“Oh, Alan. How did this happen?” She softly spoke to her image. “Emily, what do you want? You want that man? Want to be there for him, however it works out? Well, get yourself out of here, woman. Come on! Snap out of it.” Splashing water on her face again, she swept another handful back over her scalp, smoothing the messy strands into place.
Straightening her back, she left the privy, met Davis’ eyes and walked before him to the Captain’s cabin. She was ready to face the music.
***
Silvestri reached his ship before dawn, climbed aboard, and ordered them to set a course north. Tucked into his pocket was the small vial of perfume he’d removed from her sailor’s bag. It was empty, but the scent still lingered enough to bring her to mind when he unscrewed the top.
They avoided normal shipping lanes, heading due north, and Silvestri stayed at the wheel. When the wall of ice rose before him on the third night, he let the wheel run free, and the Immortal slipped through a secret passage, into the heart of the glacier. Where she waited.
***
Jezebel gestured to a chair. “Sit and eat something, Pawes.”
Emily nodded, figuring the captain needed to be civil.
The kidnapping bitch.
Mick glowered at her, leaning against a cabin wall and nursing a tankard. Sitting down, she emptied the plate in front of her. She didn’t really taste anything, but eating bought her time to assess the mood in the room. Mick was still glowering at her, but Jezebel seemed almost uncomfortable. Maybe that would work to her advantage. If she could figure out how to use Jezz being off balance. When she was done, Mick moved forward, but Jezebel pointed to a chair next to her. “Sit, Mick. Let me question her.”
It was time to be decisive. “Why question me? What does it matter? I understand I can’t stay aboard the ship. Let me go and I’ll never bother you again.”
“Can’t do that until I’m satisfied. And at the moment we’re heading to Nassau.” Jezebel tapped on the table. “I want to know everything. Every meeting, when, how long, where. What did he ask, and what did you tell him.”
“You have to be kidding! It’s none of your business!” Emily pushed back from the table. “Fine, I’ll get off in Nassau and take passage back to Tortuga on my own.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll answer, and then you’ll serve as bait. He’ll come for you and I’ll have my chance.” Mick grinned at her. “Spill it.”
“Why should I?” Crossing her arms, she steeled herself to argue. “Why is it your business? Bait? You’re a fool if you think you’ll be able to defeat his curse, Mick. This vendetta is stupid.”
“Stupid? You don’t know all of it, Pawes.” Mick made to stand up, glaring at her. Jezebel put her hand on his shoulder to stay the action.
“Not now, Mick. Emily, you’ll answer my questions because he is dangerous—to us as well as to you. This is not a negotiation, Mrs. Pawes.” Jezebel looked behind Emily and nodded. “Bring it here, to the table.”
Emily twisted in her chair when Tink strode in. The tall woman carried the basket packed when Emily thought she’d just leave the ship, before she’d been shanghaied. Behind Tink were two other crew members, each hauling items belonging to Emily.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Emily prepared to push the chair back, set her hands on the table to get out the chair, but Davis moved behind her, setting strong hands at her shoulders.
“Nothing will be harmed, or stolen,” he reassured her.
She stared in disbelief. One item at a time, Jezebel removed everything she’d packed. The items were examined carefully, flaps lifted, papers separated and scanned, books flipped through. Her book tools were set to one side, where she couldn’t reach them. What did they think she’d do? Threaten them with a needle? Tink and the other women left the cabin before everything Emily owned was put on display. The jewelry Silvestri gave her remained on the table after the rest were packed away.
Mick tossed another bag on the table. “Such a thoughtful man,” he said with a sneer. It was her small pack. When she saw her Teva sandals, her spirits lifted. He was a thoughtful man! No matter how Mick derided him.
In the end, the jewels were the only thing left on display. The dress she’d worn the night before was draped over a nearby chair, along with the three shirts he’d ordered to replace those the dyers had ruined, or he destroyed when his impatience saw what she wore damaged. The shoes she’d worn to dance were there. They’d even found the first pearl pin, which she’d left secured to the inside of her pack.
