“Ever since he cut that bond with the Queen, he has been hunted by her other Shadows, by the Society, by anyone the Queen could offer a bounty to.” Emma stood as well. “Before he met you, all he wanted to do was save his sister from the Society and shake off the people hunting him. Live a life of peace. But then he met you.”
“And?”
“And now he wants to shut everything down. The Society. The Queen. The East India Company. But it’s complicated. They’re all connected. The East India Company works directly with the Queen in a shaky alliance that either could break at any point. The Queen turned so many innocents for The East India Company, and in return, she gets to feed from humans, stay young and alive and adored as an actual Queen of her own island. Whatever she demands, she gets.”
“And she wants Drew.”
“Hell hath no fury and all of that,” Emma said with a sardonic smile. “I think she truly loved him, in a way even she didn’t expect. And when he left her, she was both surprised and furious. She waited for him. She believed he would come back to her, on his own. That is the one thing she realizes now she can’t have—she can’t have Drew by his will. So now she’s willing to have him any way she can, or, at least, make sure no one else can have him. She refuses to let anyone have her most treasured possession, so she’s been using the few remaining ties he has against him. Hence Wendy being taken and Christopher being turned.”
“Hence every Shadow being on the hunt for me?”
Emma nodded. “Why do you think Drew does not want to touch land? He doesn’t want there to even be an opportunity where anyone could take you from him.”
“This map,” Kelia said, beginning to peel off her breeches carefully. They clung to her body like a shadow, and she nearly lost her balance. “Where does it lead to, if not land?”
“Oh, it leads to land,” Emma said emphatically. “The only land he has any interest in visiting anytime soon,” she added. She walked over to her cot, giving Kelia some semblance of privacy. She began to braid her hair, her fingers quick and precise. “The Isle of Sangre is where the Queen lives, where she refuses to leave. It is surrounded by ruthless Shadows, some there by force, others by choice, and protected by Sirens—water witches—and their breed of mutants.”
“Mutants?” Kelia looked up at Emma, but her eyes only came in contact with her back. It was probably a good thing, considering Kelia was in nothing but her starkies. She hastily pulled over her undershirt.
“The water witches are the only witches that don’t keep a human form, like Daniella, Wendy, and myself. But the form of Siren is still deceptively human, at least from the torso up,” Emma said. “They are not important, at least not yet, but with them protecting the Queen, who has alliances with the East India Company, I believe they will be soon.”
“And Drew wants to go to this island?” Kelia hopped a few times, trying to both keep her balance and pull up her breeches. “Why? To kill her?”
Emma glanced over her shoulder as Kelia pulled on her tunic. The material was surprisingly soft despite how worn it was.
“That’s what he thinks, more or less,” she said, her tone dropping in a strange way. “Drew thought that freeing himself from his Bond with the Queen would mean she could not get to him. Clearly, it has had the opposite effect. And now the Queen knows of you. So yes, he wants to kill her.”
Kelia reached up to pick at a piece of fluff on her shoulder, and then flicked it from her fingertips.
“Okay, but why?” she asked, finally meeting Emma’s gaze. “I’m not his sister, and I’m barely his friend. I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”
Emma fully turned around to stare at Kelia, tilting her head to the side. Her new braid was tighter, more elegant, so her hair hung over her shoulder in neat platelets. There was something sparkling in her dark eyes, something Kelia was almost positive was amusement.
“Don’t be daft, woman,” Emma said, not unkindly. “Drew Knight cares deeply for you. I do not believe even he, himself, knows how much he cares for you. Surely you must know that.”
Kelia felt heat invade her skin. She remembered the kiss, the intensity of his lips on hers. The way his tongue danced in her mouth, battling for dominance. The way his arm wrapped around her waist like a snake, tightening its grip on her. The way his hand buried his fingers in her hair like the roots of a tree, making sure she understood who was in charge. Making sure she knew who was in control. She could still feel the rain pelt her face, the steam piercing the black sky, the cold that wrapped its bitter arms around her.
She hoped Emma truly could not read minds. No one knew about the kiss save for them, and that was how she intended for it to stay.
“Drew hasn’t told me anything,” Kelia said slowly. She smoothed the wrinkles on her black breeches—whoever these had belonged to before her was slightly bigger at the waist—and cleared her throat. There was an awkwardness that choked the comfort in the room, and she was not quite sure how to change it. “I’m not going to assume anything, especially when it concerns the feelings of Drew Knight.”
“You’ve heard the stories then?” Emma said, her tone airy and indifferent. “Drew Knight does have a reputation for himself. This much is true. But—”
“Emma.” Kelia didn’t want to discuss Drew’s potential feelings for her. She also didn’t want to discuss his reputation and the feelings he’d had for others before her. Right now, they were friends, and that was good enough. She did not want to ruin that, especially considering that unto itself was a fragile thread that threatened to snap daily, whenever he gave her a particular look with those dark eyes. “Even if Drew Knight did care about me, that does not explain anything about the Queen. The Queen is not the one who captured Wendy or Christopher. Why, then, does she want to capture me? Why not leave it to the Society?”
