A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix)

by ML Guida

  Her father raised his voice over the clamor of his guests. “Guests, dinner’s being served outside on the lawn.”

  A large banquet table filled with crisp vegetables, fresh baked bread, and ripe mangoes, was laid out for the guests to partake. At the aroma of charcoaled meat, her appetite vanished. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You need to eat,” Jacques ordered. Hannah lifted her chin. As if he could force her to eat.

  She sat at a table with Jacques, her uncle and her father, gulping down two glasses of wine and only picking at her food with a fork.

  Her uncle’s worried voice startled her. “Are you all right Hannah? You’ve not touched your food.”

  She licked her lips. “My stomach’s a little queasy.”

  “You’ve had too much wine, Hannah,” her father scolded. “Eat something.”

  She pushed her plate away. “I said I’m not hungry.”

  After dinner, the ball resumed. Once again, Jacques whirled and twirled her out on to the floor until she was dizzy. Obviously, he didn’t care about her being ill. Not like Kane.

  Before she knew it, she was outside on the terrace. Fresh air hit her face. She frowned. How did they get out onto the porch?

  Jacques dragged her behind a large six-foot tropical bush next to the house and pinned her shoulders to the wall. “Hannah, you seem to be having difficulty? You keep stepping on my foot. You’re drunk, no?”

  She pushed on his chest.

  “No,” he said, leaning closer. His cold lips caught hers, forcing her mouth. Wine coated his darting tongue. She couldn’t breathe and tried to turn her head, but his kiss became more vigorous. He pressed his body against her, his arousal pushing against her thigh. She kneed him, but he laughed as he pushed her legs apart.

  He snatched her hands and pinned them over her head with one hand. His other hand reached inside her bodice. His icy fingers twisted and pinched her nipples. Angry tears ran down her cheeks.

  No. No. No.

  She drew on her power and concentrated on moving the dagger. He slid his hand down her rib cage and bunched her dress up, slowly allowing the cold air to rush over her naked legs. She squirmed and he groaned. She bit down hard on Jacques’s tongue. Blood seeped into her mouth.

  He jerked his back and licked his lips. “Do that again, and you’ll see what will happen.”

  “Then—”

  He kissed her hard, silencing her. His body squashed her against the plant, the branches scratching her back, and the clay pot bit into her calves. His hand slipped into bodice again.

  I’ve to stop this. Hannah stomped his foot. “Ow.”

  He limped and she darted away. The dagger appeared in her hand and pointed it at him. “Stay away from me.”

  He stilled. “Where did you get that?”

  She clutched the dagger tighter. “If you come near me…”

  He glared at her and the dagger. “Oh, I’ll come near you whenever I want.”

  He lunged for the dagger, and she slashed his hand.

  “Bitch,” he snarled. He seized her left wrist and yanked her to him. She sucked in her breath at his blazing eyes and curling lip.

  Without thinking of the consequences, Hannah raised the dagger high over her head, and plunged it into his chest. He screamed and released her wrist and staggered, clasping the dagger embedded in his chest. Closing his eyes, he fell to the ground, his hands fell limply to his side. She stared at his motionless form.

  Damn.

  With a shaky hand, she ripped the dagger out of his chest. Blood darkened his white shirt. He gurgled and went silent. For sure, she’d be hung.

  Not wanting to leave the dagger, she wiped it clean on his sleeve and slid it back under her garter.

  An explosion pealed through the night. Cannonballs flew over her head and slammed into her Uncle’s stables. Wood splintered into a thousand pieces. Horses whined to get out.

  At another cannon blast, she scanned the harbor. The Fiery Damsel.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A black mass of bats headed straight towards her uncle’s mansion. Hannah’s heart thumped hard, threatening to explode. The blood drained from her face. Her hands turned to ice and her feet refused to move. The nightmare was happening again.

  She blinked and tore her gaze from the moving cloud of bats. Lifting her skirts, she ran. The pungent smell of sulfur stained her lips and she coughed. She stumbled over the hem of her skirt, but kept moving. People yelled and screamed behind her. She glanced over her shoulder.

  Admiral Parkington drew his sword. “Call for the garrison!”

