Blacksouls

by Nicole Castroman

  “The governor will hear about his,” he cried.

  “If he’s going to tell the governor, he might as well have something of interest to report.” Alastair hit the man square in the jaw. Anne stepped back as he fell at her feet. Two of them were now out cold, the other one still writhing in pain on the ground.

  Taking Anne’s hand in his, Alastair turned the corner, the man’s cries gradually fading in the distance. Anne knew she should feel some kind of remorse for shooting him, but all she could see was the blood in the sand and the tracks in the dirt, evidence of someone else’s pain and suffering.

  “Coyle said you didn’t want to carry a loaded weapon,” Alastair said. She could detect no censure in his voice.

  “That was before I met the governor’s wife.”

  Alastair shot Anne a surprised look. Noting the set of her jaw, he chuckled softly. “Did you mean to wound him? Or did you just want to scare them?”

  “I wanted to stop them from hurting anyone else.” If only she’d had better aim and more weapons, she would have gladly shot all three men. Could she ever bring herself to kill someone? A week ago, she would have said no. But now . . . Anne would never forget the scene at the docks with the slaves being led away.

  “You’re learning quickly. There are times it’s better to strike the first blow. It took me years to realize that showing mercy to your enemy would only get you wounded.”

  As sad as it was for Anne to admit, that is precisely what Mrs. Webb was. What slavers were. Her adversaries. Anne could not help feeling as if she was beginning to shed her civility. Despite the fact that Bristol was also a port town, Nassau seemed so much more raw and unruly.

  Alastair’s smile slowly faded at Anne’s prolonged silence. “As much as I hate to say it, I’m afraid you might not be able to see Teach before he leaves.”

  “He’ll come to see me.” Of that she had no doubt.

  “I wish I had your confidence, but it’s most likely for the best if he doesn’t come. You don’t want Webb to find out about the two of you.”

  “You don’t know Teach like I do. He will find a way to say good-bye.”

  “I might not know Teach, but I do know the governor. This is all new to you, but I’ve lived here too long to be shocked by much.”

  Anne met his eyes, her gaze steady. “If you don’t see the bad in some, you can’t recognize the good in others.”

  Patting her hand, Alastair nodded as The Laughing Fox came into view. “For your sake, I hope you’ve seen enough of the bad.”

  So did Anne. But until she knew for sure what the governor wanted from Teach, she was afraid of how much worse things could become.

  CHAPTER 17

  Teach

  The alleys of Nassau weren’t as crowded late at night. Most of the inhabitants were filling one of the busy inns or taverns lining the wharf. The air was warm and inviting, the black sky overhead littered with sparkling stars.

  Teach headed to the Fox. He couldn’t wait to see Anne again, but first, he’d had to ditch the two men Webb had sent after him. Teach knew he’d been followed. The governor hadn’t come right out and said he couldn’t leave the Triumph at night, but he certainly hadn’t made it easy for him. Teach had been tempted to turn to confront the men, but had decided to have some fun with them instead. After all, it wasn’t their fault the governor had appointed them as nursemaids.

  It hadn’t been easy to lose them. Teach had stopped in at a tavern, knowing Anne was practically within reach, but he’d had to wait until the two sailors were good and drunk. Then he’d slipped out through the kitchen and made his way to the back of the Fox. He was in a better mood than he had been the day before. The crew of the Deliverance had spent the afternoon in one of the courtyards of the fort. They’d been under heavy surveillance, but at least they’d seen the sun and breathed in clean air. He still felt guilty that he was free to move about and his men were forced to sleep in their hot, dark cells, but soon they would be reunited.

  Turning down an alleyway, Teach stopped when he saw two figures pummeling a form on the ground, cringing at the sound of fists meeting flesh. He worried for the man. The devil knew when or even if the duo would stop. As much as Teach wanted to see Anne, he couldn’t have someone’s death on his conscience.

  The pair were too busy to notice Teach as he snuck up on them.

