The Curse [Legend of Blackbeard's Chalice Book 1]

by Maddie James

She did. And she knew he was going to be the biggest obstacle in her path.

  "I'm not so sure it will work. I don't trust Rick. Not anymore.” Jeremiah stood beside Jack.

  Hell, all she needed was a battle with two alpha males at once.

  "It has to work. He's here. It's our only chance. He could flee at any time. We have to strike now and we have to use what we have to our advantage."

  Jack narrowed his gaze. “And what do we have, Hannah Claire?"

  She swallowed. “Me. And the farm. He wants the farm. It must be important because Mama told me to never let him have it. Perhaps I can trick him into thinking that it is the bigger asset. Bigger than the chalice. Perhaps he'll trade me the chalice for the farm."

  "But of course,” Vicki added, “you really wouldn't be trading."

  "No. I can throw enough loopholes into the mix that he'll never get it. I do know my Real Estate law."

  Jack paced. She went to him and spoke softly. “Jack, it will never be a risk. You and Jeremiah and Vicki can be right in the next room. Should anything get out of line, you will be there."

  "It is not worth it.” His stare bore into hers.

  She grasped his arm to get his attention. “Jack, our love is worth it. Our children's love is worth it. We have this time to be together. We have to try and the time is right now."

  They all stood silent for a moment. She hoped that meant there were beginning to agree with her.

  "Even if it means going to bed with him?” Vicki blurted out.

  Claire whirled and shot her a look that could kill.

  "I'm sorry, Claire. I had to say it. What if it comes to that?"

  With that thought, Jack pushed away and turned his back on them. He strode to the window and looked out.

  Claire swallowed. “Thanks, Vick, for putting that scenario in his head."

  "Sorry, but I know Rick and—"

  "It won't come to that. But if playing up to Rick will get the damn skull or cup or whatever the hell the thing is away from him, I'll do it. Even if it means pretending I'll marry him."

  "And you're going to trust Rick to back off when you say no?” Jeremiah interjected.

  "Damnation!” Jack shouted and pounded the wall with his fist. A little bit of plaster trickled down from the ceiling. He burst back into the discussion. “Trust! There is no trust when it comes to that man! Hannah Claire, this is not the answer. I forbid this."

  "It's my choice. You cannot tell me I can't do this."

  "You will obey me, woman!"

  "I'll not and you know it! We've been down this route before.” She stood before him, fists perched on her hips, her tone defiant.

  "I'll not have you used as bait."

  "Then what do you suggest? What plan do you have, Jack?"

  He harrumphed. “My plan would be to beat the bloody bastard silly until he told us where the thing was hidden."

  Jeremiah slapped him on the back. “I like your plan, man."

  Jack stood up a little straighter.

  "Well, if Rick gets out of line, you might just get that chance.” Claire placed her hands on his chest and softened her voice. “It is all we have, Jack. And I'm going to do it with help from the three of you or without it. If my way doesn't work, then you can beat the shit out of him."

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  Chapter Twenty

  She'd been nice for way too long.

  She'd demurely sat and listened as he went over her mother's taxes for the past few years. He'd stood supportively at her side when she went to the bank. She'd smiled sweetly at him when they'd settled the estate.

  Jeremiah and Jack were never too far away. She'd needed Jeremiah to rein Jack in more times than not.

  She'd played Juliet to his Romeo, Jackie to his Jack, Cher to his Sonny, until she wanted to gag. Now it was time get down to the nitty-gritty.

  She didn't trust him.

  But did he now trust her? That was the goal.

  For her plan to work, it was imperative that she had his trust.

  A fire crackled in the fireplace, giving off the only light in the old farmhouse living room. A silver tray, polished to a high sheen, perched on her mother's cherry coffee table. Two fluted champagne glasses sparkled in its center. A bowl of plump strawberries, which cost her an arm and a leg at a downtown imported food store, sat to their right. And Claire, the last tidbit added in this scene of seduction, stood nervously beside the fireplace wearing flowing black silk pants and a matching lace camisole, her best perfume dabbed at her wrists, diamonds twinkling at her ears and around her throat.

