Dead Man's Kiss

by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  “We burst through the church doors back into the night and were met with the tavern owner and his musket.”

  He remembered how his heart stilled. Not that he had been scared staring down the barrel of a gun. He’d been in a handful of battles. He’d faced death. Mocked it, really. But this night had been different. The air had hung thick, the sounds blunted to his ears. The fear mixed with reckoning in the man’s pale eyes meant he intended to shoot.

  “He couldn’t shoot us both, not without reloading. But sure as the rain falls, he was going to shoot one of us. And we just stood there, staring at him, him staring at us. The tension was so tight, time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Until Towney dropped his loot.”

  The metal clanging to the cobblestones pierced the veil. Everything happened at breakneck speed.

  “I screamed for Towney to run just as the man fired. I fled, jostling past the keep, causing him to stumble. But he was already shoving powder down the bore. I made it to the corner before I looked back. Towney was on his knees, his hand reaching out to me.”

  The nightmare replayed in his head with vivid clarity. The plea in Towney’s tear-filled eyes, the terror on his boyish face wrenched at his soul every time he gave in to a moment thinking of him. He worked hard to suppress visions of Towney, and all the heinous emotions. Damn Fraco for forcing him to face Towney again. Damn him!

  Valeryn took a deep breath. He was at it again, blaming someone else for his faults. Would he ever gain the ballocks to admit his guilt?

  “Did you go back?”

  Coward. Valeryn turned away, fixating on a crack in the wall outside the cell. “No. He fell over dead.”

  He grunted his disgust with himself. “Two other boys were killed that night. Only six made it through.”

  “What happened when you got back to the ship.”

  “Didn’t go back,” he said. “I failed to follow orders of my captain. Thought to lead my own raid. Those boys followed me, looked up to me, believed in me. I failed to protect them. A bloody cross-grained cockerel.”

  “If you didn’t go back, how’d you end up here?” Fraco pressed. “The brethren is strong, yet you are a captain.”

  “An aberration, to be sure.”

  “So…”

  “Blackthorn found me.” Drowning in a sea of sorrow and strong arrack. “Hauled my sorry arse back to the ship to face my punishment. Moses’ law.”

  He deserved and welcomed every lashing. And he survived. It still baffled him that he was forgiven, even more that Blackthorn continued to favor him.

  The silence in the cell went on a beat too long. He threw a glance over his shoulder. Fraco stared at him, mouth agape.

  “What’s with you, boy?”

  “You survived thirty-nine lashes?”

  “The infection didn’t kill me,” he said, bitterness thick on his tongue. He firmly believed he lived to suffer for his sins.

  Fraco nodded. “Makes sense.”

  Valeryn turned and leaned against the cell bars. Fine, he’d indulge the upstart. “What does?”

  “Why you are so reckless. You do not care if you die.”

  “Figure that all by yourself, did ya?”

  “It is as I said before,” Fraco relaxed back, a smug tilt to his mouth. “You’ve got nothing to lose.”

  “Didn’t you hear me before? There is much more to lose than my life.”

  “Which you are willing to forfeit. I’d say that makes you formidable. All you need is a plan.”

  Valeryn shook his head. Fraco just didn’t get it, and he’d heard enough. But he was right. He needed a plan to help Fraco gain his freedom, though the idiot ought to find his own way out. “We’ll find a way to send word to your father. I’m sure between the alcade and your cousin, they will be able to negotiate your release.”

  Fraco snorted. “Not even close, amigo. We will escape here and now.”

  It was Valeryn’s turn to snort. “And what, pray tell, will we do once we make this escape.”

  “How am I to know? You are capitán.”

  A loud explosion shook the cell walls.

  “What the hell?”

  Another explosion and then another. “In the harbor,” Valeryn said. He rattled off a curse. Someone was attacking. “Diego,” he growled. Was he attacking the port? Nay. He was firing upon a ship. ’Twas what he was here for. Was it the Arcadia, or the Amalia?

  Catalina! Where was she? Was she in harm’s way? Who was looking after her? Protecting her?

  He was a caged beast. He had to get out of there. See to her safety. Then to the crew, and then possibly the port.

