“I can still help. If you need me. I’ll die for her…and for you.”
Jillybean felt tears coming on. Quickly, she bent down and made a show of going through the surgical kit she had brought. She had been looking for a hero, and here he was, still trying to do the right thing while standing on the worn-down welcome mat of death’s door. She rubbed her sleeve across her eyes before standing. “We’ll need heroes in the future, Mike. Your job is to get better. Don’t worry about what’s happening out there. I’ll take care of this one.”
She bent and kissed him on the forehead and left, searching out the other wounded people. None of the other patients volunteered to do anything but lie there and sleep, and that was to be expected. That was normal. Heroes were not normal. They were rare.
“Queen Jillybean?” It was the lumpy-headed girl.
“Are they here, Shaina?”
She seemed confused. “No. It’s just one person. They had this little boat and we went and got her. The Queen said you weren’t going to like it.”
Jillybean’s heart began to pound as Eve raided her imagination and sent terrible, bloody pictures of body parts into her mind. This one is Neil’s balls, and this is Gunner’s hump. Look inside, it’s a second head…
“Shut up!” Jillybean yelled, stomping her foot. Shaina went white. “No, not you, Shaina. I was talking to Eve. Go on. I’ll follow you.” She followed slowly, so she had time to force her face into the blandest of neutral expressions. Thankfully the Captain’s ambassador carried no body parts. It was the ambassador herself who shocked Jillybean. It was Joslyn Reynolds standing at the back of the boat, as bold as brass, her usual impish smile on her aging features. Her wrinkles were more pronounced and her few grey hairs were now coming in streaks.
A half dozen guns were pointed at her. Deanna held Emily behind her, partially to protect her daughter and partially to keep Emily from rushing over and knocking Joslyn’s teeth in.
Jenn Lockhart stood directly in front of Joslyn, her auburn hair whipping, and her cheeks the color of cream. She had learned the art of silence and her icy stare was so devastating that even Joslyn didn’t feel she could speak until acknowledged. “He sends us a traitor to bargain with,” Jenn said. “Not too smart if you ask me.”
“It’s a feeble attempt to get under our skin,” Jillybean remarked, coming to stand next to her best friend. “I suppose it’s working a bit. Emily sure would like to kill you with her bare hands, and she is more than capable of doing so. And Eve is begging me to let her strap you to one of my operating tables. She remembers Hoquiam very well. In fact, she learned a lot and can’t wait to try out some of the techniques. She can be quite the artist when it comes to that sort of thing. And I’m inclined to give her a little freedom when we win. You Corsairs deserve all the pain and death that’s coming to you.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Joslyn replied. “If you could have killed us you would have. Instead you resort to assassination. The Captain says you’ve showed your cards, Jillybean. You got nothing left but bluffs.”
“And what do you have? Even less, I’d wager. I’m willing to bet the Captain is hanging on by the skin of his teeth.”
She shrugged away the comment. “What we have are three of your people. They’re all a little nicked up, but still alive. The Captain is willing to make a trade. He’ll give them up in exchange for a cease fire. I’m talking peace. You do want peace, don’t you?”
Next to Jillybean, Jenn sucked in a light breath. Before she could say anything Jillybean snapped, “We can have peace anytime we want. All we have to do is sail away and what can he do? Nothing. We’ve destroyed his mighty fleet. We crushed his armies. Oh, trust me, we want more than just three men. We want your slaves, all of them. I was given the title of Queen of the Slaves and now I want what’s mine. I want all the slaves excluding you, Joslyn. You get to stay.”
“I’m no slave. A slave wears a collar, Jillybean. We still have yours, you know. Ready to be melted down and reworked with something stronger.” Jillybean only glared. “Okay, so you aren’t interested in peace. That seems shortsighted to me, but what the hell? Lucky for you, the Captain has another offer. He was worried you would be too stupid to go for the first so he has a backup. He’ll trade the three of them for you, Jillybean.”
“Don’t do it, Jillybean!” Jenn ordered.
