Overhead, the sky was darkening. There would be a nasty storm, and his ship was manned by boys who were playing at being pirates and had no notion what they were doing. The sails weren't in proper position to go far, but it was windy enough to move them right toward where the clouds were threatening to let loose. They could all be killed. "Afraid so." Wait a second… "You said Ione was with you?" Where was she now? He turned back toward his ship with dawning horror. "No." He started toward the dock, but his brother held him back.
"What are you doing!"
"I'm going after her. Underwood has her."
His brother blinked and shook his head. "Underwood? As in the earl?"
"He's the one who did this to me." He was tiring of waving the hook around at people. "And now he has the woman I love on my ship and is going to hurt her." His heart thundered as worry and dread made his stomach churn. He'd just found Ione, and he'd be damned if he'd lose her.
"Christ." When James tried to run for the dock again, Jonathan held fast to his arm. "You won't be able to swim that far and fast after a sloop. Not even if you had both hands."
His agitation was growing with each second. "Well, I can't just leave her to that bastard."
"Get in the skiff." Jonathan dragged him toward a small boat with a set of oars.
"We definitely won't move fast in that."
"It's either this, or we wait until someone can prepare one of the big ships, and we don't know where your ship is headed."
Fear for Ione's safety blocked out his ability to think and plan. "I don't know if I can row one handed," he managed to say, as idiotic as it was. He hated admitting it, but was thankful it was his brother.
"Don't worry. I'll row, and when we are close enough, swim like life depends on it. I have father's pistol and will have your back."
That nearly sent him toppling into the Thames as he untied the ropes from the dock. "Why?" Had he anticipated trouble?
Shrugging, Jonathan hopped into the boat, sat on the bench, and lifted the oars as James climbed in and pushed them away from the dock. "He didn't say. Just that I might need it."
"Strange."
"Indeed."
He couldn't worry about that, however, as fear ate at his heart and blood pounded in his ears. He had to find Ione before Underwood hurt her.
CHAPTER 10
"AH, YOU'RE AWAKE."
Ione groaned and opened her eyes. She was lying on a lumpy mattress in a room she hadn't ever seen before. Dark-brown, wooden paneling surrounded her from the walls to the ceiling to the furniture. A blond man sat in a chair in front of her, arms crossed. Why did he look somewhat familiar?
"Where is Jonathan?" And why did her head hurt? Ione pushed herself into a sitting position, cradling her head in her palm. Healing shouldn't take long, but the pain would resonate until then.
"Jonathan, is it? Foregoing formalities with the brother of the lover. An interesting surprise, that." When she just looked at him without reacting, he rolled his eyes and said, "That blow to the head should have kept you out for far longer. You started stirring as soon as we set sail, so we had to hit you again to make sure you wouldn't cause a fuss until we were out of port." He sounded almost impressed.
Sail? Ah, that explained the subtle rocking back and forth. They were on a ship. The movement of open water had become so engrained in her as normal that she hadn't quite picked up on that, but then again…she'd been hit in the head. Twice.
He'd pay for that.
Her eyes widened as details started to come together to form complete thoughts. Where was Jonathan, and did they have James? "You're the Earl of Underwood." That's why he seemed familiar. She must have seen him at the ball even though she hadn't been introduced, and she'd lost track of James when he'd gone to confront him and didn't connect the name with the face. That explanation was less disturbing than the idea she might have seen him in passing at a gathering of immortals. She wished she had a chance to talk to Demeter once again before they'd left the ball to know for certain.
"Heard of me?" Underwood chuckled. "I like that. Everyone should be awed by Peter Paxton. My name will one day be legend."
She'd known the young man for all of two minutes and already she grew exasperated with him. He needed to be stopped before someone else got hurt. James would have drowned if she hadn't been there. They'd cut off his hand, for gods' sake. "You haven't done anything to be proud of. What did James ever do to you to make you want to hurt him?" She could get away if she got above deck. But she didn't know if James and his brother had been taken, so she had to keep the earl talking.
