The House Lost at Sea

by R. J. Blain

  “No fingerprints on my mermaid, you heathen pirate!”

  I laughed but relented and didn’t touch his precious figurehead. “I’ll smear my prints all over her shiny scales before this night is over, just you wait and see.”

  “I’m going to have to keep you on a short leash, I see.”

  “I thought you wanted me to play pirate today.” I gave him my best innocent look and struggled to hold back my mirth. “I’m pretty sure pirates don’t see golden statues and walk away without pawing them—or trying to steal them.”

  “They also don’t sew or negotiate for plunder, either. You’re a terrible pirate, Cathy. You have the look down to an art, but you really need to work on your act.”

  “Do you have a plank? I think I need to make you walk it.”

  Bensen came between us, took hold of Benny’s shoulders, and steered him across the room. “All right, you two. At least wait until we’re all in costume before you start fighting, that way it looks like part of a show.”

  While I wrinkled my nose at the thought of putting on a show for anyone, I followed the pair. “How many people are supposed to be here tonight?”

  “No more than fifty. It’ll be a fairly quiet social event, then we’ll do the photoshoot afterwards. I’ll be surprised if people stay more than an hour or two. Most attended the opening, so they’ve already seen the majority of the collection. It won’t be too strenuous, I promise.”

  For some reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on, I didn’t believe him, not for a single moment.

  The brown-haired woman with golden glints in her hair, the one with the modernized frigate, prowled through the museum, and she wore an outfit similar to mine while carrying a cutlass and flintlock resembling the ones stolen from my home. No, they didn’t just resemble them, I was certain they were them—I knew every etching of them better than the back of my own hand.

  To add insult to injury, a man with heartbreaking resemblance to Ricardo shadowed her steps, just as he had shadowed the steps of Captain Maritza.

  Life was truly cruel and uncaring.

  If I could have staked my life on a bet she held my prized possessions, I would have. I stood stiff and tense, aware I lacked any form of weapon at all, and it took every bit of my will to keep from balling my hands into fists.

  I couldn’t afford to let anyone know I recognized her, and with each passing moment, my temper frayed. I’d been whipped enough times by a frayed rigging line to understand the pain it caused when it lashed out. A stray line could cut through skin and break bones, especially during a tempest.

  Benny sidled up to me, dressed in his British navy coat with golden buttons. While tempted to whip my leg around and knock him off his feet, I kept still, although I allowed myself a frown. “You didn’t find me accessories. I look out of place.”

  Until I got a closer look at the flintlock and cutlass, I couldn’t confirm they were mine despite my gut feeling they were. Pretending I hadn’t noticed them would serve me better—and give me a chance to get near the woman.

  I wanted to rip my blade out of her hold and slice through her clothing, leaving her with nothing but a few scraps to wear. The men in the room would thank me, and I’d blow off some steam at the same time. Maybe she had the looks to warrant the stares of so many attending the party, but I wasn’t going to fall for her pretty face, not if she had my prized possessions.

  I knew she did. They were unique, so unique I’d never seen any others quite like them.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Benny glanced in the direction of my would-be kidnapper—or whatever she would have been if I’d stayed on the raft—and averted his gaze.

  Fury heated my blood. Benny knew she had the flintlock and the cutlass; he either knew or suspected they were mine, and he didn’t mean to do a single thing about it. If I pressed, I could guess what he’d say.

  He’d claim he didn’t recognize the pieces. After all, why would anyone so boldly wear stolen property?

  “I’m going back to my hotel. If you need a proper model, use the wench over there. She’s fully accessorized.” I spun on a heel and headed for the doors.

  “Cathy? Hey, wait, Cathy. I’m sure this is just some misunderstanding.”

  Bingo. He confirmed my suspicions without me having to ask a single question. I halted, lifted my chin, and slowly turned, angling my head to mimic my captain at her haughtiest. “Catalina de la Corona. There is nothing to misunderstand, Benjamin. My sword, my flintlock. They are unique. You know this, and you knew the instant you saw them, you who collects things of the era, too. You want your pictures? Take them with her.”

