The Devil's Tide

by Tomerlin, Matt

  Nathan shook his head. "Blackbeard has no idea we have it."

  Kate loosed a terrible, raspy laugh. "The woman in your cabin knows."

  "And you think she serves Blackbeard still?" Nathan's laughter overpowered hers. "How do they communicate, exactly? Carrier pigeons?" He spun around, scanning the sky. "She must dispatch them at night, because I haven't spied any wings flapping in the day."

  "It's all too bloody convenient," Kate said, glowering resentfully at him for making light of her concern. It was hard for him to take her seriously, given that she'd left him to die so she could gallivant around the Caribbean.

  "You think I don't realize that?" he said.

  "If you do, you're a fool to allow this farce to continue."

  His laugh was bitter. "It seems I'm a fool either way."

  "That's the smartest thing you've said yet."

  "You know for a fact it's a farce?" he asked with a flourish of feigned curiosity, for he knew she had no evidence. "If you've heard something I haven't, now would be a good time."

  She looked away in frustration. "Of course I haven't heard anything. It's obvious to anyone with two working eyes."

  He massaged the rough end of his shortened arm. "I won't know anything for sure until she takes action."

  "You mean until she kills you. When you're a ghost, drop in for a visit so I can say I told you so. I enjoy being right."

  "Maybe I would deserve it," he said as he stared into the black. "I was wrong to trade that man's life."

  "Hornigold was an idiot," Kate spat dismissively. "He should never have left Nassau."

  Nathan stared at her, appalled. "You mean he should never have listened to you."

  "That was his choice," she replied with a relaxed shrug. "He knew the risks. Just as you knew the risks when you traded Hornigold for your precious Annabelle." She cocked her head as though struck by a sudden thought. "Such a sweet name. How could anyone with so sweet a name be capable of evil?"

  Nathan slapped his palm on the rail. "You give me too little credit."

  "You deserve none!" She slid closer and leaned downward, trying to get his attention. "Do I have to spell it out for you? That woman is here to murder you."

  "She's taking her time!" He tried to avoid her unrelenting gaze, but he felt her eyes burrowing holes in his skull.

  "You really don't know anything, do you?"

  His hand shot upwards and seized her throat, shoving her backwards and suspending her over the water. Her legs slipped around his waist, tightening. She smiled, even as her face turned red. "All it would take is a little shove," she rasped.

  He pushed forward a little, letting her hang precariously for a gratifying moment. The comely masthead waited just below her, oblivious to her plight. If Nathan released her throat, the mermaid's pretty face would be the last thing she'd see before being dragged under the keel.

  Kate didn't relinquish her smile. "What are you waiting for?"

  "That's not what I want," he said at last, jerking her toward him. Her ass slipped from the rail, and she crumpled against him. She placed both hands on his chest, struggling to push off, but he slipped his fingers around the back of her neck and brought her forward. Her lips peeled away from clenched teeth, and her eyes burned furiously. The muscles in her arms strained against his pull, until her elbows buckled. Their lips came together. He shoved his tongue into her mouth. Her teeth parted, and he feared she was letting him in just so she could bite down, but then her tongue curled around his. For an instant, her body softened in his grip, leaning into him, and Nathan realized how desperately he wanted her.

  But it was only an instant. Her tongue abruptly stopped moving, and she shoved him away with greater force than he thought her capable.

  She glared at him, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

  "I'm sorry," he said, though he wasn't sure he meant it.

  A warm breeze washed over the deck, ruffling the sails. Kate's reproachful look faded. "I just can't do that, Nathan. Not to you."

  "Not to me?" He couldn't hide his sudden aggravation.

  Her face twisted painfully, and her eyes lined with tears, and he was reminded that there was still a very young woman in there. "I've done enough," she said.

  His mind drifted to the dark cell in Nassau, where he was certain he would face his death because she had abandoned him. Her hair, which looked so full and beautiful before him now, had been a dreadful, fiery vision that plagued his thoughts. Now, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her. A question emerged methodically from his lips. "If you had to make the decision you made in Nassau again . . . would you?"

  "Yes."

