She came out, much relieved. Once dressed, she checked the room thoroughly, wondering if he left anything else. With a sigh, she deduced he didn’t. After her bustier was secured, she pulled the belt from the headboard.
“What is…oh!” She unclipped the pearl pin from one of the buckles and smiled. Securing it on her blouse, she slipped into her sandals, picked up her pack and turned toward the door.
She paused, considering. What should she do? Her belly growled, making one decision for her. Breakfast first, followed by a visit to the Barmy Cock, where hopefully, she’d discover if the Quill was still in port. It appeared she’d be here for the duration. And should the ship be gone, perhaps Sam would take her on as a bartender.
Downstairs, a bright-eyed woman hailed her, insisting she sit down and have something to eat. “The Captain, he insisted we take good care of you, Misses.”
“Well, thank you. I’m sorry I missed him this morning.” Emily determined she would not be embarrassed. She was an adult, as was he.
“Ah, well those sailors often rise early. He was taking the ship out with morning tide. He knows not to linger too long in Tortuga.” The apron-wearing matron smiled brightly. She chattered while setting a plate down in front of Emily that contained fried potatoes and sausages. Emily listened with one ear, her focus on the food.
She’d eaten poorly the day before—it, was a pleasure to dig in heartily.
“This is delicious, thank you.” She took the drink offered, cleared her throat, and tried to think how to ask without asking directly.
“His ship? So, they’re gone…?” She let the sentence hang. She was no good at this.
“Ah, the Immortal was here some days ago. It was unusual for him to return so soon. Misses? Are you all right?”
Emily pushed the plate away, a sudden dead weight on her chest. She’d slept with Captain Silvestri? Spent the entire night with him. The man Mick hated. Mick, who befriended her, watched out for her....
“Uh…no, I’m fine. I only realized… I was supposed to meet a friend at the Barmy Cock this morning. I should leave. Hopefully, I haven’t missed her.” She pushed back from the table. “Thank you—you’ve been quite kind. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing, love. He took care of it.” She reached out and tilted Emily’s head to one side. “He said you were vampire blasted last night. I see no sign of it, so you shook it off right. The Cock is down Broad Street, on the right.”
“Broad Street…it isn’t the wide one, is it?” Emily asked, distracted by the shouting in her head. Slut. Sleeping with the enemy. Fucking the enemy. Shit.
Gloomy, she made her way to the familiar bar.
Sam at the Cock told her the Quill was still in port. “They were in here hoping to find you last night. Said they’d be back. Or, go on down. There’ll be someone can see you out to the ship. You find a place to sleep last night?”
“Oh…yeah. Sam?” She looked up at the friendly man. Bartenders heard everything, knew everyone. But they generally didn’t gossip. There was honor among those who worked the bar; they didn’t blab about customers. Would he share with her?
“Yes, Misses Paw? What do you need?” He polished a glass.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked. It wasn’t what she wanted to know, but it might make it easier to ask the second question. “I always slept till noon after a busy night.”
“I ain’t been to bed yet. I don’t sleep until everything is cleaned up. Now, what do you really want to know?”
“Can’t fool you!” She gazed at the glasses, lined up on the bar. “Why does Mick hate this Captain Silvestri so much? I know he blames him for losing his father? Is that right? I’m not asking you break confidence, but I’m new here and I don’t want to stumble.”
“Well, Mick’s got his suspicions. When news came from England—I think it were a letter from his father’s solicitors—he became determined against Silvestri. And declared he’d take back the Immortal. I don’t know the particulars. I do know it’s an empty hope. Silvestri ain’t letting go of the Immortal. He doesn’t seem to hold any enmity toward Mick. He goes out of his way to steer clear of the man.” Sam set a glass down. “Why does it worry you?”
“I worry. Mick was good to me. And I don’t want to do anything wrong. I don’t know what Silvestri looks like, or the ship. I’m new here, and much is strange.” Her eyes strayed to the large CD player and the speakers sitting on shelves high on the wall. “And yet, much isn’t strange, but feels like it should be.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. I should head on down, in case they decide to leave. I don’t want to miss them.”