  Soldiers fired at bats while others engaged in hand-to-hand combat with red-eyed pirates. Hannah shook. The Dolphin all over again.

  Her stomach turned at ripping flesh and the gurgling cries as the vampires feasted on their victims. Blood dripped down the pirates' chin as they drank from Hannah’s guests.

  “Hannah,” a male voice called. She slowed her pace and scanned the horizon, but couldn’t make out the location of the voice. Men and women were running, screaming. Someone called her again. Was that her uncle? Where were her uncle and father?

  Bats descended onto men and women like locus. Mrs. Parkington screamed and beat at a bat, biting her neck. As blood trickled down her cleavage, she fell to her knees and her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Hannah wanted to help her, but Mrs. Parkington’s face paled and she collapsed.

  “Mother,” Emily screamed. Bats flapped around her, pulling on her hair, and she shooed them away, but the bats changed into red-eyed men. Emily’s teary eyes widened. A pair of vampires dragged her behind a bush to have their way with her.

  Hannah scanned the people. “Father, where are you?”

  She picked up her pace, dashing down the gravel driveway, past the gates. Was father taken? What about uncle? Maybe if she hid in the forest, she could help.

  Through the smoke, a man rode a dapple-gray horse into the fray, his sword drawn. She stopped. The man had a black hair, wide shoulders. He turned. Her heart soared, tears brimmed in her eyes. He was here. Freedom was only a moment away.

  “Kane!” She screamed as she ran towards him.

  Two red-eyed men sprinted up to his horse. One threw a rock at the horse’s hindquarters. The horse bucked and Kane fell to the ground. The two pirates descended upon him.

  “No,” Hannah screamed. Firing cannons and shrieks blocked out her cry.

  She drew on her power and turned her palms toward the men. A reckless carriage swerved around her. The driver swore, but Hannah remained rooted in her spot.

  She concentrated on the shorter pirate. Her hair blew around her, tingles raced over her. The sword flew out of the man’s hand and landed at her feet. He blinked, looked at his hand and scanned the ground, backing up to a nearby tree.

  Hannah focused on a branch and flicked her wrist. The branch cracked and broke, hitting the short pirate, knocking him to the ground. One against one. A fair fight. Hannah dropped her tired arms, breathing hard, and grinned.

  His arm bleeding, Kane jumped to his feet with his sword in his hand and charged the larger pirate. Their swords clashed. The pirate lunged. Kane spun around on his heels, lifted his sword and sliced off the man’s head. The pirate toppled, dead. Was that the way to kill them? By decapitation?

  More cannons fired. “Kane,” she called, but the deafening noise shrouded her voice. She waved her arm and ran toward him. Someone grabbed her from behind and threw her over his shoulder. She pounded her fists onto a hard back, screaming. “Kane!”

  Kane glanced up and charged. Her captor tossed her into a carriage. She clambered to get up, but her heart stopped. Jacques D’Aubigne glared. “So, mademoiselle, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Hannah lurched for the door handle. “No, let me go.”

  A pistol went off outside and the carriage horses bolted. Hannah slammed into the opposite seat. Pain gripped her back. Kane was out there. She was so close to being with him again. This couldn’t
be happening. She reached for the door handle again, but a sword slowly edged under her chin, forcing her back against a seat. “You, ma chere, are going nowhere.”

  Hannah glared.

  Jacques tilted his head. “Those were the pirates you were talking about?”

  “What do you think?”

  He grasped his chest and coughed. Blood trickled down his chin. She suppressed a grin.

  “You tried to murder me. If the dagger was any closer, you’d have gotten my heart. You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me.”

  She shuddered, but held Jacques’ fierce gaze and leaned back against the seat. “They’ll find you, you know.” Her hand slipped under her dress and took the dagger out from the garter tied around her thigh. “You can’t kill them. You’d be better off letting me go so they’ll not come after you.”

  He half smirked. “I doubt it. I don’t give up what’s mine without a fight.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not fooling me, Hannah. You want me to release you so you can return to O’Brien. I assure you, I’ll never do that. You’re mine. You’ll soon learn at the Sorcière de Mer what happens when you betray me.”