  “This hardly seems like a fair fight,” Teach said with a voice that undercut the noise of the struggle.

  The duo paused, their chests heaving, evidence of the pounding they were giving their victim. They turned on Teach, their fists still clenched.

  A female voice behind Teach caught him off guard, as well as the sharp point of a knife pressed into his back. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this man is getting exactly what he deserves.” She spoke with a Spanish accent.

  “Is it worth taking his life?” Teach asked.

  “They’re not taking his life. They’re simply making him rethink it. Next time, I believe he’ll reconsider trying to steal from me. And you’d do well not to interfere in something that doesn’t involve you, caballero.” She removed the knife from Teach’s back.

  Curious, Teach turned slowly, his hands still held aloft. The woman was dressed in a white shirt, waistcoat, and breeches. She wore her hair pulled back in multiple braids and secured with a strip of leather. The brim of her hat hid part of her face in the darkness, but her chin was visible in the moonlight and at the moment, it was set.

  With a sharp movement, the woman motioned to the men to follow her. They did, without hesitation. “He’s all yours,” she said over her shoulder. “But if he crosses me again . . .” Her voice trailed off and they turned the corner, disappearing from sight.

  Teach had no doubt that was the pirate Pelham was after. How she managed to avoid capture on such a small island was admirable. Perhaps she only ventured out into the streets after dark.

  The man on the ground groaned and Teach approached with care, curious to know what he’d tried to steal. His pale hair practically glowed in the dim light of the moon and looked somehow familiar.

  Reaching down, Teach rolled the man over, and muttered a curse.

  “I should have let them have at you,” Teach growled at Peter.

  “Sod off.”

  “What did you do? Try to sell some cargo that didn’t belong to you? Is that why you tried to take those papers from the Deliverance?”

  Peter’s only response was to spit in Teach’s face, desperate fury gleaming in his pale eyes.

  “Wrong answer.” Drawing back, Teach drove his fist into Peter’s face. Peter’s eyes rolled back and he lay there, immobile. Shaking his hand, Teach straightened, wishing he had been the one to see Peter before the two men had gotten to him first. There was no sport beating up on a man who was half dead already. Not that Peter didn’t deserve it.

  If Peter hadn’t accused them all of mutiny, none of them would be in this mess. Teach would be reunited with Anne and the two of them could start their new life together.

  Staring down at the unconscious figure, Teach debated what he should do with Peter. They weren’t very far from the docks. A part of Teach truly wanted to take Peter and drop him into the harbor.

  The world would be a better place for it.

  As Teach stood there, debating his next move, a stray dog meandered down the alley, stopping and sniffing at different spots along the way. It came up and sniffed Teach’s hand. Teach scratched the dog behind its scruffy ear and motioned toward Peter. “Have at him,” he said, half in jest.

  The dog looked up at Teach with soulful eyes, before turning to Peter. Approaching the lifeless form, the dog sniffed once, before lifting its leg.

  Teach’s dark mood lifted as he laughed. Aside from having Peter locked up, Teach didn’t think he could have planned a more fitting form of revenge for the coward.

  Turning, Teach left Peter splayed in the street and continued toward The Laughing Fox. Bypassing the front door, Teach headed
toward the back courtyard. Once inside the enclosed area, he stopped beside a flowering frangipani bush, its soft, fruity scent heightened at this time of night. In a few hours, the sun would rise, drawing one day closer to when he would have to leave Anne behind.

  Fingering the butter soft petals in his hands, he broke off one of the largest white blooms. Inhaling, he took a step forward only to freeze, unprepared for the pistol pressed against his back.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot first. Where the devil have you been?”

  Teach turned, a grin splitting his face. This was the second time a woman had surprised him. “Pining for you. Now put that thing away before you shoot someone.”

  “I only shoot people who are wicked.”

  “There have been times,” Teach began, placing the flower behind her ear, “when I have been known to be a bit wicked.”

  Anne gave a short laugh. “After my day, don’t tempt me.”

