by Mac Flynn
Black growled, but yanked up his pants. "Fine! Let's get this over with!" He turned to Marge and wagged a finger at her. "But you'd better come back! None of yer stupid dramatics, and no hero stuff!"
Marge threw back her head and laughed. "If I didn't know any better, captain, I'd say you were jealous and worried about me at the same time."
"It's neither. I can't get a cheaper room on the island than yers," he quipped.
Marge rolled her eyes. No one but the captain believed what he said, and I had my doubts about him believing it. "Well, if we're not going to be doing something here right now we may as well get back and get the provisions," she suggested.
We returned to the boat and headed back to the island. The fog wrapped around us like a tangled blanket and cut off the bright, warm sun. I wrapped my arms around my cold body and sighed. Thoughts of the pine trees and the smell of fresh earth brought back sad memories of my past life. Erik scooted closer to me and wrapped his arms around me. His voice was low enough the others would have to strain to understand his words.
"You still miss it?" he guessed.
I snorted. "You think?" I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. "It's hard not to think about a place you were torn from, especially since I was plopped down in the middle of a brewing rebellion."
"We still have hope to find some way out of our predicament," he reminded me.
"What predicament be that?" the captain spoke up.
"The blood bond that ties us," Erik explained.
The captain frowned. "Why would ya want to do such a thing?"
"We were both unwilling participants in the Choosing," Erik replied.
"In other words, I was a captive and his dad swiped some of his blood for the bowl," I quipped.
Black shook his head. "It beats all how two young people such as yerself would want to break up something like what you've got, and ya got to think about what yer dealing with. That's some powerful strong tradition yer going after." He gestured to the air around us. "Older than this fog, and I'm betting twice as strong."
"Hush, you. If they don't want to be with each other that's none of your concern," Marge snapped.
"Humanity is my concern, madam, and I'll mind you to butt out of my own business," the captain growled.
Marge laughed. "That's a fine thing to say. 'Stay out of my business, but I'll be butting into others.' Yer nothing but a hypocrite, Captain Edward Black!"
The captain jumped to his feet and rocked the boat. "By thunder, woman, if'n they find the trick to releasing me from you then I'd take it even if it was poison!" The two glared at each other as the three of us clutched the side of rocking boat.
I turned my head from one to the other and pointed a finger at them. "So I'm guessing you two are bonded."
"Aye, and what a curse it was the day this wench was given to me!" the captain growled.
"You're the one to talk! I was taken from my family's farm in the dead of night and given to some crusty old captain who never set foot on the sea in his life!" Marge shot back.
Erik stepped between them and held up his hands. "We don't have-"
"Shut up!" they both yelled.
Erik frowned and dropped his hands to his sides. "Very well. Kill each other. Toss each other overboard and drowned one another. But if your argument risks the life of my mate than I will gladly throw both of you overboard myself and leave you here to swim or drown."
The battling couple blinked at my mate for a moment, and then a small smile slipped onto both their faces.
"By gum, that's just what I wanted to hear," the captain commented.
Marge tilted back her head and laughed. "Aye, I must admit that was as good a show as any we put on."
I raised my hand. "So you really weren't going to kill each other?" I guessed.
"Heavens no! We're not on seeing terms, but we'd never kill each other," Marge explained She paused and tapped her chin as her eyes playfully flickered to Black. "Well, unless the price was right," she mused.
"So that was all a show?" I asked them.
The captain chuckled and nodded. "Aye. You two need to see that what you've got is something special. Ya may bicker and argue and be a fighting, but yer still mates, and for werewolves that's something special."
"The bond is the life," Greg spoke up.
"Just so," Black agreed with a nod. "Yer willing to risk yer life for the other, and not willing to put anyone else before yer mate. That's the bond. Yer life is theirs, and vice versa."
"But for a silver dollar I might be thinking about getting me a new husband," Marge mused.
The captain frowned. "That's enough of yer acting, missy. We've got our point across their bows."
"Who was acting?" she teased.
"Ya were, ya wench!" he growled.
Erik sat back down beside me and we watched the loving pair devolve back into their argumentative selves. I leaned towards Erik and lowered my voice to a whisper.
"Think we'll be that way when we've been together that long?" I asked him.
"If we manage to survive this ordeal, that may happen," he commented.
My face drooped and my eyebrows crashed down. "You're optimistic about this trouble."
"We're dealing with some dangerous foes. They did try to kill you at the Barracks, and both of us at the last island," he reminded me.
I snorted and leaned my head against him. "Well, I'm not worried. Not with you around."
"Might I suggest we continue on to the island?" Greg spoke up. Marge had neglected the motor and we had idled along at a snail's pace these last few minutes.
Greg's loud voice cut through the shrill voices of our fighting companions. Marge and the captain blinked at each other.
"Ya heard the man, woman! Get her going!" Black ordered his mate.
Marge rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile on her lips. "Aye, aye, captain."
She revved the engine and the boat bolted forward. The bow cleared the water and stuck above it as we sped our way through the foggy lake waters. In a half hour we returned to the secret cavern and docked on land. We climbed the stairs and came up out of the secret stump hole. Marge was the last and shut the hole behind herself.
