The two of them stared at each other. There was tension but also a sort of understanding. They must have known each other a very long time.
“Fine,” Lucifer said, finally. He stepped back, cast about for a chair and dragged it over, sprawling in it with his legs wide apart.
Dante moved a step closer. “You were tricked by a cult, the cult of the Unknowable Way. They worship an old god, a bad, powerful old god… or perhaps it’s more like a demon, or a kraken from the deep. These things, they’re…” he trailed off, looking past me for a moment before seeming to remember himself. “They’re not to be trifled with.”
“All right…” I said, slowly. The hairs at the back of my neck prickled.
“They are always trying to bring these gods into our world, and if they were to succeed, well.” He shook his head. “Let us pray that they do not succeed.” His eyes were hard and shiny, and he frowned, his eyebrows pulled together.
“And you know all this, because, what? You’ve met them before?” I glanced at Lucifer, who had pulled out one of his knives and was using the tip of it to clean under his fingernails.
Dante sat down on the bed, close enough to touch, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. That weird magnetism he had about him had me entranced all over again.
“I met them once before, many years ago,” Dante said. “That’s all you need to know. Turn around, show me the symbol on your back again?”
I didn’t think of disagreeing with him. He was actually telling me things, and even though they were frightening things, I didn’t want to break whatever spell it was making him talk. I turned away from him, watching Lucifer as Dante examined my back.
His finger, very softly, traced a shape over my back. I couldn’t hide my arousal, I felt my lips part and my trousers tighten.
“The sign of the crawling chaos. This is no ordinary tattoo.”
“Well, obviously,” I said, despite myself. I didn’t want him to stop touching me, but I couldn’t resist saying that.
“Why did they put it on him?” Lucifer asked, sheathing his knife again and leaning his elbows on his knees.
Dante’s hand withdrew, and I turned back towards him. “Yes, why was it me?”
Dante shrugged. “Perhaps they thought you an easy mark, or perhaps a powerful possibility. I’m sure they expected you to stay put in Jamaica, and that perhaps, no one would miss you.”
I felt a sour taste in the back of my mouth. “I’d be very missed,” I said. “Oliver will be missing me terribly, and after that, my parents back in London.”
“Who’s Oliver?” Lucifer asked.
“Gabriel, this is not the time,” Dante said, and Lucifer gave him another look. It took a moment and then it dawned on me.
“Is your name really Gabriel?” I asked, my voice getting louder than I meant it to.
“Thank you, Dante, that was very helpful of you,” Lucifer said, his voice dripping in irony.
I bit my lip to stop myself. I wanted to tell him how it was a beautiful name, and one that suited his angelic appearance. That was the connection as well, I realised. Lucifer was a fallen angel, and Gabriel was an archangel.
“The fact of the matter is, they marked you for a reason, Cedric. Something dark. They’re going to want you back.”
“Then you can’t take me to Jamaica!” I said. I reached for Dante’s hand and clasped it. “Please, they’ll want to torture me or skin me or sacrifice me on an altar.”
Dante’s hand was curiously cold in mine, but he didn’t pull back. Looking into his eyes I felt a sort of trust that he wouldn’t hurt me. He was on my side, he wouldn’t give me up to the cult. I can’t explain at all how I knew this, but I felt it all the same. I turned to Lucifer, no, Gabriel, then.
“Gabriel, please,” I said. I swallowed, thinking of how he’d looked at me the night before in the fits of passion. He’d been so tender, and so intense. I didn’t think he could truly be so heartless. “Please, if there’s a secret society of demon worshippers after me, you can’t just leave me somewhere. I’ll die! Please.”
Gabriel looked at me, and for a moment I thought my plea had got through to him. But then he stood up and shook his head. “My mind’s made up. We won’t take you back to Jamaica, but the next viable port will be where we let you off. If we can do a ransom exchange all the better. Come on, Dante. You know how I feel about you being close to Cedric.”
Dante rose from the bed, gave me a last lingering look. I put on my most pleading, most appealing expression, making my eyes wide and sorrowful. Perhaps he would continue to argue on my behalf?
And then they left me alone again.
But this time my mind was awhirl with what I had learned. A cult. Something called the crawling chaos? It didn’t sound good at all. What was going to become of me?
Chapter 12
In which the alarm bells ring
I must’ve fallen asleep because I woke with a start, a sharp pain in my hip and a bell clanging loudly in my ears. Some sort of ship alarm, the bell usually rang for change of watch but this was different, more insistent. My hand slipped down to my hip and I found the source of the pain. Something in my trouser pocket.
My fingers dug into my pocket and pulled out a small, hard object. The charm from the sea witch. I peered at it. I’d forgotten all about it… but she’d insisted I take it. She’d said there were people after me, that I should watch my back.