  Valeryn fisted the iron bars, giving them a good shake. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “So it will be done.”

  Fraco crossed his leg over his knee and unbuckled his shoe, slipping it off.

  This was no time to undress. “What in Od’s bones are you doing?”

  Fraco twisted and pulled a tiny pin from the buckle. “Getting us out of here,” he said.

  He put his shoe back on and moved to the cell’s lock. Easing his mangled hand through the bars, he said, “I was a bit of a handful growing up. They could never keep me out of the locked pantry where the meat pies and tarts were kept.” He wiggled the pin into the lock.

  “This is your special skill?” Valeryn forced his jaw to close.

  “Never know when you might need to make a break out, or a break in.” The angle of his wrist was perfect for maneuvering the pin inside a lock’s tumbler. “Got me into many a girl’s private chambers, too.” Fraco winked at him.

  “Guess this explains why you have so many shoes.” Valeryn couldn’t help be envious of the little wretch. ’Twas a handy art. What he could do with such a dexterity. Fraco’s special talent explained how he had gotten out of the bilge each time Valeryn had him locked away. And he had blamed Catalina for setting him free… What an arse he had been.

  “Does Catalina know about this?”

  “Of course.”

  Why hadn’t she told him from the beginning? He knew the answer. She was far more adept than he gave her credit for. ’Twas a secret she could use to her advantage against him or anyone else on the ship. But, too, she was loyal to family. No matter how horrible Fraco was to her, she’d not betray him. One more damn fine trait to admire about her.

  Another rumble shuttered through the cell. Screams and frenzied footfalls outside the jail tore through Valeryn’s need to get out.

  “Ah, there we go.” Fraco tugged on the padlock with his good hand, slid it through the bar and swung open the door.

  In spite of himself, Valeryn chuckled, patting Fraco on the shoulder. “Well done, mate. Well done.”

  Fraco’s tilted grin beamed as he put his pin away. His pride tugged at Valeryn. ’Twas as if Towney peered through the past to haunt him. He had to remind himself Fraco was not Towney. The upstart got himself into this willingly. If he wanted to get out of it, he’d need to keep up. He was not Valeryn’s responsibility. Or was he?

  “Stay close,” he ordered. ’Twas half-hearted. ’Twasn’t as if Fraco ever did as he was told. Either way, he had no guarantees he’d make it.

  The bastard was right, too. Valeryn had a death wish. But before he went down, he’d save as many as he could, starting with Catalina.

  They stole down the short corridor. As they reached the doorway, Valeryn slowed, preparing to surprise any sentry standing outside the door. With the attacks in the harbor, he counted on the guards to be distracted. The moment he pitched the door open, a sentry fell at his feet.

  “What the—”

  Catalina held Henri’s cane tight in her fists. Brimstone and fire, but she was a gorgeous hellcat, with her mahogany hair fallen askew and her voluptuous chest heaving from the momentum and power behind her swing. ’Twas hard to not stare in the wonderment of her bosom. He looked away to capture the coppery glint in her eyes.

  Nalda and Henri stood behind her. Both wearing equal exceedingly determined scow
ls.

  Valeryn’s anger and frustration reared. Now, besides having Fraco yipping at his heels, he had three more to shepherd. Damn it! ’Twas much easier to only worry about himself. “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping you escape,” Catalina said with an annoyingly indignant tone.

  “Why does everyone feel I need help?” he ground out.

  “’Cause ’gardless yer fool head, ya can’t always save yerself,” Henri said, crossing his stubby arms over his barrel chest. “Ya need yer mates, V.”

  Valeryn shook his head, but another loud explosion obliterated any response he had.

  “Diego and that Capt’n Nicholls,” Henri explained, taking his cane from Catalina.

  “All four ships?”

  “In the harbor. But Rissa, she ain’t close. She ain’t attackin’.”

  “Diego doesn’t want to risk any more damage to her,” Valeryn said. “We’ve got to regain her.”

  “How?” Fraco’s eagerness wore on Valeryn like wet trousers.

