by ML Guida
She hugged the wall.
His shadow crept closer and closer and closer. He turned the corner. With all her might, she swung and smashed the board into his knees. He yelled, then fired the pistol. Sulfur and smoke burned her eyes. Buckshot grazed her shoulder, and she winced.
Dubois fell forward. The lantern crashed onto the floor. She smashed the wood over his head. He lay still. What had she done? Had she killed a man over a slave she barely knew?
Cries came in from the house. She raced over to the wall and unlocked Amadi’s manacles, her fingers fumbling.
“What have you done, poppet?” His voice drawled with suspicion.
“He would have killed you. Or you’d wished you’d be dead. Stay here.”
He rubbed his wrists and shook his head. “Where are you goin’?”
“To keep you safe.”
“You’re dat confident I’ll take your offer?”
Violet sagged. How was she going to convince him to take her? But she couldn’t worry about that now.
Excited voices were upstairs. Violet opened the door as quietly as she could. When it creaked, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. No one was in the kitchen, but she could hear excited voices.
“Did that come from inside the house?” Cook’s tired but startled voice was the closest.
Celeste stepped into the kitchen, wearing a white frilly robe, her black hair cascading down her back. She held a pistol in her hand. Violet was too terrified to move.
“Search the grounds,” Celeste ordered. “And the house.”
Violet shut the door and hurried down into the chambers. She gathered all of the planks and rope and moved them to the far corner of the room, along with the bucket of water, her bag, and the rags. Amadi stood on one leg, leaning against the wall. His face was taut, and his cheek twitched. He was obviously in pain.
He gritted his teeth. “What’s going on up there?”
She looked nervously behind her. “They’re searching the house.”
“Will they come down here?”
Her heart skipped a beat at his question and her lungs seized up. “I hope not.”
She grabbed Dubois’ ankles and dragged him.
SHFFF SHFFF SHFFF
But only an inch at a time.
She panted hard and her hair stuck to her hot face. Her strained arms and legs shook. Sharp pain shot through her back.
Upstairs, footsteps hurried across the floor, and she licked her dry lips, knowing the punishment she’d receive if caught.
SHFFFF
Finally, she crossed the cell door and dropped Dubois’ legs. She exhaled loudly and rubbed her aching arms.
He moaned again, this time louder.
She grabbed a piece of robe and one of the rags she’d planned to wash Amadi with and hurried back to her prisoner. Ignoring her cramped fingers, she bound his wrists and stuffed a rag into his mouth. He groaned, and his eyes fluttered open.
Amadi tilted his head. “Hit him again.”
“But—”
“Do it. Or we’ll both be caught.”
She winced at his harsh voice and fear squeezed her throat.
And for a moment, she glimpsed what he must have been like aboard the Phoenix. This was a man used to giving orders and expecting to be obeyed. Violet folded her fist and smacked Dubois across the head as hard as she could. Pain jolted through her arm, but Dubois fell silent.
The kitchen door opened, and Violet’s blood turned to mud. Not willing to give up, she hid underneath the rack and bit back her revulsion of the dust, filth, and spider webs. Soft footsteps scraped down the stairs.
“No one’s here, mistress,” Calvin said, one of Celeste’s henchmen. “Your bull is passed out.”
Dubois was stilled tied up and in the far corner of the cell. He hadn’t groaned for a while and Violet held her breath, praying he remained silent.
“I smell gunpowder down here,” Celeste argued.
Violet closed her eyes, afraid they’d hear the thumpty-thump-thumpty of her heart.
“If someone was down here, they’re gone.”
“Someone was trying to help my beau escape. Find them, and bring them to me.”
“If so, do you want to leave him here or move him?”
“Leave him. We’ll set a trap, oui? Set a guard upstairs.”
“Yes, Maîtresse.”
Footsteps hurried up the stairs, and the door shut. Violet waited and listened. She knew they were lying and waited on the stairs. She was grateful Amadi did not speak and Dubois didn’t wake.