Jezebel studied the summation of Emily’s life on the ship. She pointed to the pearl. “The first gift? It’s humble-more of a symbolic gesture. The rest are much more grand—perhaps as his interest grew, so did his gifts.”
Emily sighed. “Why? Why should I tell you?”
“Answer us. Were these bribes—to betray us?” Mick spouted off bitterly.
Emily brushed off Davis’ hands and stood up. She walked over to where Mick sat and slapped him. He didn’t react, but took it. Maybe he knew he’s crossed a line, Emily didn’t care. Turning to Jezebel, she nodded. “Yes, the first gift. I didn’t know who he was. He’d pulled me away from watching the vampires waltz, but not fast enough. I was blind and scared. He…when my sight returned, he was gone. I only found out who he was when I prepared to return to the ship.”
Surrendering to the inevitable, she told them about each item. She didn’t elaborate, despite the demand from Jezebel for every detail. Now and again, Mick snickered but Emily ignored him.
“That dance…he is a good dancer.” Jezebel touched the shoes. “I remember where I first saw these. He offered them to Mama Lu—she told him to keep them, to save them. They were special and belonged to someone else. He’d know who to give them to, she said.”
“To Mama Lu? For a trade?” Emily asked. Was that why she’d danced so gracefully, why her feet hadn’t stumbled, or tripped? Magical shoes? Who else would recognize they weren’t ordinary shoes?
“Mama Lu is the only woman he knew as a friend, I imagine.”
“You remember? You were there?” Mick asked.
“I often visit Mama Lu. My path crosses with Silvestri, Mick. Hell, I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you” Jezebel looked at Emily. “Anything else? Anything you have on you?”
“You gonna search me if I say no?” Emily smoothed the ties of the bustier she’d worn the night before, still draped on the chair. She’d looked so vibrant.
“Is there anything else?” Jezzie’s voice was steady.
Emily reached into her shirt and withdrew the Kraken pendant. Mick leaned forward and put out his hand. Emily leaned away and snarled at him. No damned way was he going to touch this gift.
Jezebel took a step close and looked at the carvings of the pendant. “This matches your mirror.”
Her mirror still lay on the table, tucked into the specially boned bag that matched the dress. Once Silvestri slid the mirror into the bag, she understood why the stays were part of the design. They provided protection to the trinket.
“Fascinating thing, that mirror. He ever touch it?” Mick lazily asked.
“Yes,” Emily replied.
“He ever tell you….” Mick stood up, reached for the bag and pulled out the mirror. “Those days you searched for a portal, so intent on finding a way home. Did he ever tell you that you carried it with you all the time?”
“What? My mirror isn’t a portal. It isn’t big enough!” Emily snorted.
“Size has nothing to do with it.” Jezebel took the mirror from Mick and held it close to the pendant. “Same artist.” She turned to Mick. “You knew. Why didn’t you tell her?”
He didn’t answer, just looked away.
“Don’t condemn Silvestri for keeping the same secret you did,” Jezebel said. “You might have told her.”
“She mixes good drinks.” He stole a glance at Jezebel from the side. “You said you’d smile every morning if you woke to a Rum Sunset. And now you have.”
“He fucks her; he uses her.” Mick stalked to the door. He thought to escape Jezebel’s anger, Emily realized. She wasn’t even part of this argument anymore.
Mick stopped at the door and turned to continue the battle with his captain. “Cares for her? Because he gave her baubles? They mean nothing! Remember, you told me that….”
Emily ignored their spat and took the mirror from Jez, who handed it over without resistance. She followed Mick, pushing him away from the door, and escape, deeper into the cabin.
Same artist? A portal? And he knew? If he’d told her, she would have left. She’d be back in California and her normal life. She probably would have never stabbed a man in the back, or been frightened of a kidnapping or…known Silvestri’s touch. She tried to fathom it, her mirror was a portal. And Silvestri knew? Mick knew.
Davis packed her baubles back into her basket.