  He nodded slowly.

  She added a remorseful smile. "But I would feel terrible about it."

  The walk back to his cabin was not nearly long enough. The ship felt very small, and he yearned to be back on an expansive beach, where he could stroll for hours without encountering another soul. He didn't want to go to sleep and dream of Hornigold again. Falling into bed with the very woman he had traded Hornigold for would only make it worse. She served as a constant reminder of his dark deed.

  He flinched angrily at his nagging thoughts, flinging his hand through the air. One of the sleeping pirates stirred, turning over and adjusting his blanket. The bastard was already dead, Nathan reminded himself, as he had done over and over in the past five days. He was tired of thinking about it.

  He shouldered through the door to the captain's cabin, forbidding himself further opportunity to dwell on decisions he couldn't change. Annabelle hadn't budged and neither had the pistol beside the bed. Nathan sat down at the desk on the opposite side of the room, setting his hand atop a map of the Caribbean. He circled his index finger around the island of Tortuga, smiling. What better place to vanish? It would take him three lifetimes to spend his share of the treasure.

  He heard Annabelle shuffling out of bed behind him. "Where'd you go?" she murmured groggily.

  Nathan tilted his head but didn't look back. "Needed some fresh air. Go back to sleep. It's late."

  "Come back to bed," she groaned.

  "Soon."

  "Fine." He heard her fall back into bed, and then nothing. He looked at Tortuga again, far south and slightly west of Crusader's current position, with the islands of Maguana and Leneago between the ship and its destination. He blinked, and the map grew blurry beneath him. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, and he realized how tired he was as exhaustion swept over him.

  He stood and turned . . . and Annabelle was standing three feet from him, with his gun in her hand, aimed at his face. He hadn't even heard her move. She'd slipped on her white robe. Her arm was steady, and the gun's barrel didn't budge.

  "It's what you want, isn't it?" she said. "You made it so easy for me. Every night you spend an hour polishing and loading this goddamned thing, and you put it on that table, and then you walk away, always with your back to me. What are you doing, testing me? Do you think that makes me feel good about myself? Do you think that makes me feel wanted?"

  "I was wrong to trade that man's life for yours," he sighed.

  The deep scar across her right cheek seemed redder than usual, drawing attention to itself. Perhaps it was amplified by the candlelight, which normally made her mahogany skin that much more beautiful. "Am I not enough?"

  He leaned casually against the desk. "I thought you were."

  She cocked her head. His lack of fear seemed to intrigue her. "Better to die than spend the rest of your life with your prize?"

  He chuckled. "My prize wants to murder me."

  The gun's barrel wavered a notch. "I wasn't always certain."

  "That's comforting."

  "But you just had to test me, didn't you? You'll always want what you can't have, just like every other man. You need a goal. Without it, you feel useless."

  He shook his head. "I want the woman I fell in love with."

  "That woman never loved you, Nathan, and you've always known that. I gave more fa
ncy to your coin purse."

  He sighed in genuine relief. "Thank you for finally admitting it."

  "I never claimed anything else." A crease formed between her eyebrows. "I cannot live with a man who resents me."

  "I don't," he started, but stopped himself. "I didn't. I resented myself. Maybe I just needed time."

  "That's the one thing you don't have," she assured him confidently. "Well, that and Kate Lindsay."

  "What?"

  She cackled. "Oh, don't pretend you don't fancy her. I've seen the way you look at her. You didn't come all the way out here to find me. You came out here to find her."

  "For the governor," he insisted.

  "I wish you could see how silly you look, trying to deny it," she sneered, flinging the gun slightly.

  "You don't love me, but you're playing the part of jealous lover?"

  "I'm only pointing out your hypocrisy," she sneered, "which you seem blissfully ignorant of. After I've put a bullet in that silly face, I'm going to have a chat with your pretty little redhead. See, I have this suspicion she couldn't care less what happens to you. When I show her your corpse, I'll know for sure. A woman knows a woman. Of course, if she falls to her knees and weeps, I'll have to kill her too. But I don't think that's going to happen, do you?"