  He grabbed my arm, and I regarded his hold on me with clenched teeth and narrowed eyes. “Cathy, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Don’t be melodramatic, please. This isn’t like you.”

  Of course it wasn’t like me. For so long, I had tolerated everything so I wouldn’t do more than cause a few ripples. I’d learned to do that after losing Ricardo, to survive after losing everything of value to me. When my anger had shown, I smothered it far more often than not, using words and my glare as weapons rather than staging a retreat or dramatic exit.

  “This is the one thing I can’t forgive.”

  Benny frowned.

  The woman approached, her every step even and calculated, looking me over before shifting her gaze to Benny. “Benny, darling. What’s the meaning of this?”

  I recognized the lilt in her speech and her accent as Italian, and I flexed my hands. “I’m finished here, Benjamin. Let me go, or I’ll show you how the ship’s doctor actually dealt with injuries during a voyage. It’ll get bloody, and you’ll be putting in an order for a hook, assuming the ER can stitch the rest of you back together before you bleed out. I wouldn’t bet your life on it.”

  Either my words or my lifeless tone got the point across, but he let me go. Shaking with anger, I stormed towards the doors. Without a weapon, there wasn’t anything I could do, unless I added theft to attempted murder charges.

  Escaping from prison took far too much work and closed too many doors for too long. With only my name left, I wouldn’t smear it, not over some worthless traitor.

  My frustration peaked. With both halves of the key in my possession, I no longer needed to continue living the mockery of my past life. I’d lost the place I had called my home, and the too fresh betrayal of someone I had foolishly considered a friend still stung. Benny called my name, but I ignored him and headed into the night.

  I would follow the coast home, and when certain there were no prying eyes to watch me, I’d slip into the sea. If someone asked in a few days when I finally showed up, if I bothered to, I’d add to the piles of lies littering my long and bitter life.

  I made it all the way to the pier before Benny caught up with me, and he panted from exertion. “Come off it, Cathy. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

  “My home was leveled to rubble, and some wench shows up with items you know are mine, and all you do is look away from her without a word? Did you beg me to dress like this just so you could humiliate me? We’re finished. You’ll have to find some other banker to handle your accounts, and Bensen’s, too.”

  “Or you could give me a chance to ask Lucretta where she got them.”

  “And if I hadn’t gotten angry? Would you have just ignored it because the wench, your Italian ramera, is one of your darlings?”

  Benjamin had the decency to flinch at my accusation, and his silence confirmed my suspicions. “I would have talked to her after the photoshoot. I need you for this, Cathy.”

  I stopped and turned, once again canting my head so I could regard him in Captain Louisa’s cold fashion.

  The woman strode up behind Benny, halting a half-step to the front and side of him, and she arched one of her perfect brows as she once again looked me over. “Problem, Benny?”

  “You’re only the symptom of the problem. I should be thanking you for the reminder of where his loyalties lie. If you want him, you’re more
than welcome to have him. Start watching your back, because he isn’t going to watch it for you.” I lifted my hand and flipped my fingers in a farewell once favored by many in the Calico’s crew. “I’ll just give you a free piece of advice, ramera. Avoid the water.”

  “Are you threatening me?” The woman straightened, and the disbelief coloring her tone forced a laugh out of me.

  “When you take what belongs to others, expect curses.” I smiled at her before turning my stare to my cutlass and flintlock. “You have what is mine, so I’ll have to take what is yours. That seems fair enough to me.”

  If they wanted the Calico so badly, I’d guide them to it, sinking the Italian ramera’s frigate to the bottom of the ocean to mark its final resting place.

  That seemed fair to me.

  “Cathy!”

  I took a single step back and laughed. I hated the modern world, its easily broken friendships, and the shallow depths of its waters. I loathed the masks I had worn for so long. Discarding them would make things so much easier.