Insects or spiders crawled over her, and she wanted to scream, but she clamped her jaw shut. She counted backward from a thousand to keep her sanity and not think about the two people listening on the stairs for the slightest sound.
Light flooded down the steps. A male voice asked, “Maîtresse?”
Violet wiped her sweaty hands on her dress. She was too scared to identify whose voice.
Heavy footsteps walked around. “No one’s here, Maîtresse,” Calvin said. “Your buck isn’t going anywhere. Whoever ’twas is gone.”
“Très bien. Double the guard.”
At Celeste’s sharp voice, Violet exhaled her breath that she didn’t even know she held.
“Yes, Maîtresse.” Calvin’s low tone had a tremor of fear.
The door closed. This time, they were alone. Adrenaline shot her out of her hiding underneath the rack. She slapped her arms and legs, trying to get the bugs and spiders off.
Amadi chuckled. “Such a pretty dance.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m surprised your standing. Most men would be unconscious or riddled with agony.”
He shrugged. “I’m not most men.”
Violet was strongly aware of her own heartbeat at his husky voice. Ignoring the fluttering in her chest, she quickly grabbed some rope and planks. “I know isn’t much, but I can brace the leg.”
She knelt and placed the planks on either side of his leg. When she tightened the planks with the rope, he released an angry gasp.
She winced. “I’m sorry.”
He wiped the sweat off his brow. “Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow night is da full moon.”
His smoldering eyes filled with a dark intensity, as if he actually caressed her with his direct gaze. They were alive with raw need.
“Why do you keep referring to the moon?” Her usually strong voice had turned into a weak whisper.
“Hopefully, you’ll never have to find out. Where do we go now?” He motioned with his hand. “She’s doubled da guard.”
She wanted to ask more questions about his obsession with the moon, but there wasn’t time. They had to leave before it was too late. “Celeste’s brother had a secret tunnel built here in case of a slave revolt.”
Amadi scowled. “He did?” Suspicion entered into his perceptive eyes. “How did you come to know of dis? Are you a witch?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not a witch. But sometimes I wish I was. I wouldn’t be living in this hell hole if I was.”
“Witches suffer da same fate as all of us.”
Sadness hung on his every word. Had he lost someone who was a witch?
She opened her mouth to say something, but he looked around. “Pray tell how you came to know of this tunnel?”
“I told you. Celeste can’t hide secrets from me. I know everything about her. Too much.”
She pushed back all of Celeste’s dark secrets. Her voodoo rituals. The animal sacrifices. The human sacrifices. Mostly of the slaves’ poor babes. She hated Celeste. But there was no time to dwell. They could be discovered any minute. Celeste might be evil, but she was no fool.
She walked to the south wall that didn’t have any chains dangling. “Baron Samedi.”
A white line shot up from the bottom of the floor and formed the outline of a door. The door slid open, and on the other side was a painted drawing of a skeletal man wearing a top hat, a black dinner jacket, and cotton plugs in his nostrils.
Sh
e motioned with hand. “Come on. We must hurry.”
Amadi limped toward her. “Why is Baron Samedi painted on da door?”
Even though he was wounded, he had an overpowering presence. His steps were strong and muscles rippled as he strained to move. “Celeste likes people, especially the slaves, to think she practices voodoo.”
He stopped. “She doesn’t?”
“No, she hides behind voodoo. She’s a Satanist.”
“Does she pray to any other gods?”
She furrowed her eyebrows. “Other gods? What other gods?”
He avoided her steady stare. “Nothin’.”
She studied his deep brown eyes then peered into his soul. Uneasiness seeped out of her chest, pushing against her ribs. His soul shifted from white to a muddy yellow. He hadn’t exactly lied, but he hadn’t told the truth, either. She clasped his arm. “You’re lying. You believe in other gods?”
“We need to get out of here.”