Emma walked over to Kelia and gently pushed her into a sitting position at the edge of her cot. Emma sat down behind her. Somehow, she managed to procure a brush and, without a word to Kelia, began to brush Kelia’s tangled, sea-kissed hair. Kelia closed her eyes, and she relaxed. The simple gesture of one woman brushing another woman’s hair was enough to ease any tension, any worry, slip away—at least, temporarily.
“Well, for one,” Emma said, “the Society is fairly dismantled as present, thanks to this really badass Slayer I know.”
Kelia flicked her gaze up. “Be serious, Emma.”
“I am. But to answer your question, you see, Drew stole the Queen’s heart. So she wanted to lure him back with Wendy and Christopher. But you stole Drew’s heart. She doesn’t want you as bait, love. She wants you dead.”
A chill iced up Kelia’s spine, and the water outside could be heard over the soft silence of the room. She didn’t know what terrified her more: the idea that the Queen wanted her dead...or the idea that Emma, a woman known for her accuracy in reading what people think and feel, believed that Kelia had Drew’s heart.
“Drew Knight is her most prized possession,” Emma continued. “The fact that Drew regards you in any way, shape, or form is a threat on her, and she will consider it a personal attack from you.”
“Why not blame Drew?”
“She will. She does.” Emma came to a particularly dreadful knot in Kelia’s hair and slowed to work on it with the brush. There was a soft tugging on her scalp, but it was not rough and painful. “But she blames you more. She wants to punish Drew by putting you through unimaginable torture, where death would be a welcome reprieve.”
Now Kelia knew where Drew got his violent ideas from…
“And Drew wants to kill her?” Kelia glanced out the window at the black night. The moon’s glow danced along the surface of the ocean, but that was it. “If he succeeds, what then?”
Emma was silent for a long time. All Kelia could hear was the sound of the brush through her hair.
“I don’t know,” Emma murmured finally. “It could be a very bad thing indeed, although Drew would probably not say so.”
“Why would it be bad?” she wondered out loud.
The brushing stopped, and Emma shifted behind her. Without warning, Emma parted her hair in three even sections before taking them in her hands and braiding the hair tightly.
“The Queen has one thing Drew does not,” Emma said as she braided Kelia’s hair. Kelia felt her fingers dance behind her, an expert in the task. “And that is power and control over the Sea Shadows. An ability to summon them at any time.”
“Wait, what?” That sounded alarming. “The Queen can control all of the Sea Shadows? What about Drew’s men?”
Emma waved off Kelia’s concern. “Drew has a few he has freed, with my help. But most Shadows don’t want that. I mean, of course they want freedom, but they don’t want to upset their Creator. Until she demands their presence, they are free to do what they wish, so why risk upsetting her in an effort to break those ties?”
“And Drew doesn’t care? That’s an army against him. He should free all of the Shadows, whether they want it or not!”
“That’s easier said than done, and would come with...other consequences,” Emma said. “Besides, Drew is only focused on the goal that directly affects him and those he cares about: you, me, Wendy, potentially his crew. However, there are more to consider.”
Kelia started picking at the material of her tunic. Her heart rate accelerated, but she tried not to let her nervousness get to her. In all honesty, she did not even know why she was nervous.
“More?” she questioned. “What more would Drew need to consider?”
Emma dropped her hands from Kelia’s hair. They slapped against Emma’s thighs, and she looked over her shoulder.
“For one thing,” Emma said, “what would happen to Shadows who knew they did not answer to anyone but themselves? Even if the East India Company decided to step in, what could they do to stop a beast that feasted on human blood and had supernatural abilities, but felt no need to protect the discovery of their Creators?"
Kelia paused, allowing Emma's words to sink in.
"There’s a good chance," Emma continued, "with the Queen dead, there would be somewhat of...well...a Shadow apocalypse.”
Chapter 5
Drew Knight used to feel free standing at the helm of his ship, his fingers grasping the rungs of the wheel.
Not anymore.
His eyes were drawn to the horizon. Not on the abundance of the ocean; rather, there was a spit of land slowly coming into view. The island was unknown—not drawn on atlases. Only the magically inclined knew of its existence, as well as humans who were given the location by the supernatural. It was a land ungoverned, a land where potions could be easily acquired, where blood could be feasted on in plain sight.
Isle Del Malditos.
The Island of the Damned.
It was a perfectly fine place to find sustenance, but that’s not what Drew wanted. He wanted freedom. He wanted to go to the Isle of Sangre. But Isle Del Malditos...this isle was for his crew. Once they were nourished, then he could chase his freedom.
When he had first broken his bond with the Queen, he had spent a good portion of his time here. He had no purpose other than to feed, to fuck, and to be surrounded by those who were similar to him.
He was a sorry piece of excrement back then. A victim, as it were, drowning himself in both blood and alcohol. It was no surprise why Emma decided to leave him and return to Port Royal. He was not in a good headspace at the time, probably not someone anyone with their head on the right way would desire to be around.
That changed, of course, when word got out about who severed his bond. He should have known the Queen would track Emma. He was ignorant and arrogant and a goddamn fool. She had been taken by the Society, been forced to participate in their breeding program—a program started by Kelia’s father.