“Silvestri is a tall man—long, gray hair, some hint of the yellow it once was. Wears his beard short, and has blue eyes. He’s a confident man, who dresses well. Silvestri is a working captain and that makes him strong. There’s a crescent shaped scar on one cheek. Are you feeling well, you look like it’s more than lack of sleep plaguing you?”
She swallowed her bile, sure now that she’d slept with Silvestri. Damn. “I’m okay. I should get going.”
“Well, if they did raise anchor, you come back here. I can always use a relief bartender until you find your feet.”
“Thank you! I appreciate the offer.” She smiled crookedly, hurried out of the bar, and set her feet on the path down to the harbor. On the way, she glanced down to see the pin on her blouse. With a snarl, she pulled it off and made to toss it away, then stopped.
It hurt. And she didn’t know if he knew who she was. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps he wasn’t trying to get back at Mick and it wasn’t about using her.
She pulled her pack open and dropped the pin into it. It might be something Mick would recognize, and until she figured this out, she wasn’t going to say anything. To anyone.
***
Silvestri set sail for the backside of Tortuga. Mama Lu wasn’t home, but her neighbors said she’d left the night before for the swamp shack where she mixed her potions. It would take some hours to get there.
He directed the ship’s officers on where they were headed, entered his cabin, and fell into a deep sleep—the second in days.
He stayed down until the ship dropped anchor, late in the afternoon. Once roused, he went ashore by himself, tying the cutter up to a tattered pier and trading it in for a more shallow draft, narrow boat. Then he set out for Mama Lu’s shack.
It took him two hours to make his way through the tangled roots of mangroves. By the time he reached her shack, he knew he’d be staying the night.
Mama Lu met him on the porch, sitting on a rocking chair and smoking a pipe. He inhaled deeply. It was good weed. She grinned and offered him a hit.
“Only the one, Mama. I need you sharp. I need me sharp. I brought a bottle. I need advice.”
“Course ya do. And a bottle is always welcome.” She took the pipe back and snuffed it. Saving it for later, he’d bet.
Ever since that morning, he’d found himself looking over his shoulder, expecting to see his benefactor gazing at him. More likely, lining up something nasty. He wasn’t allowed to enjoy himself to the extent he had with the delicious Mrs. Pawes. He stood a moment, reflecting on his night.
“Tell me what troubles the legendary, lucky Captain Silvestri.” Mama Lu interrupted the sweet memory of Emily licking his fingers clean. His smile disappeared. “Mama Lu, has anyone been casting against me? Is Captain March setting another absurd plan of vengeance in motion?” He’d meant to be less direct. Damn.
“Not wit’ my help. No one casts on this island without me knowing it.”
He considered a moment. “What about off this island?”
“Now you’re asking a question worth knowing.” She poured a drink from his bottle into an empty jar. After a sip, she grinned at him. “You meet the newcomer?”
“She’s casting?” He didn’t bother being impressed. Mama knew magic.
“Her? She don’t believe in magic. Yet. But…magic is using her.”
“More critical you ask what be using her. You tired of serving the northern witch, Alan? Ya ready to shed her benevolence and strike out on your own? That newcomer, she be the key to turn that lock,” Mama Lu’s voice softened. She set a hand on his shoulder.
Silvestri stared out into the dark swamp. A figure moved in the water. Two eyes, glazed and wet, stared up at him.
“You! Shhhh! Get ‘way! There be nothing for you right now!” she shouted to the wading zombie.
“You feed them, so they’ll keep coming back.” With a sigh, he continued. “Be free of her curse? How?”
“Yes, I feed them. I grow the mold they like. But there’s none ready to harvest right now. They’re harmless and bring me what I need. Now, I don’t know how this is gonna work. But the new lady, she be marked for you, brought for you. He’s working for you, Alan.”
He turned to look into her eyes. “He? Mick?”