She dropped her sandals to the floor and slipped into them. “Did you know it was a portal?” Emily eyed the congenial werewolf, taking care with her mirror, her portal, as she moved closer to assist him.
“No. It’s unusual for one to be this small. I don’t know how Mick surmised. But he may be wrong, Pawes.”
“You think Silvestri used me?” She sat again, uncertain.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. What do you consider the truth?”
“I don’t know. He never asked me anything about the Quill, nor about Mick. He told me about this world. He helped me find my way. I’m a suspicious person, Davis. I assumed he wanted something from me. I don’t know at this moment what I believe.” She lifted the pendant at the end of the chain, glanced at it a moment, slipped it off from around her neck, and tucked it into her pocket.
“Can I leave now?” she asked the bickering couple.
When they ignored her, Davis picked up the basket and grabbed the bag. She took up the smaller pack and followed him past Jezebel and Mick, heads together. It looked like their argument was ending, no more shouting, but a lot of whispering. He stroked her arm and she laid a hand on his chest.
Outside, the sun was setting. It seemed hard to believe an entire day passed since leaving Tortuga. She wondered where Silvestri was at this moment, off on his mysterious voyage. She ignored everyone, went to stand at the rail and reached into her pocket. For a moment, she considered throwing the wonderful pendant away. Throwing everything he’d given her away was one way to handle her pain.
He knew she searched for a portal. Maybe he didn’t know the mirror was a portal? She kept her hand wrapped around the chain in her pocket and shook her head.
“You looked right together.”
She turned to gaze at Tink, the last woman she’d expect to hear a kind sentiment from. Tink met her eyes, a crooked smile on her face. But it wasn’t an unkind smile. It appeared thoughtful, almost envious. “You whirled and twirled, completely focused on each other. One would have thought no one else was in the grotto, just you two. Absolute perfection. Even the vampires commented on how perfectly you danced. They were enormously impressed with your waltzing. I talked with Keitran. He remembered you and regretted your escaping them. They do so enjoy a good dancer. I told him you’d never dance like that with them. They’d need to take him, too.” She chuckled. “Made him laugh. Imagine a vampire with the devil’s luck? Would the curse embrace the idea, knowing it would make him nearly immortal or see it as an attack? Boggles the mind!”
Emily took a deep breath, fighting not to cry, scream, or babble.
Tink lightly touched her arm, and they both turned to watch the sun set, saying nothing more.
***
For two days, Emily ignored the rest of the crew. She felt old, and looking at any of them reminded her of exactly how many years she’d been around. She caught Mick eyeing her whenever she took to the deck. Davis brought her food to the cabin, but she barely ate.
The third day, they anchored at the Baths Island. Emily didn’t even ask to go ashore. She knew there was no settlement, no way off and she didn’t want to be marooned or risk reminding herself of how wonderful it was when Silvestri showed her the great pool. She examined her mirror again and again, and tried to will it to show her something. But it remained just the bit of bric a brac she’d won from the woman at the pirate festival.
Most of the crew remained ashore that night. Emily heard Mick return to the ship cursing and assumed he’d fought with Jezebel again. It didn’t matter, they’d work it out. Emily had grown used to watching them spit and circle each other. It was usually a prelude to their disappearing into the cabin for hours on end. Some people enjoyed the rush of a good battle. Who was she to judge?
Not like her and Silvestri. One thing about Alan, he wasn’t argumentative.
She crawled onto her cot, wearing a tattered pair of breeches and a light shirt. She still hadn’t taken the pendant from her pocket. So tired, confused by all she’d been told, she drifted into a troubled sleep.
When the finger of cold air crept through the thick hull to touch her, she shivered. A dream wove around her, of Alan, his soft voice and warm hands. But nothing was warm about this dream. The shivering grew worse, but she didn’t wake. Finally, it stopped and her eyes opened.
But her eyes were blue, before slowly fading to brown.
***
Mick couldn’t believe how angry Jezebel was. Days later, and she still kept him at a distance. Usually, he found their fights energetic, and when they made up, the sex was incredible. She was wondrous when angry.
