The House Lost at Sea

by R. J. Blain

  Instead of being one of the muggers, he had witnessed the attack, saved my life, and at my urging, taken me out to sea on a ship I’d been in the process of purchasing. A hurried sale later, we had escaped the port city. Then, everything had gone wrong.

  Equipment had failed, damaged during a storm I’d confirmed had moved through the area. We’d been swept off course, lost at sea with little hope of finding shore.

  Only good planning on my part, the Wanderer’s water purification system, and some luck fishing had kept us alive long enough for the winds and currents to drag us to the Cape of Good Hope.

  If everything went according to plan, he would head straight to the United States Embassy. In any other port, we would have been fine, but I worried the police would remember me, adding complexity to our already complex con.

  It took Abrahan less than five minutes to reach the dock, secure the ship, and disembark, setting our plans into motion. I hated waiting without knowing if he needed my help. For our plan to work, I had one job to do, and that was to maintain the ruse I was injured but healing. Between being shot and my fall from the cliff, I had plenty of injuries to pull off my role.

  While still tender, my skull had fused, the bone hardened enough to escape notice from most. My head injury was our riskiest gamble. If any x-rays were taken, I didn’t know if the holes would show. The images could potentially betray the bullet holes, resulting in a lot of unwanted questions I couldn’t truthfully answer.

  It took Abrahan two hours, but when he returned, he brought Americans accompanied by two dark-skinned South Africans, both of whom seemed less than thrilled with their assignment. I had expected two from the embassy and had gotten four, but the number of Americans present wouldn’t change any of my plans or our cover story.

  And so, beneath the blazing South African sun, the game began.

  The United States Embassy didn’t have an on-staff doctor, and I counted my blessings. I refused care, drawing on American stereotypes to play the role of a stubborn, headstrong woman who wouldn’t accept anything other than the best, even if it meant crossing an ocean to get it. Claiming I’d survived so far worked, although the gullible embassy employees annoyed me almost as much as the betrayals I tried to ignore but couldn’t.

  The Americans wanted to question Abrahan, but I refused to let him out of my sight, claiming I owed him my life for his courage and quick thinking. His passport smoothed his way, buying me the time needed to establish my identity so I could get a replacement passport. A few phone calls to my ex-boss confirmed most of my story, and when the government couldn’t find Benny or Bensen to question, we played stupid—and concerned.

  It was easy to feign being concerned. I didn’t know what supplies they had on my islands, and although there were fish and fuel for fires, would they be able to harvest the ocean’s bounty without a ship? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know enough about Lucretta O’Malley and her crew.

  I did my best to ignore my misgivings, and within forty-eight hours, I was on my way back to the United States with Abrahan, preparing for the nightmare of paperwork waiting for me. Fortunately, I hadn’t been believed dead long enough to lose any of my belongings, which would have made the next phase of my revenge difficult.

  It was petty of me to engage in psychological warfare with mortal men and a woman I probably would have liked if she hadn’t crossed swords with me. In a few years, they’d grow old and die, and I’d have the greatest satisfaction of all, watching their temporary empires crumble around them while I endured.

  In turn, they would get the ultimate revenge against me, as the sands of time fell away and they could move on to the next life, if there was anything beyond death. I’d stopped wondering long ago. No, my revenge would be simple.

  I would wait them all out, and when death came calling for them, I would watch them wrestle with their regrets until they became just another bad memory among many. But first, I would make them indebted to me for rescuing them from the House Lost at Sea—my house.

  Sometimes, I truly wasn’t a nice person.

  With Abrahan at my side, I returned to the ruins of my landlocked home to discover someone—Benny and Bensen, most likely—had moved ahead with the construction of a new house. A foundation had already been poured for a much larger building than the one Lucretta O’Malley had destroyed in her eagerness to take my pistol and cutlass. My Rolls-Royce was in the old garage, waiting to be moved into the new one, and my motorcycle waited with it.

  I wasn’t sure what to think. Had Benny and Bensen been attempting to preserve evidence of my existence? Why else do it? I should have hated them for everything that had happened, but I didn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  I had changed, and I didn’t like it. Abrahan hovered at my side, a silent sentinel, until I grunted a curse and stalked to my Rolls-Royce. I tossed him the keys, hoping to introduce him to the third love of his life.

  Within five minutes, the car had worked her magic on the kid and put him under her spell. I directed him to a nicer hotel in New York, booked us into a room with two beds, and began planning my return to the House Lost at Sea. First, I needed to reclaim my cutlass and pistol from the insurance company, which would cost me a week unless I was either lucky or persuasive.

  A week would do. The instant we were settled in the room, I got on the phone and went to work while Abrahan hovered, his expression thoughtful. When I hung up, satisfied with the agent’s promise to have my prized items returned in four days, Abrahan planted his hands on his hips and glared down his nose at me.

  “What?”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Why do you think I’m up to something?”

  “You’re always up to something.”

  For someone so young, he had too much insight. “Fine. We’re going back.”

  “Why?”

