by Hays, Lara
Captain Black approached the innkeeper and handed him the parcel.
“Give this to Mr. Nicholas Holladay when he returns. He rented the corner room on the second floor.”
“Aye,” the innkeeper said indifferently, failing to acknowledge the silent pleading in my eyes.
Captain Black pushed me out of the door into the humid night.
“We’ll give good ol’ Nick a little treasure hunt. He’ll be findin’ pieces of you on this island for a month.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
We snaked through the darkest alleys of Willemstad. Black never loosened his grip on me or removed the dirk from my side. I was incoherent with hysteria, unresponsive to the world around me, yanked around like a blubbering doll. Fear had such a complete hold on me that the threat of the dirk was superfluous. I would have followed wherever Black led, I would have done whatever he asked.
Periodically, Black would stop, shove me to my knees and saw off another lock of hair. He’d place it boldly upon a landmark—a street marker, a residential fence—where Nicholas would easily spot it.
I imagined Nicholas returning to the inn, perplexed by the package the innkeeper would give him. His face would twist as he untied the morbid gift and recognized the clump of hair. Then he would dash upstairs to our room, terrified of what he’d find on the other side of the door. Drawing his cutlass, Nicholas would burst into the room, bracing himself to find my lifeless body. In the heavy silence, he’d explore the room cautiously, his eyes landing on the sinister message on the mirror. Would he know it was my blood? He’d demand answers from the innkeeper—he wouldn’t get anything useful. Then he’d search. He’d tear down the streets, checking the places he knew Black frequented. And finally, he would happen across a lock of my hair blowing in the night’s breeze. I imagined the sick pit in Nicholas’s stomach as he found each telltale piece, realizing that this was a trail…a game…
A treasure hunt, indeed.
And what would be the prize at the end?
As we passed through a darkened churchyard, Black sawed off another handful of hair. As he draped it on the wooden cross in the churchyard, I wondered how much hair I had left, how many more clues I could afford. After my hair ran out, what would be next?
Instead of continuing down the street as I expected, Black led me through the church’s door. With more care than I thought him capable of, Black lifted the shell necklace from Liam from around my neck and hung it on the church’s door latch.
Black pushed me into the church and shut the door behind us. This was the end, then. This was where all the clues led.
The altar was ablaze with more than a dozen candles. Grotesque shadows writhed on the walls. I blinked as my eyes adjusted. It was easy to see that this church had been out of commission for some time. It was almost entirely wooden and it had begun to rot. The planks of the floor were dull and rough. Derelict beams supported a rotting vaulted ceiling. A thick blanket of dust coated every surface and the pews were recklessly rearranged to fit whatever purpose they now served.
Black shoved me towards a pew at the front of the church, not bothering to secure me. Maybe he finally realized that I was too distraught to defy him. Or maybe he just knew that in this small and secure church I had nowhere to run.
He strode to the altar, his back to me.
“Can’t say how long it will be now. Depends on when he returns. He’ll follow the trail smartly enough. Not too thick for that. We will give it some time before we continue, though.”
He spoke to two men sitting in the dark shadows next to the altar. I had failed to notice them before. They were playing cards and eyed me quizzically.
“Sure he’ll come?” one of them asked in a heavy Spanish accent, looking at me skeptically as if to say I was not a worthy prize.
“I’d bet my life on it.” Black winked jovially.
The two men went back to their card game, snickering to each other in hushed tones. Black absent-mindedly paced the church. No one paid attention to me. I hoped that if I sat still and quiet enough, I would somehow be forgotten.
The darkness pressed in. The silence was suffocating. I was too frightened to try anything brave. I was merely glad for my continued existence. But while time was a gift for me, it was against Nicholas. Every moment brought him closer to this ambush.
I wished I knew how long he had been gone. I hadn’t the faintest idea when he’d left. Was it hours or minutes before I discovered Black? Would it be hours or minutes before he arrived here?
Black peered out the single window by the door, looking for Nicholas. Satisfied that he was not yet approaching, he paced back towards the front of the chapel and sat next to me on the pew staring straight ahead.
“Headed to St. Kitts then?” His tone was casual, conversational.
I stared at him blankly. After a moment, he looked at me for my answer. I continued to gawk.
“I’ve known Marks since he was just a lad. Scrappy little thing, he was.” Was he actually reminiscing? “Always thought o’ him like a brother.”
It was impossible to wipe the blank stare off my face. This man who planned to kill not only me but the man I loved was prattling on as if I cared what he said. Aggravating as it was, I couldn’t help but be intrigued. This man knew Nicholas better than I. Maybe better than anyone. There were so many secrets, so much that Nicholas would never tell me. And Black knew all of it. Though disgusted at my own curiosity, I devoured every word he said.
“He was a fine sailor—and an even better pirate. A natural. Got himself a stomach for killin’ and a mind for strategy.” My face twisted with his words. I saw Nicholas through the captain’s eyes—it was an image Nicholas had so desperately tried to keep from me. I pictured him skewering someone with his sword, fresh blood splattering his snow-white shirt, smiling with pleasure. “He elevated it to an art form,” Black continued with fondness. “Can disembowel a man without killin’ ’im. Torture ’im for days. No mercy. No emotion. See, that was my downfall. I get too emotional. Can’t help but empathize a bit with those at the other end of me blade. But not Marks. His focus is rigid as steel. Keeps his eye on the target and sees it through to the end. That one, he don’t give up. Somewhat stubborn. That’s how I know he’ll show tonight.” He smiled at me wickedly. I cringed.
