Siren's Song

by Trish Albright

  “Get down!” Alex heard Joshua holler.

  Alex covered her head and flattened herself between the two fallen bodies. She waited. Another cannon hit and debris flew. A little too close for comfort, she thought, peeking up to see where she was. She couldn’t quite make out which direction to go, so she dashed to an overturned carriage near the water and looked around. The men were only fifteen feet away. She estimated it was another fifty feet to the gangplank of Joshua’s sleekly fitted schooner. She looked again and gasped. Marcus had fallen from a shot. She couldn’t tell how badly he was hurt, except that Matthew had him around his shoulder. Alex motioned to the sailor to help them to the ship. He nodded and slid an extra gun to her before taking Marcus’s other arm over his shoulders.

  Emma peeked over the edge of the ship’s deck and saw Alex. She guessed she was reloading. Her eyes hunted to find Matthew and the others. When Emma saw them coming up the narrow plank her stomach twisted in terror. As soon as they were on the ship, they lowered Marcus to the deck. He had a blackened mark in his chest under his right shoulder. Matthew ripped the shirt open to reveal the bloody wound.

  “Is it bad?” Emma worried.

  “Not deadly,” Matthew stated grimly. “But not pretty.” Emma nodded. Marcus’s eyes fluttered opened. “He fell and hit his head. That may be a blessing.”

  She saw Matthew make a quick survey to see who could help. A sailor had already run to get medical supplies the duke had on board. Marcus’s eyes closed again.

  Emma slapped Marcus’s face. “Marcus! Marcus! Wake up!” She was rewarded by fluttering eyelids and a pained grimace. She smiled, relieved. “Matthew says it’s not bad. He is going to help you.” Marcus nodded grimly in response. “I love you, Marcus. I wouldn’t tell you before because you were so cold to me. I know you were just worried, but I have my pride too. You think only men have pride.” Emma had to shout the last bit over the blast of another cannon.

  “You’re going to yell at me while I lay dying?” the earl bit out, gasping from the effort.

  “You are not dying. You are too stubborn to die. You are going to get better just so you can yell at me for what I’m about to do.” Emma worried she wouldn’t see him again, but had already made up her mind. Alex needed help.

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind. Just get better and remember I love you, Marcus Nathanial Hampton. I love you with all my heart, do you hear me?” Emma didn’t want him to pass out just yet. “And when we return home I expect you to marry me!”

  “With a proposal like that, any man would come back from the dead.” Matthew grinned while cleaning the wound expertly. Matthew looked up surprised when Emma took his gun and slipped it into her belt. “Emma?” It was a question and a reproach.

  Marcus gasped at the pressure on his chest. He managed to smile at the woman glaring down at him with a remarkable amount of love in her eyes. “I already knew you loved me,” he said. Emma huffed, very dissatisfied with that.

  She packed small bullets into a pouch, which she attached to her belt. She could see he was losing consciousness and dreaded leaving him. She leaned down and pressed a simple kiss on his lips, whispering, “I know you love me too, Marcus. Someday you’ll be able to tell me.”

  Emma got up and nodded to Matthew. Two sailors were already lifting Marcus on a board to take him below deck. “Emma?” Marcus called, searching for her through pain-fogged eyes. He was conscious enough to panic. She was headed for the gangplank. “Emma! Where are you going?”

  “To be useful, Marcus,” Emma shouted without apology, and ran to help her friend.

  Marcus never heard four words strike more fear in his heart.

  Matthew had to fight him down for several minutes before unconsciousness took over. The doctor shook his head. He was torn between going after Emma and helping Marcus. He knew Emma shouldn’t have done it, but he also worried that his little sister would be out of ammunition soon and become a target. He was a selfish man, he decided. As soon as they moved Marcus he sent the two sailors out to help, and said a quick prayer for their safety.

