“The Honor, right?” Denny asked.
“Exactly.”
“You worked in my kitchen.”
Ebba nodded. “You paid me. And my brother.”
“Your name is Ebba?” Denny took the coffee, sniffed, then took a sip of it. “Isn’t that a woman’s name?”
Ebba’s face darkened. “I am a woman,” she said.
Oops. “Right, right. Sorry. My mind’s a muddle. Still can’t see straight.” You’re the homeliest one I’ve ever seen. How did I not notice this sooner?
“That’s okay,” Ebba kindly said.
Denny looked around at the many faces watching him. Up close nobody seemed ill. They all seemed normal. Happy, even. A few were thin and a bit frail, but the deck was clean of blood and vomit, unlike some blackbirding boats he’d attacked.
Things started coming back to Denny. “Ebba, ah, what about your brother, Larks?” Denny remembered his name all right. He couldn’t believe he was getting excited thinking about that delectable young man when he was in the middle of possibly the worst catastrophe of his life. Denny felt he could allow himself a small moment of erotic rhapsody. After all, things couldn’t be too bad if Ebba was calling him sir and bringing him food and coffee. The coffee was pretty tasty but had a little too much chicory for his taste. He seemed to remember Ebba had a zeal for the stuff, like a lot of Pacific Islanders. He stared at the bowl of porridge she still held for him and noticed the bits of black stuff studding the congealed blob.
“They’re currants, right? Or raisins?”
She gave him an odd look. “If it helps you sleep nights to think so, go ahead.”
“Meaning they’re not?”
“No. They are not.”
“I’ll stick with coffee then.”
“You used to eat my porridge when you thought it had raisins in it.” Ebba shrugged.
“Gah!” Denny clutched his throat with his free hand.
“Don’t worry. One man’s poison is another man’s or woman’s feast. Rat droppings are pure protein.”
Denny thought he might be violently ill as Ebba handed the bowl to a very pregnant woman. She picked out the tiny turds with her long fingers, flicked them overboard then spooned the rest of the bowl’s contents into her mouth. She was skinny and frantic-looking, poor thing.
“Hurry,” Ebba said to the woman. “We’re almost at the port.” She looked over her shoulder, throwing a distracted look back toward Denny. “Hide the gold Captain Rigby gave us for him.”
“Captain Rigby?” Denny almost choked on his coffee.
They all stared at him.
“But he’s my second mate.” He glanced around him. There was something very odd about all of this. “What’s going on?” he asked, almost falling to the deck thanks to his broken heel.
Ebba pulled a face. “Don’t worry. You won’t be sold into slavery until after the trial.”
He gaped at her. “What do you mean slavery? And what trial?”
“You’ll soon be on trial for your life.”
“I will? Why?”
She squinted at him. “You’re a pirate!”
“But I was good to you, wasn’t I?” he whined. Please, God, or whoever else is up there, please tell me I was good to her. He braced himself for bad news, but Ebba gave him a sweet smile. Man, she was ugly! Many of the people on board looked strange, with misshapen heads, crossed eyes, drooping ears, extra-long fingers, and, he realized, the oddest feet he’d ever seen. Some of them looked elongated and resembled talons.
“You were very good to me, sir. You employed me and gave me dignity and courage. You let me leave your ship and join the one heading to the Canary Islands.”
Denny tore his gaze away from the myriad webbed feet and bobbed his head up and down for lack of a response. He had no clue what she was talking about. He was beginning to feel ill and wondered if there was something fishy in his coffee.
Ebba took the cup from his hands. “Your kindness is the only reason you haven’t been kept in shackles since we took you aboard. I wanted to show you respect where it was due.”
“Eh? What’s that?” he asked. His throat had gone dry. “You mean this isn’t a slave ship?”
“Of course it is, but not the kind you’re thinking of,” Ebba said. “We are all liberated slaves and we travel the seas hunting those who hurt us. We lead them to justice.”
“And what am I doing here?”
“Facing justice, just like all the others.”
