She howled in frustration. Why did evil triumph over good? Oh, why had she insisted she would go to the train station alone in the morning? It could be days before her relatives realized she was abducted. Please, Freya, let Cecelia find the luggage in my closet soon.
A loud bang, like a door swinging against the wall, drew Mercy’s attention.
“Allow me to fetch it, Dominick,” Victor said, his voice strong and clear. “Wait in the hallway, or Eveline will box my ears for leaving the cabin in disarray.”
They had returned to the cabin! Mercy kicked against her wooden prison with every ounce of energy she possessed.
“What is that noise?” Eveline asked.
“Nothing,” Victor replied, shutting the door. “Come, you must see the galley. A new oven was installed while we were in port.”
“Are you deaf, mate?” Dominick asked, his booted footfalls drawing nearer. “You must hear it.”
Mercy laughed in triumph and continued her merciless assault on the chest, hollering until her throat burned. The lid to her prison lifted, blinding her with bright light. She inhaled fresh air, and tears of joy streaked down her cheeks.
“Jesus, pray for us,” Eveline gasped. “What is the meaning of this, Victor?”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Lord Sommerset said, his eyes wide with disgust as he lifted Mercy from the chest and set her on the bed.
Every muscle in her body throbbed as blood pulsed through her veins and she stretched. Tears streamed down her face, so great was her relief at escaping her prison.
Eveline rushed to Mercy’s side, pulling the gag free while Lord Sommerset bore down on Victor. “You have one minute to explain yourself before I beat some fucking sense into you! Where is your head, man?”
“Dominick!” Eveline said. “Please, we must free Mercy from her bindings first. Are you all right?” she asked, rubbing life into Mercy’s arms.
Mercy nodded. “A bit stiff and sore. I cannot thank you enough for coming to my rescue.”
“Nonsense,” Eveline said, sending a ferocious glare in Victor’s direction. “I’m appalled at the situation.”
Lord Sommerset retrieved a disturbingly large dagger from his calf holster and cut through the bindings on her wrists, knees, and feet with ease. Eveline poured a glass of water from a pitcher on a sideboard and handed it to her.
“Let’s get you home, and then Victor can account for his despicable behavior,” she said.
Victor’s jaw clenched, and he moved to block the door with his formidable body. “My apologies, but I cannot allow that. Mercy Seymour Limmerick will accompany me to Blackburn Castle whether she wishes to or not. As you can see by my mode of operandi, she does not wish to come.”
Lord Sommerset lifted an eyebrow, staring with what could only be described as interest. He assumed a position beside Victor in front of the door, crossing his arms over his chest.
Blackburn Castle?
All of the hope rising in her breast crashed in an instant. She felt lightheaded, tiny white stars swimming before her eyes. No, her black-haired, green-eyed Victor could not be Victor Blackburn. Blackburn was a crewmember of The Bloody Mary. But she’d stopped tracking his whereabouts after news of The Butcher’s death had reached Devil’s Cove many years ago.
Anger swelled within her chest. Well, he could rot if he thought she’d give in so easily to his despicable scheme.
“Limmerick? I don’t understand,” Eveline said, standing protectively before Mercy. “Explain what’s happening here. Are you saying she’s related to the Butcher?”
Victor pressed his lips into a grim line, ignoring her plea. Eveline glanced at Mercy, her brows furrowed.
Mercy glared at Victor. He may not wish to reveal the reasons for his treachery, but she harbored no such indecision. Eveline was her best hope for walking off the ship before it set sail, and she would not waste the precious opportunity.
“Meet Victor Blackburn,” she said. “Cursed to die a brutal death on his twenty-seventh birthday, like his ancestors before him, unless I cast the counter spell, which I cannot do.”
“Cannot or will not?” Victor asked, leaning casually against the cabin door.
“You little bitch,” Lord Sommerset growled, stalking toward her.
Eveline rushed forward, pushing him back with one palm against his chest, her voice calm. “Stop, this instant. I don’t understand any of this, but, by God, I will before the hour is out. Is this true, Victor?” Her voice cracked, and she strode to his side, taking his hand in hers, searching his face. “Emma’s ghost. The pieces are falling into place. You should’ve told me. Why haven’t I heard of the curse before today? You must have known I would do everything within my power to help you.”
