A Pirate's Revenge (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix)

by ML Guida

  He smiled. Power. He wanted more. He brushed her fingers off his arm. “I will come back and seek my reward.”

  ***

  Lark clasped the railing of the Fiery Damsel and stared out to sea. In the distance, the white sails of a frigate cruised across the horizon. “Is that the Phoenix?”

  “Aye,” Palmer said. He lowered his spyglass. “Our bloody enemies are straight ahead. We go into battle.”

  “No need to attack.”

  “What are you babbling about witch?”

  “I am not a witch. I am a warlock. And do not take that tone with me.”

  He pushed Lark’s shoulder. “And what, exactly, do you propose to do?”

  Lark bristled at his sarcastic tone and knocked his hand away. “Do not touch me. Watch and see, pirate.”

  He stretched out his arms and gazed up to the sky. “I call upon the Goddess of the Sun, Sekhmet. You have the power of life and death. I ask for your destructive side. Your thirst for the blood of men. I’ll satisfy your lust. Hear me, Goddess.”

  Clouds covered the sky, and a lioness’s head replaced the sun. A roar, louder than thunder, jarred the Fiery Damsel. Power gripped Lark, surging through his body. His blood pumped faster, sweeping tingles across his skin. The Goddess had granted his request.

  “Bring a squall large enough to destroy the Phoenix.”

  The wind howled, and the blue sky darkened. Lightning flashed and thundered grumbled. Waves rose high and hurled toward the frigate. Angry clouds, shrieking wind, and lightning followed. “She will not survive.” Lark gazed up at the blue sky. “The Goddess wants blood.”

  Palmer glanced up at the skies and turned his head side-to-side as if Lark possessed paltry abilities. “You’re supposed to bring Knight, his brat, and your sis—”

  “My what?”

  “Nothing. They are to be alive. Without those three, we might as well never return to the island.”

  Lark smirked. “Afraid?”

  “You’d be too, if you had any bloody sense in you.”

  Fear flowed from Palmer, and Lark laughed.

  Palmer shoved Lark, and Lark staggered into the main mast, smacking his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, witch. You were once my slave and will be again.”

  Agony stabbed Lark’s shoulder, but he refused to grimace. He regained his balance and cast his gaze over the bullying brute. “You will not touch me.” He conjured his power and flicked his wrist. Ants crawled out of the wooden planks and up Palmer’s legs into his trousers.

  “Where the devil did these blasted things come from?” Palmer slapped his legs and danced around the deck. “Get these things off me.” Panic rang in his high-pitched voice.

  Ants crawled out of his shirt and covered his face. Palmer clawed at his cheeks and fell onto his knees, swaying back and forth. “Please make them stop.”

  Lark smiled. “That is a taste of what I can do. Do not make me mad.” He snapped his fingers, and the ants vanished.

  Palmer stumbled to his feet. Hate burned in his eyes. Lark lifted his eyebrow. Palmer would have terrified a lesser man, but Lark was not a lesser man. Power surged through him, and he was greedy for more. Natasa had said the crew of the Soaring Phoenix wanted to rob him of his new abilities. How dare they? They would pay. Oui, they would pay.

  He frowned. French? Was he fluent in French? Oui. Did his family live in France? One of the colonies? He tried to remember, and the same throbbing pain smashed between his temples, robbing him of breath. He struggled to inhale and exhale. He clenched his fists, refusing to give in and cry out.

  “What’s wrong, witch?”

  “Nothing that concerns you.” Lark ran his hand through his hair and shook his head, trying to block out the blinding headache. Concentrate.

  Ahead, the Soaring Phoenix swayed dangerously side-to-side as waves smashed against her hull. Water rushed up over her deck, and her crew grabbed anything they could to keep from washing overboard.

  “Palmer, set a course for her,” Lark said.

  “I give the orders around here,” Palmer growled.

  “Do you want the quarry to drown? You will have to explain to your god, Maketabori.”

  “Bastard,” Palmer grumbled.

  Lark wanted more than storms to hit the enemy’s ship. He closed his eyes and laughed, cursing it with terror, a terror that would freeze even the bravest man’s soul. He pointed at the frigate and sent his chilling laughter toward his enemies.