Underwood contemplated this, pursing his lips. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" she repeated, incredulous.
He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. "I was bored. I am attracted to his sister, though their being related really was a coincidence. Some would call it fate." He laughed harder then. "Now don't give me that look. We all have strange things that entertain us. For instance, where did Captain Harlow find a beautiful woman like you in the time between drowning and returning from the dead?" He shook his head. "His survival has complicated things."
Underwood didn't want to talk about himself. That spoke volumes. Either a bad home life or an illness of the mind, he was sick and lashing out because of it. Or, if he was of Olympian blood, and she really hoped not, he was just cruel. Her family members had the tendency to take things too far. And the ones that became fond of cruelty rarely, if ever, gave up those impulses. "Well, you failed."
"Perhaps. I'll rectify that shortly."
What was that supposed to mean?
A knock at the door interrupted whatever Underwood was about to say next. A young man around the same age as the earl came in and his gaze darted between the two of them. His dark hair was half loose from its binding at the nape, as though he'd been tugging at it. He blushed when he looked at her and stammered, "T-the cannon is prepped and r-ready, Captain." Then he rushed from the room.
Had the others wanted to participate in these schemes, or had Underwood pulled them into this farce before taking it too far? How many were there?
Then what the kid had said sank in. Captain? Cannon? "What are you up to?" she asked when she was alone with Underwood again. A bright flash lit the cabin and a crack of thunder followed. Did these men even know how to sail, and in a storm no less? They could all die.
Underwood stood and then strolled toward a grouping of large windows at the back of the cabin. "Your beloved and his irksome brother are gaining on us. We had trouble maneuvering a ship this large out to sea, but we managed. The time spent doing that, however, allowed them to row closer. It's a shame they won't survive to come aboard."
Ione stumbled out of the bed and joined him at the window, and her heart swelled with anxiety and relief. Jonathan and James were alive and free of capture. And they'd come after her! She couldn't see their expressions, but she'd recognize James anywhere. They wouldn't be able to out-maneuver heavy artillery in that tiny boat. Ione shuddered. She’d witnessed the aftermath of naval battles. Often swam through the watery graveyards of destruction and death.
As if the Fates had decided to punish them all further, a heavy rain erupted over the water, pelting the glass and drenching her would-be rescuers. The sky was so dark it could be night, but Underwood said she hadn't been unconscious long. If they had made it to the North Sea, her Nereid abilities would be at full capacity, though they'd still be formidable if they were still on the river. As much as she wanted to unleash her fury onto Underwood and protect James, these men were barely a score in years, if that, and some may not have been there entirely by choice judging by the behavior of the dark-haired boy. Could she live with herself if she took action and murdered innocents just to selfishly save the man she loved?
What's more, if Underwood was of her pantheon, was he an immortal demigod? They had been fearing the worst, but knowing what they were dealing with would help her determine how to defeat him. Immortals could be killed, but with difficulty. An
d Ione had never taken a human or immortal life before.
The situation, however, could come down to it. The man she loved could die in front of her eyes, and everyone on board this vessel could die from their inexperience sailing during a storm. She had made up her mind to stay with James on the trip to the docks, and refused to see that destroyed before it had a chance to begin. Despite the trials of the human world, she'd rather deal with them and have James than return to the sea without him. A mortal life filled with love and family was much better than unending loneliness.
Underwood headed toward the door, undoubtedly to lock her in as he murdered two innocent men who'd done nothing to provoke him. This might be her one chance.
"Why me?"
He didn't turn around, and kept his pace. "I knew he'd come for you."
The conversation she'd had with Poseidon about mortals and fishing came to mind. "You used me as bait." It wasn't a question. Of course he had.
"Don't take it personally."
She doubted there was another way to take it. "And when James is dead? Then what?"
His lack of response was telling. She would be killed, or he'd try to kill her. It would never come to that because she would stop him before anyone died.