  Paxton saw a cabin boy run down the ship’s plank and dive behind a barricade built around a fallen carriage. They shot toward the lad, inciting the other person to stand and shoot his way. It was dark, and dust had yet to clear from the last cannon, but Paxton could have sworn the figure was a woman. He ducked down and swore, hoping she didn’t see him. There was a small American frigate in cannon’s reach of the docks. He was surprised they hadn’t left yet. Obviously waiting for the rest of the crew. Some were on the other side of the road. They would never make it, he thought. The schooner on the wharf was English. There was another large frigate behind it, sails unfurling. He looked around the dock. His ship was nowhere in sight. His crew would need to paddle toward the ship shooting the cannons and hope for the best. Had the Staffords followed him here and found his ship? What were the odds? The bastards must have been right on his tail.

  Paxton crept around to get closer. He waved for his men to follow.

  Alex was motioning for Joshua and Samuel to run while they were urging her to go. Joshua’s face begged her. She stubbornly refused to budge. She pulled the trigger and swore. Another empty. She leaned against the cart and prayed. When she opened her eyes, Emma was shoving a loaded gun in her hand and starting to reload the others.

  “Emma? What? How? You should be on the ship,” Alex chastised with a grateful grin on her face. “You could be killed!”

  “We are not going to die. Now shoot.”

  “Okay, m’lady.” Alex leaned around the cart and caught a figure sneaking toward two sailors thirty feet away from her. She aimed and missed. The calibration was off. She would need to adjust for that next time. She took her newly loaded musket and tried again, this time catching the figure before he could fell any of the smaller Stafford sailors.

  Alex took the moment to turn north. She didn’t see anyone. It made her uneasy. Then there was a rumble in the ground. It was in the distance but surprisingly strong. She grabbed Emma’s hand and pressed it down on the ground as well, to indicate something was up. Emma’s eyes widened at the increasing vibration. Then she heard them. It sounded like an army of horses rampaging down on them. Alex crawled out on her belly to spy. Up the road, in the darkness, giant shadows were pulsing down on them.

  She heard Emma make a muffled cry. Alex turned to warn her, only to face the wrong end of a gun—held in the hand of her archenemy.

  Alex stepped back into the street, hands up, making herself a target, and making sure her brother knew she was in trouble. Paxton pulled her back, but not before Samuel had seen her.

  “Hell! Someone’s got Alex!”

  They had to get to the ship before the horses bore down or they would have no chance of saving her.

  Joshua only had thoughts of Alex. He ran across the road like a demon possessed.

  Samuel followed, too stunned by the duke’s courage and stupidity to do otherwise. The two were immediately besieged by deafening gunpowder and the pounding thunder of horses. Samuel guarded the rear and was closest to the impending danger. He could feel the heat of heavily breathing stallions. They neared the water. He could smell it as clearly as he could smell the horses.

  “Jump!” Samuel bellowed. No one needed a second warning. They were midair when Prince Khalid’s cavalry trampled the remaining forces of the late Sultan Al-Aziz.

  Alex couldn’t tell if Joshua had made it to the ship. She was thrown over the side of the wharf and landed in a rowboat with a painful thump next to Emma, who was smacking off prying hands. Alex realized Paxton hoped to board her ship.

  She didn’t know who remained of her crew. She wondered if they were ready for hand-to-hand combat. She debated the safety of all involved. The dark cavalry that had nearly trampled them didn’t seem intent on pursuing. Part of the rebellion, she thought, wondering briefly how Prince Raja had succeeded after she left. She rubbed her bloodshot eyes, itchy from smoke and dust, and brea
thed in the first breath of fresh air in hours. As fresh as anything could be with Reginald Paxton in close proximity.

  There were two rowing boats of men with twenty-four sailors in all if her count was correct. Her men were easily outnumbered and there was no doubt her ship was about to be boarded, with or without her consent. Alex swallowed angrily. She knew there wasn’t one of her crew she wanted to risk, or another life she wanted to see claimed by the prophecy.

  “Leave us here, Paxton. Take the ship and make a clean getaway,” Alex offered coldly.

  “Then who would I have to entertain me, Miss Stafford?” He smirked lewdly at Emma. “I do relish the idea of your friend here helping me to pass the long hours at sea.”

  Alex raised a brow in disgust. “She’s a fool, not a friend. But suit yourself.” Alex stretched her neck as if she didn’t care either way. “If you take us, you will merely be hunted down until you and all your crew are shark bait.”

  Paxton laughed.