It was only then that Drew was smacked with the thought that he had been doing nothing but eating, fucking, and feeling sorry for himself. He would free her, he decided. But that did not make him brave. He still cowered. Afraid to fall into the hands of the Queen so soon after being free, he recruited Wendy to assist him. Wendy did, and Emma was freed, but then Wendy fell into the program during the rescue mission. And, in order to get Wendy out, he needed Kelia.
He had condemned each woman he cared about because he was a coward. He would never do so again.
“And here I thought you would never step foot on this island again.”
Emma had this supernatural way of sneaking up on him. He should not let it get to him, but there were times, such as this, where he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that it was difficult not to get spooked.
“We all do things we do not want to do,” Drew muttered. “Apparently, the crew wants a couple of nights of debauchery before we find the Queen and slaughter her on her goddamn island.”
“Do you think Grayson—”
“If I am being honest,” Drew said, shifting his weight and steering the ship thirty degrees west, lining up better with the island, “I am hoping that bastard is nothing more than ash.”
“You stole his ship,” Emma pointed out. “You bought his crew. A man—especially one like Grayson Briggs—will not be happy to see you, Drew. If he isn't dead, of course.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Drew didn’t like snapping, least of all to Emma, but he was not in the mood to think about Grayson Briggs. “I have no other options here. This is the fastest passage to Sangre, and the only island on the way. We need supplies, too. If we had gone back to another island for supplies, we’d still need them again before we hit this point. You know this.”
“I know a lot of things,” Emma said. “But you rarely care to hear them.”
Drew waved her off. He knew what she was getting at. The ‘suicide mission’ talk again. First it was about the Queen. Then the Shadow Apocalypse. Now, she was trying to scare him with Briggs?
“For someone who knows so much, you should know that if I’m not scared of the Queen, then I am least of all afraid of Briggs.” He scoffed. To suggest he should be afraid of that sorry excuse for a man was mockery. “Besides, I don’t expect to stay there more than two nights. Then I can kill the bitch and finally be free.”
“Will you be?” Emma asked. “Free, I mean. Will you really be free then?”
“That’s a ridiculous question. Of course I’ll be free then.”
“You always say you’ll be free when,” Emma said pointedly. “But the terms are always changing.”
Drew let her words roll off him like the meaningless waste of air they were.
“We should be there in half a day if the winds remain favorable,” he said, his eyes never wavering from the island.
Emma pressed her lips together and nodded defeatedly. When Drew looked over his shoulder to see if she was still present, he found himself staring at nothing but the salt-tinged breeze.
It was surprisingly warm, the sun shining down on the ship, but for some reason, this seemed more ominous than if the sky was black and it was raining bullets. It was almost as though it was a false sense of security, the way a Siren lured her victims into a state of hypnotic bliss before ripping out his throat.
The sails flapped in the gentle breeze. His crisp Jolly Roger—a pure black flag featuring a white skull with two fangs in its mouth dripping crimson blood—billowed in the air next to the white sails.
It was nice to finally fly it freely. Before, when he was docked at Port George, he had to suppress it. His Jolly Roger was infamous, and any sight of it around the island would have given the Society a clear indicator of his location—and that was something he had not wanted to risk. Now that the Society was far behind them, he could fly it proudly, letting everyone know who was coming. A looming threat, a strict promise of no mercy from the most notorious Sea Shadow to ever sail the Caribbean.
Hours passed. Christopher came to speak with him about the plan, but Drew did not need to pay full attention to the Infant. All Christopher had cared about was getting Wendy back. And he had that. Drew was surprised the two were still with him, though to be fair, they hadn’t really had a chance to leave yet.
By the time the island was close enough to see it as more than just a spec in the distance, the sun was on its way down from its highest point. Judging by the sun’s position in the sky, Drew would guess it was just after three o’clock in the afternoon, maybe a bit later. The taverns lining the docks would be getting ready for the evening rush. Any of the witches on land would wait for another hour or two before closing up shop and heading home for the night.
It wasn’t by accident that witches and Shadows avoided each other on land. Witches could take control of the elements surrounding Shadows in order to control them while Shadows could rip into the flesh of witches if they were fast enough. So long as they each minded their own place, there were hardly any issues between them, but the general disdain each entity held for the other seemed to fuel conflict when they crossed paths.
It was why he’d hesitated to bring Emma aboard his ship in the first place.
And now you have three witches aboard, you fool.
Drew shook his head and refocused his attention on sailing until they were roughly an hour away. Then he called a meeting. The sun was setting, the sky a brilliant bright hue of gold and orange and yellow against the gentle blue of the sea.
It was not long before his crew lined up on deck, shoulder to shoulder, eyes out at sea. Drew knew they saw the island, knew by the way their nose wrinkled that they could smell the blood, the lust, the magic.
He did not begin until everyone was on deck.
The witches all looked bored, muttering what a waste of time this was, save for Emma. She didn’t have to vocalize what was plain on her face. Kelia had a look of indifference as well, but there was an edge to her eyes—one that suggested she was curious but also cautious about what was going to happen.
Gift of Darkness: Book 3 in The Vampire Pirate Saga Page 4