“Fine.” She dipped a torch into oil then rubbed two pieces of flint to generate a spark to light the torch. When it caught, she put it back into the iron holder then gathered her supplies and placed them in the tunnel.
Amadi limped across the floor, his legs wobbling. She shook her head. The stubborn man was about to collapse.
She hurried over. “Put your arm around me.”
“I’ll drop you to da floor.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m stronger than I look.”
He muttered under his breath, too low for her to hear, but he did as she asked. She groaned under his weight and was afraid he’d fall on her, but she braced her shoulders and shuffled across the floor until they reached the tunnel. Amadi put his hand on the wall and walked-hopped into the tunnel.
Violet breathed deeply and wiped the sweat off her forehead. She stepped inside. “Baron Samedi.”
The stone door slid across the floor and shut.
Breathless, Amadi slumped against the wall. “I need to rest.”
She dug into her black bag and pulled out the pair of trousers that she’d stolen from Celeste’s room. She handed them to Amadi. “Here. I thought you might like to get dressed.”
He took them and examined them. The trousers would obviously be too small, but hopefully, he’d be able to get into them.
“Where did you get these?” He lifted an eyebrow as if he thought she’d gotten them from a former lover.
Heat swelled over her cheeks and she avoided his gaze. “From Celeste. I don’t know if you know this, but—” she lowered her voice, even though they were behind a stone wall and door “—she murders her husbands.”
“One of da men on da cart told me she murdered her husband. She’s murdered more dan one?”
She held up three fingers.
“Why keep da clothes?”
She rubbed her nose and swallowed back the revulsion rising up her throat. “She likes to keep trophies.”
“Is it just clothes she keeps?”
“No.” The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She closed her eyes. “She keeps their tongues in mason jars. Their tongues remind her of their last gasps.”
He bent over and put one long leg into the trousers. She couldn’t help but admire his firm buttock. The man was a sleek, chocolate statue, and a wicked image of licking every inch of him made her glance away in shame. What if he guessed what she was thinking? She was acting as lecherous as Celeste.
He finally managed to squeeze into them. They fit him like a snakeskin, and she kept her hands to her sides to keep from giving into an urge and running her hands over pure muscle.
“How does she kill them?”
She pulled her gaze away and rubbed her arms that had broken out in gooseflesh. “Poison. Arsenic. She’s the most vile person I’ve ever met.”
“There are worse things dan a murdering Satanist.”
“Like what?”
“Demons.”
She put her hand over her thumping heart. “You’ve seen them?”
Amadi edged back down onto the ground. Violet hurried over to keep from falling forward. She sat next to him. When he stuck out his long legs, her legs were half the length of his.
His eyes fluttered shut. “Aye. They’d carve Celeste into tiny pieces just for fun.”
“Did you see them when you were aboard the Soaring Phoenix?”
“Aye.” He leaned his head backward. “Haven’t you guessed what I am?”
“A pirate.”
He slumped across her, pinning her against the wall. “Dat’s all I wished I was.”
“Amadi?”
Soft snores answered her. Violet bit her lips. She’d read his soul. Pure white. He was telling the truth. She hugged her arms tight around her body. What did he mean he wished was just a pirate? What else was he? She glanced at the stone door, wondering if she should leave, but with his body lying across her like a marble slab, she was trapped.
He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, with his exotic braids and dark skin. Tears welled in her eyes at the lashes criss-crossing his back. She hadn’t time to wipe them clean. Dried blood stuck to his skin. Luckily, her bag was near, and she reached in for a rag to gently dab his bruised and bloody back. How could Celeste mar his body? His back was magnificent with the sinews.
Her eyes widened. He had teeth marks on his lower back. Damn Celeste! Her vileness knew no limits. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice croaked.