  The House Lost at Sea waited for me, and my curse would become my blessing. If I lost a hundred more years to life beneath the waves, I would do as I’d always done. I would adapt.

  A smothering weight fell off my shoulders and dissolved around me, breaking apart like foam tossed on a churned sea. “I’m tired. Go enjoy the rest of your party, Benny.”

  “I really need you for the photoshoot, Cathy.”

  I regarded him. Weariness took hold of me in a smothering grip. “Why? Your ramera is certainly prettier than I’ll ever be, and she’s a proper pirate. I will not lower my head to some worthless thief, if that’s what you are hoping for, nor will I pretend to like anyone involved with the ruin of my home.”

  “Your home, ruined?” the woman asked, and she once again arched her eyebrow at me.

  “Everything in it destroyed, the walls broken, until it was no longer fit to stand. Demolished, all for my flintlock, my cutlass, my watch, and my gold. Because it wouldn’t do to leave me with anything, right? That’s just not the pirate’s way, is it? The round is yours. The next round is mine. Remember that.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You exaggerate.”

  Benny sighed. “She isn’t exaggerating, Lucretta. Just give her her gun and sword. I’ll pay you whatever you spent on them.”

  “They are truly yours?”

  Without anywhere to focus my anger, it burned out, leaving me an empty, hollow shell. “On the butt, the flintlock is engraved. You will find the marking near the dragon’s heart. Four letters.”

  Lucretta pulled my weapon out of her holster, flipped it over, and examined the engravings decorating the handle’s butt. “The letters. Tell me, what are they?”

  Sometimes, the truth served me best. “CDLC. Catalina de la Corona, handed down to me as was my name.”

  Benny sucked in a breath. “They’re heirlooms?”

  I shrugged.

  “And the sword? What proof do you have that it is yours?” Lucretta slid my flintlock back into the holster, and her hand dropped to my cutlass’s hilt.

  “You’ll find the same initials on the pommel. If you’d like to discuss it with the police and the insurance company, I’m sure they can provide all of the photographs you could ever want of them and my pocket watch. If the photoshoot is so important to you, reschedule it for another day. I’ve had enough of this bullshit for one night.”

  I left. Instead of walking—and swimming—home, I hunted down a cab, refusing to speak another word to either one of them. I abandoned them on the curb, where they watched me.

  Lucretta kept my weapons, and I wondered how I would find the woman’s frigate when I only knew her first name.

  Fifteen

  Get used to the idea.

  I gave my boss two choices: she could assign Bensen and Benny’s accounts to someone else, or I would quit.

  I suspected she thought I’d at least hesitate before living up to my ultimatum. I left her with my resignation, effective in two weeks, while she gaped at me. To add fuel to the flames, I used the bank’s policy against them.

  Since they wouldn’t cash out my unused vacation time, I packed up my desk in a small box, informed her I was using the time the bank owed me, and left. She could have fired me over it, but she didn’t, at least not while I was still in the office. It took me less than ten minutes to leave, and on my way out, I turned in my security passes.

  I had been betrayed before. I remembered the sting, the bone-deep pain, and the lingering regrets. I had put too much trust in modern humans, and they had done exactly what I should have expected.

  Benny and Bensen had chosen a beautiful Italian, just like my captain. That part wasn’t their fault.

  They had no way of knowing their choice would hurt me beyond the loss of a few possessions. I pressed my hand to my chest to feel the shape of my captain’s pocket watch, reassuring myself of its presence. In a way, I wanted to thank them.

  The years had softened me too much, and I had adapted too well to the complacency of so many comforts and an easy life. Anger had served me on the seas long ago. It would serve me again. I would become something more—and less—than Cathy, the account manager with a knack for finding treasure.

  I headed to my hotel to find Lucretta waiting in the lobby. She frowned when she saw my box. “Cathy,” she greeted.

  She wore a business suit and a blazer. I headed for the elevators. “Lucretta.”

