by ML Guida
He tilted his head toward the rack. “Free Ronan.”
She nodded. “I will be back, Father.”
Her father whimpered something unintelligible and Hannah fought back tears. She needed to be brave and strong. The roles between her father and her reversed, she was now the strong one.
She hurried over to the rack. Ronan’s black hair clung to his bruised face. His nose was at an odd angle. Strips of flesh had been ripped away from his torso, his twisted arms torn from his shoulders. His legs fared no better. Could he heal from this torture?
She stiffened. He needed blood. His red eyes gazed up at her. “So, you’re the one Palmer’s been hunting.”
She nodded. “You need blood.”
He turned away. She clasped his chin, forcing him to look at her, and put her wrist in front of his bloodied lips. “Drink.”
He refused to open his mouth.
“I need you to heal, Ronan. At least to be able to walk some. This isn’t the time to argue.”
“Do it,” Lark urge. “You’ve got to get out of here. You promised to protect my sister. Please Ronan.”
Ronan groaned, but he opened his mouth and sank his teeth into her wrist, sucking on her blood. White lightning ran through her again, but it didn’t hurt. Tingles ran up her mind. She felt a tugging as he greedily sucked from her. Dizziness swept over her. “Ronan,” she whispered. “Stop, I feel I’m going to faint.”
Her legs wobbled and she collapsed onto her knees. Her wrist ripped out of Ronan’s mouth and pain shot through her arm. Blackness swam in front of her eyes.
“Hannah, Hannah,” Lark called.
A buzzing echoed in her ears. Focus. Focus. Do. Not. Pass. Out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Hannah, Hannah,” a male voice echoed in her head. Not husky enough to be Kane. Heat washed over Hannah, her shirt sticking to her skin. She shook her head and tried to focus, but the room spun around.
“Hannah, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can…” She shook her head, trying to clear the growing fog in her mind.
“Listen to me,” the voice urged. “Can you do that Hannah?”
“Yes,” she whispered. At least she thought she whispered.
“Hannah,” Lark said. “Draw on your power. It will replenish you. I can help.”
Hannah nodded. She drew on her power, yet felt nothing but the cold air and hard floor. “I can’t.”
“Hannah, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“Bloody hell,” Ronan muttered. “I shouldna drunk from the lassie.”
“No, ’tis fine.” She gripped the rack, her nails digging into the splintered wood. “I swear.”
“Trust in me,” Lark said. “Trust in you.”
“Kane,” she muttered. She remembered his scent of sandalwood, the way he kissed her, his stubble chaffing her skin. His face swirled in her mind, deep emerald eyes filled with faith in her. He had always believed in her. Her heart pumped harder. She inhaled and exhaled. “Kane.”
Wind blew her hair, but ’twas a warm, caress as if Kane’s arms wrapped around her. She leaned her head back and bathed in it, feeling Kane’s chest behind her. She opened her eyes and breathed deeply, drawing on her power. It swelled in her chest. Her limbs tingled. Pulling herself up, she stood, her legs strong and firm and stared at Ronan’s manacles, stretching his arms high over his head. She flicked her wrist. The manacles clicked.
Groaning, Ronan lowered his arms. “Lord, that feels good.”
His face was less pale and his arms not so twisted. She walked around the rack and stared at the chains holding his legs. She flicked her wrist again. The shackles crashed to the floor. Ronan moaned again, his breath ragged.
“Ronan,” she whispered. “Do you think you can walk?”
He inhaled one more time. “Aye, I think I can. Just don’t expect me to run.”
Hannah put her arm around his shoulders. He hissed as she helped him sit up. His face paled again and his hair hung in his face. Sweat trickled down his battered body. She frowned. “Are you sure you can walk?”
“Aye,” he panted. “Give me a moment. Go help Lark.”
She nodded and walked over to Lark. He shook his head. “You can’t help me, Hannah. While I wear this collar, I can only perform magic with Palmer’s damn approval. He forced me to use my own magic to lock the chains.”
She tilted her chin and drew on her power.
“Hannah, no,” Lark ordered.