  Alex caught Birdie’s relieved look from the deck of the Sea Fire and shouted at him before he could open his mouth or throw the Jacob’s ladder over the side. “Mr. Byrd!” His eyes squinted as if he didn’t hear her correctly. She never called him “Mr.” anything, and his surname was Carlisle. She shouted again, the code to escape, her voice filled with impatience and irritation. “Mr. Byrd!”

  The old man looked down toward the boat floating alongside the ship. No doubt assessing the odds of disobeying her. She waited. Then she heard him shout to the crew. “Abandon ship or salute a new captain.”

  Paxton gave her a raised brow.

  “Bloodshed is not always necessary, Paxton.”

  He pulled his gun. “But so much more fun.” He shot at one of her men lowering a boat for escape and she threw an elbow to knock his aim off. Alex saw that Birdie stayed on deck. She prayed Paxton wouldn’t hurt anyone who remained.

  “Prepare the Sea Fire to be boarded by its new captain!” she commanded loudly with a nod toward Paxton. Paxton looked up at Birdie with an arrogant, self-satisfied smile and Birdie lifted a hand in salute to the man, keeping his gaze away from Alex.

  The next two minutes were the longest of Alex’s life. She saw some of the men leave their sails. The cannons ceased their fire. There was chaos on the shore but she could make the shape of Samuel’s ship, Avenger, unfurling sails not far away. A light on the horizon hinted that sunrise was coming fast. Alex quickly covered different strategies in her head. She had to make sure Paxton didn’t have any negotiating power. She saw Emma in the corner of her eye, and wondered what kind of chance she would have at throwing her friend overboard before they left the harbor.

  Paxton yelled toward the deck, impatiently demanding a rope. His men in the second boat nestled against the ship and hooked a rope over the side. A sailor climbed aboard and threw down two more ropes and a ladder. Paxton scrambled up the side of the ship in seconds, followed by his hostages. When he leapt onto the deck of the Sea Fire he appeared surprised that few remained. They’d rather take their chances with a war. He raced to the opposite side of the deck and in fury took aim at the longboats paddling off while several other sailors swam free in the water. Then he caught himself. This was easier after all. His first priority was to get the hell out of here and as far from Morocco and the Stafford men as possible.

  Emma and Alex were tied together to a pole in the cargo hold. Alex was ill at the thought of another journey below deck, but knew it was ten times worse for Emma. Her friend was still trembling from nerves and Alex feared speaking to her at all while their guard could hear. She was thankful that Emma followed her lead, though her sharp comment earlier about being a fool may have been taken to heart. Alex only meant to keep up the charade that they were not particularly close to each other. She couldn’t bear it if Paxton used Emma to hurt her. It was the type of torment he would most enjoy.

  Alex waited until the guard left them to get a late breakfast. “Emma, listen to me.” Alex turned her head over her shoulder and saw Emma nod silently. “No matter what happens, you must not indicate in anyway that you have sympathy or affection, or even natural human compassion for me or anyone else. Do you understand?” Emma was still and silent. “Emma, Paxton will use your emotions against us. Do you understand? If he thought that I cared for you, he might hurt you in order to hurt me. It’s a game to him. He enjoys mental torture as much as physical torture. Perhaps more. Please. Promise me you will not let him or his crew see how you truly feel.”

  “I understand,” Emma whispered. “Alex, I’m so scared. Wh-what will they do with us?”

  “I don’t know. But we are not going to wait to find out,” Alex reassured her. “Even now Joshua and Marcus and my brothers are tracking us, waiting for the right opportunity to blow Paxton and his crew to smithereens.”

  “Smithereens?”

  “Yes,” Alex answered. “Millions of pieces.”

  “That’s quite gruesome.”

  “Thank you. I was rather pleased with the …” Alex stopped, then added slowly, “Description.” A thought formed in her head. She twisted around and surveyed the limited contents of her cargo hold. She didn’t have much on the ship of value. She ticked through her list of supplies for the journey home: dresses, souvenirs, food, several caged chickens, water, ale, weapons, gunpowder, and of course—her bits of dynamite.

  “Alex?”

  “Yes?”

  “Marcus was shot.”

  “I saw. Was it bad?”

  “In the chest, somewhere below his shoulder. Matthew said it wasn’t fatal.”