“But I—”
“No, no.” She held up a hand. “I’m not interested in what you have to say. You’ll have a chance to defend your actions with the jury. And now, sir, I’m very sorry, but I must put you in arm and leg restraints before we leave the ship. The court demands it.”
“What court is this?” Denny asked as they neared the coast. He wanted to scream when Ebba took one of his hands and snapped a shackle onto his wrist. Over her head, a huge palace loomed far off in the distance up a mountain. It sparkled like a pale blue and lavender jewel. Its winding staircase twinkled under the sun’s rays. It was so very inviting, and he felt encouraged until he saw several men in handcuffs and stocks near the coastline. They all looked depressed. Some of them had suffered beatings, judging by their bleeding lips and dark bruises.
I’ve got to get my wings to work. If I can just get them to flap I can fly away. To his detriment, he realized he’d spent so much time pretending he didn’t have wings and railing against the damned things that he still didn’t know how to make them work.
As the ship drifted toward the harbor, a host of canoes traveled across the small ripples of sea water to greet them.
“Where are we?” he asked Ebba. He’d never seen such odd-looking creatures as those preparing to storm the boat. Denny almost wished his crew had tied cannonballs to his feet and made him walk the plank.
The men preparing to board the vessel all had wings. Some looked like pretty, gossamer fairies, others looked like giant birds of prey.
“This is the Kingdom of Aramann,” Ebba said. “Today you will face your destiny.”
“But you said I was good to you,” Denny whimpered.
“Yeah. You were. But you were horrible to my brother. You made him your sexual partner and when he finally said you’d had enough of him, you—”
“Ebba!” a voice called out.
Ebba turned, waving to the young man paddling a canoe. Denny recognized him and inwardly cringed. It was Larks. Larks, who had felt tremendous guilt enjoying sex with another man and who had carried his shame around like a stuffed carpet bag. Larks had refused Denny in the end. Denny had forced him to choose. Either he caved into the inevitable, or he’d walk the plank. To this moment, Denny recalled the way Larks had chosen the plank and had swum away laughing. So, this was how he’d wound up. Leading the charge to drag prisoners off to trials.
Date with Destiny. I am going to survive this so I can find that bastard Rigby and make him pay for this.
I’m a sitting duck. Larks knew of the murdering and marauding on the high seas. Denny was the one who had forced him to walk the plank, which most men did not survive. Denny was forced to submit to being chained from ankle to neck and wondered how he would survive any type of trial.
Larks knew too much about him. And clearly hated him.
“Somebody else take the pirate fairy,” Larks announced to the men lined up in canoes. “If I’m left alone with him I might make him walk the plank, and I want to see justice served.” He looked up at Denny, revulsion in his gaze.
Denny tried to keep his expression neutral, even as he noticed the fear and panic among the bound and blindfolded men ashore.
None of us will get out of here alive. Not a single sodding one of us.
His tormentors forced Denny from the ship and pushed him into the water. Unable to move his hands or legs, he almost sank to the bottom, except that strong hands reached for him.
“No,” Larks said. “Drowning’s too quick, too easy for you
. I think you need to be sodomized by eight men. But you might like that, knowing you.” He glanced down and shook his head when he saw Denny’s tented trousers. “You dirty sod, you.”
Chapter Three
Merritt panicked. He crawled around the side of the house, his heart thundering so loudly he was certain both Gremma and Fortunata would hear him. He hid underneath the fronds of a dense fern, catching snatches of their conversation. He didn’t know what to think as Fortunata railed about the dead horse.
“How am I supposed to get back to the palace now? Walk?” she screeched. His sister’s long, curly blonde hair cascaded down her back. For two people who were twins, she and Merritt couldn’t have been more different. Though her face was beautiful, her black heart constantly surprised him. And yet, she was capable of goodness and that was why he’d never given up on her.
“I don’t know, my lady. Look at this poor creature’s face. He died an agonizing death.”
“So what? I can’t walk all the way back.”
Typical Fortunata. Thinks of nothing but herself.