The rubies glowed on the choker, casting an eerie brilliance onto the room, and then twisted on the choker like screws. “Hannah, stop,” Lark begged. “I can’t breathe.”
Ignoring him, she focused on the choker and raised her palms. Her hair swirled around her face and energy surged through her. The wind grew stronger, hotter, whipping her hair across her cheeks. Her hands scalded. Sweat trickled down her chest. Sulfur swept over her lips and her eyes burned. It felt like someone blew gunpowder into her face. Was this a taste of Zuto’s power?
The wind pushed Hannah back, but she held her palms, drawing on more and more and more of her power. Red steam, emitted from one of the rubies, taking the form of a hand with long fingernails and bulging knuckles. The hand, palm facing her, slammed into Hannah, smacking her in the nose and knocking her flat onto her back. Her concentration broke and she tried to catch her breath. She rolled onto her side and dabbed at her nose, blood seeping out of her hand.
“I told you,” Lark wheezed. “You can’t help me.”
She wiped her nose, the back of her hand reddened with her own blood. She staggered to her feet and wiped her hand on her trousers. “I just wanted to free you.”
He smiled. “I know. Go. While you still can.”
“I might not be able to get the choker off you, but I can free you from those chains.” At least, she hoped she could.
“Hannah,” Lark warned. “You can’t.”
Her hands trembling and her heart pounding wild, she raised her palms, but this time, she focused on Lark’s manacles. Zuto had taught her a lesson. He was more powerful than her, deadlier. How could she possible go against him?
The rubies glowed again and she swallowed, waiting for another grim lesson. Zuto didn’t disappoint her. The same hot wind whisked around her and red steam spewed from the rubies, taking the form of two hands. This time, the hands gripped Lark’s wrists, nails digging into his flesh. Blood dripped onto the floor. “Hannah,” he panted. “Stop.”
Defeated, Hannah dropped her arms. The steam dissipated, but the deep cuts on Lark’s flesh remained.
“I’m so sorry,” Hannah whispered. “I tried, but Zuto’s magic, ’tis too strong.”
Closing his eyes, Lark leaned his head back. “I know, Hannah. But don’t you see Palmer’s using my own magic against me. He’s now in control of my magic. You must escape. He plans to use me to destroy you.” He opened his eyes. “You’ve got to move. Kane needs you.”
Her heart stilled. She closed her eyes. “Is…is…he hurt?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“No.”
Hannah sighed with relief.
“But before the battle ends, he’ll need you to defeat Palmer. Go.”
Heavy footsteps ran down the stairs. She darted toward the stairwell and pressed her back against the wall, her cutlass raised high, ready to cut down who ever entered the chamber.
“Wait,” Lark cried.
She glared and motioned with her hand for him to be quiet.
The footsteps slowed.
Her heart pounding, she bit her lower lip. A dark shadow emerged.
“Hannah, don’t,” Lark warned.
“Hannah?”
Hannah blinked. “William?”
William emerged, pistols in each hand. Blood trickled down his arm and crimson splattered his shirt.
Shoving her cutlass back into her sheath, she rushed over to him. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” he jerked away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She bristled. “Freeing my father.”
“Hannah, this ship’s burning. Palmer’s now determined to take the Phoenix. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“William.”
William’s eyes widened. “Mother of God, Ronan?”
He stuck his pistols into his belt and crossed the room with long strides. He wrapped his arms around Ronan and hugged him. “You’re alive,” he whispered. “You’re alive.”
Ronan winced and patted William’s back. “Good to see you, mate.”
The two men released each other. William gritted his teeth. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now.” He took a step back. “You can walk?”
“Aye,” His face worn, Ronan stood by Hannah’s father and gripped the chair. Ronan nodded toward her father. “But he can’t.”
Hannah hurried over to her father, who still sat in his chair, his body broken. “Help me, William. Please.”
William glanced at Lark. “What about him? We can’t leave him here.”
“Yes, you can,” Lark said. “You can’t free me. None of you can.” He looked at each of them, his eyes desperate. “But my sister can. Go to Tortuga and find Mariah Fey. She’s my only hope. Will you promise me this?”