Noticing my reaction, Black softened perceptibly. “Maybe you really do care for ’im. It’s too bad. It’s not like you really deserve this. You were a catalyst. Nothin’ more. Marks though...Marks knew what he was doin’, knew what betrayin’ me means. This isn’t as unexpected for him as it is for you. Don’t pity him. I still think o’ him like a brother—despite his back-stabbin’ treachery. So, in light o’ my unfounded affection, not to mention my insatiable greed for gold, I’ll be granting ’im mercy tonight.”
“Mercy?” I stammered, taken by surprise.
He nodded solemnly. “Mercy for you, too.”
“You’ll release us?”
Black barked out a laugh, a raw snort that reverberated on the wooden walls of the chapel. “Such naïveté! You are a charmin’ lass, aren’t you? He deserves to suffer. He took away everything I had. Everything that meant anything to me. My ship. My men. My future.” He dropped each word hotly as if it burned his tongue to say them. “And I’m still here to live without it all. True justice would do the same for him—take away everything that means anything to ’im, and let ’im live without it. Easy enough to wrangle his ketch away, his gold and his friends, but that wouldn’t have been enough. So there’s you. You woulda been the final touch. Your pain, your torture, your death…takin’ you away and lettin’ ’im live, now that be justice.”
I sat stoically, strangely unaffected at this casual talk of my murder.
“And that was the plan until tonight.” Black winked a red eye at me paternally. “When I finally tracked Marks down, I overheard ’im talkin’ about a certain admiral in the Royal Navy who be missin’ a daughter. I could only assume he meant you. And instead of killin�
� you and lettin’ ’im live, I decided to mercifully kill Marks, and let you live.”
“What? How can you call death merciful? You just said he was like a brother to you!”
“There are many fates worse than death.”
“And what do you plan for me?” I demanded rudely, no longer caring to pussyfoot around this demented murderer.
“I’ll return you to St. Kitts.”
I sat forward, “You will take me home?” My voice did not conceal my disbelief.
He shrugged. “I’m sure to get a right handsome sum of it all.”
“A ransom?” My voice cracked. “You’ll charge a ransom?”
The captain looked forward and shrugged nonchalantly. “Your father’ll pay it.”
“He will attack you.”
“Not with you on board.”
It was a vile plan, and I didn’t believe a word of it. A generous ransom would not likely quell Black’s desire for revenge against the witch who inspired a mutiny.
I realized then that Black was right about his mercy. Death was a far better option than living out one’s life after everything precious is taken away. If Black thought he would be showing me mercy by sparing my life, he was wrong. Mercy would never force me to live without Nicholas.
“I do not want your mercy.”
“What’s that?”
“I do not want your mercy.”
“Are ye askin’...” he trailed off. He looked at me quizzically, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Kill me. Please.”
The captain’s brows knitted together and he studied my face. I stared into Black’s curious eyes, hoping he would be tempted enough to run me through with his sword. I did not want to live without Nicholas, knowing that his death was entirely my fault.
After a moment of silence the captain responded softly, “No. My mind’s made up. Your ransom will get me back a sizeable part of what you caused me to lose.”
“Please,” I said again, a note of begging in my voice. “If you kill him, please kill me, too.”
Black looked away from me. He would not answer me again.
“You will never get the ransom. I swear to you, if you kill Nicholas, I will be dead by sunrise.” The words blurted out before I could truly comprehend my threat. Though I didn’t know if I could really do such a thing—or if I even knew how—I meant it.
Black jerked his head back to me, his demonic eyes boring holes into mine. I lifted my chin and tightened my eyes, daring him to challenge my resolve.
“There be a ransom either way. A father would want to bury the body.”
Black stood abruptly, irritated I thought, and stalked to the window of the church, peering out into the darkness.
“Mendoza, it’s time,” Black commanded sternly, still looking out the window. “Don’t let her out of your sight. And see to it that she doesn’t harm herself.”
A monstrous bearded man picked himself off the floor and lumbered towards me. He was the largest man I had ever seen, with a bulging chest as broad as a door. Thick muscles wound around his arms like snakes. His black hair hung in matted braids and golden hoops dangled from his ears. When he smiled, golden teeth flashed against his swarthy lips. A massive paw grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet. I noticed that his hand was missing the last two fingers. My flesh crawled. Finally finding the nerve to fight, I struggled against the man’s hold on me. His three-fingered grasp held my wrist like a shackle. He drew his cutlass and pointed it under my chin.
“Death is a luxury you’ll not be havin’ tonight, miss. But don’t you worry, there are other things that can be done with this knife.”
His black eyes widened wickedly. With grim calculation, he placed the cutlass back in its scabbard at his hip. He dragged me through the church and into the night.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded.
“You best be quiet.”