  Nathan sighed. This had gone on long enough, and he was too disgusted to let it continue. "Part of me considered leaving the bullet in that gun."

  She frowned. "What?"

  He pointed at the barrel. "It will make a very loud noise, my ears will ring, and the crew will rush to my cabin and find me unkilled, and you with a smoking gun. They'll have at you, and I don't think I'll be able to stop them even if I want to."

  She kept on frowning at the pistol. She wasn't getting it. He allowed himself a little smile at her expense. "I wish you could see how silly you look, trying to figure it out. It's quite simple, really. I loaded the powder, but not the shot."

  The barrel declined, and her eyes trailed with it. A variety of emotions darkened her face, like storm clouds merging on the horizon. Her eyes darted this way and that, desperate for a solution to this startling turn of events, hoping for the answer to materialize somewhere in the room. For an absurd instant, he nearly felt sorry for her.

  And then all the uncertainty left her face, and a grin formed in its place. Her shoulders trembled as giggles bubbled out of her. Dread seeped into Nathan's gut as he realized what a fantastic actress she had always been.

  "You think I'm so stupid that I wouldn't check? I loaded it while you were outside." She returned the gun to its former height, level with his forehead. "So tell me, Nathan, did I pass your little test, or fail?"

  As he opened his mouth to answer, he heard something snap.

  KATE

  The crack of thunder gave her a violent start, for it was alarmingly close, and there had been no lightning to foreshadow it. Kate pushed off the rail, scanning the horizon aft of the ship, in the direction she thought the report had sounded from.

  A flurry of movement on the main deck seized her attention. She took a few cautious steps forward. A man rushed up to the lantern nearest the bow, and she glimpsed the comely face of Gabe Jenkins before he doused the light. An instant later, the second lantern was extinguished, and the entire deck was pitched in darkness.

  She heard a shuffling of feet, maybe ten or twelve men rushing about. She heard a man gasp, then a strange groan that trailed into silence. Someone protested, "Wait, no! Please!" and then said no more. Another man said, "Ogle? Is that you?" followed by a gurgling noise, and then fell silent. A would-be scream was smothered in its infancy. Shadows were moving from spot to spot, crouching and rising.

  When she saw the sharp outline of a cutlass, she ducked low, clutching the hilt of her own. How many had they killed already? She retreated to the bulwark, setting her back against it, and prayed no one knew she was there.

  A muffled shriek emanated from the hold. A flurry of movement below trembled the deck. Someone shouted, "I yield! I yieeeeld!" and then howled gruesomely.

  The girl is down there, she reminded herself. Not that she could do anything for her. They were too far removed.

  She let her eyes adapt to the darkness, watching for more shadows, but she saw no further movement. They must have all gone down to the hold. She slid along the starboard bulwark, hunched low, moving toward the captain's quarters. She had to get to Nathan. He was the only one she could trust right now.

  If he's still alive.

  Her toes caught on something soft, and she went tumbling over it, landing hard on her palms. She dragged her legs off of whatever she had tripped over. She reached out to the dark mound, and her fingers sank into something wet and squishy. She fought an instinct to recoil, sliding her fingers up the surface, which was mushy in places and hard in others, until she felt hair. It was a human face, completely bashed in. She jerked her hand away, gasping hoarsely in terror.

  Something shuffled behind her. She spun, whipping her cutlass from its sheath in a single, fluid motion. Her arm seemed to hit a brick wall, halting in midair. A shadow loomed over her, clutching her wrist. He shoved her away and she crumpled to the deck before him. "I'm not your enemy, lass," said a familiar voice.

  "Bellamy?"

  The surgeon leaned close, offering his hand. She took it, and he helped her back to her feet.

  "They're killing everyone," she nearly shouted.

  "Quiet," he said. "That was Yarlow you just stuck your hand in. Candler's dead too."

  Kate was in the process of wiping the goo off her hands onto the rail, but she stopped as the words registered. She clutched her stomach, struggling not to vomit as the metallic taste of bile saturated her mouth. She met Yarlow her first day aboard Crusader and liked him instantly. He had seemed to enjoy her company in return, recounting his horrific capture by slavers in Africa to his recruitment by Guy Dillahunt, who had intercepted the slave ship that was transporting him.