  Cursing myself for teaching the boy to ask questions, I got to my feet, headed to my bag, and dug through it to inventory what I’d need to make a properly dramatic entrance—of the non-pirate variety. “We’re going to parley with them.”

  “Why would we do something like that? Aren’t they right where you want them?”

  Guilt had a way of ruining the best of plans, even mine. Hundreds of years hadn’t cured me of having a conscience, although I’d done a good job of smothering it most of the time. When I’d left Benny and Bensen at the House Lost at Sea, I’d been content enough with their chances of survival if they were wise.

  Modern humans were so soft compared to those born and raised in the Golden Age of Piracy. They lived longer, however—as long as they kept close to civilization.

  The island’s water supply would keep them alive for about a month, assuming they were incapable of fending for themselves.

  I scowled, angry at myself for worrying about their fate. “Killing someone is the least satisfying form of revenge.”

  Amusement lit Abrahan’s eyes, and I rather disliked his playful smile. “You’re feeling guilty.”

  “No, I just have a bad feeling.”

  “Most of us call that guilt, Corona.”

  I’d really have to make the damned brat my first mate, as he had a smart mouth on him, and I waggled my finger. “Have I told you that you’re a smart ass today?”

  He grinned. “Five times since noon. Yesterday, nineteen times before you threatened to ground me for the rest of my life. I’m hoping for twenty today.”

  What a smart ass. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Fine. I feel guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “Abrahan,” I growled in warning.

  “It’s not my fault your statements require elaboration.”

  Why had I insisted on expanding the brat’s vocabulary during our voyage back to the Cape of Good Hope? Oh, right. I couldn’t stand ignorant idiots incapable of using words longer than three syllables. Damn it. I’d served myself a serious dish of just desserts. “Smart ass, smart ass, smart ass.”

  Good behavior should be rewarded, eve
n when it annoyed me.

  “Eight,” he reported cheerfully.

  What had I done to deserve such a mouthy kid as my crew? Ah, right. I’d kidnapped him. Next time, I needed to screen my victims for smart-ass tendencies before grabbing them and setting sail. I’d save myself a lot of trouble.

  Still, he was using his head, no matter how much I disliked having to face the consequences of my actions. “I let them get too close to me,” I confessed.

  It wouldn’t take him long to figure out who I meant.

  Abrahan’s smile softened, and he sat on the edge of the bed he’d claimed as his. “You’re worried they don’t have the supplies they need. You’re also worried about the storm brewing at sea—and don’t think I hadn’t noticed you mumbling about the weather. Believe it or not, it’s a rather human reaction.”

  “If you already knew why, why ask me?”

  “I wanted to know if you knew.”

  Someone must have cursed me again, saddling me with a brat prone to the same tricks I’d pulled once upon a time. I shook my head, went through my bags again, and grudgingly admitted I’d have to go shopping and do some sewing before I could set sail. “Who died and made you my shrink? Make yourself useful and check on the Wanderer.”

  “She’s in the marina where I left her, and her storage fee’s good for another week. I checked this morning.”

  Of course he had. He tended to wake up before I did, which gave him plenty of time to cause trouble—or be responsible without my supervision. “I’ll be booking a flight for South Africa for five days from now. I want you to make your lists and plan for sufficient supplies for them for a month. Get two medical kits set up; if you need help, ask me. I’m going to be watching the weather, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we run into a storm on the way. It’s getting to be that time of year.”

  “Are you going to leave them marooned there? The Wanderer isn’t large enough for their entire crew.”

  I shot him a glare. “I’ll start with Benny and Bensen and see how I feel after that.”

  My cabin boy turned cook and gunning for his place as my first mate arched a brow, crossed his arms over his chest, and leveled a glare worthy of a captain in my direction. “How many times are we going to return to that island to ferry people off?”

  Damn it. “I didn’t say we were.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second, Corona.”

  We would, and he’d hold it over my head until I admitted I’d grown soft. “I don’t care about the others on the island.”

  “Sure you don’t. That’s why you went through so much effort to maroon them there rather than killing them. You’re really bad at this revenge thing, aren’t you? You should work on that. If you want revenge, take over that woman’s crew. Make her your slave or something.”

  “Why would I want her as my slave? I have the feeling you’re the one after a little revenge. What am I going to do with her if I take her as a slave?”

  While I doubted he meant a literal slave, I’d lived when people had been property, but I’d shelter him from that reality as much as I could. I wouldn’t take anyone, even her, as a slave. I hadn’t condoned slavery during my mortal life, and I wouldn’t participate in it now, hundreds of years later.

  Captain Maritza had dipped her hands in the slave market too much for my liking.

  “She’s kinda hot, Corona. I’d totally have sex with her.”

  I choked on my own spit, coughed, and glared at him. “No, Abrahan. You’re not taking Lucretta O’Malley as a sex slave—or as a cabin girl.”

  “Spoilsport. Sell her to one of her enemies, then. She’s got to have them. Take those men you want, find out who else holds a grudge against her, and let them deal with her. That would turn the tables on her, wouldn’t it?”