“No!” I insisted even louder. “Where are you taking me?”
Mendoza turned on me, the cutlass I didn’t even see him draw scraping at the soft skin beneath my left eye. “I told you to be quiet.”
Daring him to lose his temper and kill me, I said, “You will never get your ransom. I will make sure of that.” I spat on his face.
In a swift movement, the butt of the cutlass landed in my stomach. I doubled over, wheezing for air.
“And I may not be as concerned about the ransom as ol’ Black Jack is.”
Mendoza turned and continued down the street with me in tow.
I continued to twist and struggle. With only three fingers, his grip was bound to slip at some point. But every time I yanked my arm, his grasp tightened, twisting my skin. I ignored the pain and fought his grip. If I could break free and run as fast as I could, then I could intercept Nicholas before he entered the church. This was my only chance to save him. I knew the path he would take. Each landmark had been seared into my memory as Black had draped mutilated locks of my hair on them. All I had to do was break free and run.
Mendoza lumbered along heavily. I could see the thickness of his legs and sense the stout strength in his binding muscles. But he walked slowly, unevenly with a well-hidden limp. Though he was strong, I was convinced he wouldn’t be fast. I could outrun him. I just needed the chance.
“Nicholas has money,” I rushed breathlessly, not really sure of what I was saying. “Lead me back to him and you’ll have more than Black can promise you.”
Mendoza didn’t break his stride or even bother to look at me. “I thought I made it clear that I ain’t interested in gold.”
“What do you want, then? A pardon? You’ll have it. My father—”
“You’ll not be bribin’ me, miss. Fact is, Marks did me wrong in another life. Ain’t nothin’ you can offer me that’ll be better than what Black gives me tonight.”
I pulled at my arm sharply, the friction from Mendoza’s vice-like grip tearing my skin.
“What is it with you pirates? Why all this vengeance? Aren’t you all supposed to be mesmerized by piles of gold?” I muttered to myself.
My question went unanswered.
I focused on the buildings and shapes we passed, trying to memorize all the details so I could easily retrace my steps and intercept Nicholas.
The buildings changed and the road widened into open plazas. Though hauntingly empty now, I remembered the lively crowds that polluted these plazas the previous day. We were nearing the docks. We were still too far away to see the turbulent waters of the ocean, but I could make out a number of masts stretching into the sky.
Mendoza was taking me to the harbor. Time was slipping away. Once on a ship, I would be so much easier to contain. It would be all but impossible to steal away and warn Nicholas. If I wanted to save both our lives, I needed to think fast, to act fast.
I stared at the passing buildings, desperately looking for something—for anything—to spark an idea. I had no inspiration, just a growing queasiness in my bones telling me I was too late.
Hopelessly trying to stall, I dug my heels into the ground and said, “Stop. I need to rest.”
“There’ll be time for that soon enough,” was the heartless reply.
“No,” I insisted, pulling against Mendoza’s weight. “I need to stop now.”
Mendoza stopped and looked at me suspiciously. As I scanned my surroundings again, my inspiration finally came.
With my free hand, I pointed to a clump of tall grasses growing between two buildings. “I need to relieve myself.”
Mendoza looked where I pointed. “There will be time soon enough,” he said again.
“I can’t wait,” I blurted. “I’m going to be sick.”
He hesitated slightly. I took advantage of his indecision and started walking towards the grassy area. Just as I hoped, Mendoza followed, his grip still firm.
When I reached the area, I tugged my captive arm, thinking Mendoza would release it so I could do my business. His hold remained tight.
> “Some privacy?” I let annoyance color my voice.
Still holding my wrist, Mendoza turned slightly and faced the street.
I noticed that the grass was actually a path extending between the two buildings and running behind them, creating a walkway among all the buildings. If I could escape, I could zigzag through all the shops and stores, emerging on another street altogether. I could be quick and nimble. And with Mendoza limping along behind me, I was sure to lose him.
Still perturbed that he would not let go of me, I fell to my knees and feigned gagging noises as if I were starting to retch. Mendoza cringed slightly, taking a step away from me. His arm was extended as far as possible while still keeping hold of my wrist. With my free hand, I quickly felt the surrounding ground for a weapon.
My searching hand felt out the rod-like shape of a small branch. My fingers curled tightly around the rough wood. Wielding it like a club, I swung the branch down with all my might on Mendoza’s wrist, breaking his taut grasp. He did not even have time to make a sound as I simultaneously stood and swung the stick again in a fluid and graceful movement. The club landed squarely at the base of his skull with a sickening thud. Mendoza staggered back and fell to the ground. Not waiting to see if he lost consciousness, I sprinted through the grass between the shadows of the buildings.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Adrenaline surged through me, giving me strength I did not know I had. My feet carried me swiftly through the winding paths between buildings. I had more energy than grace. The faster I ran, the more I stumbled. I tripped on the soft rolls of earth beneath my feet, catching myself on the sides of buildings and fences I rushed past. My long nightdress snagged on the rough corners. Bits of lace probably tore off the hem, marking every turn I made. I was leaving an easy trail to follow, but I was more concerned with putting distance between Mendoza and myself than disguising my whereabouts.
