by LJ Andrews
“Do you want me to make it back alive for sure, or just maybe? Which one do you think Smythe will prefer? I think he wants that ledger and if he finds out you lot made it harder for me to survive—ˮ
“All right, all right,” the bored man said holding up a hand. He handed her an old cutlass, with a wooden handle. It was an ancient weapon, but it would have to do. “Take this an’ hurry on back.”
Nova offered one more glare in their direction before pushing a spikey palm leaf out of her face and rushing toward the town.
Chaos took her breath away. Pirates raided the quaint shops lining the streets of Mollem, while men ushered their wives and children into locked homes. The Vengeance crew tossed wooden boxes of fine silver through windows and pounded on doors simply to frighten the people barricaded behind. The printer shop yard was littered with white paper scraps. The torn shreds of the next day’s paper were stacked in piles as if the tropics of Mollem had experienced a random snowstorm.
Nova clenched her jaw tightly and pushed through the terror of the streets. A scream shot through her heart and her head whipped toward the blacksmith shop. Thoughts of endless days learning from Jovany’s father how to meld metal filled her mind, but were soon pushed out. A pirate had cornered a woman against the outer shop porch. The woman cowered against a heavy black anvil as he raised his cutlass over her head.
Nova seethed in desperation and darted across the street toward the trapped woman. She wasn’t going to make it in time. Pushing her legs faster, she told her body to move; she had to make it. A woman’s life depended on her. Even if it was her imagination, the strong turmoil rumbling through her chest seemed to abandon her heart and moved downward into the deep muscles of her legs. Whether time slowed or she ran faster, Nova didn’t care. Leaping over the small step leading to the back of the shop Nova stepped in front of the cowering woman just as the pirate’s blade was about to fall. His sleek steel slammed against her rickety cutlass and he looked out in surprise.
Nova glared at him and pushed back hard so the pirate stumbled, slamming against the edge of the step. When he recovered, he shot daggers toward her with his bloodshot eyes.
“Ye’ll regret that, witch. Smythe’ll have yer head.” Spitting a long line of brown liquid at her feet, he turned to torment another area of the street.
Her shoulders heaved up and down, and it seemed as if wild stallions had taken refuge inside her chest. Only the small voice saying her name shook her from her frozen stance.
“Nova…Nova, is that you?”
Slowly, she turned her head and met the eye of the woman cowering on the blacksmith step.
“Dria,” Nova breathed out in disbelief.
Dria wiped her tear-streaked face and cradled her stomach. Nova’s eyes widened as her hands wrapped around a small ball under her long, cream day dress. Dria’s brown curls had fallen loose and hung around her heart-shaped face wild like they used to when they spent the days island jumping.
Dria released a sob and wrapped her arms around Nova’s neck, holding her tight. “We heard…we heard you’d gone after your father…we… thought the worst,” she sobbed, before slowly pulling away and wiping her eyes again.
“Dria,” Nova stammered in disbelief. “You…can’t be seen with me. You have to lock yourself somewhere safe.”
Dria looked at her in confusion, finally taking in her appearance. “Nova, why…why are you dressed like…like a pirate?” she finished in a whisper.
“I can’t explain, but please get somewhere safe. Where is Jovany?”
Dria’s eyes filled with tears. “He is taking a shipment with his father to Silva; he’s not here. Nova, are you a pirate?”
Nova didn’t answer, in part because she didn’t know how to answer. She placed both hands on Dria’s thin shoulders, glancing behind her to make sure they hadn’t drawn any attention to themselves. “Please hide.”
Dria’s face scrunched, shrouding the kindness she’d had in her eyes when she’d first seen Nova. “I don’t understand where you’ve been, Nova Willock, but you broke your mother’s heart. She came here looking for you. She thought you might be dead,” Dria said forcefully. Glancing at her growing belly she continued. “I promised her if this child is a girl, I’d name her after you. But I won’t have my child named after a pirate.”