  “By boarding her.” Valeryn edged to the entrance of the jail and cracked open the door, peering outside. “Where’s Sam?”

  “Already securin’ us a dory.”

  “Excellent.” Valeryn noted the distance between the building and the jungle fringing the town. They’d make their escape that way, hiding in the thick foliage until the time was right. “We use the fishing boat tonight to get out to sea and come around her from behind, close enough to swim to her and board. We’ll take them by surprise.”

  “Won’t they see you?” Catalina asked.

  Valeryn looked to the sky. The sun was fast on its way to tucking beneath the horizon. Less than a glass and ’twould be dark. “They’ll not be looking for us. Not expecting anyone from behind. Their eyes will be on Amalia and on the Andrew protecting the port.”

  “But once you are on…there can’t be that many of you to be able to take over an entire ship and not be heard or caught.”

  Valeryn threw a glance over his shoulder. Catalina wrung her hands, her delicate brows bunched. Not so much in worry as in trying to imagine how they would pull off such a scheme.

  Henri toddled to stand beside Valeryn, a knowing smile split his bearded face. The little barnacle had expected battle this eve. He was wearing his good green vest, and his red beard ribbons had been tightly tied into bows.

  “We are known for our stealth,” Valeryn said.

  Though Catalina had not been convinced, Fraco nearly jumped from his skin in excitement. And what the devil was Nalda doing? Snatching away the sentry’s pistol? Valeryn should probably worry. Did she even know how to use it? The termagant might shoot herself. Or worse. Him.

  Shouts and footfalls neared. Valeryn and Henri pressed against the wall. Valeryn motioned for the other three to move off from view. Three soldiers rushed past outside the door.

  “I will not stay here,” Catalina said. She must have anticipated him, because that was exactly what he expected.

  “Nor will I,” Fraco added, coming to stand beside his cousin.

  Nalda joined the duo, awkwardly holding the flintlock too large for her to handle. Her pinched faced defying him to object.

  “You will be safer here.”

  “I respectfully disagree, Capitán Barone.”

  Back to formalities, were they? She meant business. So did he.

  “Do tell, what should happen if Diego and Ochoa’s men succeed in overrunning this port?” Catalina said. “We saw what happened when I mistakenly misspoke our last visit here.”

  Aye, folks were still repairing damages. The burned out shell of one building, with its charred posts reaching toward what was once a roof, sat abandoned. The wet ash from a recent rain hung pungent in the air.

  She planted her fists upon her hips. “I doubt the people here would wish to suffer any more from troubles I cause. They’d hand me over in an instant. Then what would become of me? Of Nalda and Fraco?” She crooked her eyebrow and snorted. “Safer, indeed. You are stuck with us, Capitán.”

  Fraco grinned like a cat, and Nalda nodded, waving the gun loosely around as if making a point.

  Valeryn reached for the pistol, but was unsuccessful as Nalda held it close to her chest. “I cannot execute any plan whilst playing your nursemaid.”

  “’Twas your duty from the start, boy,” Henri said.

  “You too, Henri?”

  He shrugged. “Lass, is right, and ya know it.”

  And that burned in his gut. In order to ensure their safety, he’d have to keep them close. Blazes! He pinched the bridge of his nose, wrestling with what to do.

  An idea, wispy and just beyond reach, percolated in his mind. He closed his eyes and pinched harder, drowning out Henri’s bellyaching for his rum, Catalina’s insistence to get moving, and the pops of cannon fire. As it formed, one thing was clear. ’Twould be dangerous. He may not even be able to pull it off successfully. But if he did...

  “We stick to the original plan. We will board Rissa. All of us.”

  CHAPTER 22

  ’Twas madness. Yet Valeryn’s blood pumped with furor. His skin itched for battle. But as he silently crept over Rissa’s gunwale in the darkest small hour before dawn, he forced himself to restrain the beast within. Soon enough, he’d paint the ship with blood.

  Without a sound he landed on the deck. Dozens of others quietly crawled onto the ship like an invasion of wharf rats with hungry destruction on their minds. Hardly a sound was made as he and the lads ambushed the enemy on patrol, save a muffled scuffle or silenced call of surprise. One by one, the Spaniard foe was dispatched. Below deck, his men would be doing the same to the sleeping crew. Nonetheless, in moments the ship would come alive with battle.