"One last question… What would your great grandmother say about this?"
Underwood spared her a glance with a furrowed brow as he reached the door. "I beg your pardon?"
"The Duchess of Ceres, of course." Would Demeter forgive her if she had to harm her great-great-however-many-times grandson?
With a sound of annoyance, Underwood turned the doorknob and pushed open the door while scowling at her. "I've never heard of her. Who said she was my great grandmother?"
Ione masked her expression and shrugged. "Guess I confused the families is all. I've only been in London two days. I thought she said she was related to you."
"Females." As he shut the door behind him, she distinctly heard him say, "Always blathering on about nonsense."
Ione turned back to the window and tried to open it. It didn't budge. She pounded against the glass. It was sturdy, which meant breaking it would require a heavy object, and though she could throw herself through it, if it cut her enough, or just right, she could end up incapacitated until she healed, and if she was unconscious in an unknown part of the sea, she couldn't protect herself against predators who would be drawn to the scent of blood.
Ione crossed the room and tried the door. As she predicted, he'd locked her in. No matter. She was a sea nymph adrift in the midst of her element, and since Underwood wasn't Demeter's great grandson after all, it meant she wouldn't have to dread retaliation from an irate goddess should he not survive Ione's wrath. She smirked.
An earsplitting boom sounded overhead, and the ship shook.
"No!" It couldn't be mistaken for thunder. That had been a cannon firing. She looked out the window, afraid her heart would be shattered, but they'd missed. The ship began to turn, undoubtedly trying to find a better shot.
She had to escape the ship and into the water where she was strongest. To her absolute disgust, each piece of furniture she attempted to lift was nailed down. How would she break the window?
Think, Ione. Think!
Kneeling, she placed her hands on the floorboards and closed her eyes. As Ione focused, she sensed the water beneath the three levels of the ship. The currents shifting with the ferocity of the storm. Beneath that, plant life thrived. Fish hid in the shadows of the greenery as though sensing the danger of falling debris from above. What could she use? She needed something heavy…
There!
A second cannonball fired, and she whimpered as she focused on an old, broken anchor rusting on the sea floor. Every inch was covered in barnacles and it was half buried in the sand and rock below. Come to me. She willed the water to lift the heavy object, forming an unnatural current to move it, but it didn't budge. It was stuck. She kept pushing it with currents from one direction, and then another. Finally, it came loose. Then she pulled it up, up, up.
Oh, no! Her eyes popped open. She meant to bring it through the window, but the current was bringing it through—
A crash rocked the ship from below, followed by another, and then the anchor pummeled through the floorboards on a swirl of seawater next to her, then dropped back through the hull, widening the first hole it made two decks below as it fell back into the sea. Water began to flood what looked like a store room on the bottom-most deck, and she grimaced. James probably wouldn't thank her for sinking his ship. In the end, Underwood had treated it better than she had.
"What was that?" someone shouted.
"Came from below."
She didn't have much time before they would try to stop her. She lowered her legs into the hole, crossed her arms over her chest and dropped through the first two openings without issue, only to land on her backside in the bottom deck with a twack. Missed the second hole by two feet. The water flowed in without mercy and she willed it to take its time, smoothing out the rush. The magic would buy the ship some time, but it wouldn't last too much longer than it would without it. The Poseidon's Mercy was going to sink within the hour, if not sooner due to the storm. Once the stern went under, anyone remaining on board would be sucked beneath the surface with it.
Nearly a dozen mortals filled the doorway and gawked at her as she scooted over to the hole and stuck her legs into the cool, churning water. Tingles of power coursed through her as her legs fused together, hidden from view, and the gills on the back of her neck opened from where they'd sealed themselves into her smooth skin on land.
Underwood joined the commotion. "What—"
"Farewell, gentlemen." Ione smiled and waved before dropping into the sea. As she exited, she'd caught a glimpse of Underwood rushing forward as if he could stop her. She laughed. They probably thought she was mad. Perhaps she was. At the moment, even if she wasn't immortal, she'd stop at nothing to keep James and his brother alive.