  “Yes, you will.” She aimed the dagger at him. “Release me.”

  He pressed the sword deeper into her throat, pressing her head back. “Drop it.”

  Hannah gripped the dagger tight. The sword dug into her neck and pricked her, wetness trickled down her skin. She swallowed, the dagger slowly slipped out of her fingers, clattering onto the floor.

  Jacques nodded his head. “Now don’t move.”

  Hannah obeyed. Trapped. Again.

  She glanced out the window and sagged down against the back seat.

  Jacques never lowered his sword. The blasting cannons and the people’s screams grew fainter as the carriage rode away. She kept hoping to see Kane ride up on the dapple-gray horse again, pistol drawn, aiming it at Jacques’ smirking face, but he never came. She was on her own.

  When the carriage came to stop, Jacques lowered the sword.

  Hannah jumped out of the carriage and dashed down the road. The thunder of horse hooves followed close behind. A hand yanked her arm, pulling her off her feet and across the horse’s back. Pain burst through her gut from landing upon the animal’s withers. She struggled to get free.

  Rough hands hauled her down. She turned to see Dubois sitting on a large black stallion. Jacques spun her around and scowled. “Dubois,” Jacques said. “Take her below. We need to be prepared for an attack and I can’t worry about her running off.”

  Dubois slid off the horse and dragged her into the house. She slapped his hand, but he held her tight. And when she slipped on the hardwood floor, Dubois tossed her over his shoulder, knocking the breath out of her and slapped her behind. She winced.

  “So, you like to play rough, chere? The master likes to play rough, too. After he gets through with you, you’ll be as docile as a lamb.”

  She shuddered at his menacing laugh. He lugged her down a flight of stairs. Torches lit their way, revealing cracked stone walls stained with black splotches. Coldness gripped her. She choked on the stench of decay and rot.

  Dubois carried her into a torch-lit room. Whips, iron cudgels and clubs hung on the wall. Two gruesome torture racks filled the middle of the room. Dark stains covered the dusty stone floor beneath each device. But what caught her attention was the large wooden breaking wheel covered with metal spikes.

  Dubois threw her into a dingy cell, slamming her into a wall. Pain exploded on the back of her head. He snatched a key off the wall and locked her inside. “You can’t leave me in here! They’ll find me.”

  “Who?” He snickered at her as he turned to leave, “No one knows you’re here.”

  “The crew of the Fiery Damsel, you fool.”

  He put his hands on his hips and heartily laughed. “They’ll not harm us.”

  Hannah narrowed her eyes. She forced her anger down, drew on her power, and concentrated on a mallet hanging on the wall. It leaped off the wall and slammed onto his foot.

  “Damn it!” He hopped on one foot. “How did that happen?” He threw the mallet across the room and limped up the stairs.

  She smiled.

  She concentrated on the cell door, drawing on her power. She flicked her wrist. The cell door rattled. She grabbed the bars and pushed, but it remained solid. She glanced at the keys hanging on the wall. Drawing upon her floor, her palms facing the wall, she stepped back. The keys swung back and forth, but refused to move. Wetness trickled down her upper lip, tasting of metallic blood. Weariness gripped her. “No,” she groaned.

  Her arms hung at her side. She stepped back her palms facing the door, and pulled on her power. A flicker rose through her. Dust moved around the door, but the door remained closed, the lock firm. She tried again and again, but her legs wobbled and she fell to the floor. Her shaking arms collapsed at her side. She’d spent her power saving Kane, but then wasted the last of it dropping the mallet on Dubois’ foot.

  Fool.

  Panting, she wiped her nose, staining her arm. She refused to cry. Breathe. Just Breathe.

  She held her head. It hurt like hell. She leaned against the cold wall to block out the pain and before she knew it, passed out.

  She woke with a start. What time was it? A pounding headache gripped her. She’d no idea whether it was night or day. Musket fire exploded outside. Her heart skipped a beat and she jumped. “�’Tis the Fiery Damsel.”