  Rick stepped across the room and Claire felt her abdomen clutch. As he drew closer, she sucked in a quick breath and held it, trying to quell her nervous stomach. His gaze connected with hers and held. She was almost afraid to glance away. He brought his hand to her cheek, and then Claire closed her eyes.

  What the hell am I doing?

  The skull. You are here for the skull.

  His fingers increased the pressure on her cheek. He was close, closer than she wanted. Reaching up, he cupped her face with both his hands, his eyes enduring. Her knees shook. How often had they been in this position before? He had been her lover once, but now, now it seemed so wrong.

  So disgusting.

  Rick slid one hand down the smooth column of her neck. His lips followed. She cringed.

  What the hell am I doing?

  "Rick. I want to talk."

  His gaze lifted from her neck to his face. “Talk? Now?"

  "Yes. Now. I have a proposition."

  His eyebrows arched.

  "Yes. It's ... personal."

  She hoped to hell Jeremiah had a good grip on Jack.

  I have to get the skull.

  I have to do what's right.

  Remember, Claire, her mother's voice interrupted, the choices are already made. Do what you have to do to complete the circle.

  Rick raked his tongue over his lips. His hand slipped to the small of her back, a finger dipped beneath the waistband of her slacks.

  "And what proposition is that?"

  "Marry me, Rick."

  I have to get the skull. It's the only way.

  Now Jack's voice intruded into her thoughts. You think he'll give it to you then? You really think the selfish bastard is going to do that?

  "I'll marry you tomorrow, Claire, you know that.” His eyes danced with excitement.

  "We can live here, on the farm."

  "Yes. We can.” He nodded to the agreement. “Let me love you, sugar. Let's take it all back to where it was,” he whispered into her hair and threaded his fingers through its silky softness.

  "Love me, Claire. Marry me. Make love to me. Let me give you my child."

  Your child?

  Abruptly, she stepped back. “Okay Rick. I'll marry you. Give you the farm. But I need something in return."

  Wary, Rick urged her to continue. “Go on."

  "I want Blackbeard's head."

  He laughed, loud, long and vicious. “What the hell are you doing?” He pushed away from her. The look on his face was pure evil.

  She swallowed the lump hanging in her throat. “I'll marry you, give you the farm, money, whatever you want, but first you have to give me the skull."

  Rick cackled. “Too late, my little pigeon. The skull is no more.” He hesitated for a second, his eyes dancing, and then continued. “The skull is now honed into a brilliant silver-plated cup. Blackbeard's Chalice. And its power, I'm afraid, is too much for you to handle."

  She remembered their conversation on Blackbeard's ship.

  The cult. The ceremony. The chalice made from Blackbeard's skull.

  "I want you to give it to me, Rick. You have no use for such a thing."

  "And you're crazy, Claire. Did you think I'd give up a precious artifact, one that could make me famous, just so you could play at marrying me and then run off with that lover of yours?"

  She'd blown it. This wasn't going to work. She placed a fist on each hip. �
��Yes. I did actually think you'd be that stupid."

  Rick stepped toward her. “You are an idiot."

  She thwarted his attempt to get closer by thrusting out both hands. She wanted him out now. Gone. Immediately. She'd had enough of him to last her a lifetime. There was no way he was going to hand over the skull. There had to be another way.

  Okay, so her plan had backfired. Well, he wasn't going to get what he wanted, either.

  And there was always plan two.

  "No, you're the idiot. You thought you'd worm your way into my life again, didn't you? You thought you'd marry me, knowing what a prime piece of real estate this farm is, and get your hands on it and my mother's money as well, didn't you?"

  Anger flared in his eyes.

  "You're really good, Claire, you know that?"

  Taken aback for a second, she eyed him with suspicion. “What are you talking about?"

  "The act. It's all been an act, hasn't it? I should have known. I have to admit, you got the better of me this time.” He chuckled again and stepped closer, touching the tip of her nose with his forefinger. She stifled the urge to flinch. “You're a great little actress. It's just that it ain't gonna work, baby. You'll never get the chalice. I know you've been trying to find me for weeks. I'm here to tell you now that it's never gonna happen, you will never get the cup."

