The screaming starts before the first pirate even flinches. Both men and women are desperate to find an escape before it's too late. The bearded pirate pulls a large sword from his belt and holds it in the air, and his crew immediately charge into the crowd.
I don't move at first. I’m too shocked. Too confused. I search for my father, but he is nowhere to be found.
Someone grabs my arm and pulls me from the crowd, away from the rampaging pirates. Through a doorway to another room and into a shadowed corner. The touch is gentle. I do not feel threatened, so I don't turn to see who it is. Even once we're in the other room I crane my neck to see what's going on— much more interested in the violence in the next room than in my savior. People are running and crying, falling in panic. Why do I feel so calm?
I jump, though, when lips brush my ear. A light hand runs down my arm.
My attention is brought back to the current situation. Who has me held so close? And why don't I push him away?
"Tell me," the voice of the stranger I danced with whispers in my ear. The panic around me fizzles out and there is only me and this man's voice. Bluff.
"Are you worth saving?" he asks me, still whispering. I feel a strange shift in my chest, and then there is the strong urge to close my eyes and let his lips explore other places.
His rough hands grab my arms again and spin me to face him.
But it's not the same man. I blink rapidly, taking in the image before me. He's smaller. Younger. With grey eyes and silver hair.
My stomach sinks and flips all at once. “You," I say to the boy from prison.
He smirks. The same smile of the dancing man and the carriage driver.
"I don't understand," I say. “How did you escape?”
His body shimmers like a mirage and shifts, shrinking down until the young man in front of me is a child.
I swallow, hoping I don’t lose the contents of my stomach, thinking of Mary’s outlandish story.
An eight-year-old boy in a prison cell, turning into a large man in order to escape.
I retreat a step, my back hitting the pantry door. He shifts again, and again his amused expression is the same through each form—the coach driver, the handsome man who danced with me. The boy with silver hair.
It was all him. Why? How?
"You're... a pirate," I say stupidly. He nods but his eyes aren't on mine now. He's looking into the grand hall in which the screams are still flying.
"Are you with them?" I ask, my heart throbbing as I wonder how very impossible my survival is at this moment.
"No."
"Over here!" a creepy low voice yells from the hall. Bluff's eyes narrow. I realize now why he would have had to lie when I asked him his name. He told me the truth. Bluff is his pirate name.
He grabs my arms and pulls me into a pantry with him.
It's a tight fit. Our bodies touch one another in a way I've never touched a boy before. His lips are at my ear again. "Answer my question. Are you worth saving?"
"I—I don't know."
"Too honest," he whispers, but there’s amusement in his voice. Footsteps echo just outside the pantry door. Bluff pulls the handle towards us, and it cracks as wood separates from metal.
No! I want to yell, but panic constricts my throat, stealing my breath.
He exits the pantry, no longer the boy with silver hair. Now he's a dark skinned, muscled man in ragged clothing. "No one in here," his deep voice says, and then the footsteps pass by, moving farther through the house.
The next several moments are silent, only our breaths audible. Outside the pantry there is no movement.
Everyone else must have escaped or been captured. How many of them are still alive? Whose blood is staining the marble floors?
“Keep searching!” a call resounds through the house, causing me to jump.
"Where is the gracious Mr. Davies?" The same voice, a room over, dips lower, sinister. My body goes cold. “Or should is it Mr. Klein now? So hard to keep up.” The pirate’s voice echoes through the house, mocking but angry. So incredibly angry.
What did my father do? I shudder.
Bluff re-enters the pantry quickly, a finger at his lips.
"What's going on?" I ask in a whisper. "They're looking for my father?"
"He's questioning his few captives. But he's not really after your father. He's looking for you."
"What?" I say too loudly. Bluff presses his hand to my mouth, but the damage is done. His eyes are wide with horror. We're completely silent, listening for signs that we've been caught. The questioning continues in the main hall. Cries for help. Screams. Some are women and I can't help but wonder if one of them is Mary. She has been my friend for about five minutes, but I would feel horrible if she were hurt by the pirates. Especially if they are only here for me.