  She shot to her feet and gripped the bars. She had to get out of here. She drew on her power and flicked her wrist, but the weariness still gripped her and the door remained unmovable. Heavy footsteps came down the stairs. She froze. A silhouette of man blocked out the bottom of the stairs. She edged back away from the door, wishing to blend into the shadows.

  Every nerve tingled as she inhaled a familiar scent. Was she dreaming? Was it sandalwood?

  “Bloody hell, lassie, what are you doing in there?”

  She half-sobbed. “Kane, you’re really here.”

  He grabbed a key dangling from the wall, out of her reach, taunting her, and opened the lock. She rushed into his arms and inhaled his masculine scent. He was here. He came. For her.

  He kissed her deep. She molded her body closer to his, afraid any minute he’d disappear. Her fingers clutched his shirt and tremors traveled over her.

  “You are, you are here,” she whispered.

  He traced his finger around her mouth and thumbed away her tears. “Aye, I’m here now.”

  His body crowded her against the gate, and he raked his hands deeper into her hair as he kissed her again. Her fingers explored his massive shoulders, feeling every cord of muscle and his slight movement revealed the power within him.

  Stopping, he groaned. “Bloody Hell!” He grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Leaving so soon? I think not.”

  Jacques.

  She released Kane, determined to save him, drawing on her power and held up her palms, but her hands shook and her power refused to come. She dropped her trembling arms and clutched Kane’s hand. They were at the mercy of a devil.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jacques and his two lackeys blocked the only exit, pistols drawn. Kane shoved Hannah behind him. Shots rang out. The buckshot whizzed past him and Hannah groaned. Bloody hell, had she been hit? Jacques darted to the left. Kane grabbed his pistol, but hot pain scraped his temple, the pistol slid through his fingers, and he crumpled to the ground, dizzy with pain.

  Hannah screamed.

  Hands grabbed him. But he could do nothing, his head throbbing with agony.

  “Strap him to the breaking wheel,” Jacques demanded.

  Kane gritted his teeth as they dragged him across the floor to the breaking wheel with stained jagged spikes. Jaaysus.

  “No, Jacques,” Hannah begged, the fear in her voice pushed him to move. Kane struggled, but the debilitating pain shot through the side of his temple once again. The two men slammed him
onto the wheel. He screamed.

  “Kane,” Hannah sobbed.

  Kane tightened his jaw and forced himself to breathe slowly, but every time he moved, the wheel creaked and the spikes tore into his flesh. Clamping his mouth tight, he counted to one hundred.

  For the first time, he was glad for the curse. His blood thinned. He wished he could turn faster, rip his chains apart and kill every last man in this dungeon. When the sun sank, Jacques was a dead man.

  Forcing his voice to remain steady, he said, “Hannah, tonight’s a full moon. D’ye know what that means?”

  “Yes, yes,” she whimpered. “Jacques, please don’t hurt him.”

  He winced at her shaky voice. He wished he was a man. But if he’d been a mere man, he’d be dead or slowly dying.

  “Aye, no matter what D’Aubigne does to me,” he panted. “Don’t give into his demands, savvy?”

  “We’ll see about that, Capitaine.”

  Kane shuddered. His heart pounded, sweat poured down his face. He wanted to be stronger, stronger for Hannah, to help her keep her fear under control. Jacques strolled across the room the light of the lantern lengthened his shadow on the wall. He waved his hand in the air and the shadow looked like a shadow bat flying across the room. Ironic.

  “Your cowardly friends are nowhere to be seen so both of you are quite at my mercy, no?”

  Kane clenched his fists. His men understood their orders. Stay clear.

  “I’ll show you how I treat my guests, starting with you, Capitaine.”

  Jacques sauntered behind him. Kane braced himself. He clamped his jaw tight, refusing to scream. He inhaled, detecting Hannah’s scent – jasmine. Sweet.

  “Jacques, no please,” Hannah begged.

  A whip lashed down on Kane’s chest. He lurched off the table, and his shackles bit into his wrists. Another slash scourged him again. The wheel creaked around and the spikes tore deeper into his thighs. Agony gripped him. He tightened his jaw and threw his head back. Jacques could rot in hell.

  “Jacques, please stop!”