  Afraid to move lest she crack her calm exterior, she replied, “Hear one thing, Rick Gentry, come hell or high water, I will have that cup. And I will get it when you least expect it, so you better watch your back."

  "Like hell.” Grabbing her cheek, Rick forced her face closer to his. His fingers bit into her skin until it hurt. Tears stung her eyes. She'd managed to slip away from this man too many times before. How could she have deliberately placed herself in his embrace once more and then made him angry to boot?

  Suddenly feeling trapped, like she was back on Blackbeard's ship, she reacted in the only way she knew how. She spat in his face.

  "Damn you!” Rick backhanded her and Claire fell into the sofa.

  With lightening speed, both Jack and Jeremiah burst into the room. Rick lunged at the two of them. With a shout loud enough to rattle the old windows in the house, Jack tackled Rick and pushed him into the wall. Pictures fell. Glass shattered. Rick punched back but was no match for Jack.

  He pummeled the man to the floor and Claire found herself screaming. Vicki joined her and tried to calm her. She watched as Jack slipped a dagger out of his boot and flipped it into a stabbing position in his right hand.

  "No!"

  Jeremiah grabbed Jack's dagger hand but he shoved him away.

  Claire screeched. “Don't let him do it, Jeremiah! We need him alive!"

  They struggled.

  "You'll not touch my wife again, you bastard."

  Jack pinned Rick to the floor with his knee and raised the dagger high in the air, then stopped. Rick was now bloody and spent, glaring up at him.

  "You're not worth killing. But shall I do to you what I did to your friend Edward Teach? Shall I take your balls like I did his?"

  Rick's eyes widened. Jack lowered the knife to Rick's crotch. “Some bloody pirate you'll be,” he muttered, “without your balls."

  "I have what you want,” Rick bit out.

  "That is precisely why I am not going to kill you,” Jack countered. “Tell me.” He dug the dagger into his trousers.

  "You want the chalice. But I don't have it. It's on the east coast somewhere."

  "Tell me. Specifically."

  Rick shook his head. “I don't know specifically. It could be one of several places. I turned it over to the man who is our leader. It could be in Boston. Hatteras. Or Barbados. I'm not privy to that information."

  Peering over the man, Jack positioned himself closer. “You are a liar and a pantywaist.” He ripped the fabric near Rick's zipper with the knife's point. “You know where it is."

  Rick frantically shook his head. “Look man, I'm telling you the truth. I don't know."

  He dug a bit deeper.

  "I swear!"

  Abruptly, Jack pulled off of him and Rick struggled to his feet. Blood ran from his nose and his right eye was already swollen. “Go,” Jack said. “Leave me and my wife alone. I don't ever want to see your face again.” He crowded closer and lowered his voice. “Because I will find you and I will take your manhood the next time."

  Rick glanced at Claire, “You'll regret this."

  "Get out of here, Rick."

  He swiped at his bloody nose with the back of his hand, and then swung his gaze back to Jack. “You'll not come looking for the chalice because if you do, you will die. I will see to that myself. You might have bested me today, but when you coming looking again, I will be ready. I will kill you and then she will be mine."

  Jack took a step. “Go."

  Taking one last look at Claire, he said, “You could have had it all, baby. You could have had it all.” And with that, he left the house and sauntered toward his car.

  As soon as he was out the door, Claire and Jack raced through the house to the kitchen, bid Jeremiah and Vicki a quick good-bye, and slipped out the back door. They jogged across the back yard to the fence. As quickly as they both could manage, they climbed it and ran through the night to the barn tucked into the far corner of a nearby pasture.

  Claire watched Rick's headlights out of the corner of her eye as he spun out of her driveway. There was no way he could see them in the night, she was sure. She just had to make sure she could see him. Rounding the barn to the back, she lost sight of him for only a minute as they approached the black rental car.

  "Get in,” she whispered. Jack followed.