Bluff
I slowly open the pantry door, and peek out. Whitley’s hand is wrapped around my arm as it grows larger. She gasps. I enjoy the shocked expression on her face as I change into Drake, a dark-skinned pirate from Stede’s crew, right in front of her.
She pulls her hand away, and my face falls.
I open the door and turn to motion her forward. "Hurry," I whisper.
She follows me out, tiptoeing, but her heels click with each step. I suppress a groan and ignore it. She walks slowly, carefully, but still isn’t as quiet as we require—which is completely silent. We reach a stair case, and I pull her into the shadow of the underside. Then I turn to her, my expression annoyed beyond all reason. “Take them off," I hiss.
"What?"
"Your shoes. You can't escape from a gang of pirates with clickity shoes on."
Her lip twitches in amusement, but I turn away while she pulls her shoes off, clenching my jaw and silently cursing Stede. He’s the reason I must deal with this brat in the first place. Without his interference, his irrational interest in fates that do not belong to him, I could have silently pulled strings to ensure her safety and distance from the battles of the seas without ever actually having to utter a word to her.
I turn back to ensure she’s ready and notice how she wiggles her toes, a quiet expression of joy on her face.
What a strange, strange girl.
I grab her hand and pull her through the dark house. We come to a stairwell that leads to a wine cellar, but I stop. A creak of wood echoes up at us. Someone is down there.
I sigh and retreat, back to the stairs leading up. These are our only option, apparently. "Where are you taking me?"
"They're blocking all the exits, and you can't stay here forever. They'll find you eventually." I pull her faster. "No matter how massive this damn place is," I say under my breath.
"There isn't a way out up there!" she whispers up at me as she stumbles, working to keep her feet under her as I pull her along.
"There are windows."
Her gasp is stifled by another sharp pull of my hand. It’s stupid—if she falls, we’ll be found out and we’ll both be dead—but I can’t help it.
We reach a room with white walls and lace hung around the windowsill. No furniture, but I suspect this will be a nursery. That poor child of a girl will have a child of her own soon.
My pity is fleeting, though. She chose this path. Every life has good and bad, some just more obvious than others. She’ll be pretty and rich and more important than those around her, but she’ll be trapped all the same.
Her prison just smells better than my mine did.
"They must suspect you’ll still be inside. Many of Stede’s crew are searching the town. The rest are guarding the exits. The only way out is the only way they won't be expecting."
"But how?"
My lips spread into a sly grin. Well, this will certainly be fun.
"Wait here."
I head back into the hall, rummage through a storage closet and come across way more than I was hoping for. The coast seems clear enough in this part of the house, so I allow my body to return to its usual form and I reenter the soon-to-be nursery
carrying a bundle of ropes. It's not quite sailor's rope. It's thin, but I'm impressed I found even this.
"How... Where?"
"Mr. Weatherby has entertained a pirate or two in his day. It was either this or chains. I'm thinking the rope will be more silent, and much easier to hold." Okay, it’s a bit of an embellishment, but I didn’t get the name Bluff for my trustworthiness.
I lean out the window, enjoying the cool night air rush over my hot skin, and then search for something to use as a hold. A flag hook only a few feet above the window will do nicely. I stretch my arm up, but I’m unable to reach.
"Oh, be careful."
I bend back down and meet her eye. "Are you worried about me, lassie?"
She seems taken aback, and her eyes dart to the floor. "You personally? No.” Her eyes narrow. “But my one and only savior at the present moment? Yes."
Ah, finally a little cheek.
I transform my body into Lennard, an old school friend who was taller than any of our adult teachers by several inches. “The giant,” our classmates called him, despite the fact that he was thin enough to see his ribs. With Lennard’s body, I am able to easily reach the hook and tie a nice loop around it which I tug tight.
