by ML Guida
I’d like to thank all of my readers who participated in my hero contest. Tami W. wanted to see Ewan Kelley be the next hero, and I am happy to grant her quest.
A Pirate’s Darkness
Legends of the Soaring Phoenix
by M.L. Guida
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Other Books by M.L. Guida
Excerpt from A Pirate’s Curse
Copyright
Prologue
Like every morning, Zuto stood on the sandy beach watching the rising sun change white clouds to purple, pink, and orange. Sea gulls cried over his head, and waves rolled up on the beach, the surf washing over his bare feet and pulling sand in between his toes. He cracked his neck and stretched his arms slowly over his head. Ignoring the pain, he arched his back and took long, deep breaths, inhaling the salty air and trying to forget the horrors of the night before. His tight muscles unwound, and the throbbing pain in his tortured body eased. Natasa, his tormentor, was gone, vanishing with the first peek of the sun, but she left him bruised and bloodied, determined to leave him in misery. He had fought hard not to cry out as she whipped him until his flesh was a mangled mess. She’d beaten him with her fist, breaking ribs and leaving purple and pink bruises. Every inch of him hurt.
But he didn’t care.
Dawn was the only time of day that he was free, and he could forget he was a prisoner on this cursed island. He was a demon, and his battered body would heal.
But it didn’t matter.
Tonight, Natasa would return, and the pain and agony would start all over again. She was his punishment exacted by his lord, Maketabori, the God of Coaybay, for failing to satisfy his revenge.
Chills crept down his spine, not from the early morning dawn, but power. Something was coming.
The beautiful pink, purple, and orange clouds turned darker until they were a threatening black and gray. In the middle of the darkest one, two red circles formed a pair of angry eyes that glared down at him.
Dread sank into his gut, and the pain in his body pulsed harder. ’Twas Maketabori. Zuto lowered his head, and his shoulders sagged. He was about to learn a whole new level of agony and humiliation.
Lightning crackled and flashed at his feet, and hot electricity surged through his weary body. He went into convulsions until his teeth chattered so hard he bit his tongue, filling his mouth with blood. Wind whirled, roaring and hissing. Sand and bits of dirt flew around him, cutting and biting his skin, blinding his eyes. He was picked up off the beach, his arms and legs flailing, then hurled through time like a leaf caught in a tornado. The once warm sea air turned into a bitter chill. He landed with a hard thump on his back, sending agony piercing through him and stealing his breath.
Cold air turned to a miserable heat, and sweat dripped down his torn-up flesh. Sand and dirt stuck to his skin. His hand shaking, he shoved his tangled hair out of his face. He fought to breathe, but instead of smelling the fresh sea air, the stench of ash and smoke burned his lungs. Dread turned his heart to stone. He knew where he was—Coaybay.
Thick smoke swirled through the blue sky like clouds. Angry volcanoes erupted, sending lava streaming down their blackened faces. He rolled onto his side and groaned as the tiniest movement shot waves of agony pulsing through him. But more waited if he didn’t get off the cold marble floor. He forced his trembling legs to stand and waited. Fire burst in a pit, making the air grow even hotter. Marble steps led up to a platform where two ebony obelisks framed a black throne. Maketabori flashed onto his throne, watching him with intense red eyes.
His heart thundering, Zuto lowered his head. “My lord, you have summoned me?”
Maketabori flicked his long black hair behind his bare shoulders. “Obviously. Come here.”
Zuto clamped his jaw tight then obeyed. He knelt on one knee and waited for unbearable pain and hoped he’d pass out quick. He stared at Maketabori’s golden sandals as he held his breath. He’d disappointed his god again and again. Merciful was not an attribute he’d use to describe his lord. He clenched his fists and vowed to not cry out.
“Rise, Zuto.” Maketabori’s voice was surprisingly soft and absent of any anger.
Zuto hesitantly stood and raised his head. He couldn’t take his eyes off the gold snake cuffs that wrapped around each of Maketabori’s biceps. With one word from Maketabori, the cuffs would come alive and slither down his arm, turning into deadly cobras. One bite from them could kill a demon.
Maketabori drummed his fingers on the arm-rests. The sun’s rays glittered off his many rings and the diamonds sewn into his leather loin-cloth. “I have thought long and hard on what to do with you, Zuto. I have given you every opportunity to please me.”
Zuto kept silent, like a good soldier expecting to be punished.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that pain is not effective with you.”
Zuto frowned, not sure he’d heard correctly. “My lord?”
“I have a proposal. Your freedom for my vengeance. Have the time spider bite the pure light undine. Drink her blood. You’ll have the ability to leave the island, then bring Hannah Knight to me.”
Maketabori still wanted Hannah Knight after her father wiped out his loyal followers with small pox. One of those killed had been his daughter, and he wanted Hannah’s life for hers. His lord had given him the task, but each time Zuto sent out the crew of the Fiery Damsel, the Soaring Phoenix foiled his carefully laid plans. Zuto paid the price for the Damsel’s incompetence.