  He concentrated and slowly moved his hand down his face. “Let them see the hate in my eyes. Give me your spyglass.”

  Palmer spit on the deck, barely missing Lark’s boots, and handed over the spyglass.

  Lark jerked it out of Palmer’s hand. “Do you need another lesson?”

  Palmer’s smirk died on his lips, and his face paled.

  Lark enjoyed the terror in Palmer’s eyes and the mayhem and chaos breaking out upon the Soaring Phoenix. His headache diminished. He smiled, sure of victory.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The sky blackened, and the sun disappeared. Swells of water crashed against the Phoenix’s hull, and she bucked back and forth. Water gushed across the wooden decks. The sails flapped and flattened. Men frantically pulled on the halyard and mooring lines.

  Mariah gripped the railing of the Soaring Phoenix and hung on tight. The stench of sulfur permeated the air, and she choked on the fumes. ’Twas not from gunfire. Mon Dieu! Lark. The dream. He had turned. He was a warlock. She had to get to the capitaine to tell him of the dangers. Darting between pirates, she bumped into a burly man, slipped, and fell.

  William grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  “Take me to the capitaine. I need to talk with him.”

  Sean hurried up next to them, his blond hair plastered from the driving rain. “Never seen a storm form out of thin air.” He pointed to Kane at the helm. “Capt’n’s in a foul mood.”

  William shook her arm. “’Tis black magic, ’tisn’t it?”

  Mariah winced. “Oui, take me to le capitaine.”

  He clutched her hand and used his shoulder to plow a path through the rushing crewmen. Sean followed close behind.

  Thunder boomed, and Mariah clutched William’s hand tighter. The ship listed to the side, and she slid toward the railing. She cried out, and William hauled her in front of him, lifting her off her feet and carrying her the rest of the way to the foredeck. He set her on her feet, his arm pressing her against his broad chest.

  Rain smashed against Kane, and he lowered his spyglass. “What do you think? ’Tis magic?”

  “Oui.”

  “Sean, take the helm and keep to the port side.”

  “It will not be any use, Capitaine.”

  He gritted his teeth, his scar on his cheek whitening. “Why?”

  Mariah stared up at the sky. The odor of sulfur intensified, and she curled her lip. The sky grew darker and waves rose higher. The Phoenix thrashed up and down. Salt water sprayed onto her face, stinging her eyes and staining her lips. “Because I know whose magic it is.”

  “’Tis Zuto or Natasa’s,” he said. Condemnation rang thick in his voice.

  She stiffened. “No, ’tis not demonic.”

  William tightened his arm. “Then whose is it?”

  Thunder clashed again. The rain pounded harder. Lines snapped and flapped freely in the wind. She swallowed hard. “’Tis Lark’s.”

  William turned her around and gripped her shoulders tight. “He’s a warlock?”

  Concern flared in his eyes. “’Tis not his fault.”

  “He has the power to kill you.”

  “No, he does not,” she lied. “’Tis my destiny to save my brother.”

  He whirled her around and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her to his hard chest. His heart beat fast against her back. “Kane, the lass will get herself killed. Lock her in the brig.”

  Lightning crashed, and the foremast splintered, bits of wood fell onto the deck and into t
he sea. Fire sparked onto the billowing sail, and a stream of fiery red burned through the canvas. Hannah darted between running men. She faced her palms toward the sea, and a wave of water washed over the burning sail, dousing it.

  Amadi yelled, “Capt’n, off da port side. ’Tis da Fiery Damsel.”

  Kane pulled out his spyglass. “Aye, there she is. No storms are around her.”

  “Oui, Lark has the power to call upon the elements. This is the beginning, Capitaine,” Mariah said. “Hannah cannot fight Lark herself. He is a warlock and will soon destroy her.”

  “Then—”

  “Lark is aboard the Damsel. I can feel him. Vampires are useless against a warlock. Your ship will sink, and your crew will either drown or be captured. With my help, you will have a chance to save your crew and your ship, oui?”

  William hissed into her ear. “We’re mated, remember? You said our combined powers are what will work against black magic. So, your magic won’t work without me.”

