was cursed to wander through eternity at Captain Horace’s side, but every fiber of his being raged at costing this dear, sweet lass a joyful life and children.

  He forced his eyes open and looked at the man beside her. The unknown husband who had been given the opportunity to cherish Ellie but had chosen to cast it aside for battle. Tait froze, still staring at the dead man’s hand locked tight in a fold of his wife’s skirts.

  He had no right to judge the poor deluded fool. He himself had made the same mistake as her husband. Ellie had loved him, but he had cast her aside, pushed her to an unfulfilled, short life. Damn it all to hell and back, he did love her, loved her fierce, and didn’t give a rat’s arse about anything else. If she was willing to accept him, he’d drop to his knees and thank the good Lord above for a second chance at a life with her.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Captain Horace shook his head with a heavy sigh. “I’d hoped for better since Augusta and Dax assured me ye were stupid as a stone.”

  Nabbers bared his teeth and screeched.

  “Aye, Nabbers,” Captain Horace soothed as he stroked the little beast’s head. “He’s nay to be ours. This one’s pulled his head free of his bunghole.”

  “So, I can change this? It’s not too late for me to make amends?” Tait clutched Ellie closer, praying what he hoped might not yet be.

  Captain Horace pulled his pistol from his belt and aimed it at Tait’s chest. He winked. “I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Then he fired.

  Chapter Three

  He opened his eyes to the light of a new day. Both hands went to his chest. No blood. No pain. Tait shifted higher in the chair, then scrubbed both hands down his face. What a night. What drink-induced nightmare. Maybe. A fearsome doubt nudged him. What if none of it had been a dream? What if it had all been real? What if the pirate ghosts were a warning from a higher power?

  Deafening silence filled the room. It closed in, threatening to smother him. He shot to his feet and strode to the windows. The storm had passed, leaving behind a frozen world that sparkled fresh and new. Sight of the pristine bay covered in ice and snow calmed him. He pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. Aye, last night had just been a terrible series of nightmares. This was real, an icy winter’s day at the Cove.

  A deadly screech pierced the silence. Chills raced across him, standing every hair on end. That damn monkey had returned. He spun around. The room wa
s empty. He worked his jaw and massaged his temples, trying to pop his ears. Breath held, he listened harder. Blessed silence had returned. Aye, he’d just imagined that eerie sound. ’Twas merely a remnant from the bad dream. And then he smelled it. The raunchy stench of that nasty, flea-bitten animal from hell. The room reeked with it.

  “Be gone!” he roared as he threw open every window.

  A rap on the door made him jump and turn around.

  Tait swallowed hard, fighting a leeriness bordering on full-blown fear that his mind was leaving him. “Enter,” he called out.

  The door eased open, and Kip, his trusted cabin boy, backed into the room, maneuvering a large tray through the doorway. “Cook sent up a fine breakfast for ye, Cap’n.” He turned and held out the tray, looking as though he was about to feed a raging beast and feared he wouldn’t survive the task. “And here’s a special whisky she got just for today. Weren’t that kindly of her? Helping ye celebrate Yule like that?” Surrounded by several plates overflowing with food sat Captain Dax Willet’s jug.

  Tait choked, coughing and gasping as he backed away. He couldn’t breathe. Instead, he felt the toxic liquid fire consuming him. He waved Kip away. “Take it! Take it away! Now!”