“This doesn’t concern you, child,” Joslyn sneered. “The Captain knows who the true power is, and it’s not a kid playing dress up. Have you seen yourself? All dressed in black like your hero. You look like a wanna-be and the Captain does not deal with fakes when he has the real thing right here. What do you say, Jillybean? You have to know he’s going to do terrible things to them. You remember what he did to you. It’s going to be worse for them. Much worse. Don’t you love your father?”
Jillybean nodded slowly.
Joslyn smiled sadly. “Of course, you do. You would never want anything bad to happen to poor, little Neil. And what about your dear old friend Gunner? Or should we call him by his real name now? Captain James Grey.”
Deanna had felt like a spectator right up until her dead husband’s name was invoked. “Captain James Grey? I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Joslyn, but so help me…”
“I know, I was just as shocked. That horrible creature was your husband. Ask your daughter. Better yet, ask yourself. You knew him better than any of us.”
Gunner’s destroyed face filled her mind. It was horrible to look on, but what about when he wore his mask? Deanna remembered the one time she had seen him from just the right angle. He’d been handsome. No, he had been more than just handsome, he had been familiar and oddly reassuring, as if she knew she could trust him despite his name and his horrible hump.
“It’s true, mom,” Emily said. “It’s him and he’s still the hero you always talked about. And he still loves you so much it hurts him.”
“And don’t you want that love back?” Joslyn asked. “Underneath all that ugly business he’s still the man you’ve always loved. Tell me you’re not such a shallow creature to let a few scars get in the way of true love.” She left Deanna reeling and turned to Bishop Wojdan. “And don’t you want Troy back safe and sound. He has his entire future ahead of him. And what a future! He’s the kind of a man you can rebuild your world around. The world that Jillybean stole from you. You want it back, don’t you?”
Wojdan nodded despite himself and then made a sour face. “I cannot make that decision, young lady. If Jillybean wishes to trade herself it must be her choice and hers alone.”
Everyone turned to stare at Jillybean.
She had foreseen this exact scenario, minus Joslyn’s presence, that is. The ramifications of trading herself were dire. Escape would not be possible. The Captain would undoubtedly chop her fingers off. Or burn them off one at a time! Eve screamed in her ear. And for what? Zombie Neil? A thing that had once been a man? A boy priest? You know that without you they’ll all die anyway. Even your little queen friend. They’re all going to die.
“I know.” The Captain’s assassins would seek them out. The truth she had always known was that there could be no peace until he was dead.
Then don’t trade yourself.
“I won’t. We have to go with Plan B.” Eve began to grow black and monstrous. She hated Plan B. Jillybean didn’t like much either. “It’s the only option left to us. Or if you have your own plan I would like to hear it. If not, let me be.”
Eve had no plan and slouched back into the darkness, the sneer still imprinted on her face.
“What does Eve have to say?” Joslyn asked, wearing a viper’s smile. “Is she on board? I would love to hear her input.”
“I bet you would,” Jillybean answered, hotly. “She can be manipulated with cheap tricks while I cannot. As much as I love my father, and Captain Grey, and as much as I respect Knights Sergeant Holt, I cannot accept the offer. I do have one of my own that may interest the Captain. I’d like to challenge him to a duel. All or not
hing. If he wins, we…they sail away. If I win, I get my friends and the slaves.”
Joslyn looked as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “You want to fight the Captain? With guns?”
“With pistols. His pistols in fact. In Hoquiam, and on the street of his choice. No tricks. No snipers. Just me against him.”
A broad grin slowly stretched across Joslyn’s impish face. “Are you being serious? You can’t possibly think that you can…wait. Never mind. If you are serious then I’m pretty sure he’s going to go for it.”
Bishop Wojdan stared around in frank amazement. No one was jumping in to stop what was clearly madness. The Black Captain’s reputation as a gunfighter was infamous. It was how he built his empire. It was common knowledge and yet no one was saying a word.
“Jillybean…your Highness, you can’t throw your life away like this. I was wrong about you. Yes, you have issues but deep down you have a good soul. This would be tantamount to suicide.”