She snorted. “That ain’t likely! No, Captain. I remember, years ago, I told ’bout doing good ta the younger Kraken? The elder must have found out, and the tides turning. He’s working for you. To pay you back and reclaim what Glacious steals from him.”
He studied her, trying to put together what was clear to her, but still a mystery to him. A good turn?
Mama Lu laughed. “Such a small act of kindness. You don’t recall it? How often did you find young Kraken, tangled in a net? Climb down ta the waterline and….”
“…cut them free. Yes, I recall now. My crew thought I was mad, but said nothing.” He did remember. He didn’t believe in eating Kraken or killing them. But the elder Kraken wanting to pay him back? Was that possible? Kraken were hunters, not inclined to mercy. How was that woman, out of time and place, a part of this? “Wait, her mirror. The one that wasn’t a mirror at first?” He lifted a hand and rubbed at his head.
“Yes, I think so. Alan, you’ve served Glacious for nearly fifty years. You done the time. The trick is to get away from her influence without surrendering the rest of your life.”
He swallowed and took a seat, a spark of hope kindled in his heart.
“I need time to unearth it, Captain. Time to figure it up. And you need to take advantage of what the Kraken gives, without leading that ice bitch straight to her. Keep new sailor Pawes close, and see what you can divvy from her. He chose her and must have a reason for doing so.”
“She sails with Mick and the Quill. She isn’t my sailor, Mama Lu.”
“He must be part a’ the picture. And she be safer there than aboard the Immortal. It’s going to be a fine dance, looking for a way to free you—might take some sacrifice. You gotta be ready, if you want to sail without that curse.”
“You tell me what I need to do, I’ll do it,” he said.
“Aye. And you’ll enjoy it, boy-o. She’s a saucy one. I can smell her all over you. That must have been a rewarding night. You’ll need more rewards like that. You seduce her, while I search for answers.”
He smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You always make the nicest suggestions. I have an appointment with a galleon, fresh from Panama. After, I’ll find the Quill and rendezvous with Mrs. Pawes.”
“Not too often! But enough.”
“Aye, enough.” And maybe a little more.
And once he was free, a whole lot more.
Chapter Eight
She didn’t share her nocturnal adventure with anyone on the Quill. She thought about it, but the idea of trying to put it into words…. Well, I was accidentally blinded by vampires and he…uh…saved me and we accidentally...sorta…well….
Tink met her on deck, furious. “You were supposed to wait for me! You stupid bitch! I wasted hours looking for you.”
“I hadn’t gone far. The woman at the bathhouse directed me to a clothing store.” Emily tried to cool off the angry woman. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Worry, me? Oh, I wasn’t worried.” Tink stared at her a moment, then shrugged. The sailor was like that, always showing a blank face to the world. “What if you’d been hauled into an alleyway, robbed, raped, chained to a bed.” Emily went white as Tink went on and on, listing the hair-raising dangers Tortuga harbored.
“I didn’t know.” Emily shook her head. “I met good people, and they kept me safe. Especially after it got dark. I didn’t think I wanted to go wandering around after dark. Damn, those streets are confusing!” It wasn’t all her fault. Fuck it!
“You have no idea what dangers lurk in Tortuga. We aren’t the most popular ship! Lots don’t like women with a command.” Tink slid close to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Pawes, Mick found you and brought you into the lighter climes of the city. There is a lot of darkness in those streets. And last night was the full moon.”
“Yeah, someone told me about the vampire stuff.” Resentment rose, and Emily pushed Tink’s arm away. “If Mick hadn’t found me, I’d be fine! I am an adult. I’ve been around a long time. I can take care of myself!”
She knew it was a lie, but Tink was such a know-it-all.
Tink gazed at her with disdain. “Sure, you can take care of yourself. You’ve got no fighting skills, and you’re out of shape, with almost no muscle tone. You’d probably be run down like a rabbit by hungry hounds. Tell yourself you’d have been just ducky. I know better. And you owe Mick so much, stupid bitch!”
She stalked away, and Emily thought about her night with Silvestri. Even if she had the courage to speak up before, no way was she going in that direction now.