  Mated? God, he made it sound like they were animals, not lovers.

  Kane held her gaze, the wind whipping his hair around him. The rain pummeled against them, turning into cold, icy sleet.

  Mariah tilted her chin and waited, afraid for his answer.

  Hannah rushed over to Kane. Her face was ghastly pale, and blood dripped from her nose down her lip. “More fires on the deck,” she panted. “I cannot keep up.”

  “Kane, don’t do this to me,” William said. “I can’t lose Mariah, not like…” His voice trailed.

  “Like Sharon,” Hannah finished.

  William tightened his grip again, and ’twas as if an octopus ensnared her. Mariah struggled and gasped for breath. “William, I can stop this. Let me help, s’il vous plaît.”

  The wind howled, and waves crashed onto the deck. Men slipped and fell, fighting not to be pulled into the churning sea.

  “Give her a chance, Kane,” Hannah said. “Please.”

  She raced away to the edge. She held out her hands, drawing upon her power and trying to save a man that had been whirled into the sea.

  “Let Mariah help,” Kane said.

  “You bastard,” William growled. “She’s my woman to protect. I’ll not let you put her in danger like you did Hannah.”

  “Fool,” Kane argued. “Do you think I wanted to put Hannah in the middle of this war?” He gestured toward her. “I had no choice. Without her, Palmer would have defeated us. War is never fair, William. Mariah’s brother is aboard the Damsel and bent on destroying her.”

  “I’ll never let him harm her,” William said.

  Mariah glanced over her shoulder. His face turned grim as fear swam in those eyes. He was afraid for her. He cared? “William—”

  He untangled his arms and gripped her shoulders. “No. I can’t go through the pain of losing…”

  Thunder clashed and Mariah could not hear his words. Words she desperately wanted to hear. “I will not die.”

  He turned his head. “Sharon argued she wouldn’t die the night before her brother slayed her.” His fingers bit deeper into her flesh. “Don’t you understand? I can’t go through that hell again. Not with you. I couldn’t—”

  His voice cracked, and when she opened her mouth to reassure him, he kissed her hard. ’Twas not a gentle kiss, but one filled with hope and fear. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him, and she clung to him, tasting the male protectiveness, indulging in it.

  Men screamed, and rain hit them harder. William broke off the kiss and wiped a lock of hair off her face.

  “We must go,” she said. “Before ’tis too late. Lark’s powers are growing stronger, darker.”

  “Promise me you’ll survive.”

  “I will,” she whispered and hoped to God she was telling the truth. That they would both survive. “I wish you would believe in my magic.”

  “I don’t believe in any magic.”

  She sighed and bit back tears of frustration.

  He clasped her chin and tilted it toward him. “But I believe in you.” He kissed her lips lightly.

  She blinked, not sure she had heard right. He believed in her?

  “I’ll not let you out of my sight,” William said. “What do you plan to do?”

  She stared at his captivating lips and whispered, “Save the ship.”

  He released her chin and held her hand. “Then lead the way.”

  “Bien,” she said and led him across the deck.

  He believed in her. Those words rolled around in her head. Hope swelled through her.

  Ronan and other men carried buckets of water to put out the flames bursting out on deck. He glowered at William. A pang of hurt clutched her heart. Ronan had always had faith in her, but William’s words meant so much. Maybe she could trust William, not as a dragon, but as a man. She did not understand how those three little words chipped away at her iciness toward him, but ’twas not just sex magic. It had become something more, something special.

  She hurried toward the stairwell.

  William clasped her arm, and he pulled her to him. The rain pounded his scowling face. “Where are you going?”

  Despite the torrent around them, her traitorous body responded to his nearness, to his scent and touch. “I need to get to my chest.”

  They ran together down the stairs to her cabin. She retrieved her wand, candle, and athame. “We have to go outside.”

  “Why?”

  “The spell needs to be free among the elements. For it to work, I need to be one with nature.”

  “One with—” He cocked his eyebrow. “You mean naked.”

  She held the spell book tighter against her chest. “Oui, now out of my way.”