And with that earnest declaration, all hope of escape died inside Mercy. Eveline was the voice of reason among them, and her religious beliefs would sway her toward setting Mercy free, but her high regard for the pirate might very well blind her.
Victor assumed a stony facade. “Your powers are useless against the curse. Telling you of my plight would only result in frustration, especially when there was no hope for my future. Until recently, when I discovered Mercy Seymour is better known as Mercy Limmerick, the one person alive who is capable of breaking the Blackburn curse.”
“You should’ve confided in me,” Lord Sommerset said, pacing. “We’ve searched for her together for well over a decade. And when you finally located her, you chose to shut me out? Why, dammit?”
“Because you have suffered enough for one lifetime,” Victor replied, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. “I don’t want you near me when my time comes. Do you hear? By all that is sacred, you will not watch me suffer and die.”
“But you needn’t die,” Eveline said. “Mercy can break the curse, you said it yourself.” She turned to Mercy. “You must save him, I beg you. He’s a good man.”
Mercy scoffed and held out her raw wrists. “You must understand if I choose to disagree. He threatened to kill my aunt and uncle if I didn’t come with him.”
Eveline flinched at the raw patches of skin. “He’s reacting to extenuating circumstances. His life is at risk. Even you must concede that point.”
Mercy steeled her heart against Eveline’s pleas, yet she bore her no ill will. The girl couldn’t know the extent of Victor’s black heart. All she knew was the deep bond between Victor and her fiancé.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter,” Mercy said, lifting her chin. “He is mistaken. Oh, believe me, a counter spell exists, but in order for it to work, I must find it in my heart to forgive my Blackburn brethren for their treacherous deeds. But I will never take pity on a Blackburn, and most certainly not him! And he knows why.” She looked him square in the eyes. “Don’t you?”
His green eyes grew bleak as he gaped at Dominick’s and Eveline’s confused expressions. She swore his eyes glistened with unshed tears before he closed them, shaking his head. “Please, no, Mercy.”
So his friends were ignorant of the truth. She stood, intent on confronting him face to face. With her first step, she stumbled but righted herself quickly, eating up the distance between them with purposeful strides. She jammed her index finger at his chest, in the center of his heart. “Look at me, you bastard.”
His eyes wrenched open. They were filled with regret. But it was too late. Her mother was long dead under his knife, and he would pay for his sins. She pounded on his chest as pain exploded at the base of her neck.
“I saw it all, damn you. Tell them what you did!”
Her stomach heaved, and she struck him harder still. He didn’t move, didn’t react, just let her expend her anger on him like a lifeless punching bag. Why didn’t he fight back? Call her horrible names? Reveal his true nature? It infuriated her even more.
“I watched you do it through the scrying bowl,” Mercy said, gazing into his downturned face, searching for traces of that young boy. She grabbed hold of his linen shirt and shook him hard. “I was seven years old, and so far awa
y . . . too far away to save her. Say it, Victor. Tell me what you did. I need to hear you admit it.”
He licked his lips and swallowed hard.
“I killed your mother,” he said, his voice reverberating through her like a death knoll. “Stabbed her in the heart with a dagger.”
Her breath caught in her lungs, suspended in her shocked state. She’d expected him to deny the filthy accusation, to shove her away, accost her with ugly words, to laugh over his triumph. Not quietly accept responsibility with that tortured look on his face.
Tears gushed forth, and she attacked him, raking her hands over his neck and chest.
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
She screamed it over and over until her voice became painfully raw and hoarse. Strong arms enfolded her from behind and pulled her away, cradling her in a warm embrace.
“Enough,” Lord Sommerset said, supporting her full weight as the fight abandoned her. “You’ll make yourself sick if you continue.”
He guided her to a chair and eased her onto it. She crumpled and gave in to the all-consuming pain.
“Eveline, stay with her while I have a word with Victor in private.”
“Do not stare into her eyes,” Victor warned. “Or you might find yourself under one of her spells.”