She must have known something. And my dreams certainly haven’t been too bad…
I felt I needed to keep it safer than before. I looked around for some piece of string or a bit of leather I could use to secure the charm around my neck.
I got out of bed and started to snoop around the cabin once more. In one of the drawers I found a selection of coiled ropes, soft to the touch and clearly meant for something more sensual than the usual ship’s work…
Imagine him using these on me. It’d feel so good…
Swallowing down some of the arousal, but not able to get rid of it entirely, I closed the drawer and continued looking. I’d found a promising looking mending supplies drawer when the door to the cabin opened, letting in some surprising sounds of panic and chaos from outside. That was very unusual. I turned to see Lucifer? Gabriel? Gabriel looking at me. Striding towards me.
“Cedric, get on the bed.”
My heart leapt, my arousal flared again. Was this it? Had he changed his mind and he was going to fuck me good and hard all over again?
It was that tone he had that made me want to obey, but I would have wanted to anyway, especially if he was about to undo his trousers and give me a good seeing to. I hopped up on the bed and looked at him expectantly. My heart sped up as he went to the very drawer I’d discovered, the one with the ropes in it.
This is it, it’s going to happen, he’s going to tie my hands and have his way with me. I don’t know what all that noise is outside, but I don’t care at all. I just want to be fucked…
He turned back to me, with a heavy looking set of metal shackles in his hand. I nearly fainted.
“Oh, well, if you insist, I’ll let you chain me and do unspeakable things to me” I said, my voice cracking a little as my anticipation rose. I held my wrists out to him as he stalked towards me.
“This isn’t for pleasure,” he said, gruffly, although his eyes had gone darker, and I would have sworn there was a telltale bulge in his trousers, except it wasn’t always easy to tell with his penchant for always wearing black.
“It’s not?” He closed the shackle around one of my wrists and then roughly tugged it backwards, securing the other one to the end of the bed. This forced me to lie back a little and Gabriel leaned over me, locking the thing with a small key he had around his neck.
My cock throbbed.
“No. You stay in here, and stay safe.”
“Safe from what, exactly?” I asked, hoarsely.
“We’re under attack from an unknown vessel,” he said. Straightening back up, he eyed me, and I fancy he
was feeling a little of the same arousal I was.
Distracted momentarily from the titillation of the shackle and the captain’s proximity my mind came up against a stone wall at his words. It stopped short.
“Someone’s attacking the Devil’s Whore? Are they insane?”
Gabriel chuckled, something I wasn’t sure I’d seen before. Then his face grew quite solemn. “I’d allow it’s not something that happens much at all. But every now and then some pirate will try and prove himself against us… it may get messy, and I don’t want them nabbing you for the prize money, so.”
He reached down and patted my head, as if I were a dog. “Stay. That’s a good boy.”
My traitorous and disturbed body even found that exciting somehow, but I managed to swallow down any kind of potentially humiliating reply. Because my tongue wanted to thank him, or promise I’d be his good boy if he wanted me to, or something ridiculous like that.
He left the room, locked the cabin door and I was left to wonder what would happen. I couldn’t even continue my search for something to string the charm to.
I wondered what would happen to me if the crew was overcome, but even more, I hoped that Gabriel and Dante would be unharmed.
Chapter 13
In which the Devil’s Whore is attacked
Gabriel locked the cabin door, slipped the key onto the chain around his neck that also held the key to the shackles, and tried his best to forget about Cedric. He had a crew to command and a ship to defend, after all.
The crew were well trained, and as soon as the sails were sighted and the ship’s intentions clear they’d rolled out the cannons. He’d taken a risk by going to his cabin, instead of watching for the enemy’s trajectory, but Dante could handle commanding the crew. Gabriel wasn’t at all sure Dante could handle being alone with Cedric.
Cedric with his soft brown curls, those large, honeyed hazel eyes… the softness of his skin and his -
No.
Putting Cedric from his mind once more, he strode to Dante’s side, focusing on his Captain Lucifer persona as if it were a coat he had settled over his shoulders.
“Any idea who they are?”
Dante glanced at him, shook his head, and handed him the spyglass. “None, sir. Marco thought it could be the Ocean’s Fury but I think the figurehead’s wrong for that.”
Gabriel viewed the ship through the glass. He’d seen the Ocean’s Fury once or twice, heard tales of the ferocious captain Maria-Clare. But Dante was right, this wasn’t that ship.
It looked like it had once been a Spanish naval galleon, but had some new paint a while back and the mainsail had a crudely painted skull and crossbones on it.
He pulled a face. “Not the Fury, but I don’t know who it is. It’s almost in range, get the men to prepare to fire.”
