I blink the sleep from my eyes, but my mind goes dizzy, exhaustion getting the best of me. There's no way I can stay here— awake—for another few hours. My choice is sleep now, or act now. The sky is only just growing darker, the crew is still lively—it's not an ideal time to sneak around.
"Whitley?" I whisper. "Are you awake?"
"Yes," she says so lightly the wind almost masks her voice, even to me.
"Can you stay awake for a few hours?" I pause, watching the few crew members around. This is one conversation I don't want them hearing, "I'm going to need to wake up later in the night."
"Get some sleep," Whitley says louder. A few eyes dart in our direction. I smile. The crew will relax if they think I'm going to sleep through the night.
She never finishes the line, to tell me she'll wake me when the time is right, but I know that is her intention.
I've already prepped Whitley on the basics of the plan. I need to sneak into the captain's quarters to take a peek at our heading. We'll certainly pass several small islands before we reach our rendezvous, and I plan to make one our escape point. If we time it right, we can jump overboard near the island and swim ashore without alerting the crew. By the time they realize we're no longer on the ship, we'll be too far gone for them to find us. It must be a small island, though. It must be at an inconspicuous time. It must be planned right.
I have a particular island in mind, but with any luck we'll have a few options. I just need to see the map with speed markings and our exact direction.
If all goes right, I'll be back in my bindings with our island selected and timed out before they notice I'm missing. If it does not, I'll be forced to toss a crew member overboard and take his skin. I’d like to avoid this option, but then, there are a few crew members I won’t mind disposing of, and it very well may be necessary in order to keep my intentions unknown. They can't know my plan.
The only downside to our second option is that it will leave Whitley vulnerable. We're just going to have to hope my threat of calling the sirens is enough to keep her safe for a day or two if I'm impersonating a pirate and unable to double down on the bluff.
I let my body relax, but my mind is still whirring. I close my eyes and listen to the waves, but thoughts keep popping into my mind. What ifs. I know I should sleep. Only moments ago, I was hardly able to keep my head up—just that quickly I'm buzzing again.
I shift to find a better sleeping position. My wrists are burning from the tight ropes, my fingers tingling. There is no good place to rest my head.
Whitley must notice my discomfort, because she begins to hum softly. The melody is light and airy, drifting up and down along with the waves and wind. My mind spins with the notes, rising and falling alongside its beauty. Soon my whole body is riding the waves, swirling with them. Darkness drops over my whole self and I am a goner.
A SHARP PAIN TO MY thigh jerks me awake.
"Ow."
"Sorry," Whitley whispers. "You wouldn't wake."
"How did you kick me in this position?" I ask incredulously.
"Talent, I suppose." Her voice is amused, and I smile in return, though I know she can't see it. My mind jumps to what I could do, now that I'm planning to escape my bindings... but I shake them off. I have more important work tonight.
The sky is dark. Even the moon and stars are hidden beneath thick clouds above. Perfect conditions. A few feet away, our guard sits against a barrel, eyes closed, mouth dropped open in a loud snore, an empty bottle of rum beside him. Rum is always a pirate's weakness. That and women.
In only moments, I wiggle my sore wrists from the ropes and slither my way free.
"Wow," Whitley says under her breath. "That was quick."
I turn to face her for the first time in a full day. Strange to spend so much time with someone, but unable to see them. It's refreshing just to lay eyes on the soft lines of her face, even in the darkness. "I have talents too," I say with a wink.
Her eyebrows rise and her lips turn up slightly.
Walking away from her right now is not easy. I must remember who she is. I must remember that I may care about her, but she's only here with me out of circumstance. I don't know what Whitley really wants, but I don't believe for a second that it's me.
She alone will have the power to enslave him
I want her. I owe her. But I will not trust her.
I drag my body away from the woman as beautiful as a siren. That's what they do, what they are. Perhaps Ink was right. All women are sirens. They lure you in, make you believe they love you—then they drag you under and drown you.
It's hard to find a balance between treating Whitley like a human being that is in trouble and in pain—in part, at least, because of me—and remembering that she will be my downfall if I allow it.
I want her to be happy. But I can't let my happiness come from her.
That's why New York was such an ideal plan. Leave her to a life she'd apparently wanted and move on. Too bad Stede had to ruin that.
Or perhaps it was ruined long ago by her father. I don't know.
I shake my mind free of its entanglement with Whitley. I have a plan I must execute. Safety first. I'll figure the rest out later.
I rush through the shadows, quiet as a ghost. I pick the lock of the captain's quarters and slip inside easily but pause as I approach the map, squinting at the darkness.
Captain Taj is slumped over at a desk in the corner, snoring loudly. I can't light a candle or it will wake him. Darkness might be convenient for sneaking out, but less so for map reading.
Instead, I force myself to have patience and get what context clues I can in the darkness.
I draw my finger along the string pinned to the map board, which shows our direction and heading. I'll need two bits of information before I'm able to calculate my escape point: the ship’s route and the location of the island on the map. I need light for both.
My navigating instincts are strong enough that I could guess our general direction and speed, but this is a time I’d like to be as exact as possible. There is too much at risk.