  “But I enjoy it ever so much.” Putting the encounter with Peter firmly behind him, Teach ran his fingers down her arm, capturing the gun in her hand and placing the weapon in the back of his waistband. He stepped closer, close enough that their breath mingled, and slipped his arms around her, the slim space between their bodies as charged as the air on a stormy night. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to come sooner, but the governor insists on keeping a tight rein and a tighter schedule.” Every inch of his skin tingled with Anne’s nearness, and he ached to get closer.

  “Alastair said as much. He didn’t think you would come.” Her full bottom lip grazed his as she said the words. “But I knew you would.”

  His mouth was on hers then. Her hands were on his chest, tugging at the laces of his shirt, as if she wanted nothing else to stand between them. With his forearm across the small of her back, he anchored their bodies together. One step, two. He guided her backward to the side of the barn. No one had ever made him feel this aware. This alive.

  The pressure of Anne’s lips increased, and he felt like they were the only two people in the world.

  A not so subtle cough reminded Teach that that was not the case. Damnation. Teach had hoped to visit with Anne uninterrupted. He seemed to have had an easier time catching Anne alone in the Drummond household.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” Alastair demanded, approaching them in the dark. Teach could make out a scowl on his face. “And where have you been?”

  “I’m here to see Anne,” Teach replied, standing with his arm around her waist. It felt so good to have her at his side. “And I spent last night on the ship. With departure so close, Webb wants to make sure things go according to his plan.”

  “We went to the docks today,” Anne said. “We didn’t see you.”

  Teach’s chest tightened at the thought of Anne worrying. “In the afternoon Webb took me to the fort. That must have been when you came to the docks.”

  “What does he want you to do?” Anne asked.

  “I’m to go after someone.”

  Anne’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

  “George Easton.”

  “The pirate?” Alastair asked.

  Teach cringed, feeling Anne stiffen at his side. He truly hadn’t intended to tell Anne much about his plans. The less she knew, the better. Webb had been only too happy to recount stories about the pirate. According to Webb, Easton was savage and desperate, a man of grotesque brutality. He enjoyed torturing his victims. One time, he bound a man’s hands together and then set fire to the rope, removing the flesh down to the bones.

  Easton was also cunning. Three British warships once blockaded Easton where he anchored, making escape nearly impossible. Under the cover of darkness, the pirate and his men sailed slowly out of the bay, with another ship in tow. As they made their way to the entrance of the harbor, Easton set the second ship on fire and sent it toward the warships. The British scrambled to get out of the way, allowing the pirates to slip past them.

  “Does Webb know you’re here?” Alastair asked.

  “No.”

  “How can you be so sure? That’s an awful risk you’re taking.”

  “I was followed, but those men are enjoying multiple pints at the moment and won’t even notice that I’m gone.”

  “I think you underestimate Webb.”

  Teach’s cheeks burned. “And I think you don’t give me enough credit. For the past twenty-four hours, I’ve done everything the man has asked me. Now it’s my turn to take something back.”

  “And what, precisely, were you planning to take back? She’s not going back with you to the ship.”

  “Alastair, please,” Anne said. “Give us a moment.”

  The Irishman shook his head. “I’m sorry, Anne, but the boy is putting too much at risk by being here. After what happened today the governor is sure to be displeased.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Anne and Alastair spoke simultaneously.

  “I shot someone.”

  “She shot someone.”

  “What?” Teach gazed incredulously at Anne. She stared defiantly back.

  “He deserved it. I only wish my aim had been better.”

  Shocked, Teach turned to Alastair.

  “Aye, it’s true. She nearly took off his foot.” There was a hint of pride in Alastair’s words. “Give her a few more weeks of practice and she’ll be a fine shot.”

  “What exactly happened?”

  Alastair opened his mouth, but it was Anne who answered, her voice bitter. “We ran into the town whipper.”

