Blacksouls

by Nicole Castroman

  “What does Webb have planned for you tomorrow?” Alastair asked.

  “I’m to spend the day at the fort again, visiting with my men and going over maps. Webb thinks he knows where Easton is hiding.”

  “I’ve heard stories about Easton. About as ruthless a pirate as they come. Webb’s wanted to go after him for several months, but he couldn’t find a crew willing to risk their lives for it.”

  Teach stood up straight. “Webb told me several men have gone after him.”

  Alastair shook his head. “None that I know of. Webb didn’t offer anyone any wages, just a share of the future profits when they captured Easton. There was no guarantee they’d ever capture the man, so you can imagine why nobody jumped at the chance.”

  “No prey, no pay,” Teach muttered.

  “Aye. They could callus their hands reefing sails for years before they saw a pound for their efforts.”

  “Webb’s offered me five hundred pounds to capture him.”

  Alastair let out a low whistle. “That doesn’t sound right, especially coming from Webb. The man’s a cheap bastard. It’s a good thing you’re not going after Easton. Even if you did survive the encounter, you wouldn’t see a single coin for your troubles.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Teach sighed. He hadn’t truly believed the governor when he’d mentioned that amount. “What do you think will happen when I don’t bring Easton back?”

  “Webb might send someone after you. He won’t appreciate the fact that you took him for a fool.”

  Anne frowned. “But we’ll be long gone before that happens, won’t we?”

  “Of course. He won’t know where to find us.”

  “You’re awfully confident in your abilities. I like that. It doesn’t make sense to go into something already expecting defeat,” Alastair said.

  “I have to believe in something. I’m the one who got myself into this mess.”

  “Aye. And I hope you’re capable of getting out of it. Now say your good-byes, you two. It’s time for you to leave.” Blowing out the candle, Alastair stepped outside the kitchen door. Teach waited for him to walk away, but the stubborn old man wouldn’t. He truly intended for Teach to leave.

  “I’ll see you in a few days. Come and find me,” Anne whispered, intertwining their fingers, their palms pressed together.

  “Always.” Teach stole a quick kiss, then stepped outside and turned to Alastair.

  “She can’t keep that ring on her finger. They’ll find out you gave it to her,” Alastair said. “You have to do what I say in this, or else you’ll put her life in danger. I know that’s not what you want to do.”

  Teach pulled at the leather cords around his neck, withdrawing the little leather pouch from the inside of his shirt. He’d grown accustomed to it and hadn’t taken it off after he gave the ring to Anne. Anne removed the ring from her finger, and Teach put it away once more for safekeeping.

  “Promise me you’ll keep her safe,” he said to Alastair.

  “I will, lad. Like she was my own daughter.”

  “You swear it?”

  “I swear. And if I’m unable to keep my promise, may the good Lord strike me down.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Anne

  “Will you miss being here?” Anne asked Beth the next morning. The two of them had spent the past hour packing the pantry into crates. They had salted fish and pork, as well as pineapples, limes, and other fruits and vegetables. Cara and Coyle had gone to the market to purchase more chickens. Once they returned, they would take the supplies to Alastair’s sloop. By sunrise the next day, they would all be on their way.

  “I’ll miss what Alastair and I had here,” Beth said, wiping her hands on her apron. Looking at the worn table and large fireplace, there was sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t always this bad, but Webb has changed things. He claims he’s working for the Crown, but every decision he makes only seems to benefit himself.”

  Fear gnawed at Anne, but she pushed it aside. She knew she wouldn’t be able to completely relax until she saw for herself that Teach was free of Webb’s control. “Will the governor come after us once he discovers we’re gone?”

  “It won’t be us he’s after. It will be Teach. But don’t worry,” Beth said quickly, once she saw Anne’s face. “Alastair knows these islands. With a ship at our disposal, we can disappear before the governor has time to send someone after us.”

  Another thought occurred to Anne and she smiled. “I wonder what will happen to Mrs. Webb’s boils.”