She wiped her hands and turned to us. "Now let's get preparing that trip. First off, I need to know the name of the man I'll be headed out with."
"Greg, ma'am," Greg told her.
"Greg Ma'am. Not much of a name, but it'll suit." She slung her arm over Greg's shoulders and pulled him away towards the inn. "Now what do you say to three meals a day of hard-tack biscuits and dirty water?" Not for the first time, I was glad to be out of the trouble.
That is, until the captain coughed into his fist.
"Now I think we'll be getting along to Deacon's house," he informed us. "The son of a rotten post might abandon ship before the lunch hour, so we'd better get a move on."
Erik furrowed his brow and gave a nod. "Very well."
The captain raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Yer just willing to go without any gripe or whining?"
Erik dropped his arms to his side and nodded. "Yes. We may find out if Deacon is involved in the Guard conspiracy, and if so how deep."
"Neck-deep, I'd say," the captain commented.
"Maybe so, but we must be sure."
CHAPTER 8
"All right, but be mindful to put in a good word for the folks on the island. They may be too meek to speak for themselves, but you've got a plenty loud enough voice to speak for all of them," the captain insisted.
"I disagree, and that's why you will be present during this interview," Erik told him.
The captain frowned. "Then we won't be getting anywhere with that scoundrel. He won't talk to me."
"But he won't refuse to see me, and that will be enough for you to make your case for him to vacate his position," Erik countered.
"All right, but I don't think it'll work. . ." the captain grumbled. He turned away, paused, and turned back. "There's two ways we be ge
tting there. Across the fields is rough, but faster, and the town is-"
"The fields, if you will. I would rather avoid a repeat of Market Island," Erik answered.
"Then follow me over hill and dale, young lad and miss," the captain called out.
Black led us over the rocks and under a nearby wood fence out into a field of cut hay. To our far left lay the cliffs, to our far right the city with its noise of werewolves newly awakened by the rising sun. I inhaled the scent of hay and felt a thrill run up my spine. Some mad impulse made me swoop a hand down and catch a clump of the cut hay. I stuck it into my nose and breathed deep.
Erik snatched the hay from me and tossed it to the ground. "Don't smell that," he ordered me.
I stopped and frowned. "Why not? It smelled okay."
"Because it's not okay. This field has a mix of manure in its hay," he warned me.
I shrugged. "So what? It's just fertilizer."
He nodded at my waist. "Look at your hand."
I glanced down and cringed. My hand was covered in manure. I yelped and flung my hand away from me. Most of the manure flew off. "What the hell? Why is this stuff fresh in a cut field with all this hay laying here?"
The captain turned. "What's the holdup?" he called to us.
"A little lesson in picking up bad habits," Erik called back.
The captain frowned and marched back to us. "What are you-oh. That." He'd noticed me wiping my hand over a clean blade of hay, and he chuckled. "Not liking it much, aye?"
"Manure hay is illegal," Erik reminded the captain.
Black shrugged. "It's not my field."
"Manure hay?" I repeated after I'd wiped my hand as clean as it would come. "What the hell is that used for?"
"It's rolled up like a cigarette and burned, but not smoked. Instead, werewolves inhale the scent and obtain a high off the strong smell," Erik explained.
I stuck out my tongue. "That's just nasty."
"And terrible on one's nose. It dulls and destroys the sense of smell," Erik added.
"Well, let's get someplace that isn't here so I can wash my hand better," I pleaded.
The captain chuckled for the rest of the trip which turned out to be a couple of miles. I didn't need Black to tell me which house belonged to the 'modest' Deacon. His stood on the highest hill on the island far back from any neighbor. The front yard was large, but surprisingly without a fence, and was surrounded on two sides by the hay field in which we traveled. A gravel road at the front led from the town to his covered front porch. The porch fronted a two-story house with a full attic. The place was made in a colonial style with full columns along the front of the porch and a pair of large doors for an entrance. Wide windows looked out on the town like unblinking eyes. The curtains were shut.
We reached the porch and the front doors, and Black rapped hard on the door with his fist. "Deacon? Deacon, you scoundrel, are you home?"
"Very diplomatic," Erik whispered.
"It's a better calling than he deserves," the captain quipped.
One of the doors soon opened and an old man in a black suit with tails presented himself. His dark beady eyes swept over us and his lips curled back in disdain.
"May I help you?" he questioned us.
"Yes, we want to see the master of this smug place," Black informed the man.
"May I have your names?" the man requested.
"Captain Edward Black and company," our guide announced.
"Please wait here a moment. I will see if my master is in," the man replied. He shut the door before Black could argue.
The lake-dog glanced over his shoulder at us and jerked his head towards the door. "Now ya see what we have to put up with? I bet that penguin-suited idiot is paid by our tax money."
The penguin-suited idiot soon returned and opened both doors for us. "My master isn't here at the moment, but if you will wait in the library we expect him any time."
"That'll do," Black agreed. He swept inside and we followed behind him.
The butler closed the door behind us and gestured to the first room on the right of the large hall we found ourselves in. "This way." He shuffled to the door and led us inside.