I throw the line over the side of the house.
"Come along," I say as I easily swing myself down, my feet hitting the side of the house every few feet I drop, rope slipping through my well-worn hands with ease. I relish the expression on her face as I drop.
This was never part of the plan, but I do enjoy shocking a pretty princess.
"You expect me to do that?" she whisper-calls to me.
"It's not as hard as it seems."
She crosses her arms. I stop half way down the wall. "Don't make me climb back up there,” I tell her. “That part is not easy. Besides, I'm sure those pirates will find you pretty soon."
She sends a glance over her shoulder. After a deep breath, she wraps the rope around her shaking hand, and stands on the sill, her bum facing out towards me.
"Nice view,” I say without actually looking up.
She stands up straight and turns back to me, her jaw set.
"Aw, come on," I taunt.
"Nope," she says, crossing her arms again.
"Alright, alright," I say with a laugh. "I won't look."
"You expect me to trust you?”
“You’re throwing yourself out of a second story window. Yes, I expect you to trust me.”
She sighs.
"Besides, you must come down. Those pirates will do much worse than look at your undergarments."
The red in her cheeks deepens, and amusement bubbles up in my chest. After a quick deep breath, she hops back into the house and rummages around. What in the world is she doing?
"Close your eyes," she says with a shaking voice.
I laugh and close my eyes.
Whitley
My teeth chatter as I prepare to throw myself from a second story window with a pirate boy waiting below. My chemise is now securely tied between my legs—my only chance at modesty during this endeavor.
I try to take comfort in that and instead focus on the not-dying part.
Truth is, the old Whitley could do this. I miss that girl. Bold and adventurous. The girl with muddy feet could do this. Except that my father beat that girl out of me with a stick.
But I can still be her, right? She'd enjoy this, in fact. I try to remember the feeling I got when I first entered the pirate prison at the fort. The excitement. I loved it, even then.
I stand tall, wrap the rope around my hand tightly and practically leap. The rope constricts my hand as my weight pulls it tight. I hold back a yelp at the pain shooting up my arm and to my back as my shoulder hits the stone wall. I squeeze my eyes shut, vision flashing black.
Then I press myself against the wall, using my feet the way Bluff did, and unwrap the rope. I'll just have to trust my own hands.
Now I fall easily, palms burning as they slide down the rough cord. But within a moment I'm nearing the ground. Bluff is already there, brushing off his pants. I surprise him as I descend so quickly that I nearly land on him.
"Whoa!" he says, half word, half grunt. He grabs me just before I hit him, his arms wrapped around my legs, holding me. I let go of the rope. My thick skirt is bunched up around his face, his hands on my bare legs.
He blows out, practically spitting to get my skirts from his face. Then he slowly releases, my body sliding against his. He meets my eye as his hand glides higher up my legs until my feet land gently on the stone.
His gaze is intense. No longer is he the jokester. But then he clears his throat and breaks our eye contact, letting go of me so I can straighten out my skirts.
He turns away, pretending the moment didn’t happened, which I suppose is best. Its dark out, and we're still very near to mortal danger.
"The brigades will be coming soon,” he says. “The pirates will be heading back to The Revenge empty handed. They'll probably ransack your home first, though. Hopefully your father wouldn't be so stupid as to head back there."
"So what do we do?"
"This town won't be safe for you. Not for a long while."
"I don't understand. Why are they after me? My father...what's he done?"
"Your father is in big with those pirates. He owes them money. Borrowing from a pirate is a fool’s affair. Not paying them back—that's worse. Then he tries to turn his back on them by siding with the navy, hoping if he can catch them, he won't have to pay his debts."
I suck in a breath.
He crosses his arms, glancing down towards the harbor. “Even fairly docile pirates, like Captain Taj, are eager to join in on the dismantling of a man that brazen.”