Hannah pushed the hair out of her father’s sweating face and peered over his head at Lark. “I promise.”
“Aye, we all will,” Ronan added.
Lark sagged against his chains. “Thank you.” He nodded towards the door. “Get out of here.”
Ronan frowned. “But you’ll die down here.”
Lark snorted. “No, I won’t. Palmer won’t let his prized pet die.”
Hannah shuddered. She couldn’t imagine the humiliation and the pain Palmer would inflict on Lark. Palmer would tolerate no disobedience from his deadly weapon.
Hannah knelt next to her father. “William,” Hannah stared, pleading with him.
Her father lifted his head and stared at her with dull eyes. “He can’t lift me, Hannah. Leave me to my fate.”
William stormed over to her father. “Brace yourself old man.”
A look of confusion spread across her father’s face. “What…”
William grabbed her father’s arm. Her father cried out and he turned his head, his eyes closed.
Hannah winced. “William, please.”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t help him until we get back to the ship, if we have a ship.” He flung her father over his shoulder and groaned. William’s legs buckled and he fell on his knees. “I can’t lift him by myself. He’s too damn heavy.”
Hannah gritted her teeth. She refused to leave her father behind. Drawing on the power, she focused on her father. Slight tingles ran over her skin, a flutter swirled in her stomach and her hands shook, an invisible heavy weight bearing down on her arms. She dropped her arms to her side and panted. “I…can’t…Zuto…he…drained…me.”
Ronan hobbled around the chair. “I can help.”
“You’re not at full strength,” William glowered.
“I’m a vampire and strong enough to help you carry the man.” He grinned. “Of course, you’ll carry the brunt of the weight.”
“Fine,” William grumbled as he put her father down on his feet. Ronan slipped under her father’s arm, slipping it around his neck.
“You got him,” William asked.
“Aye.”
“Hannah, get behind us,” William ordered.
She drew her cutlass. “No.”
“Bloody hell, woman, do as I say,” William snapped. He grabbed her father’s arm and flung it around his neck. William shifted as if to try and find a way to balance her father’s weight.
“You need someone to lead the way, you won’t be able to fight and carry Father. Just take care of him.”
Before he could stop her, she grabbed his pistol and cocked it.
“Damn it, Hannah. ’Tis a bloody battle out there. Give me back my pistol. You don’t know how to use it. You’ll be killed.”
She swallowed, knowing he might be right, but what choice did she have? They needed someone and she was their only chance.
Hannah glanced at Lark who watched them, sadness reflected in his eyes. He’d be alone down here. She wanted to free him and wished her power had been strong enough.
“Hannah, go,” Lurk urged.
“We’ll be back,” Hannah promised. “With your sister.”
Lark gave her a tired smile and nodded.
Turning her back, she led the way with William grumbling and Ronan groaning behind her. Her father’s silence tore out her soul. He needed Doc. She was determined to defend them to the death.
She crept up the stairs. Thick smoke poured down the stairwell, followed by sweltering heat. Battle cries grew louder. Shadows darted in out of the smoke as she approached the entrance.
Eyes watering, she stepped onto the deck. Fire licked the Fiery Damsel’s sails and timber screamed as a piece of the main mast splintered and crashed to the portside. Hannah’s heart raced and she tried to push back the rising terror of relieving the trauma of the Dolphin. Through the smoke, she spotted a boarding plank. She peered over her shoulder.
“Move, Hannah,” William yelled. He struggled with her father’s bulk and Ronan’s face was pale. She worried any minute Ronan would pass out and drop her father.
She stepped aside. “No, William, go first. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Die,” a voice cried.
Hannah jerked. A pirate loomed over her, ready to strike. She grabbed her cutlass and swung. He laughed and lunged. Hannah aimed her pistol and fired. The shot hit him in the face and he fell backwards, still clutching his sword.
“Damn it, Hannah,” William growled. “Grab my powder and load the damn thing.”
Her hand shaking, she loaded the pistol. “Go, William,” she coughed. “Get my father out of here.”