Jillybean had to hide a smirk. Deep down she didn’t have a good soul. No, if one went deep enough, they would find a soul that was inked black by sin layered on sin. “I appreciate that, your Excellency. This isn’t suicide. I believe I have a fifty-fifty chance of winning and if I can end the bloodshed with one bullet then I mean to.” She faced Joslyn and sighed. “Go tell your boss. I’ll meet him in three hours’ time. I will bring the Bishop as my second. And tell him that if there is any funny business on his part, the next cloud that rolls over your little town won’t be smoke, it will be chlorine gas and yes, it will kill everyone, including you, Jos.”
Her impish smile dimmed at the idea of poisonous gas, especially since she knew Jillybean was capable of making it. With a breath, she rallied. “There won’t be any funny business on our side. It’s you we should worry about. You and your chubby priest will both be searched, so don’t even think about bringing a bomb or gas or whatever.” She turned and snapped her fingers at the Captain of the Mary Magdalene as if she were on a day cruise and wanted a margarita.
She was gone and silence reigned in her wake. Everyone wanted the war over, and if anyone could end it with a bullet it was…not Jillybean. Captain Grey, yes. Troy Holt, maybe. Mike Gunter, of course, but only as long as the duel was fought on the shifting deck of a ship in a storm. Jillybean was not known for her speed, she was known for the power of her mind.
Emily was the first to break the silence. “What do you have planned?”
“I plan to kill him. Does anyone have a pistol with a holster I can practice with?”
Two nearby sailors went in different directions to hunt for one. Emily persisted, “What do you have up your sleeve. You’ve got to have a trick, right?”
“The trick is to be faster than him.”
“And aim better,” one of the sailors put in. He held out a .38 Special in a tired old holster. “It’s loaded by the way.”
While a crowd of people watched her, she buckled it around her narrow hips, remarking, “I could use something to eat if you guys don’t have anything better to do that is.” Shaina ran off for food and the others went back to staring. Jillybean put her hand over the butt of the gun and then tried to yank it out as fast as she could. It came out, but took a full second and a half.
“No really,” Emily said. “What’s the plan?”
Jillybean emptied the gun of bullets, put them in her pocket and held the gun up to the sun so she could look through the barrel and the open chamber. She then switched hands and did the same thing with her left before holstering it again. Once more she paused with her hand cocked at her side. As fast as she could, she yanked it out. If this attempt was quicker, it was hard to tell.
Somewhat clumsily she tossed it to her left hand. “Being faster is the plan,” she said.
“Then we need a new plan,” Emily stated, nodding and glancing around for agreement from the others. “The gas thing might work. They’ll cave. They got to, or…or the other bandits will jump him and take him out for us.”
“And if they don’t?” Jillybean asked, pulling the gun again, slightly faster this time. Emily shrugged. “If they don’t, chances are he’ll try to use his own version of toxic gas against us. That’s why if I fail, I want you to use the gas, Jenn.”
Jenn looked shocked at the idea. “You just made a deal.”
“I said that you would leave, but I’m not the queen, am I? I can’t tell you what to do and I can’t make deals in your name without you agreeing, which you did not do. In my med bag is the formula for making lethal doses of chlorine gas. It’s terribly simple. Use it. It kills in seconds and it’ll be a mercy for those slaves. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to practice alone.”
She found a cramped little cabin and began to practice the same motions she had on deck. The flourishes, the way she held her coat, the way she became confused as to which hand to use, were all as important as pulling the pistol as fast as she could. She did indeed have a plan. One that was both simple and exceedingly dangerous.
It depended on her being able to fool, not just the Captain, but also a thousand onlookers. She gave herself a one in five chance of success.
The hours dragged. Each second felt like it dripped from a slow-leaking faucet. Shaina brought her a blackened fish. It was so burnt that it was impossible to tell what kind it was. Jillybean’s stomach wouldn’t have been able to hold it down anyway. When the white flag was raised across the harbor and Shaina came down to remind her how great she was and that it was time to go, Jillybean stuck out her hand. It trembled. After a deep breath, she walked slowly up to a solemn deck. There were no smiles, there were only lingering hugs and quiet goodbyes.