He burped, gazing toward the shore. The fires on the beach glowed where the rest enjoyed the night. The crew was subdued, concerned about the congenial new shipmate, but were following Jezzie’s lead and feigning a lack of concern. Emily Pawes was keeping to her cabin. She hadn’t mixed a drink since they’d left Tortuga. She should stick to what she did best, he fumed.
Lifting a hand, he brushed at the letter in his coat pocket. He hadn’t shared it with Jezebel. A letter from Alan Silvestri, promising the Immortal to him if he came alone to the southern tip of Bath Island. He’d talked Jezzie into stopping there, but wasn’t sure if he trusted the letter. Silvestri spoke of mutual respect and the truth. He knew the truth, already. Didn’t he?
When her hand fell on his arm, he jerked away.
“Christ’s blood, Pawes! What the hell are you doing, sneaking around?”
She didn’t answer, only pointed to the cutter tied to the starboard side of the ship.
He tilted his head at her, wondering what she was about. She touched his arm again, pulling him toward the rail. There was urgency to her demeanor.
“Ah, you know where he is, don’t you? Know about the offer he made to me? What does it mean, Pawes? He’s gonna turn the ship over to me? It’s a trick, isn’t it?”
She shrugged and climbed over the rail.
Mick patted his sash, where he kept a pistol ready for use. He was fine with using her to get close to that bastard, to make sure he didn’t try anything. He grinned and followed her down the hull to the cutter.
She untied the small boat and lifted an oar. He turned, searching for the other. He didn’t know what hit him.
Hours later, he woke up groaning, hands tied behind his back. He managed to sit up—it was still dark. But he couldn’t see the ship or the island. He turned to see Pawes, one hand tight to the tiller, the other holding his pistol. That hand didn’t waver, pointed the heavy pistol straight at him. He didn’t think she could manage that for too long.
“Emily…this isn’t necessary. Come on, woman. Put the pistol down.” He glanced at the small mast where a sail had been rigged and strained for all its worth. He straightened his back, and an icy cold wind ripped his hat off. “Damn!”
That wind wasn’t natural. He lowered himself in the cutter, shivering. A glance at Pawes, frozen to the tiller, caused that rea
ction to translate into something other than driven by icy air. She wasn’t shaking with cold. She wasn’t moving. The waning moon illuminated her face. No expression. Her hair blew forward, with the wind that carried them at such speed. She wore a light shirt, ragged breeches—damn, she must be cold!
He shook his head and worked at the knotted rope around his wrists.
Chapter Twenty-One
So cold. She’d died and gone to California Hell, where the sun wasn’t warm, and the cold was deeper than an Alaskan crab boat on the Bering Sea. She kept trying to wake up and draw the blankets tighter….
A sudden jarring finally forced her eyes to clear and focus. But instead of the darkness of her cabin, she faced a wall of ice, coming at her fast and Mick staring at her. The small mast was too tall for the opening! She dove forward, Mick staring up at her with shock. He was going to get hurt!
The loud snap of the mast was the last thing she heard. Mick felt soft…and warm. Something struck her head and she was out. Again.
***
Mick cursed, trying to push Pawes off his back. He’d almost gotten the knot loose when she suddenly threw off the walking sleep, screamed at something behind him, and threw herself atop him.
He’d spent the night working on that knot. He tested her, moved to one side, and she aimed the pistol at him, another side, it followed. Yet her eyes didn’t track him. It went on all night. Thank God she didn’t pay attention to what was going on behind his back, with his nimble fingers.
The sun rose while the wind grew faster. The spray from the bow soaked through the back of his coat. When the sail split, the little boat should have stopped. It didn’t and he’d realized they were being driven by some devil current. Ice crystals sparkled on Pawes’ hair. The spray had soaked through her shirt, her nipples stood out plain and they were stiff; he almost groaned. Another time, another place, he’d find them enticing, but he knew they were stiff with cold.
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