"What a fool.” It's the first I've spoken out against my father in years. It feels good—honest. "So what? The pirates will just keep coming back? Won't the army catch and kill them eventually? Besides what do they want with me? What will that accomplish?"
"Pirates are clever folk. Dirty drunks, obsessed with money and treasure, sure, but when you mess with them they will stop at nothing. They know people. They'll buy people if they must. If Stede and his crew want you—they'll get you. And as for what they want. Two things. One: a ransom. They'll use you as leverage to get the money they're owed. And two: to hurt him. They'll torture you. Make sure when you do go back to your scum of a father, you won't ever be the same."
My breath hitches. I can only imagine the things men like that would do to me. “I think they’re overestimating my value,” I whisper.
He peers past me, out towards the sea, ignoring my comment. "There is one place they won't expect you."
His eyes glisten more than I've ever seen them before.
Oh no. "No,” I say, only half understanding his implication. He’s a pirate, I can only guess he has a ship somewhere.
"You'd rather stay here and be pillaged? Did Captain Stede Bonnet capture your fancy? I hope so, for your sake."
"Ew." My stomach sinks thinking about it. "How long? How long will I have to be away before I can be safe again?"
"Depends on your father. Besides, I can take you someplace else. Another town. You're not exactly pirate material so..."
"New York?"
His eyebrows rise. "I suppose. Hope you know people there though. That's not an easy place to be a vagabond."
“Jeb will take care of me,” I assure him.
He raises his eyebrows. “Husband?”
“Not yet.”
Bluff purses his lips. "Alright, I'm sure we can catch you a ride there, so long as we catch The Freedom before they depart.”
BLUFF PULLS ME THROUGH the streets of town at a run, my bare feet stinging as the hard, jagged stone rips through my silk stockings and into fragile skin. I remember a time when my feet were well worn and prepared for rough streets.
I remember a time when my lungs could handle a run without growing weary. And now my lungs are burning, my corset constricting my breath further.
As a child, I loved to run around barefoot, but as I got older, I was no longer allowed. More and more my father insisted I behave "like a lady." At the time, I wanted to be one. I wanted to grow up and be beautiful, marry a rich, handsome man and live happily ever after.
I wanted to please my father.
Now I have trouble seeing the point. I find myself wanting to go backwards and become the girl who played ball in the muddy streets of New York again. Furious father or not.
I grit my jaw through the pain, forcing air through my lungs until my vision becomes spotted. I refuse to complain about the first bit of freedom I’ve been given in so long—as small a thing as it is.
I'm completely lost, but Bluff pulls me between houses, over fences. Then suddenly we come out into the open, and the only thing between us and the dock is the market—one long cobblestone street lined by brick and stone buildings, with shuttered windows. Everything is all closed up now. We're alone, which seems like a good thing, but we're completely in the open. Exposed.
We stop before the dark open road, knowing there is nowhere to hide.
Voices nearby make me squeeze Bluff's hand harder. He doesn't move. We wait and listen. Several sets of footsteps sound from the alley a street down. The voice is gravelly and jovial, "Would ya look at that!" I turn my head towards the voice only to realize he's inside the closed shop just feet from us. I take a step back, knowing if there are men here—pirates, I'm guessing, sacking whatever they can while they can. We can't be seen. But Bluff doesn't move. He stands firm.
"Shouldn't we hide?" I whisper.
"Not necessarily. Just wait."
A sudden crash makes me jump, and a man comes barreling out of a shop, smashing the wooden door to pieces. I leap away from Bluff now and press my body against the nearest building, heart hammering in my chest. I stare at the tattoos that line the pirate’s arms, as he slams a sledge hammer into what’s left of the wooden door... for good measure, I suppose?
"Carlos!" Bluff calls. I gasp.
The pirate freezes and looks up, a wary look covering his previously joyous expression. The light hits the tattooed man, casting shadows over his face. A piece of metal sticks out from his eyebrow.
Sea of Treason (Pirate's Bluff Book 1) Page 3