  Beth laughed. “She’ll have to find someone else to make the poultice. Someone who will mix it properly for it to actually work.”

  “You mean you—”

  “I did,” Beth said nodding. “I purposefully left out the nightshade a few times and substituted something else in its place.”

  Now it was Anne’s turn to laugh. “I’d be afraid to see what she would do if she ever found out. These islands might not be far enough. Perhaps we should return to England.”

  “Alastair has talked about heading up to Charles Town or perhaps even New York one day. We’ve always wanted to own some land somewhere and settle down. Perhaps you would consider joining us.”

  Anne smiled, touched by Beth’s words. “That sounds lovely.”

  Knowing Teach’s love of the sea, Anne wasn’t sure what their future held. All she knew was that until she received the rest of her inheritance, her options were limited.

  “I have something for you, child,” Beth said, taking a beautiful tortoiseshell comb out of her pocket.

  Anne regarded the gift with blank surprise. “It’s lovely, but you’ve done enough for me already. I couldn’t possibly accept it.”

  “Nonsense. I want you to have it.” Stepping behind Anne, Beth untied Anne’s thick tresses from their heavy braid. Anne’s scalp prickled, and she enjoyed the feel of Beth running her fingers through her hair. It reminded Anne of when her mother had painstakingly brushed Anne’s hair. Jacqueline had often despaired of ever taming Anne’s locks.

  Stepping in front of Anne once more, Beth smoothed back the tight curls on one side of Anne’s face, securing them in place with the comb. She guided Anne to the looking glass near the back door. “I told you the island would be good for your hair.”

  The image staring back at Anne didn’t seem to belong to her. Beth was right. The humidity created long coils that cascaded over Anne’s shoulders, nearly reaching down to her waist. Anne fingered a tendril, happy with the effect. In Bristol, Drummond had insisted the household help keep their hair confined under a cap. Anne had been forced to conform to Drummond’s supposed high standards.

  But here, her dark curls didn’t stand out anymore. She’d finally found a place where she belonged.

  Smiling, Anne embraced the older woman. “I’m glad I came to Nassau. If I hadn’t, I would never have met you.”

  “You’re a beautiful girl, Anne. Good things are going to happen for you. You’ll see.”

  Anne flushed. She certainly hoped so. “Alastair said I should go through the books in his office and bring some of them with us.”

  Beth waved at Anne. “Go. I’ll finish what’s left in here. By the time Alastair returns, we should have everything ready.”

  The tavern was silent, and dust motes caught the sunlight streaming in through the windows. In a few hours, thirsty sailors would fill the tables, demanding drinks, but for now, the front door remained locked. Anne was grateful for the peace and quiet.

  On her way up the stairs, she heard the jangle of a harness and horses from out in the courtyard. Cara and Coyle must have returned. Opening the door to Alastair’s office, Anne walked to the bookshelves lining the wall and began to withdraw several volumes, noting Alastair’s eclectic taste. He had a worn copy of Nicholas Barbon’s A Discourse of Trade, surrounded by several editions of Shakespeare’s works, as well as John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Anne wished she had asked Alastair which volumes were his favorites. Guessing by the wear and shape the
y were in, she left the newer books on the shelves and packed what appeared to be his favorites into the crate, knowing that space on the sloop was limited.

  When she ran across a copy of Dampier’s A New Voyage Round the World, she could not help wondering what had happened to Teach’s. She remembered the first time she’d read to Teach, when he’d been so ill. He’d lost his lunch on his betrothed and Anne had nursed him back to health. In the beginning she’d regarded it as a chore, but by the end of that week, she’d started to care for him. That had been the beginning of their friendship.

  Anne slid the book into the pocket of her apron. She would ask Alastair if she could keep it.

  When at last she was done, Anne headed down the stairs and returned to the kitchen, surprised to see it empty. The coals in the fireplace glowed, warming the small pot of stew they’d left cooking. The back door stood open, a breeze blowing through the warm space. “Beth?” Anne called out.