  We’d only committed one act of piracy, and he was already thinking like a hardened pirate. Next, he’d be asking me if we could make her walk the plank. I wouldn’t tell him I’d enjoy it so I could tease her as a shark.

  A little fear wouldn’t kill her, and toying with the Black Scourge’s descendant seemed like a good time to me.

  “Enemy of my enemy is my friend,” I muttered, considering if I wanted to take that route with the woman. It could work—and keep her off my back for a while. Such a plan could also backfire spectacularly.

  “Exactly. Taking her two accomplices isn’t enough. She almost killed you.”

  “I don’t blame her for what Naidoo did, Abrahan.”

  “You should. He was part of her crew.”

  The thirst for revenge did strange things to people; I’d have to nip his desire for payback in the bud before we reached the House Lost at Sea. I sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Are all pirates so crude?

  Long after I should have made plans and booked our flight to South Africa, I obsessed over Lucretta O’Malley, her crew, and the circumstances that led to our clash. The Black Scourge and my captain had started as rivals, that much I remembered. Then, somewhere along the way, they’d become lovers. I remembered that, too, as I’d resented how my captain’s focus had shifted too much in favor of a rival pirate.

  History had a bad habit of repeating itself, and I wondered what would become of us and our crews. Somehow, I’d come full circle, trapped in a tangled web of emotions I’d thought long abandoned.

  Lucretta O’Malley wasn’t the Black Scourge. I needed to remember that. I needed to remember she had nothing to do with my captain’s death. Her meddling in my affairs had annoyed me, but I understood her; she chased her family’s legacy.

  I was woman enough to acknowledge she had no way of knowing who I was, what I had been, and who I was willing to become to hide my cursed past. Her scheming had already involved Abrahan, who would never forget magic lurked in the darkest corners of the world, curses were real, and the sea held more secrets than he had ever imagined possible.

  Maybe Lucretta, Benny, and Bensen shared my Abrahan’s shoes, too. They’d seen me fall. A real human would’ve died.

  Then I’d come back and reclaimed what was mine, torching their ship and trapping them on my island, surrounded by the evidence of the two pirate queens who had once sailed the seas. I stared out the window without seeing anything, wondering what to do—if I needed to do anything at all.

  Lucretta O’Malley likely had enemies. With a little work, I could find those enemies if I wanted. I turned away from the window, pulled out my replacement cell phone, and searched the internet for the woman who had chosen to cross swords with me. As expected, she had enemies, having left a long line of disgruntled collectors in her wake.

  Like her ancestor, when Lucretta O’Malley wanted something, she got it. She tried honey first, and when that failed to gain her the results she desired, she coerced, outwitted, and conned her way to victory. Like the Black Scourge, she had a reputation, and it wasn’t a good one.

  Everyone agreed on one thing: the woman was a silk-wrapped sword, hiding her lethal edge under a sophisticated veneer.

  She also hated most men, just like the Black Scourge.

  History truly did have a bad habit of repeating itself.

  I laughed and spun around in my chair to face my partner-in-crime. “Abrahan?”

  Lounging on the bed he had claimed, he lifted his hand to indicate he listened while most of his attention remained focused on his book.

  “When you were with Lucretta, did she mention anything about being a lesbian?”

  That caught his attention, and Abrahan dog-eared the page he read, set his book aside, and arched a brow. “No. She might be bisexual. Her first mate’s a man, and she was definitely banging him at her leisure. She did make one comment, though.”

  Abrahan’s hesitance captured my attention. “Oh?”

  “She said she was disappointed she wouldn’t be able to give you the spanking you rightfully deserve.”

  I snorted, cleared my throat, and coughed so I wouldn’t break into a fit of hysterical laug
hter. “She said that to you?”

  “Not to me—to those two men of yours. I think she was trying to piss them off, but it didn’t work, especially since they both agreed they wouldn’t mind a turn. The commentary only pissed off her navigator. Are all pirates so crude?”

  “Yes.” I cleared my throat again to control my urge to chortle at the thought of that conversation. I’d never considered Benny or Bensen as partners—not like that. Age and gender meant little to me, but my excessive standards kept most at arm’s length. “Back in my day, women weren’t welcome on board. My captain was one of the rare exceptions, keeping me as part of her crew. She made a point of never engaging with any of the crew, too.”

  “Well, that Lucretta woman does.”

  “Good for her.” As I had from the day I’d been cursed, I wondered if my life would have been different if my captain had chosen to be a little more promiscuous. I doubted it. My captain’s lover probably would have killed me rather than curse me. Competition between pirates rarely ended well, and I found no shame in admitting the truth.

  I became jealous and territorial as much as the next pirate. My jealousy and territorial tendencies had only showed through for Ricardo, and my captain’s solution to that had been simple.

  She’d barred us from seeing each other along with her wretched lover.

  Still, I longed to discover what was beyond the curse. Hundreds of years of searching had ended in failure as always. I had returned to the House Lost at Sea and seen its treasures, yet I lived. In the end, revenge didn’t matter; I would linger long after Lucretta wasted away to bone and became a memory among many. Revenge would come no matter what I did.

  She would live, grow old, and die while I endured.