  Teach closed his eyes. He’d seen the whipping post used in several ports. When anyone wanted their slaves “corrected,” they’d pay up to eighteen pence to the town whipper to teach them a lesson. Oftentimes a bell-ringer would stand nearby and draw a crowd. No wonder Anne had been so upset when he first arrived.

  “They also said they could fetch a handsome price for me.”

  His eyes snapped open and he clenched his fists. “Who was it?” he demanded.

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Of course it matters.”

  “I’m fine, Teach. But whoever they whipped, that person is suffering somewhere. And we’re helpless to do anything about it.”

  “All the more reason to finish the job you started.”

  Alastair stepped in between the two of them. “Stop this. You two are worse than Coyle and Cara. Teach, you have to leave. It’s too risky for you to be here.”

  “But I just—”

  “Please,” Anne said, placing a hand on Alastair’s arm. “Can we just have a moment?”

  The Irishman shook his head. “I’m sorry. I understand how you both feel. I do, which is precisely why you must leave now. I will keep Anne safe until we meet up with you again.”

  “What do you mean, meet up with me?”

  “I’m not letting him go after Easton. It’s too dangerous,” Anne said.

  Alastair raised his eyes to the sky, as if asking for patience. “Nobody is going after Easton. We’re leaving Nassau. I have a small sloop anchored in the harbor. We spent most of today going over our supplies. Tomorrow Cara and Coyle will purchase the last few items we’ll need. Anne and Beth will pack up the rest. We have to keep up appearances that everything is normal, but we plan to meet you on one of the surrounding islands, once you have your crew.”

  As much as Teach wanted to believe that it would be as easy as Alastair said, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. And he didn’t want to jeopardize the lives of his men. “How do we agree upon the island?”

  Alastair waved his hand at them. “Come with me.”

  Teach clasped Anne’s hand in his as the two of them followed Alastair into the kitchen.

  “Stay here while I go fetch a map.” The Irishman disappeared through the door to the tavern. The voices were not as boisterous as they had been when Teach had first arrived at the Fox. Well past midnight, most of the patrons were deep in their cups.


  Drawing Anne into his arms, Teach held her, content for the moment to feel her heart beat against his chest. “I don’t want to leave you,” Teach murmured into her hair.

  “We have no choice. We have to trust Alastair. He’s gotten us this far.”

  Her words reminded him of when his father had gone to deal with the piracy charges. Anne had been right then. He hoped she was right this time. “Does Alastair have a crew who can sail the sloop?”

  “He has a small number of men who are loyal to him. Coyle went to make sure they’re ready.”

  Teach grimaced at the mention of that name.

  “What?” Anne asked, her voice bemused.

  Hating the part of him that wanted to know, but unable to stop himself from asking, Teach paused. “Do you . . . care for him?”

  “For Coyle? Of course.”

  A needle of jealousy pierced Teach’s heart. “I see.”

  “No,” Anne said, shaking her head. “I don’t think you do. Coyle is like a brother to me. He and Cara are like family.”

  Teach didn’t know Coyle, but he could see that Coyle did not regard Anne as a sister. But if she didn’t realize it, Teach wasn’t about to clarify. Instead, he reached for the weapon in the back of his waistband. “I want you to keep this loaded. At all times.”

  Her blue eyes locked on his. “I will.”

  “Do you know what they call this pistol?” he asked, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.

  She shook her head.

  “It’s called a Queen Anne’s pistol.”

  Anne’s fingers tightened, and for a second Teach feared it might be loaded.

  “I swear to you, I’m not joking,” he said, choking on a laugh. Before Anne could respond, Alastair returned to the kitchen.

  The Irishman lit a small candle and set it down on the table before spreading out the map he held in his hands. “Now come here so we can choose where to meet. I’m tired and need to get some sleep.”

  It didn’t take them long to decide where they would meet up with the Triumph. It was a small island southeast of the port of Nassau. It would take them two to three days to sail there, weather permitting. They would hide in one of the small cays, out of sight from the shipping lane.