As much as Zuto wanted to be free, suspicion weighed heavy on his heart. Trusting Maketabori not to punish him was like trusting a great white not to eat him. “Why would you do this?”
“Don’t think this is kindness. I’m Maketabori, and I can summon you at will—even if you’re not trapped on the island.” With that statement, two similar snake arm bands appeared around each of Zuto’s biceps. “These arm bands allow me to locate you, but they can come alive at your will. I want Hannah. She has escaped me at every turn, and I do not like to be disappointed. This is a test to see if you are worthy to serve me.”
Demons deemed not worthy to serve were struck down and tossed in the demon hole, never to be seen alive again. Zuto swallowed back his fear and met Maketabori’s steely gaze.
“With your powers restored, you should easily bring her to me. Do not disappoint me again.”
He waved his hand. The pain and agony gripping Zuto disappeared, and he was whole.
“There’s something else I will give you, demon.”
Zuto waited, not wanting to anger him.
“Beware of the gun master––Ewan Kelley. He and the undine must not mate.”
Zuto frowned. “Why?”
“With their combined powers, they would be a deadlier force than Mariah and William. Kelley has a weakness––his bl
ind daughter. You can use her to control him. Kelley must suffer as I have suffered.”
Before Zuto could answer, a portal opened, and the same angry wind sucked him inside the freezing, black time-tunnel. His healed body turned to ice, and he swirled around and around like a carriage wheel. He rushed toward a tiny light that sparked, and he crashed onto a sandy beach. Sharp pain slammed into his shoulder, but he didn’t care.
He crawled to sit, watching waves gush onto the sand. A seagull sailed across the blue waters, and he smiled. Soon, he’d enjoy the same freedom. The crew of the Soaring Phoenix would be dead, and Hannah would be a prisoner of Maketabori.
And Zuto would be free.
Chapter One
June 1671
Isle of Tortuga
The angry flames grew hotter and higher, casting eerie shadows in the witch’s parlor. A glistening of sweat slipped down the temples of Penelope’s face. She squirmed in a wooden chair, winding her shaking hands into the folds of her dress.
“Morgana, why are we calling upon the demon Natasa?”
Penelope had never met a demon, and the stories of the black-hearted demoness made her want to jump out of the chair and race out of the room. After her mother died, her father had told her that she was the key in protecting her people as long as she remained pure. Before she left to care for Angelica during her pregnancy, he had called her to his private chambers. His words echoed in his head.
“Penelope, your power is growing, and it will be strong enough to protect your people from the humans and the demons that hunt them––as long as you do not taint your soul.”
Unfortunately, meeting with a demon would mean breaking the rule.
Morgana Fey opened an earthen jar with her gnarled hand and released the sweet smell of mint. “I told you, mon chère, because of my dreams. My dreams are never wrong.” Her scratchy voice was strong and sent icy chills down Penelope’s back.
Penelope absently toyed with the enchanted pearl necklace that dangled around her neck. Her father had given it to her. Each pearl reflected the state of her soul, and as long as they remained pure, her powers would grow.
“Morgana, I don’t think I should be around a demon,” she said slowly.
The witch gave her a hard stare. “You cannot hide from your destiny.”
Penelope lifted her head and repeated what her father had told her over and over again. “My destiny is to protect my people.”
“I know what your father told you, but not even he can stop fate.”
Chills flushed down her back, and she worried Morgana knew she’d fail like she did in everything else. Trying not to focus on her rising fear or self-doubt, Penelope changed the subject and painted a false smile. “That smells good. What is it?”
“’Tis Pennyroyal.”
Penelope waited for Morgana to give her an explanation. Instead, she opened two more jars. The aroma of anise and green tomatoes filled the room. She mixed all three herbs, then took a handful and tossed it into the fire.
The flickering blaze changed colors from red to green to purple and highlighted Morgana’s white hair with a ray of rainbows. If Penelope wasn’t quaking so bad, she’d have thought ’twas beautiful.
Morgana coughed, her body shaking, then put her frail arm across her mouth.
Penelope picked up a pitcher and poured water into a goblet. “Morgana, here, drink this. Maybe we shouldn’t be dabbling in black magic.” She trembled as she thought of her father’s fierce reprimand and disappointment if he knew they were calling forth a demon.
Her violet eyes watering, Morgana inhaled a shaky breath and took a swallow. She gave Penelope a sly look. “Think you are the only one in danger?”
“I know I’m not.”
“Demons will start with those you care for most.”
Guilt flushed Penelope’s cheeks, and she avoided the witch’s perceptive gaze. Morgana was a powerful witch, but her health was failing. Penelope didn’t think Morgana had the strength to face a demon.
Penelope sat straighter in her chair. “You mean Angelica and the twins?” She couldn’t entertain the thought of losing the precious babies and her sister Angelica. Bringing her niece and nephew into the world had been the most exciting thing she’d ever done. She’d do anything to protect them—even face a demon. “We should wait for my father. The king of the undines is more powerful than a demon.”