  Quietly, they closed the car doors. She barely glanced at their duffel bags and backpacks on the back seat and spurred the engine to life. She then peeled out onto the dirt road leading to the two-lane.

  "Do you see him?” Jack asked.

  "Barely."

  "Don't lose him."

  "No."

  Putting the pedal to the metal, as her Papa used to say, Claire spun out onto the highway just as she saw Rick's taillights dip below a hill several yards in front of her.

  One long breath escaped her lips. She looked down and her hands were shaking.

  "Are you all right?” she said, glancing over at Jack.

  "I'll be better when this is finished. Are you?"

  She nodded. “I love you, Jack."

  He reached over, grasped her hand, and pulled it to his mouth for a kiss. “I love you, too, Hannah Claire."

  She kept her distance, her lights off, but always kept Rick in sight. They would to tail him to kingdom come, if they had to. They would follow until he showed them the way. They would find Blackbeard's Chalice and return with it to 1718.

  Or die trying.

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  Chapter Twenty-One

  His voice came to her on a wicked cold breeze.

  "Ah, me pigeon. Ye've come home to roost at last. Come here, me darlin’ lass, and let me get a good look at ye."

  She turned toward it and froze. There it sat, solidly in the center of the stone. Blackbeard's skull.

  Ripe for the picking.

  She moved toward it. The stone thrummed. Radiated a bit of red and orange.

  But as she stepped closer, the skull changed. No longer smooth bone, it morphed right in front of her. Layering on flesh and blood and matter.

  She had to get it. Had to snatch it now before the thing disappeared into the night. Now was the time.

  Was she alone? Where was she?

  Twirling, she glanced about. The full moon shone above her in the night. A dark cloud made a sinister shroud over half of it. The wind swift and sure raced from ocean to sound.

  She was alone.

  Jack? Where was Jack?

  No matter. She had to do this. Had to get the skull. It was up to her.

  "Come closer, sweet pigeon,” the thing taunted. “That's right, me lovely. Come closer so I may see y
our exquisite breasts."

  Eyes. The skull now had eyes? It wasn't just a skull any longer. The once empty sockets were now looking at her.

  Claire looked down. Her chemise was torn. Torn! How did that happen? Her breasts were nearly exposed, the night's chill making them firm, her nipples pebble-hard.

  "Don't look at me, you bastard."

  The skull hooted now. Loud and long. “Me eyes see more than ye know, lass."

  The ringing drummed in her ears as the stone came to life. It pulsed and glowed, teasing and seducing.

  Come, pretty Hannah. Come to the stone. See what it has for you today.

  Hair. It grew hair. Long awful dreadlocks that smelled already. A bitter reminder of being too close to the mangy sonofabitch. The stench was putrid, wafting closer to her on the breeze.

  I'll snatch him by that hair and wrap it up in my apron. I can't bear to look at it. But I have to get it. Have to take it back to Jack.

  She reached.

  The head spun.

  Jerking away, she watched it rise, spin, gurgle, laugh.

  "Come get me pretty Hannah. Come take me home,” it taunted.

  "Stop it!” she yelled to the stone. “Stop making it do that. Don't you see I need to get it?"

  She reached, pushing her hand into the vortex, careful not to step on the stone. Came up with air. She tried again, grasping at the flying dreadlocks. They broke off in her hand.

  His cackle was lost in that dizzying vortex, rotating over the stone like a tornado in a bottle. Sparks shot out and stung her face.

  Then it stopped.

  Suspended.

  Stone cold still in the night. Looking at her.

  No pulsing.

  No colors.

  No spinning.

  Just looking at her.

  When the flesh started to melt, she knew this was her time. Now! As the skull sunk closer to the stone, she rushed forward onto it, grasped the skull to her breast, and was immediately caught up in that same spinning, dizzying whirlpool of lights.

  Caught. No way out.

  She watched from the core as the blood red tornado spun around her. Screaming. The skull clutched to her chest. Pushing against the vortex. She was the axis. Everything twisted around her. Trapped.

  No! I need to get out! Back to Jack.

  Don't take me...