William and Ronan swept past her, her father slumped between them. They edged across the plank just as a small explosion shook the Damsel. Hannah gasped. William, her father and Ronan tumbled on to the Phoenix’s deck.
The Fiery Damsel’s bow glowed with red, blue and gold flames, devouring the wood and dead bodies. The stench of burning flesh turned her stomach, reminding her of the ghastly deaths of her crew. She thought she’d feel satisfaction at seeing Palmer’s men dead, but only experienced a dull ache. The Dolphin’s crew was still dead. Murdered.
She ran across the plank. William pulled out his sword and engaged a charging pirate. Ronan wasn’t moving. She hurried over to him, but out of the black smoke, a figure emerged and her heart sank.
Jacques D’Aubigne circled her, angling his sword to her, eyes blazing murder. “So, we meet again, mademoiselle. I told you Palmer’s men would free me, no?”
Hannah braced her legs apart and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. Jacques lunged forward with his blade. It took all of Hannah’s skill to put aside the thrust.
Retreating, Jacques glanced at Ronan and her father. “After I slit your pretty little throat, I’ll gut those two.”
“Never,” she hissed, but she kept her anger and fear under control, knowing Jacques was trying to bait her, to get her to make a mistake, one she couldn’t afford to make.
Jacques walked slowly around her and Hannah followed him. His back to the flames, the angles of his face were sharpened by the flickering glow of burning embers. His sword flashed and Hannah moved to block it. The two blades crossed and slid down to the hilts, sending a rain off the steel. The strength of his blow shuddered down her arm and forced her backwards towards the railing.
He chuckled, baring his teeth, toying with her.
She was no swordsman, and he knew it. She was no pirate, and he knew it. She was no match, and he knew it.
Weapons parted and hit again. Hannah’s arm shook. Kane’s instructions ran through Hannah’s mind and she hoped this trick worked.
She deliberately invited Jacques to lock swords again, then, gave her wrist a twist, bringing the blade ar
ound and up, surprisingly breaking the strength of Jacques’ arm. Jacques smiled and leaned back, thrusting forward, following through with a death cry. Hannah grimaced, waiting for his sword to slash against her flesh, muscle and bone. But Jacques stumbled and missed, nearly falling onto his face.
Hannah pivoted away Jacques’ sword missed her by mere inches. She glanced down. Ronan had clutched Jacques’ ankle.
“I’ll kill you for that,” Jacques swore, kicking free of Ronan’s grip. Ronan tried rolling away, but Jacques stepped on his arm, pinning him.
Hannah whipped out William’s pistol, praying she loaded it right, and fired. Jacques cried out and jerked to the side, freeing Ronan. Ronan kicked Jacques in the back of his knees and Jacques fell to the deck. Not caring that he was defenseless, Hannah raised her sword, but Jacques whipped out a pistol from his belt and fired. The shot tore through Hannah’s shoulder and she cried out. Hot pain seared her flesh, bringing tears to her eyes. She had never felt such pain.
One arm dropping to his side, Jacques stumbled to his feet. “I’m through toying with you, bitch.”
He lunged for her. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, Hannah darted away. Jacques staggered past her towards the railing and slipped on the wet deck. With the grace of a dancer, Hannah whirled around and brought her sword down onto Jacques’ back, putting all her rage, anger and hatred into the impact. Her cutlass slashed deep into his flesh, slicing through tissue and bone, nearly cleaving him in half. Her cutlass embedded into his back, he screamed and tumbled through a broken gap in the bulwark, crashing into the black sea.
Hannah sank to her knees and clutched her shoulder. She bit back a sob. God, she wanted Kane. She wanted him badly.
“Hannah,” Ronan gasped. “Behind you.”
She raised her eyes. Black boots planted wide apart, followed by black trousers and a red shirt, straining against the broadest chest she had ever seen. The wind blowing his long red hair and beard, Quinton Palmer stood in front of her. His wild crimson eyes stopped Hannah’s heart. Blood drenched his torn shirt, but she couldn’t tell whether ’twas was his or someone else’s.
He snarled, revealing sharp fangs and snatched her hair, lifting her off the ground.