Morgana cleared her throat. “Eldric would not get here in time. He is slated to help the Soaring Phoenix reach the island, as you are destined to face Natasa.”
Penelope doubted her father would want his youngest daughter facing a demon without him. Unlike her older sisters, she was small and frail and clumsy. “But I’m not—”
“Powerful enough? You have always underestimated yourself, mon chou.”
Penelope refused to get in the same argument with her.
Morgana frowned. “We need to prepare.” She shuffled over to another table. Her arms trembling, she picked up a pitcher.
Penelope hurried over. “Here, let me help you.”
“Nonsense. Sit, princess. You need to find some bravery in your willow reed body.” She dropped the pitcher onto the table, but luckily it didn’t break. “This wine has been charged with dragon’s blood and eyebright.” She poured the wine into a goblet and sat it in front of Penelope. “Drink, chère.”
Penelope eyed the goblet suspiciously. She sniffed and only detected the fragrant smell of fruity wine. The last time she’d drank any spirits she’d accidentally made it snow in her quarters for a month. But what was worse, one of the pearls on her necklace went from pure white to ghostly white––her father had banished her to her room for six months.
Morgana slapped her palm on the table. “Drink! Before ’tis too late.”
Penelope snatched the goblet, splashing crimson onto the table. Ignoring her dread, she drank the wine in one swift gulp. It was smooth with a taste of chocolate. Her eyes blurred, then the room spun around. She wiped her damp forehead with her palm. “Sorry...I usually don’t drink.”
Morgana chuckled. “You are a special girl, and you will soon find out how special.”
Penelope gave her a slight smile, knowing Morgana’s powers were fading if, like her father, she thought Penelope was going to do something great.
She patted Penelope’s warm hand. “I know you do not believe me, mon chou, but nevertheless, ’tis true.” Her old eyes grew hard. “She is coming. Do not let her see your doubt. It will be your downfall.”
Penelope thought she’d be sweating, but an icy cold descended on her like a wet blanket. She shivered and could see her breath.
The blaze swirled around faster and faster. Sparks crackled. A shape formed into a feminine face—flames turned to fiery red hair, lips formed into a smirking smile. Blood-red eyes stared at Penelope, stilling her rapid heartbeat.
Morgana thumped her cane on the floor, drawing the demon’s attention away from Penelope. “What do you want, Natasa? You have haunted my dreams enough.”
Penelope released a shaky breath and tried to imitate Morgana’s stoic face.
“No greetings? No hello? Tsk, tsk. How disappointing.” Natasa’s purring voice was an obvious attempt to bait Morgana, but the old witch was wise to her tricks.
Not a muscle moved in her face, and she looked at the demon with boredom instead of the terror festering inside of Penelope. Morgana flicked her hand. “Out with it, demon.”
Natasa turned away from Morgana to more timid game. “You’re in danger, frightened one. Zuto has found a way off the island.”
The fire crackled and highlighted Morgana’s white brows that had crinkled. She was deep in thought as if going through her mind every magical incantation that could free a god’s spell.
Penelope clenched her teeth to keep back a gasp. Zuto was even more terrifying than Natasa, and if he’d escaped from the island his lord had imprisoned him on, all of their lives would be in danger. Her father kept telling her she was powerful enough if sh
e remained pristine, but what if he was wrong? They’d all die.
Morgana finally spoke, the tension gone from her face. “Nonsense. You lie.”
Natasa raised a slender eyebrow. “Do I? Let me tell you this, old crone. Zuto is sending a time spider after your pretty, useless princess. One bite is all he needs.”
Penelope couldn’t move. She’d heard of the time spiders—gigantic hairy beasts with claws that could rip a man in two. Angelica’s stories had chilled her down to her bones.
Penelope found her small trembling voice. “How do you know this?”
Morgana glared, obviously angry that Penelope had revealed more of her fear.
Natasa laughed and tossed her head back. “Because, my little goose, I saw him give his pet orders. Orders to find you, bite you, and bring you back to him.”
Penelope dug her fingers into her palms and gasped for breath. She had no power against such a beast.
Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat.
Morgana thumped her cane. Penelope looked into Morgana’s warning eyes then she twirled her pearl necklace, running her fingers over the smooth surface. The simple gesture allowed her to draw a little bit of courage and breathe.
Morgana frowned at Natasa. “Why are you telling us this?”
“I need you to keep the silly puss safe.”
Morgana slammed her cane hard onto the floor. “You have not answered my question, demon.”
“All I will tell you is that I need Zuto trapped on the island.”
Morgana lifted her head. “I never thought I would see it, but you are afraid, demon. Very afraid.”
Natasa’s red eyes glowed darker, and the corners of her mouth turned into a frightening sneer. “Silence!”
Her voice echoed off the walls like a booming cannon.
Penelope jumped in her chair, her knees hitting the table and knocking over her goblet. Both women stared at her—Morgana with disappointment and Natasa with amusement.
She opened her mouth to say something strong or witty, but only a squeak escaped. Morgana reached underneath the table and clutched Penelope’s shaking hand.