The first two were from Deanna and Emily. Even frightened for her, they couldn’t help appearing radiant and golden. “You’ll get them back, won’t you?” Emily whispered in her ear.
“I’ll do what I can.” Jillybean had to peel the girl off of her.
Deanna gave her such a fierce hug that it cracked her back. “You and I are going to have words when you get back,” she warned. “You should have said something to me years ago. It wasn’t fair to me or to Emily.”
It wasn’t fair to eight-year-old Jillybean, either, but when did anyone ever take her feelings into account? Now’s not the time for a pity party, she scolded herself. “When I get back, you can yell at me all you want, but don’t yell at him. What he went through…what he goes through every day is already a torture to him.” Deanna’s pretty face fell as did her arms. She stepped back.
Jenn was last. She held one of the black and gold flags that Jillybean had reigned under. “Run this up when you’ve won.”
“You sound certain. Did you see a sign?”
The Queen took a deep breath and looked around. “It’s a beautiful day. That’s all I’m looking at. Good things can happen on a good day. Don’t you agree?”
Bad things can happen as well. “Yes, I suppose they can. This’ll be easier if I know you’re going to be tough. Use the gas. I left a formula for it in one of the books I gave you.”
Jenn was just in the process of making another protest when she drew in a sharp breath. “But that was weeks ago. You couldn’t have known that all of…Wait. You knew? You knew this was going to happen? How?”
“I knew today existed as a possibility. I knew Mike was something special, just like I knew you were as well. I knew Gunner would not fail his daughter, and I knew Deanna would make the hard choices. And I knew nothing could ever stop my Neil. I knew my Corsairs would turn on me. It wouldn’t have been just Leney, either. It’s why I traded myself. I also knew the Black Captain would overestimate both his men and himself. And I knew I could very well be right here, right now.” With the weight of the world on my shoulders.
“That’s impressive,” Jenn said, in awe. “And do you know what’s going to happen when you get across?”
Jillybean took a shaky breath. “I know you may have to be strong and do the hardest thing imaginable.”
Jenn could only no
d, her eyes dropping. Jillybean gave her only a fifty-fifty chance to use the gas. It was one of the reasons why she was taking the Bishop. “Your Excellency. I like your vestments today.” He was in full regalia: white cassock, gold robe, purple sash.
“It’s only proper. I will pray for you.” It was something he took seriously. He started as soon as they stepped aboard the Mary Magdalene and did not stop until they made it to the other side of the harbor.
Jillybean tuned him out, just as she tuned out the feel of the cold water filling her boots up to her calves, as she stepped out of the row boat, and nor did she feel the hands of the Corsairs run up and down her body as they searched her.
The bishop got the same treatment, which he suffered in silence.
“You really gonna do this?” one of the Corsairs asked her. A nod was all he was worth. “Hell, you really are crazy.” The other one said much the same thing. Jillybean ignored them. Her mind was busy going over each motion she was going to make. They had to be precise. While her mind was busy, her eyes flicked about, taking in every aspect of the city. Just as Neil and Troy had, she noticed the change that had come over it. She would no longer describe it a sprawling, filthy lair. No, it was now a concentration camp and every Corsair was both guard and prisoner.
They were marched north, not to one of the schools where there were open fields, or to one of the wider streets where people could stand twenty deep on either side to watch the show. They walked to a narrow lane with barren trees lining both sides. The houses along the road were squat little things, low ranches for the most part and where there were two stories there were Corsairs in the upper floors.
The Black Captain was taking no chances. He was not going to be lured out in the open where another sniper could take a shot at him.
The pair found him leaning on the hood of a rust-brown Tercel that was only a few winters away from falling to nothing. In front of him was Mark Leney. Grinning, Leney came forward. “I would say you’ve made a big mistake, only it’s way too late for that.” When she only looked past him at the Captain, he took a big breath and clapped his hands together. “Alright, this one’s for all the marbles. First I gotta frisk you. Yeah, I know, you just been frisked. It’s the way of the west.”
Generation Z (Book 6): The Queen Unchained Page 55