So I wait, eyes pinned to the map in front of me, hoping the clouds will clear, exposing the moonlight for even a moment.
The ship rocks and sways, creaking and grinding as it does. Captain Taj snores unevenly, and for one uncomfortable moment, he calls out Rosemera's name. I do feel badly for him. I want Rosemera safe as much as he does. But Whitley was right. She doesn't need us to save her.
I'm confident she'll be just fine. And I hope to God I'm right.
Finally, the sky lightens momentarily, giving me a moment of clearer vision. I find a section of small islands, but there are too many. Too obvious. The sky goes dark again.
This may take a while. The island I'm seeking will be several miles past that horseshoe shaped bunch. I could estimate from there, but I'll need another moment of light before I'll know for sure.
Another twenty minutes pass, and I begin to worry this won't work. The captain could wake at any time. It's unlikely he sleeps for more than a few hours each night, especially in such an uncomfortable spot.
A door slams shut, three loud bangs, and the captain jerks awake.
Shit.
I slip into the shadows as the captain drags himself to the door. I use the squealing sound of the opening door to mask the quick rustling of the clothes I slip behind in the corner of the room.
"He's gone," A pirate says. Timmons, I assume, based on his calm. One of Taj's few truly trusted comrades. He's small but cunning, and always cool in a crisis.
"Damn it." The captain rubs his face with his hands. "But we did expect it. We still have the girl, I assume?"
"Aye."
"Good. We still have a few hours before dawn. See if we can recapture him before the rest of the crew find out."
"CAPTAIN!" another voice calls out. Loud footsteps pound up to the captain's door. "He's escaped! He's—" Timmon’s presses his hand over Ink's mouth before he finishes.
"Hush
, will you?" the captain barks.
His cry is muffled by Timmon's gag, but I do hear a few "buts" in there. I hold back a laugh at his extreme reaction. Such a tough guy, so afraid when things get rocky. He’s a coward hiding behind size and dark marks.
"We need to search for him. Quickly, and quietly,” the captain says in a hushed but firm tone.
Ink's eyes remain large, but he stills his body and nods quickly. Timmons removes his hand.
"Let's begin. Wake no one."
All three withdraw from the room and split up communicating in only gestures. I must be caught anywhere but here. They can't know what I was looking at, or my plan won't work. Surprise is key.
So I slip out from hiding place and creep towards the door. It doesn't matter what happens now so long as I get out of this room before they find me.
But just before I reach the door, Ink's huge body blocks the way. He looks more shocked than I am, mouth open and eyes wide.
"Plan B it is."
Whitley
The sun is now rising in earnest, and the captain has been searching for Bluff for hours to no avail.
So my unease does not grow to its soul-crushing peak until the crew surrounds me, bodies pressing in closer, their hands clasped over dagger handles. Whispered discussions on what they should do to me suck all the air from my lungs.
I'm their only leverage over Bluff if they can't figure out where he is.
Who he is.
They know. They know he's among them, somewhere. Paranoia is spreading, hooking its claws deeper and deeper with each passing moment. One pirate gasps as he stares into the face of the tallest pirate in the crowd and steps away like he's come to some nefarious conclusion. "It's him! I can smell it! Smells like a siren!!"
A muscled arm wraps around the suspected imposter's neck, and I flinch back as a fight starts— pushing and pulling and punching and yelling. The whole crowd swells with the movement, like a violent storm at sea.
This isn't the first brawl to begin since the crew learned Bluff had disappeared, but it is the nearest to me. Their fists fly near my face and I can feel the rush of air as their bodies tumble to the ground by my feet. It's only a matter of time before they stop pointing fingers at each other and turn their entire attention to me.
"Stop fighting one another, you loonies!" Barns shouts, straw still in his mouth. "We know our enemy." He points a stubby finger straight at my face.
I curl my body in tighter, attempting to hide, but with my arms tied behind my back, it’s impossible. I'm exposed, facing a scared pack of dogs—tails under their legs but baring their teeth at their only known target.
"Let's toss her overboard and end it, here and now."
"Slit her throat for good measure!"
"We need her to get Rosey back!"
"Why? What's so important about the little lass?" A man with red hair and one eye permanently shut raises a sharp blade towards me. "Only value is in her pretty face, and I can end that with a flick of my wrist!"
"Her value," the captain's firm voice cuts through the crowd as he steps forward, "is in Bluff's affection. That is her value."
I swallow, assuming his meaning is exactly what I'm dreading—that torturing me is their means to force Bluff to expose himself. But it still doesn't explain why Captain Stede wants me so badly.
I press my eyes together, trying to close out the image before me. Panic presses down on me from all angles—hot breath on every inch of my exposed skin.
"Cut her free!" the captain orders.
I jerk my head up immediately, unsure if this is good or bad.
A man with skin as pale as milk and hair dark as night sends me a sadistic smile, and I know it must be bad. Then the crew cheers, and my stomach roils.
My hands are clammy, my head dizzy as they rip me from the ropes and drag me to my feet.
They press in closer until several bodies are touching me, and I squirm. They laugh.