Dria coughed as if holding in more emotions and gathered her skirts before darting into the blacksmith shop. Nova’s heart cut in two as the door bolted behind her. Carefree, playful days with Jovany and Dria running all over the island faded slowly as the joy was erased by the pain in Dria’s expression. Nova wiped her face as stray tears fell onto her cheeks. Before any of the wild crew caught her standing complacently, she darted down the dirt road toward the line of modest homes where she’d once spent countless hours playing and dreaming.
The Willock house was dark in the setting sun, but as she watched the shadow of fire from the sun pass along the white wood planks, Nova was strangely comforted. It sat vacant, untouched since the night her father was torn from her life by Captain Smythe. Hesitating for only a moment, Nova pushed through the unlocked door. The kitchen was in disarray. Broken china scattered the floor and the hand painted chairs were still toppled from the scuffle between her father and the two pirates.
Memories flashed in her mind. The two men who’d snatched Varick away had been part of the Vengeance crew. She thought of ship, wondering now that she knew the truth if she’d seen them on board during her time with Smythe and his band of pirates. It wasn’t something she had time to dwell on now.
Nova covered her mouth with a hand and forced herself into the living room. Feathers and cloth covered the fine blue rug with gold tassels she used to spend hours braiding to Kamali’s dismay. Bending down, she placed the broken china clock on the end table and stared at its unmoving face, wishing she could turn back time to better days. Nova’s stomach twisted looking at the opening in the wall where her mother had shoved her to keep her safe. Dria’s words split her heart again. She knew Kamali’s heart was broken, but Dria had confirmed what she’d always hoped. Kamali was looking for her, but as the dark anger billowed like a storm in her chest, Nova knew she would no longer be proud of her daughter.
The wood floor creaked; Nova jumped back and pulled out the cutlass in one fluid motion. Her mouth dried instantly and it grew increasingly harder to swallow.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Atlas scanned the room before looking at her with confused regret. “I was told to make sure you were doing as Smythe asked.”
Nova forced a dry swallow before tossing her cutlass on the ground. “I don’t want you in here; leave me be. I’ll do what your precious captain says.”
“Nova, I…I have orders,” he said quietly.
“GET OUT!” She screamed. Fury, heartbreak, and wrenching pain spilled to the surface. She wanted to plunge the blade of her old sword deep into his heart so he could feel as she did, but yet at the same moment she wanted him to take her in his arms and erase the deep betrayal.
Atlas frowned and looked at the ground. His muscular arms twitched uncomfortably as he tensed his muscles. He kept his beard trimmed short, and it added to his refined look that tormented her the more she watched him. She hated Atlas but found herself torn with remembering their short romance fondly.
“I’ll be outside,” he finally said, before turning and leaving her to her broken home.
Nova held her breath until she heard Atlas mumble to other pirates surrounding her home, no doubt making sure she did what they were there to do. Angrily, Nova stomped toward her parents’ old bedroom. If Varick hid something it would be in the room.
The floorboards were still lifted up from where Kamali tore out the dagger and Phoenix seal the night they fled. Their bed was unmade and the handmade quilt was sprawled along the dusty floor. Nova bit her lip, keeping the painful sob balled in her throat though all she longed to do was curl up in the warm yellow fabric and remember the many nights Varick e
ntertained her with wild stories of the Unknown.
Tearing her eyes away from the feather bed, she ripped open the armoire and tossed forgotten shirts and dresses which only added to her pain. She pressed her hand against the back, but the wood was one solid slab; no hidden compartments. Nova slid down the door of the armoire, sighing loudly as she held tight to the cusp of one of her mother’s evening gowns.
“I say we’s burn it,” a sinister voice came through the thin window pane outside the bedroom. “once she finds what we’s here fer, we burn it to the ground.”
“Shut it,” Atlas’s firm voice responded. Nova’s anger fueled the more she heard his voice. How dare he defend her when he was the reason she was a prisoner to the Vengeance.
She pushed her ear against the window when the pirate kept arguing with Atlas. “Ye didn’t know Varick. I saw’s him come aboard the night we’s took him. He’s be a man ye don’t want trackin’ ye down. We should cover our tracks.”