She cleaned his back the best she could and gave into temptation to run her hands through his soft hair. Gold beads were intertwined in his braids. Celeste either hadn’t notice the gold or she liked the wildness. Violet wished she could see him aboard the Soaring Phoenix. Callouses covered his large hands. He was used to hard labor. There was no way he was a mere sailor. Was he the boatswain, the master gunner, the quartermaster? He definitely was in a position of leadership, maybe not the captain, but he was a born leader.
She mulled over what he’d said. He wished he was just a pirate. Did his evasiveness have anything to do with demons? When he awoke, she’d demand answers. And she’d know if he was lying.
Chapter 9
Amadi woke to looking at shadows flickering over a lichen-covered cave. He smelled mildew and wet dirt. He couldn’t remember how he got here with the dizziness clouding his brain. Something soft cradled his head and back, and it smelled like cotton. Why wasn’t he lying on the hard, rocky ground?
He moved, and a low moan caught his attention. Mercy’s sake, he’d been lying on Violet’s legs. He must have crushed her. He quickly pushed into a sitting position. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
Her brows knotted as she massaged her legs. “Because you were exhausted.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and yawned. “How long was I asleep?”
“A couple of hours.”
He crawled behind her and kneaded her bunched-up shoulders.
She jumped. “What are you doing?” There was a wary yelp in her voice; she didn’t trust easily.
“Relax. You look like you’re in pain.”
She circled her shoulders and twisted her neck, edging away. “I’ll be fine.”
He heard the edginess cut into her voice. “Meanin’?”
She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I disappointed Celeste last night.” The sharpness fled her voice, and she sounded very, very defeated.
He raised his eyebrow.
“We went to Harold’s gambling house. I didn’t help her win.”
“How do you help her win?”
“She has signals.” She lowered her head. “I twirl my hair if they are bluffing, rub my nose if they have a winning hand, and I fold my arms over my chest if they have a losing hand.” Shame seeped into her tiny voice.
He lifted her chin, surprised at the wetness on her cheeks. “How much did she lose?”
“Three hundred pounds.”
He whistled and released her. “Dat’s a bundle.”
Violet shrugged. “She deserved it.”
�
��Why?”
Her cheeks reddened. “We should get moving.”
He clasped her shaking arm. “Why did you want her to lose? Surely, you knew she would hurt you.”
“I didn’t care. ’Tis not like she hasn’t done it before.”
He scanned her luscious body for any sign of pain. “What did she do to you?”
She avoided his gaze. “She didn’t hurt me as bad as she did you. It’s my fault she hurt you. I wish I could lie. Telling the truth only hurts people.” Her voice shook and he felt a tear splash onto his hand.
He pushed her silky hair out of her troubled face. “Dat’s not true, little one. Da truth will set us free. Only lies and deceit bind us to evil.” He trailed his fingers down her soft cheek.
“That has not been my experience.” She turned away then struggled to stand.
“Here.” He reached to help her, but pain seized his back. He winced, cursing his weakness.
Concern flashed into her tired eyes. “Let me help you.”
He ignored her outstretched hand. He was the gun master aboard the Soaring Phoenix, not a helpless laggard. He’d been wounded before and didn’t need a nursemaid. He struggled to stand, but his wobbly legs betrayed him, and he fell on his arse.
She rolled her eyes. “Quit being stubborn and let me help you.”
He winced at the anger in her voice.
He flipped his gaze over her body that glistened with sweat. “You’re hurt.” How could she brace him? He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds.
“I’m stronger than I look. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve worked hard all my life.”
“Meanin’?”
“In London, I worked long hours at the bakery, kneading bread, baking, cleaning the place, waiting on people. Before that, I waited tables in a tavern. I did what I must to stay off the streets. Satisfied?” She knelt and put his arm around her neck.
Pain streaked through his back and he hissed. She looked at him questioningly as she helped him stand. He gritted his teeth. Blood soared through his body too fast and heat pushed up against his skin, making his pants stick to him like tar. He braced himself to keep from falling again. He tilted his head at the closed door. “Won’t they come in here?”