“My lady, the horse appears poisoned.” Gremma sounded petrified.
“Well, he ate the wrong grass. Stupid animal.”
“But there is nothing here that would ever harm an animal. I would never—”
“You do not have dominion over this kingdom. I do.” Fortunata’s imperious tone had Merritt rolling his eyes. He was angry now. It was obvious that his trusted Elvin was a snake in elf’s clothing.
He tried to kill me. I can never go back to the palace. I’ve been so stupid. I let my grief overpower me and I let her use my powers. Without them, she is nothing. She needs me, and I need her. Damn it. I haven’t exercised my powers in so long because I believed Denny was safe. But he isn’t. She says he’s marked for death.
A light rain fell, and he huddled under the fern’s massive leaves. Fortunata and Gremma continued their strange discussion. It was harder to hear in the rain, but the good thing was it also disguised his sharp breathing and any slight noise he might make. The two women walked toward the forest. He held his breath as he caught a glimpse of Fortunata’s swishing, burgundy-colored gown. Gremma seemed dressed in rags.
Why does such a powerful witch dress like that? And why doesn’t she do something about her hands and hair?
He crawled to the side of the house once more and listened. No sound of female voices. He stood and made his way to the front door, but when he turned the handle, it wouldn’t open. How frustrating. He peered through the open windows, pushing aside the lace fabric over the biggest one on the other side of the house. He was astonished to see an altar above the fireplace. Upon it was a gold chain Merritt recognized as his own. Beside it was a black candle smeared with red liquid. Blood. Beside it was a pair of shoes, also his own. Filled with wide beeswax candles that had almost burned down, covering the soft leather moccasins with wax.
My God. She’s put a spell on me. Once that wax burns down, she’ll have complete control of me.
How had he not realized earlier that his sister was working against him? She must have figured out that Elvin was following her. Perhaps he had been under her sway all the time. Had he knowingly given Merritt the poisoned apple? His thoughts swirled and he panicked as he gazed at the other objects on the altar.
Why is Fortunata trying to kill me? If she destroys me, she loses half her magic.
He no longer cared if she or Gremma returned. He climbed through the window into the cottage and moved toward the altar. Tiny needles dug into his feet and ankles. He glanced down at the writhing mass of black snakes, conjured by magic. He’d never been so angry in his life.
“Let go of me,” he muttered and flicked his hand at them.
The snakes disappeared. A small ginger cat stared at him fearfully from a hole in the wall. Obviously the poor creature had been too afraid to come out with the snakes on the floor.
My sister and cousin were expecting me. He pushed back his sleeves and moved to the altar. No, perhaps not. Gremma is working spells on many people. He could see that now. Little piles of hair, jewels, clothing. It was all frightening and horrible. He grabbed what he could, including a lock of black hair he was certain belonged to Denny, and stuffed everything in his pockets. The black candle was definitely smeared in blood. He could tell by the smell.
But whose?
He grabbed that too, and made for the window once again, but somebody was at the door. The handle turned and it creaked open.
My God. Too late.
* * * *
Denny joined the others on the shore. It was so hot his clothes dried pretty fast, but the seawater smelled foul.
“Polluted waters,” a man who stood beside Denny told him. “Don’t judge this book by its cover. The palace and court look like something out of a fairytale but nobody here seems to have heard of hygiene.”
Denny didn’t have time to respond. A man with massive black wings flapping approached him. “Pirate?”
“Um, yeah.”
The man gazed at Denny’s coat. “No use hiding those wings here. How adept are you with them?”
“Not adept at all.”
The man looked surprised. “You haven’t learned how to use them?”
“No. They hurt.”
“That’s because you don’t work with them.” The black-winged man gave him a disapproving look. “Not that you could fly away from here anyway.”
Denny wanted to shrug but his whole body ached. Adrenaline had surged and spent itself in his body. He wished he were back in his cabin dreaming. Captain Rigby would take it over. Ha ha! Hope he likes dirty sheets. Gulp. Wonder if he’ll find my stash of gold?