  Something scraped the kitchen floor, ever so slightly. Following the sound, Anne walked around the table toward the pantry. A red line trickled underfoot. Rounding the corner, Anne cried out at the sight before her, her hand flying to her mouth. Beth lay on the ground, clutching her stomach, while a pool of blood slowly spread beneath her.

  No! No! No!

  Dropping to her knees, Anne used Beth’s apron to try to stanch the crimson flow, her hands shaking as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She remembered another time, when her mother had come home, broken and bleeding at the hands of an earl’s son. “Who did this?” Anne asked, her voice trembling. She swayed slightly, unused to the sight of so much blood. “Who did this to you?”

  Beth’s skin was dull. “The governor’s wife.”

  A white-hot rage filled Anne and she bit her lip to keep from shouting. “I have to get help.”

  Beth clutched Anne’s arm, her fingers smearing blood on the yellow sleeves. She gasped for breath, her words choked. “Don’t go. Stay. Stay with me.”

  Anne was unable to prevent the flow of tears down her cheeks, knowing that Beth’s wound was grave. A part of Anne wanted to run out of the kitchen as fast as she could. She needed to find Alastair, but if she left now, she might be leaving Beth to die alone. “I’m here, Beth. I’m right here.”

  “Tell Alastair . . . I thought I could stop her. I should have told him.” Beth’s face twisted into a mask of pain. Anne wasn’t sure what to do, where to touch, what she could do to help her friend.

  “Told him what? What did you want to say to Alastair?” Anne shot a frantic look toward the courtyard, but there was no sign of anyone.

  “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Anne.” Beth seemed stronger for a second. “You need to tell my Alastair that I love him. Tell him he never had to prove himself to me.”

  “You tell him, Beth. You can tell him. Alastair will be here soon.”

  Beth winced. “The governor. You must warn the governor. She’s using nightshade to poison him. Warn him.”

  Shaking, Anne slid her arm under Beth’s head as the woman struggled for breath. “Don’t go, Beth. Please. Alastair will be here soon.”

  “You can’t let them win, Anne. Don’t let them win. Make your place in this world. Claim it.”

  “I will,” Anne whispered.

  “Promise me—” Beth’s body seized up before lying perfectly still. Anne stared down at her, willing her to finish her sentence, but Beth’s eyes stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. The red coals in the fireplace popped and a bee buzzed outside the kitchen door, hovering, as if waiting for permission to come inside. A breeze lifted the hair on Anne’s nape. Stunned, she waited stubbornly, but Beth remained motionless.

  Fury against the governor’s wife threatened to choke Anne, and she took a steadying breath. Don’t let them win. Don’t let them win. Anne had no intention of letting the governor’s wife win. Beth’s death would not go unavenged.

  Hearing a wagon enter the courtyard, Anne slowly lay Beth’s head back down on the ground, hating to leave her like that, but knowing she had to tell Alastair. They had to warn the governor.

  Anne rushed out, stumbling over her skirts in her haste, her loose hair tumbling over her shoulders. But it wasn’t Alastair in the courtyard. It was Coyle, Cara, and Benjamin returning from the market.

  “Anne!” Cara cried, seeing Anne’s bloodied clothes.

  Coyle jumped down before the wagon had come to a complete stop, catching Anne in his arms while Benjamin brought the horses to a halt. “What happened? Are you all right?” Coyle asked.

  Breathless, Anne shook her head, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. “It’s Beth. She’s dead.”

  Coyle blanched. “What? How?”

  “The governor’s wife. Beth found out she’s been using nightshade to poison her husband. So she killed Beth and left her there to die.” Anne choked on the last word.

  “Benjamin, you stay here and wait for Alastair with Cara. Let him know where we are,” Coyle said, reaching into the back of the wagon to remove the crate full of chickens before handing Anne up to the seat.

  “She can’t get away with it,” Anne said, her voice urgent.

  “She won’t. We’ll warn Webb.”