“You think burning his house would stop him from finding his only child?”
Nova’s stomach flipped when it was Kale’s sarcastic voice answering instead of Atlas. The window was foggy from the humid air, and waterfalls of condensation skewed her view of the outside.
“Would you both shut your mouths?” Atlas snapped. “I’m in charge here. We’ll stay put a little longer before going in.”
“Funny, you almost seem like you want to give her some time alone in her house,” Kale said snidely. “You’d think you almost care.”
“The wench be a means to the end,” the unknown crewman answered for Atlas. “Young Atlas here agreed to tossin’ her over, so watch yer mouth, briggy master, or ye’ll be joinin’ her behind bars.”
Lead balls seemed to roll over her chest, as she stepped back from the unsettling talk. Clasping her throat, she breathed deeply until the heavy weight eased a bit. Frantically, Nova tore paintings from the flowery paper walls looking for anything hidden in the wall or behind frames. She let the tears flow freely when she tipped the small chest of drawers and chopped the old cutlass blade along the back. Nothing.
“Where is it, Father?” she cried to the empty room as a blue shadow melted the bright sunlight away. Night was falling and Smythe insisted the plunder be complete before the moon was high in the sky. Any longer, and the navy would be bearing down on them.
Lifting her head, she looked toward the back door to the small, but once beautiful, back lawn. She clutched her cutlass and darted through the chaotic living room, through the small reading parlor, and out the back door.
Flowers, which once filled the pleasant yard with intoxicating scents and relaxation, were now dreary and wilted. Vines lining the white fence and surrounding the small lawn writhed along like thin, brown snakes. The metal sitting chairs her father had welded together for her mother’s birthday had patches of orange rust dotting the legs and seats. It was a lost wasteland, with happy memories now ghosts of what the house once was. Nova wiped her tears once more, leaving the broken house behind. It wasn’t the Willock family home anymore. It was a shell of her past, but it would never take away the happy days and love once shared in its rotting walls.
Her father’s tool shed was small, only wide enough to hold one person comfortably at a time. His workbench was nothing more than a chopped stump, but he’d never complained and she remembered how he had enjoyed working with metals and wood. Nova opened the door slowly. Tools hung along the wall covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. She breathed deeply, enjoying the faint scent of wood shavings, before tearing back hooks and tools looking for anything that would appease Smythe.
There was nothing behind the planks making up the walls, nothing behind any tool. Nova’s lips curled into a smile. Smythe had been wrong about Varick. Her father wasn’t the pirate he’d tried to get her to believe. He was a shipyard worker who had loved his wife and daughter to the fullest.
Nova looked at the stump before leaving the shed; it was a final spot in which concealing something could be possible. Slowly, she tipped the stump until it plopped hard, sending a cloud of dust into the air. When the dust settled, Nova’s heart sunk. A book-sized cutout was underneath the stump and inside was a thick leather-bound book.
Kneeling, she rubbed her fingers over the seal on the front. It was the Scarlet Moon. She sniffed when she opened the inside flap. There in the corner, burned into the leather, were the words: Varick Willock, followed by the title of First Mate crossed out, and the word Captain blaring from the cover beneath his name.
“No,” she breathed out slowly, rubbing a thumb over his name. For the first time since she was child, Nova believed all those tales he’d once told her weren’t stories at all. They were memories. How could her father be captain of the Scarlet Moon? The ship belonged to Captain Phoenix, and she was certain the frightening tales of the most legendary pirate couldn’t have happened while raising a child.
Without opening the book, she stuffed it angrily beneath her belt. Secrets. Her life was one enormous, dark secret. Her tears fell dry when she stormed back into the house, thinking of the truths her parents had kept from her. Now look at their lives. She cursed Kamali and Varick’s secrets of which she may never learn the truth. In her heart, Nova believed if she’d known the truth, they would still be together.
As she passed through the kitchen toward the waiting pirates, she gave once last glance at the table. Her eyes widened when they fell upon a yellow piece of parchment with her name written on the front in her mother’s writing.