She heard the lock click into place from outside the cabin, but she could not muster the energy to care. The truth had finally come out, and Victor would be forced to accept the cold reality of his impending death, because even he must see the impossibility of her ever finding it in her heart to forgive him.
Chapter Eleven
Victor braced his hands against the forecastle railing, staring at the men bustling around Devil’s Cove wharf, hauling cargo off ships, replenishing fresh water supplies, negotiating terms of sale for goods—all of them oblivious to the turmoil ravaging his soul.
A chill wind blew against his exposed skin, causing the scratches to burn more than usual. Let them burn and fester. The distraction was welcome, anything to take his mind off the awful guilt gnawing at his stomach. He had murdered Mercy’s mother, and now the world knew the truth. At least those in the world who mattered most to him. In some ways, he was glad his secret was out.
“Is it true, then?” Dominick asked, leaning his hip against the railing.
Victor nodded solemnly. There was no reason to deny it, other than to avoid his guilt and shame. No more hiding behind lies.
His best friend clasped his shoulder. “That rat bastard! He forced you to kill an innocent woman. Why didn’t you tell me?”
A lump lodged in Victor’s throat, and he cleared it. “What makes you believe the Butcher forced me?”
“You were ten years old,” Dominick said with a grunt. “He threatened your life, and we both know he never issued idle threats. You’re not a cold-blooded killer.”
Victor clasped his hands and leaned his forehead against them, drawing in a breath of crisp sea air. “Does it matter that the Butcher threatened me? That day haunts me in my dreams. Maude confessed Mercy’s location to save my life, and I slaughtered her. I cannot beg forgiveness.”
“I’m so sorry you were put in that position, my friend. Can’t you see her life was forfeit regardless, and she chose to save you? She wouldn’t want you to torment yourself over what happened.”
However true that may be, it brought little comfort. He was tired of fighting his fate. Perhaps Mercy was right and justice would be served with his death.
“I’m going to release her,” Victor said, staring blankly ahead. “I cannot force her to forgive me. And we both know I would never kill her aunt and uncle. It was only a ruse to gain her compliance.”
Dominick grabbed his arm and whirled him around. “No, dammit. I won’t let you play martyr. Not when you finally have a fighting chance to live! If you release her, then Maude’s sacrifice was for naught. Do you believe what Mercy said about the spell?”
In order for it to work, I must find it in my heart to forgive my Blackburn brethren for their treacherous deeds.
Victor blew out an elongated breath. “I don’t know. My family didn’t know the curse could be broken. Maude wrote to my mother shortly before the Butcher abducted me, informing her of the amber tears of Freya and the counter spell. Even if Mercy is lying, we still need to find the other two stones. They’re hidden somewhere on the Blackburn Castle estate. My parents have searched for years without success. It’s hopeless.”
“Not with Eveline joining in the search,” Dominick said, folding his arms over his chest. “She may be able to communicate with spirits on the estate to discover the location.”
Victor pushed off the railing and growled. “You cannot leave Devil’s Cove while the investigation into your ball is still underway. Twelve guests drowned. I heard Constable Daniels loud and clear. I won’t allow you to throw caution to the wind!”
“Don’t be an obstinate fool. We’re forbidden from leaving the mainland, not Devil’s Cove. The last time I read a map, Cape Wrath was still located on the northern coast.”
“Of Scotland, not England,” Victor said pointedly. “You’re to remain in England.”
“The constable’s orders were vague. I’m willing to risk it. Besides, you know as well as I do that Eveline will insist on accompanying you, especially after everything you’ve done for me. Please, do not shut us out.”
Victor stared down at the restless water, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. He didn’t deserve this level of commitment from his friends when their efforts might all be for naught.
“What if Mercy isn’t lying, and the counter spell will only work if she can forgive me?”
“Then we’ll have to find a way to convince her you’re lovable,” Dominick teased, catching him around the neck in a headlock. “Perhaps we can steal Maribeth aboard. The little ragamuffin is a miracle worker; she convinced Eveline even I was a good man.”
“Don’t you mean forgivable?”
“Forgivable, lovable, it’s all the same.”
Victor stilled and then wrestled free of Dominick’s hold. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved the vial filled halfway with an oily, amber liquid.