The library was a long, narrow room filled with, predictably, shelves of books. Many looked as old as the foundation of the island towns with their dull, leather covers and faded lettering. At the front of the room to our right was a large window, and there was another smaller window between two of the bookcases on the opposite wall as the door. At the rear of the room on our left stood a small, round-top table with clawed feet.
A group of furniture made up of a couch and two chairs huddled near the door and around a small coffee table. The butler gestured to the furniture.
"If you would please be seated and remain so, my master will be with you as soon as he comes," he assured us.
Erik and I took the couch and the captain plopped himself into one of the chairs.
"Got anything to eat?" the captain asked the servant.
"I will see. If you will excuse me." He bowed his head and left the room, closing the door behind him.
I turned my head to and fro.
"Is something wrong?" he asked me.
I raised my hand, the one that had held the hay. "I was hoping to get this washed."
The captain grinned and waved a hand at the books. "Take a couple of pages and wipe away."
"Perhaps you can find some towel wipes in the drawers," he suggested.
I stood and walked over to the small table. My hand was on the round knob handle of the drawer when an unpleasant scent floated into my nostrils. I wrinkled my nose and leaned back to catch a glimpse under the table. There was nothing. My eyes searched the room and fell on a small grate on a bottom shelf and hidden behind the row of books.
"There's something funny here," I called to my companions. I knelt down and my nose was bombarded by a strong smell. My head grew faint and the room began to spin. I tried to stand, but I lost my balance and fell to the floor. My mind drifted into a semi-conscious state where sounds were fuzzy and I could barely keep my eyes open.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around me and I was pulled against a firm chest. "Sophie? Sophie!" Erik's voice called to me. It seemed to be coming from far away.
"Something. . .wrong. . ." I murmured.
"Gas!" the captain yelled.
Erik slung me over his shoulder and spun us around so I faced the small table and bookshelves. "Through the window!" he shouted.
We raced to the window in the long wall of the room and Erik angled himself so he threw his unloaded shoulder through the glass. It shattered and flew around us as we ourselves flew out of the room. The fresh outside air cleared most of the haze from my mind.
The wide captain came behind us and broke the remainder of the glass. Behind him the door swung open and the butler stood in the doorway with a hideous snarl on his wrinkled old face. Behind him came a group of sleazy-looking Guards.
The butler pointed a finger at us. "Don't allow them to escape!" he yelled.
Erik turned to the right, but spun around and rushed to the rear of the house. I saw what changed his mind: a group of a half dozen Guards armed with revolvers who rounded the front of the house. The captain pulled out one of his own from the sash at his waist and got off a few shots before he raced after us. One of the Guards clutched at his arm and hit the ground, but the others just ran around or jumped over him. Another half dozen Guards swept through the broken library window and joined their companions in this terrifying game of tag, and we were It.
We rushed down the wall of the house and came out at the rear. The house sat near the cliffs, and the crashing waves roared only fifteen yards away. The Guards behind us fanned out so we couldn't escape to the right, so Erik turned left. Another two erupted from the rear door of the house, and four more came around the other side. We were cut off from everything but the cliffs, and it was to these we backed up. The Guards pointed their revolvers at us, and the captain sidled up beside us.<
br />
"I hope ya have a plan. . ." he whispered.
If Erik had one he didn't have time to tell us because two people emerged from the back of the house, two very familiar people. One was Deacon, and his frowning face told us we weren't welcome. The second was Tyrone Blackwood.
CHAPTER 9
Blackwood wore a smile on his face as the two of them came up to within five yards of us.
"Good morning, dear cousins," Blackwood greeted us. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you what I'm doing here, but I am very curious to know what brings you to this backwater island."
"You, of course," Erik spoke up. "We've been following your trail since the cave at Wolf Island."
Blackwood chuckled. "I doubt you've known it was me until I made my appearance, and I'm sure you know that now that I've shown all my cards, I can't let you tell anyone else." He snapped his fingers and the revolver-packing Guards moved closer. "Pity you won't join me, but I know you and won't waste my time asking."
"What about me?" the captain spoke up. "Mayhaps I'm wanting to live."
Blackwood titled his head back and laughed. "Perhaps you do, but I don't have any use for you. Once I've dealt with your little mate in her secret cove than I'll deal with your beautiful ships. Maybe I'll even commandeer one for myself."
The captain snarled, stepped forward, and pointed his revolver at Blackwood. "You'll be dead before ya lay a finger on any of them."
Erik stepped back to shift his weight, and his foot slipped as a clod of dirt broke from the ground and fell to the rocks below. He partially turned and I noticed his eyes fell on the fresh breakage and two large rocks that stuck out from the ground.
"It's no use fighting them, Captain Black," Erik spoke up.
The captain whipped his head around and glared at Erik. "Are you just gonna let-" Something in Erik's face caught the captain's attention and his eyes flickered down to the unstable ground and the rocks.
"Stop your blustering and put the woman down," Blackwood ordered Erik. "It's much easier to shoot you when you're lined up."
Erik took a step back and stood on the rocks. The captain grinned and joined Erik to stand beside him on the other rock.