Nova lunged on the note desperately. Her anger toward the hidden truths melted away as she saw Kamali’s curled, perfect penmanship sprawled along the parchment.
Dearest Nova,
If you return home and I am not here, know I am looking for you. I will never stop. Nova, I do not have much time before I must seek help from those I fought my entire life to keep you from. Please, darling, if you find this note, and if you are able, return to Arbeiten. Briggs will return each month on the first day to wait for you. I pray you find this before I must find another way to help you. There are things you do not know, my darling girl. Past transgressions have put you in danger, and there is much to tell you. But if you find this, I must tell you one thing. If you see a woman in white in your mind’s eye, Nova, your very life may depend on this—do not believe her.
Chapter 3
Family of Pirates
Nova stared at the odd note, ignoring the uncomfortable twisting of her stomach. Her mind flashed to her dream of the woman in white on the golden throne. Her face was so vivid in her mind, so beautiful and terrifying at the same moment. The heavy weight of the dark anger trapped in the center of chest grew more uncomfortable as she re-read Kamali’s warning as if it was responding to the thoughts of the woman in white.
“Wench! Navy ships on the horizon, if yer not out here soon we be leavin’ ye to fend for yerself!” A rough, deep voice from one of the crew broke her thoughts.
Nova folded the parchment and tucked it deep in the baggy pocket of her stained brown pants, felt for the hidden ledger to ensure it was secure, and took one final look at her family’s house. As she closed the door behind her, her heart trembled, knowing she was closing the door on the memories and love she’d known every day within the walls of the Willock home.
“’Bout time,” a stout, angry looking man said folding his arms over his chest.
Atlas watched her beneath the brim of his leather hat, ignoring the whining from the impatient crew. “Did you find it?”
Nova glared into his bright blue eyes as she stormed past him, not speaking a word. From the corner of her eye, she watched Kale smirk at her obvious disrespect for Atlas, and he followed close behind her as they took a narrow back road around the small Mollem ponds toward the Vengeance. Nova stayed low until she reached the coast where three jolly boats still bobbed, waiting to be loaded. Several others were rowing through the clouds to the black silhouette of the ship in the distance.
She glan
ced toward town thinking of Dria, alone and frightened in the smithy shop. She prayed they could meet again and that she might have the chance to explain, but the pain in Dria’s eyes lessened her hope in the strength of their friendship. Smoke and red fading embers filtered through the thick line of palm trees from the destruction of the pirates. The people of Mollem hadn’t deserved what they’d been dealt, and Nova felt a twinge of responsibility for their pain.
“Nova, time to go,” Kale said behind her.
He was standing in the small boat and holding out his hand. She looked at him, and though their relationship was tense oft times, his eyes were filled with nothing but sympathy. Reluctantly, she accepted his help into the boat, quickly turning her head away from her burning home island.
Atlas had joined their boat and sat in front of her, bringing more discomfort to the already small quarters. Nova glared from under her angry brow and turned her feet over the bench so her back was facing him. She only had a short while before she had to hand over the small leather book to Captain Smythe, so with great care and small movements, she took the ledger from her belt.
The first page was nothing more than vectors, but the second page was filled with her father’s slanted, sharp handwriting. Nova covered her mouth to hide the emotion threatening to spill out; it was a true sailor’s log book, but the date went back thirty years earlier, when her father was nothing but a young man. She yearned to learn more about him and why he’d kept this part of his life from her, but as she read the first page, her hope of finding Varick only brought despair.
“What does it say?” Kale whispered. She heard Atlas clear his throat behind them, but Kale only turned and rolled his eyes before focusing on her again.
Now, Nova smiled at his disrespect, and for a moment she believed in time she could possibly call Kale a trustworthy ally—someday.
Nova flipped halfway in, not sure where to start. On the page she stopped, there was nothing of great importance, just daily reports entered like any first mate might record, until the final paragraph. She held her breath as she read through the choppy, rapid sentences.