His heartbeat thundered in his chest as he stared at the one thing capable of leading him to his salvation. After everything he’d put Mercy through, could he force her to fall in love with him? The idea made him nauseous.
“What is that, Victor?”
He glanced up. “A love potion. Mercy sold it to me before she knew my true identity.”
His friend’s eyes widened. “Fortuitous, don’t you think?”
Perhaps, but Victor still wasn’t convinced he would be able to live with himself if he tricked Mercy in that abominable way. “I’m not certain I have the stomach to use her own potion against her.”
“You may not have a choice.”
Victor shook his head, fully aware of the burden each choice brought with it. What would’ve happened had he ignored the Butcher’s command? He would never know but had wished a thousand times over that he might.
“There’s always a choice, mate,” he said, tucking the vial back into his breast pocket. He nodded in the direction of the gangplank, where crewmembers transported the last load of supplies onto the ship. “Now you must choose. Stay behind or come along. We’re about ready to sail.”
“Give me five minutes to speak with Eveline,” Dominick said, clapping him on the back. “And then we’ll need two hours, three tops, to gather our belongings for the trip. Lord help me, if you leave without us, I’ll hunt you down and kill you with my own two hands.”
Victor grinned. Thank goodness his friend would still joke with him. Making light of the situation had a way of taking the sting out of the doom and gloom of his reality.
As Dominick headed toward the captain’s quarters, Victor strode to the quarterdeck, where he could keep an eye on the gangplank. He was mere hours away from setting sail to his hometown, and nothing would deter him from seeing
his family one more time before his demise. What news would they have for him upon his arrival?
Shit. He’d forgotten to read the missive from his mother. He could bear a bit of coddling at the moment. Pulling the envelope from his inside pocket, he tore it open and read greedily.
MY DEAREST VICTOR,
YOU MUST COME HOME AT ONCE AND SHARE IN YOUR SISTER’S HAPPINESS! I BEG YOU TO COME HOME. CORA HAS BORNE A HEALTHY, BOUNCING BABY. YOU ARE AN UNCLE! ISN’T IT WONDERFUL? WE DID NOT DARE GIVE YOU FALSE HOPE ONCE AGAIN. YOUR SISTER FORBADE ME FROM TELLING YOU UNTIL THE CHILD WAS RECEIVED INTO THIS WORLD. COME HOME, COME HOME, AND MEET YOUR NEPHEW . . . AIDAN STUART O’BRIEN.
WE AWAIT YOUR ARRIVAL WITH LOVE AND JOY IN OUR HEARTS. COME HOME, MY DARLING BOY.
WITH EVERLASTING LOVE,
MOTHER
Victor gripped the ship’s wheel while concentrating on taking deep breaths.
“Everything all right, mate?” Hatchet asked, stepping onto the quarterdeck. He kneeled to scoop up the letter, which had fallen at Victor’s feet. “Look as if you might feed the fish, and we haven’t even set sail.”
Victor ran to the port side and heaved the contents of his stomach overboard, retching until only the acrid taste of bile remained. Goddammit! He pounded his fist against the railing and cursed a litany of expletives.
“Easy, mate,” Hatchet said, sidling up next to him. “Out with it.”
Victor wiped his mouth as he stood. His knees wobbled, forcing him to hold on to the railing for support. “Cora has given birth to a strapping boy. I’m an uncle.”
“Then why are you tossing your guts all over the ocean, you daft idiot?”
“Don’t you see? I’ve never fathered a child,” he said, rubbing the base of his neck where tension knots formed. “If I die without a son, the curse transfers to my nephew. The same way I inherited it. We believed my sister was barren, that the Blackburn curse would die with me.”
Hatchet blanched. “Oh, bloody fucking hell.”
“Precisely,” Victor said, glaring out to sea.
Karma was a viperous bitch. Earlier, he’d been adamant that there was always a choice. Well, he’d been proven wrong, because there wasn’t a choice when an innocent child’s life was at stake. Damn his soul to Hell, but he would convince Mercy to forgive him. One way or another.
Blackburn Castle (Tortured Souls Book 2) Page 7