“Did they tell you what charges you face?” The black-winged man glanced up at Denny from a large notebook in his hand.
“No, they didn’t.”
“Did they say anything?”
“They said I was on trial for my life.”
“Ah.” The man nodded, a knowing look on his face. “That’s a capital punishment case. Take the line over here to the right.”
Denny shuffled away and the black-winged man shouted at him, “Quickly. You think you have all day?”
“I’m doing my best. My feet are chained.”
“Why did they do that?”
“They said the court demanded it.”
“Not usually. Well, get a move on. Some of us have homes to get to before dark.”
Denny shuffled on, each step making his legs and ankles twinge in pain. He almost fell, and when he steadied himself, blood trickled down his left wrist.
Oh, spiffing! This is exactly what I wanted to do today. Get beaten up, shackled, and go on trial for a capital crime!
“Plunder and pillage?” a man with green wings asked him.
“Pillage before plunder,” Denny responded.
The man quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Sorry. I’m a pirate. I can’t help wanting things in order.” He cringed at the man’s fierce expression.
“So you admit to piracy.”
“Well, yeah. Of course.” Not much point in denying it.
“Do you have use of your wings?”
“No.”
“That’s what they all say. Take off your coat.”
“I can’t.”
“They all say that, too.” The green-winged head case seemed aware only then that Denny was bound by a rusted metal collar, chains and arm and leg restraints. “Oh.” He looked around. “Where is his public defender?”
“Er, she’s washing dishes,” came back a tiny woman’s voice.
Denny looked down to see a dainty fairy fluttering around his feet. Denny felt more depressed than ever. Only he could have a public defender who also washed dishes for a living. He tried to act nonchalant but all of a sudden he had a desperate urge to pee. He understood now why the other prisoner had mentioned the island’s poor hygiene. Men in chains were making their way down to the shoreline and peeing right into the water. Lovely.
&n
bsp; Denny’s spirits lifted a little when Ebba approached him. She’d changed into a red and white floral dress. Denny couldn’t believe it. He’d seen men dressed as women before but she looked worse than any of them. She was a man. He was certain of it. She also wore a hat covered in what looked like fresh strawberries. And she was barefoot. Ebba spotted Denny, smiled and gave him a wave.
“Howdy do,” she said to Denny as though they were meeting at some barn dance and not for his date with bloody destiny.
“Yeah. Howdy,” he griped.
“Unshackle him,” the green-winged man said.
“Yes, sir.” Ebba fumbled in her pocket for a set of keys. Once she’d produced it, she worked the lock on his collar. Her hands were shaking.
“You’re my public defender?” he asked.
Her hands stopped moving. “Yes.” She turned the key again.
The lock was rusty but it eventually gave way and the collar loosened around his neck. The release of pressure put him in a better mood within seconds. As the rest of his restraints fell away, Denny believed for one small moment that he could escape all of this.
But where would I go? How do I get away?
Ebba removed his coat and everyone stared as his slightly bent, gossamer fairy wings came into view.
“Okay, show me what you can do.” The green-winged man poked at his chest. Now that Denny no longer wore the cloak, his wings pained him more than ever. He let out a gasp.
“What’s the matter with you?” Ebba asked.
“They hurt. No. Hurt’s not enough. They’re bloody agony.” Tears sparked in Denny’s eyes.
Both Ebba and the green-winged man stared at him, then at each other.
“You’ve got a crybaby for a client,” the green-winged man said. “He’s full of it.” He stared at Denny. “Make them flap or I’ll do it for you.”
“I don’t know how,” Denny whined. Boy, he was sure doing a lot of that lately.
“Try.”
“How do I do it? Do I speak to them? Do I move my shoulders or something?” Denny’s desperate gaze flicked from side to side.
“You just do it.” The green-winged man reached over and grabbed one of the wings. Denny’s ear-piercing shrieks made several people drop to the ground, ducking for cover, as though somebody was shooting indiscriminately in the crowd.
The Pirate Fairy Page 3