  “About last night…”

  “Since you’re such close friends with your Benny darling, you can tell him he’ll have a new account manager in the morning.” I shuffled the box in my hold long enough to jab the elevator button. “Have a good day.”

  I could be polite sometimes, when it served me best.

  Instead of going off and having herself a good day, she stepped into the elevator with me. I ignored her, pressing the button to take me to my floor.

  “We got off on the wrong foot.”

  I waited, shaking my head at her audacity. “Let me give you a clue, since you seem incapable of figuring this out for yourself. If I had a match and stood next to your house, I’d light it on fire so I could roast marshmallows. If you had a car, I’d slash its tires. Do yourself a favor. Don’t show your face anywhere near me. I might forget if you stay out of my hair long enough. Or not. If I were you, I’d go with the ‘or not’ option. I’m the kind to hold a grudge.”

  I went to my room, and she followed me. I dumped my box on the floor, dug my key out, and unlocked the door, wrinkling my nose at the disaster of fabric scraps and sewing supplies still taking over most of the room.

  Lucretta made a surprised sound. “Benny told me you had made your costume yourself, but I hadn’t believed him. It seems I was mistaken.”

  “Worry less about your looks and a little more about the dead space between your ears. That’d help.” I shoved my box into my room and slammed the door in her face.

  Infuriated Benny had told the woman where I was staying, I stormed through the room, packing away the scraps and returning the supplies to their proper place. The costume, which I’d spent so long slaving over, went into the trash.

  I kept the boots but shipped them to myself so I wouldn’t have to deal with what they represented; destroying a piece of art in my anger wouldn’t do me any good, and Benny hadn’t polluted them with his influence. I’d get a modern pair on my way to the airport, cheap in comparison but nice by most’s standards. With everything in the room organized, I went to work packing a suitcase.

  My cell rang halfway through the task, and I glared at the display, which informed me Benny wasn’t done with me yet. While ignoring him would have been satisfying, I answered, “Haven’t you done enough?”

  “I’m sorry, Cathy.”

  “What do you want, Benny?”

  “Lucretta told me you had mentioned I would be getting a new account manager? Can’t we talk about this?”

  “I quit. You’re getting a new account manager, so get
used to the idea.”

  He sucked in a breath. “You quit?”

  “Get your ears checked. You seem to have difficulty hearing me.” I hung up and tossed my phone on the bed. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it, you landlubbing bilge rat!”

  My phone rang, and I glared at the device. Ignoring my ex-boss’s call would have made sense, but I grabbed my phone, reined in my temper, and answered, “Hello?”

  “Can we discuss your resignation?”

  Thinking on my feet, I considered the estimated amount of time for my home to be rebuilt, the time I would need to explore the House Lost at Sea, and how long it’d take me to hunt Lucretta down, steal her precious frigate, and blast a hole in its hull near the Calico’s sunken remains. “Until my home is rebuilt and I have a chance for a proper vacation, I’m not even considering it. Maybe in two to three months. I’m burned out.”

  The excuse would work; people burned out in banking all the time.

  My boss sighed. “I understand you’re under a lot of stress, but you’re one of my best managers, and you’re the best person for the Bensen and Allen accounts. Both of them are concerned.”

  A snort burst out of me. “For some reason, I find that difficult to believe. They just don’t like change, especially when it is beyond their control. It’s not like I am the only good account manager in the office. Call me in a week or two. Maybe I’ll change my mind after I get some fresh air.”

  “I’ll be ready with a proposal, hopefully one you won’t be able to refuse.”

  “I’ll hear you out, but I make no promises.”

  If she wanted anything else from me, she’d be waiting for a long time.

  A dumpster behind the hotel served as the perfect place to be rid of my unwanted clothes, and I took fiendish delight in chucking the bag and its burden up and over the side, where it landed in the bin with a satisfying thump. While it would’ve been appropriate attire for what I planned to do, I’d take the more modern approach with jeans, a comfortable shirt, and a leather coat.