  Candler, on the other hand, she had encountered only briefly. The man seemed intimidated by female company, and she was never able to speak more than two words to him before he hurried off in another direction.

  "Why would anybody kill them?" she rasped, gripping her belly. "They were harmless!"

  "I don't know, but I'm not waiting around to ask."

  She almost laughed. "Where are we gonna go?"

  He hesitated. She couldn't see his features, but she knew he was thinking. "I don't know. We'll take one of the boats if we have to."

  "We have to get to the cabin first."

  "I know," Bellamy muttered grimly. "I heard it too."

  "I thought it was thunder."

  "It wasn't."

  The surgeon moved ahead and she followed closely, hand on his shoulder. They continued along the starboard side until they were nearly to the captain's cabin, when the door slammed open and light spilled out. Annabelle emerged, a gun in her hand. Bellamy pulled Kate down low, back to the rail. Annabelle looked around cautiously. "Ogle?" she called.

  Ogle ascended from the hold, stepping into the orange column of light streaming out of the captain's cabin. He was half covered in blood and smiling like a child. Red droplets fell from his blade, pattering the deck. "The deed is done," he proclaimed.

  Annabelle smiled with confidence. "Teach will be pleased." She shifted suddenly, aiming a finger at Kate and Bellamy. "Grab those two."

  Bellamy stood before Kate, drawing his cutlass. His silver hair shimmered in the light of the cabin. Ogle approached eagerly, licking his red lips. "Put away the blade, old man. You'll only cut yourself."

  "I've cut many men," Bellamy replied casually. "Both with scalpel and sword. Never cut myself."

  Ogle advanced until their blades crossed, and the metal screeched as the edges scraped. "And I've killed twelve men tonight. What makes you think you'll be the man to end my murderous spree?"

  The surgeon grinned. "I don't doubt your skill against snoring opponents, but I have the advantage of being awake
."

  A third blade appeared, resting on Bellamy's neck. Kate looked sideways, and there was one of the Maynards, grinning broadly. She had no idea whether it was Dick or Richard. "We'll put you to rest soon enough," the Maynard assured Bellamy.

  Bellamy's eyes swept from Ogle to Maynard, back and forth. After a moment he released his blade, letting it clang on the deck.

  Annabelle stepped forward. "That's better. Now, who do you serve, old man?"

  Bellamy frowned. "What kind of question is that?"

  "Don't be rude to the lady," Ogle grated. "She asked who you serve."

  "I don't answer daft questions."

  Kate shrank behind Bellamy's legs.

  Annabelle tilted sideways to get a look at her and then looked at Bellamy again. "You'll find this daft question far more difficult to answer with a sword in your belly. Who do you serve?"

  Bellamy spat at her feet. "Enjoy your lofty position while you can, girly. It won't last long."

  The strumpet sighed impatiently. "I'll ask once more. Who do you serve?"

  The Maynard leaned close and whispered in Bellamy's ear, "This is the part where you say, 'Blackbeard.'"

  Bellamy wrenched his face in disgust. "This is the part where I tell you to fuck a blowfish. I'm a surgeon. I serve the wounded."

  Ogle looked around. "Then you serve no one. They're all dead." He plunged his cutlass into the surgeon's gut. Bellamy doubled over Ogle's shoulder, trembling face turning purple, eyes bulging from their sockets. Ogle jerked the blade sharply upward, shearing through the old man. Kate glimpsed the sharpened tip moving up his back in a red line. When the sword moved no further, Ogle pulled it out, and Bellamy fell dead.

  With her shield gone, Kate was completely exposed before Annabelle, Ogle, and the Maynard. They gathered around her, with Annabelle in the center, hands on her hips. "I'll have a word with you now, unless you'd care to join your friend."

  "More of an acquaintance," Kate said as she got to her feet as casually as possible and stepped over Bellamy's corpse.

  "Until a few moments ago, I'm sure," Annabelle quipped with a shrewd smile. She offered her hand. "You're skilled at making friends when you require them."