The frigid water felt heavenly on her skin and as she flicked her fins. She took a moment to appreciate that she'd foregone undergarments. The gown was heavy and distracting, but she'd need it later, so she'd have to manage with it on. This could be the last time she had a tail though, and the bittersweet sensation of being truly one with the salt and sea washed over her. This was home, but her heart and soul belonged on land and with a mortal.
James!
Snapping out of her reveries, she turned in the direction she'd last seen him and Jonathan and swam as fast as she could. First, she spotted an oar, followed by a large chunk of the boat, both floating right below the surface. Panic seized her gut. What if she was too late? She dove deep, seeking signs of either of the men along the bottom. They couldn't be dead. They couldn't!
But she didn't find any trace of them. Where was the rest of the boat? Had it stayed afloat enough to keep them alive?
A massive shark glided through the water toward her, and she flared out her power to caution it not to attack. It shifted course slightly, but kept its beady eyes on her as it came closer.
"Have you taken a bite out of a mortal today?" she willed her question into its mind.
The shark circled around her, assessing. "No. Should I?"
Relieved, she warned the shark to stay away from any humans in the area and ascended toward the ship. It was the only other place they could have gone if they hadn't drowned.
THE BLOODY BASTARD had fired on him. From his ship! He supposed he should be grateful that, once it was clear he wasn't going to be called to assist in the wars, he'd delayed buying more than the one cannon. However, part of him berated himself for putting it off. They'd struggled to blast two men in a skiff, so how did he expect to fend off pirates if needed?
Worry about artillery later.
"James…" Jonathan gurgled and coughed up the water he had swallowed. They'd leaped from the boat when the cannon fired the second time. Had used part of the wreckage to float closer, with the assistance of the oar Johnathan had managed t
o hold onto in the ordeal. But that part of the boat eventually sank too. "Are you sure you're going to be able to climb up the side one-handed?"
"I have a sharp hook attached to my other arm. I think I am capable of making a handhold if I need one." He hoped. James hadn't actually tried to do much with it. For all he knew, the force it would take to sink the metal into solid wood could wrench the hook from his limb. "Is my ship looking lopsided to you?"
If he wasn't mistaken, he'd say it was sinking. A conclusion he desperately denied despite the evidence before him.
"I didn't want to say anything because we aren't close enough to land for that to be a better option than staying in the water, but yes, it does."
Unbelievable. "Those imbeciles put a hole in my goddamned bloody ship!" He was going to wring Underwood's scrawny neck. Ione better be safe when he found her, or he didn't know what he'd do to that kid.
"We need to get on board to save your intended, or she's going down with the ship. I bet she's locked in your cabin and that side is almost halfway under. If it sinks much more, the whole ship will go down with it."
"I'm aware," he said through gritted teeth. As if on cue, the rain started pelting them harder and thunder boomed overhead. The water was growing rougher by the minute, and if they didn't get out of it soon they would die one way or another. A stinging pain in the side of his arm nearly sent him underwater. He glanced down at his shoulder. Blood? "I do believe I've been shot." It was just a graze at least. The thunder had completely masked the gunshot. It had to have been Underwood's doing, but no one stood at the railing. Where was he?
A dagger embedded into the hull beside his brother's hand where he'd reached for the rope ladder the idiots hadn't thought to pull up when they set sail. James turned into the direction it had been thrown from. Underwood sat in the ship's skiff, rowing one handedly and pointing a pistol at them. Was there even a shot in it? He'd fired once already. Not to mention, he wouldn't be able to keep up with the one-handed rowing for long with the water continuing to increase its furious tempo. It irked him that the pistol in Jonathan's possession likely wouldn't fire now that he'd been in the water for a prolonged amount of time. They were at a standstill with nowhere to go but down if the earl had a second pistol trained on them instead of the first.
Romantically Enchanted: A Twisted Fairytale Collection Page 20