"I know how we can use the lass to weed out the Bluff-boy," the pale skinned man announces, gently touching my face with the only two fingers remaining on his right hand. I shiver. "Let's have a little fun with her."
More laughter.
I've never been more terrified in all my life, but I know there must be a means of escape. There must be some solution. And I can't rely on Bluff, not this time. If he exposes himself it could be the end of our escape plan, and I won't be any better off.
"Rosemera wouldn't like that," one man says from the back.
"Well Rosemera isn't here, is she?"
I clench my jaw.
"What about the sirens?" the whispered voice cools the crowd instantly.
The pale skinned man grabs me by the upper arm and turns to the crowd. "Boy can't call no sirens. He might be half-a’ one but they never listened to him before."
Wait, what?
"But what if!" someone calls.
"Then I'll be the first to drown.” The man holding me curls a lip, exposing yellow teeth. “But I'll do it with a smile on my face, knowing I beat him."
This was our only chance at convincing the crew not to harm me, even though I didn't understand it. Now I'm beginning to. Just one more truth Bluff withheld.
I blink rapidly as the wall of pirates pressed closer. If the threat of sirens doesn’t work, Bluff’s lies will be the least of my worries.
Bluff
My whole body burns with rage. I can't let them touch her. I won't. Already the threat of sirens has dissipated. Forgotten.
But dammit, what will exposing myself help? They'll know who I killed once I'm no longer taking his place. And they'll easily discover where he was last. They'll know I was in the captain's quarters. If they know that, they'll easily piece together my entire scheme.
Then it won't be The Freedom's crew ready to destroy Whitley, it'll be Stede's. Same problem, different crew.
But then again, like Whitley said previously, at least it would delay the nightmare. We'd have more time to plan another scheme—more difficult than the last. Every second that passes, every inch we travel closer, every plan foiled, our chance at success diminishes.
If I give in now... I'm unsure we'll make it out of this.
Lucky Seven pushes Whitley back from the crowd toward the railing, and I must act now. That's a pirate's name I will never forget.
"I'll do it with a smile on my face, knowing I beat him."
Acid fills my veins just at the thought. I will kill him for those words.
He'll be easy to find, only pirate I know missing three fingers on one hand.
I've only ever killed out of necessity. Never out of rage or vengeance. That trend will end soon. Very soon.
Whitley stumbles to the side of the ship, giving her just a little distance from her pursuers. I can't bring myself to witness the panic on her face. I call out. "Oy!"
A few heads turn in my direction, but not enough. I'm ready to change, ready to expose myself. Ready to fight, if necessary. But just before the magic fills my skin, a feeling of cool mist falls over the ship, followed by a voice, drifting over the waves and hushing the hollers of the crew.
A song. A sinister melody, high and cool—coming from Whitley.
I swallow, even my own hair stands on end at the sound that leaves her soft lips. She stands there, head up, determined. Her eyes are harsh but the sound is so... gentle.
Breath leaves me as I watch. She's... surprisingly convincing. So much so, it makes me sick.
But it's working. The crew steps away from her.
"She's calling them!"
"No. They're already here!" They throw their hands over their ears, eye wide with panic.
"She's one of them."
"Told you! Too pretty, that one. Isn't right!"
I fall into the role of terrified pirate, mouth hanging open. "Make her stop!" I yell. It's an easy role, because truth is—I am unnerved right alongside them. I know the song isn't real. It's like someone pretending to know a language they don't. It's pure gibberish. Bu
t I'm the only one who would know it. Still, the sound is too close. The feeling is too right.
It's beautiful. And I hate it.
The worst torture in the world would be to fall in love with a siren. She’s not a siren, I remind myself. Yet the sound hovering over the vessel has me doubting what I know.
And the more I refuse to love her, it seems, the closer I get to just that. And even just the image of her being one of them is a dagger to the heart.
I'd rather the prophecy come true and she somehow have the power, and will, to control my every move for the rest of life, than to love someone and have them become like my mother. Cruel and unloving. Unable to care.
Inhuman.
Sirens are not like humans. They have no emotional capacity. They are pure lust and power. The pain in my chest grows deeper at that thought.
The crew panics in earnest now, rushing around to find shelter from the sirens. I stand there, just staring at her, broken heart frozen in place. Then I blink myself back to reality.
I must remember that I am not Bluff. I am a member of the crew and must act like it. I flee alongside the others, trying to force my large body into a small gap below the galley stairs along with three others.
Half my body is sticking out, but we all go still, hoping it's enough. It's quiet, we realize. She's no longer singing and there is no evidence of a siren attack—yet.
"Are they here?" I whisper, a tremor in my voice.
"Don’t think so. Maybe she called them off?" Jimmy, who grips my bicep like a doll, says.
I won't be the first to move, first to check if the coast is clear, though I'd like to be. It wouldn't be characteristic of the pirate I'm wearing, so I'll need to act as terrified as possible.
So I wait.
"What was that, lassy?" The captain's cool voice floats over the deck.
Sea of Treason (Pirate's Bluff Book 1) Page 15