Nope, she kept quiet. Resigned to making the best of the strange situation she found herself in, she prepared for life in a fantastically confusing Caribbean.
She took Tink’s word seriously and learned to load, shoot, and care for a pistol she got from Mick. He’d lent it to her to carry when they sailed into port to gather supplies, barter, and collect information. Tink taught her how to fight with a staff. Emily, being so short, found it wasn’t the best choice for her. She took up knife throwing after one of the sailors offered to show her the techniques. And she practiced constantly.
She must be some sort of coward, preferring a weapon she could toss from a distance. She’d have a chance to run. But she was good at both throwing and running, so it was a win-win situation.
“Once you’ve thrown one knife, you need another ready. And you need to learn close fighting,” Davis, her instructor, explained to her.
She hit targets quite skillfully, but in close quarters she shrank away and wasn’t aggressive enough.
Tink proposed she needed to be scared more or pissed off. The quartermaster balanced on the rails one day and taunted Emily during practice. The insults got nastier and nastier. Davis circled her, watching her reactions to the taunts. It made it difficult to battle the man.
And Emily grew more and more furious. She kept her eyes on Davis, something he’d taught her. When his eyes drifted to her bust at one of Tink’s more pointed comments about being a washed up old lady with drooping boobs, Emily shrieked, “My eyes are up here!”
“Not as interesting,” Davis replied.
She dove at him, and for the first time offered him some real challenge. Tink laughed while he disarmed her. For a moment, she panted, catching her breath. Tink snickered and set Emily off.
“You bitch!” She might be older, but she was fast. She rushed the quartermaster, and with a splash, they both tumbled over the rail and hit the water.
Once the ship came about and fished them out, Captain Jezzie called them into her cabin. “Tink, you made your point. No more taunting Pawes.”
“Squirrelly bitch,” Tink said, stripping out of her soaking clothes and kicking them aside to wrap herself in the towel Jezz handed her. “She needs to get laid.”
Emily wrapped her arms around her soaked shirt and snarled.
“Pawes, you’ve been on the ship three weeks now and you pull your share. You work the lines, you mend the sails, help out in the galley.” The cap
tain tilted her head. “But Tink is right. You need to get laid.”
“Oh, fuck off! What is with this crew? Nothing but overactive libidos! You all think a cock is the answer to everything!” Emily rolled her eyes, disgusted at the constant poking about why she wasn’t dragging one of the hands off to her bunk.
“You want a woman? Fine. Hell, Tink tends to swing both ways.”
Emily faked a gag and backed away. “Everything isn’t about bed partners!”
“Well, it’s often the answer on this ship. But fine, it’s not about sex. You’re mastering a few weapons. That will come in handy. What about a hobby? The tip money Sam shares with you when we’re in Tortuga is good, but you’re going to need more. A superior set of throwing knives isn’t cheap.” Jezzie sat at the table and poured herself a drink.
“A hobby? What, like basket weaving?” Emily shivered.
“Get out of those wet clothes. Use the blanket. No, not basket weaving. Unless you’re good at it?” Jezzie raised an eyebrow.
“No. I can’t weave worth shit. I took a class once, and I suck at it. I have no artistic talent to speak of.” A sudden thought occurred to her. “Well, I did create some nice blank books once. I liked hand stitching the binding.” She let her shirt plop to the deck with a splat and kicked off her shorts. Her skin was getting quite tanned, she noted.
Is skin cancer a problem here?
“Blank books? To write in? Those would be worth trade goods. What would you need?” The captain of the Quill seemed interested, so Emily sat down, made out a list, and also promised to stay out of trouble.
In the next two months, her fighting skills grew sharper. The close knife fighting got better, but not great. She did need to be angry, it seemed. When the ship visited different ports, she used her funds to purchase what she needed to bind paper into books, and within a month, she was making money.
That came in handy to make her cabin more like home.
And she looked at the deckhands. But no touching. Even when sexual frustration grew. Because the dreams drove her crazy.
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