  Clutching the rough wood, Anne tried to brace herself as Coyle turned the wagon and left the courtyard at a breakneck speed. She was grateful for Coyle’s presence. She didn’t have to face the governor alone. When her mother had died, Anne hadn’t been able to do anything. She hadn’t had the money to even pay for a proper funeral for her mother. Jacqueline was buried in a pauper’s grave.

  Not this time. This time, Anne was determined to make someone pay for the crime.

  • • •

  Anne paced the room, her skirts stiff with dried blood.

  Beth’s blood.

  With a cry of frustration, Anne pushed the solitary chair out of the way, sending it skittering across the floor. Pushing her hair out her face, she realized the comb from Beth was missing. Her heart ached at the loss.

  It had been three hours since she and Coyle had rushed through the streets of Nassau, her promise to the dying woman driving her to the fort. She shut her eyes to try to keep the nausea at bay. Some of the shock had subsided, replaced by anger.

  Until today, Anne had only seen the fort from afar. From the outside, it had appeared staunch and stalwart. But from the inside, it was dark and sinister. The governor’s wife was much like the fort.

  The men at the gates had brought them inside immediately. Coyle had insisted on seeing the governor, warning them that the governor’s life was in danger. They’d separated Anne and Coyle shortly thereafter. At the time, Anne had thought they’d believed them, but the more she waited in this room, the more she feared she’d been mistaken. She should have waited for Alastair to return.

  Tears sprang to Anne’s eyes as she pictured Beth where she had left her. Alone, on the kitchen floor.

  Where was Mrs. Webb at the moment? Was she sipping tea in her parlor?

  Anne’s pulse spiked at the injustice of it all and she strode to the door, wrenching it open. The soldier stationed outside the room jumped to his feet, his chair toppling to the ground.

  “Where is the governor?” Anne demanded.

  “He’s been detained.”

  “By what?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Anne gave a short laugh. “This is a matter of importance, but if he doesn’t care . . .” She shrugged and moved to exit the room, intent on finding Coyle. Alastair would make sure the governor’s wife paid. He would make sure justice was served.

  The soldier stepped in front of her, bringing her up short.

  “Step aside.”

  The soldier stared back at her, his expression blank. “I’ve been instructed to keep you here.”

  “By whom?”

  When he didn’t respond, Anne tried to brush past him, but he grabbed her arm. Anne yanked out of his grasp, only to find two more soldiers had joined the first.

 
“What’s going on? Where’s Coyle Flynn?”

  “He’s being questioned.”

  “For three hours? I want to see him.”

  “We can’t allow that.”

  Anne frowned. “Why not?”

  “Not until his questioning is complete.”

  “Why hasn’t anyone come to question me? We came here together. I want to see him.”

  The soldier shook his head. “We can’t allow that.”

  “Why not? I’ve done nothing wrong.” Even as Anne said the words, she realized how ridiculous she sounded. Covered in blood, she’d ranted about the governor’s life being in danger. “I wish to return to The Laughing Fox.”

  Their only response was to shove her back into the room, closing the door soundly behind them.

  CHAPTER 19

  Teach

  Teach strode through the streets of Nassau, enjoying his momentary liberation. The governor’s soldiers hadn’t come to the Triumph like they had the previous day. If Webb hadn’t gone on and on about the importance of a schedule and punctuality, Teach wouldn’t have been so surprised that the soldiers were late. But he had waited for thirty minutes before he finally realized that for whatever reason, the soldiers wouldn’t be accompanying him to the fort.

  Since he planned to go and visit his men once more, Teach had decided to call on Anne first at The Laughing Fox. His heart was light at the prospect of seeing her again. If everything went according to plan, they would set sail in the morning and meet up with Alastair within three days.

  Teach pulled at the door of the tavern, but it didn’t budge. Strange. It was late afternoon. A crowd should have already gathered within the popular pub, especially since they’d repaired the damage from the recent fight. Teach knocked and waited, but there was no response.

  The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Alastair wouldn’t have left already, would he? Teach quickly shook off the thought. Although he didn’t truly know the man, Anne apparently trusted him, and Anne didn’t trust easily.