  “Then I’m sure he is fine. Matthew is the finest doctor in Boston, Emma. And he has treated several hundred gunshot wounds in worse circumstances and with no supplies or instruments.”

  “During the rebellion?” Emma asked, curious.

  “Yes, the revolution,” Alex corrected with a smile. She closed her eyes with a sigh. “I suppose Marcus will be very mad at me for getting you into this mess. Do you think he will forbid you from ever seeing me again?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Thanks,” Alex laughed.

  Emma added, “I only meant I hope to see him soon so he can yell at me.”

  “All will be well. I promise. There are men on our side who stayed. Birdie for one. And, this is my ship.” Alex twisted her wrists in the knots. “I assure you, I always have more than one escape plan.”

  “We were a good team on the docks,” Emma recalled.

  “We still are.”

  “I am feeling better,” Emma said, sounding calmer.

  “Me too.” Though in truth, the details of her various escape plans made her stomach churn with tension. She would only get one chance to stop Paxton and it had to be tonight, before anything could happen to Emma. She knew it was already too late for her. Destiny had finally caught up. She must destroy Paxton and any copies of the map still existing. She inhaled the scent of wood and livestock, absorbing this part of the ship that she had not before spent much time in. It was just a ship, she reminded herself. The value of it was inconsequential when she looked at the bigger picture. And if she could destroy Paxton and all who followed him, it would be worth the ultimate price.

  Alex took a calming breath, then started to tell Emma everything she needed to know about the Sea Fire and how they would escape.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Most of Paxton’s crew had been indulging the previous night and were cranky that they had to work while the captain napped in a comfortable bed with the gold at his side. It was late afternoon by the time they were rewarded for their endeavors. The women were led onto the deck. Catcalls started from all around the ship.

  Alex straightened her shoulders and strolled as if she were still in command. It was just the sort of thing to irritate Paxton, and the thought cheered her immensely. She observed where Birdie and Ilu were, then took bearings on the ship’s location. A clear silhouette of a ship on the distant horizon encouraged her, though in truth she had hoped Joshua
and her family would be closer.

  Cheers from the crew greeted Paxton as he made a grand entrance on the deck, freshly dressed, giving a mocking bow to his men, and leisurely coiling her long whip in his hands. It looked like they would be getting a bit of entertainment. She made no acknowledgment of him, but rather, yawned delicately, aspiring for pleasantly bored. Paxton made a motion and they were hustled in front of him. A snap, and a man behind Paxton appeared with a rolled-up carpet, opening it for everyone to see.

  Alex scowled, knowing it was expected. “So, Paxton, you finally found what has been at your feet all along.”

  “Yes, my dear. And it seems I no longer have any use for you.”

  “Perfect. Then set us off in a boat, and be on your way. You certainly don’t want three Stafford ships catching up with you.”

  “Correction, Miss Stafford. I may not have any use for you, but my crew certainly does.”

  The cheers were deafening.

  To Emma, he said, “The men have never sampled a true English blue blood. Don’t see how I can deny them.” He looked out to the eager faces and shouted, “Who wants to be first?”

  The crew went wild and Emma shrank from the sound, paling visibly.

  “Tie her to the mast, Monty. Time for a little sport.”

  Pale and terrified, Emma stumbled as she was forcibly dragged to the mast. Paxton smirked, and Alex smiled back, adding a wink. It seemed to thoroughly ruin his fun.

  Paxton pretended to contemplate the whip, giving it a test strike in Emma’s direction. Her friend flinched. Alex’s knees went weak at the thought that he might consider using it on another human. She turned to the waves forcing her expression not to betray her fear.

  Birdie’s eyes shifted nervously to Alex, but she looked away.

  “Captain Paxton,” Alex said calmly. “If I may remind you, the prophecy calls for a pure sacrifice.” She looked at the men. “I could be completely wrong, but it sounds like you’ll need at least one of us intact. So, if I’m to be the prize, might I go to a cabin and clean up while you get on with this?” She checked the skies, like the professional navigator that she was. “You don’t have much time to get where you’re going if you intend to succeed.” She paused and added carefully, “And your men seem to have us heading in the wrong direction. The treasure is south, not west.”