  He blocked her path. “I’ll not let you go out there naked.”

  “I can conjure a spell so the men will not see me naked, but naked I will be.” She studied him. She wanted him to love her, but he’d never trust the feeling. He’d think he only felt that way due to the bonding. “There is another way to stop it, but you will have to work with me. Decide quickly before Lark sinks us.”

  He furrowed his brow and chewed on his cheek. Distrust, wariness, and fear flickered in his eyes, but he nodded.

  “Well?” Mariah led the way out of her cabin and ran up the stairs. The ship rocked, and she flew into the wall. Pain gripped her shoulder.

  “Damn it.” William seized her and carried her up the stairs.

  “The stern, s’il vous plaît.”

  The storm intensified, the rain blinding them. Through the swirling wind, maniacal laughter roared around them, chilling her heart. William shielded her with his body and dodged running crewmen fighting to keep the Soaring Phoenix afloat. Her sails flapped, and the waves hit the side of her hull harder and harder, washing up on deck. Crewmen struggled to keep from being thrown into the angry sea.

  “You should go below deck,” William said. “This is too dangerous.”

  “No, we can do this,” Mariah insisted. She hoped she was right. She had never gone up against a warlock before.

  He stopped at the stern. Passion filled his eyes. “Now what, temptress?”

  Mon Dieu! Focus.

  “William, you need to blow on the candle.” The wind whipped around her, tangling her hair in front of her eyes, and the boat tilted. She lost her footing and shifted her weight to keep from falling onto the slick deck. “Hurry please.”

  “’Tisn’t possible.” He blinked and gestured up at the sky. “The storm will blow out the candle.”

  “Not against dragon fire.” A gust of wind buffeted her hand, and a menacing voice hissed a chant in her ear. She gasped. Lark. Pure evil dripped from his words. She shuddered and wiped her wet cheeks. “Si’l vous plaît, try. Before ’tis too late.”

  William’s emerald eyes changed to a glowing gold. He nodded and blew. A soft stream of fire fanned around the wick, swirled around it, and ignited a bright flash.

  The wind roared, and Mariah wobbled, but the flame grew brighter and rose higher.
“Take the candle, William.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Trust me. Take it. This is not a time to argue, no?”

  He took the candle and his fingers brushed over hers. “I do trust you.”

  She could throw her arms around his shoulders and kiss him. There was still hope for him, for them.

  Concentrate.

  “Now follow me.” She grabbed her wand and athame and held them high over her head and went to the very end of the stern. Once there, she stripped out of her dress. “Mother Isis, I call upon you to send the spirit, Akasha, to bless and protect us.”

  Warmth washed away the frigidity, and the rain ceased. Tremors ran down her arm, down her torso to her toes. Power surged through her.

  “The flame grew higher,” William yelled over the thunder.

  “We walk in the shape of the magic star. First, Air.” She tapped her athame with her wand three times. “Earth.”

  “What’s happening?”

  Mariah ignored him. Her skin tingled. “Fire. Water.”

  She turned around. A white glow outlined William. His shirt plastered to his skin, showing off every sculpted muscle. Black trousers outlined his thick thighs, and she could not help but be drawn to his crotch. His gold eyes burned bright. If only she could wrap her legs around his hips and impale herself on his shaft. His sudden kindness tore away her defenses. Hopefully, he meant what he said. “William, hold the candle high over your head.”

  He complied, his head tilted back, his long thick hair sticking to his broad shoulders.

  Shutting out sinful thoughts, she lifted her athame and tapped her wand. Each time she did, a fiery line formed along the deck, tracing a glowing silver star. “I ask the four basic elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water to send the black magic to where it came.”

  “The ship,” William said.

  “The flames will not burn the ship,” she answered. “Keep the candle high over your head.”

  “Akasha,” she called out, her voice strong and powerful. “Protect us.”

  The flaming star shot up into the churning sky, and the outline of a silver star branded the clouds. A high pitched shriek pierced Mariah’s ears. ’Twas a hateful cry, as if someone’s heart had been ripped out. A small opening widened, and rays of golden light flowed down onto the Soaring Phoenix. But a black cloud rolled back in and masked the light.