  Valeryn scanned the harbor. The five other ships anchored there were as still as the calm sea. The battle between Diego’s ships and Nicholls had abated with the drop of night. None of the buckets sustained enough damage to end the fight. Both captains would be ready for more come morning. Neither would get that chance.

  He peered over to the Amalia. One by one, the candles on the ship snuffed out, just as he instructed. Soon, the last of the crew would be rowing away from the barque in a longboat under the moonless sky. Catalina and her companions would be on that boat. He hated that she would behold the carnage they were leaving strewn across the decks. He couldn’t think on that. If she wanted to be with a pirate, she had to know what he was capable of doing. Aye, he was the devil’s son. But she’d finally see him for what he was and take her misplaced infatuation elsewhere. His heart squeezed. Why that bothered him, her finding love elsewhere, he couldn’t fathom. Nor could he spare another thought on it.

  He almost missed the glint of a blade slashing out from the shadows. He grabbed the offender’s arm mid-swing, spun him around and snapped his neck. Letting go, the man slumped to the deck. The devil would be proud.

  Valeryn crept into the ship’s interior with one goal in mind. Kill Diego.

  He knew just where to find him. That bastard was in his quarters, sleeping in his bed, sitting at his desk, drinking from his goddamned mug. A fire of fury raged. he wouldn’t fucking live to see the crack of dawn.

  Without ceremony, Valeryn waltzed in the captain’s cabin. Diego spun from the open window behind the desk. Surprise registered upon his mug an instant before the venom. The low light in the room lengthened the shadows, adding to the prophetic and mortal clash to come. He snapped up his sword and held it long point.

  Valeryn readied his own cutlass. “This is where I regain my ship,” he asserted.

  A sinister grin split Diego’s mouth. Rounding the desk, he said, “Let’s make a go of it, then.”

  The first strike vibrated in Valeryn’s ears and down his arm. The force reawakened his sore ribs. He bit back a curse, ignoring the smarting. With the customary initial strike out of the way, his muscles were warmed to flex and clench in fight. His lips snaked into a smile. This would be sweet.

  Diego struck again, and Valeryn defl
ected. Thrust, parry, pivot, they danced around the cabin to the silvery, melodic music of metal-to-metal. He could fight all morning, and he just might, as Diego proved he could weather a sword fight as well as fisticuffs.

  They came together in a violent blow. Hilt-to-hilt, they stared at one another. Valeryn could smell Diego’s sour ale-soaked breath.

  “I will see you dead,” Diego growled.

  “You should have followed Ochoa’s orders,” Valeryn answered. “Should have killed us all when you had a chance.”

  Diego smirked. “I managed to slaughter many of your men.”

  Regret and guilt burned in Valeryn’s gut. His men would still be alive had he not gotten soused and picked a fight with Diego in the first place. One of them would pay for that. Tonight someone would die. Whether by revenge or retribution was hard to say.

  “And I managed to hang onto your woman,” Valeryn answered.

  Diego pushed harder upon their locked swords, but Valeryn held him.

  “You have managed nothing but delay,” Diego said. “Time’s up, mate.”

  Sounds of battle erupted topside. For a brief moment, Diego’s pupils dilated with understanding that his stolen ship was overrun. Valeryn took the opportunity to shove him back and advance. Diego swung in haste and Valeryn simply shed his sword from impact. The wretch got in two or three solid strikes, but had been pushed back by Valeryn’s onslaught. His ribs screamed from the tear of muscles as he continued his offensive assault.

  Unable to gain a favorable footing to counterattack, Diego pivoted on his heels and put the desk between them.

  “Your mistake, not listening to your master’s orders, has cost you everything.”

  “From what I’ve heard,” Diego snorted, “you suffer the same affliction.”

  The bastard had plucked upon the one volatile thread that hardly held Valeryn together. Heat from the fiery guilt in the pit of his stomach roiled to the surface. His jaw ground tight, his muscles coiled.

  “You know nothing of me!”