Dante moved to centre deck and started shouting orders. The men were quick to respond, having drilled and practised many times. Gabriel was serious about his reputation as a pirate and he wasn’t about to let the Devil’s Whore be blown out of the water.
The enemy ship approached rapidly now, sailing into range and angling their ship forty-five degrees, aiming to come up alongside the Whore. Dante ordered the men on the starboard side to fire when the angle was right and the deck bucked as they discharged and rolled back.
The aim was a little off. One cannonball had smashed the railing at the back of the ship but the others didn’t seem to have done more than land in the water.
“Again!” Gabriel thundered. “And aim to sink them!”
The men scrambled to reload the cannons, moving with swift precision.
They fired again, and this time there were some solid hits. A hole punched through the side of the ship that would soon take on water, and another just above it.
But the strange ship didn’t return fire. In fact they were sailing faster still, angling as if to ram them.
Gabriel ran to the helm and took it from Bilal, who stayed close in case Gabriel wanted to leave it to them again.
The Devil’s Whore was a quick ship, and Gabriel watched as the enemy ship approached, waiting until the last possible moment before hauling on the wheel and skimming away from the trajectory of the other ship. The enemy ship couldn’t correct as fast, and they sailed past with just a few feet of space between the ships.
Dante shouted and the Devil’s Whore cannons fired again. This time there were screams and the cracking of wood as the enemy ship took damage.
However, it appeared that although they hadn’t returned fire, the crew of the mystery ship was determined to board. As they sailed close to the Whore, men swung from the yardarms, using ropes to gain access to the Whore.
Gabriel swore. “Bilal, take the wheel.”
He waited until they were beside him, and then ran down to the main deck, unsheathing his cutlass as he moved.
The men who had landed on the deck of the Whore were instantly engaged in battle with Gabriel's crew. The crew were well trained, although they sometimes complained that he drilled them like a Naval Admiral, they all could see the benefit of it at a time like this. Attacks on the Whore were rare, indeed.
The speed with which they moved from operating the cannons to hand to hand battle was impressive, and one that had saved Gabriel’s hide more than once.
Gabriel joined the fray with his most terrifying battle cry, a noise drawn from the rage deep within him. Fuelled by the sheer audacity of this enemy to attack him out of nowhere, but bolstered still by the knowledge he had an innocent soul to protect.
Well, perhaps innocent isn’t exactly the correct word for Cedric. But he needs protecting all the same. The thought of some stranger stealing him away from me…
Gabriel’s vision narrowed from the larger picture to the immediate problem. He ran through an enemy sailor, then side-stepped to intercept another who was making for the Captain's Cabin.
“Not so fast,” Gabriel said. “Whatever your quarrel is with me, it’s not to be found in there.”
“Stay back, fiend!” The man cried. His eyes were wide, wild, and his skin seemed stretched too thin over his wide open mouth. It was a strange enough sight that Gabriel hesitated for a split second. The man lunged forward, a small dagger clutched in his raised hand angled for Gabriel’s chest.
The blade fell true, tearing Gabriel’s shirt and cutting into his skin before falling to the deck. In a flash the man was gone, tackled sideways by the fleet dark-clothed figure of Dante. He howled in pain and surprise.
Gabriel shook his head, feeling almost as if he were clearing it of some spell or enchantment, before launching himself back into the fray.
Dante pinned the man to the deck, opened his mouth wide to release his fangs, then leaned in to bite the man’s neck and drink from him. Gabriel tried not to pay attention to the sight, which wasn’t easily forgotten and seemed like something which should only happen in the shroud of night, not in the bright Caribbean sunlight.
Another of the enemy approached, trying to dodge around Gabriel to get to the door of his cabin.
“What on Earth are you trying to get to?” Gabriel shouted, slashing the man across the chest with his cutlass and feeling frustration temporarily overwhelmed by the singing in his blood at the thrill of the fight. The man cried out, more of a howl of frustration than of pain, although he was now bleeding.
“Out of the way,” he gasped, his voice hoarse and strained. “Give us the boy!”
Gabriel’s blood ran cold.
He gripped the man’s shirt with his free hand and yanked him in close, lifting him off the deck easily enough - the man weighed almost nothing - and snarled in his face.
“What boy?”
“Cedric Hale-Harrington,” the man hissed. “The boy. We need him back, we marked him. He’s ours for the ritual, to praise the mighty and unknowable one. You must give him to us!”
Gabriel’s jaw tensed. His worst fear - that Cedric might fall into someone else’s hands, and here it was even worse than that. The enemy
had apparently attacked with the single objective of stealing his prize. His Cedric.
With a growl of annoyance, Gabriel threw the man down to the deck and sliced his throat open.
He glanced around, seeing that the men from the enemy ship were all attempting to gain the cabin door, and seemed to be mindless of their own pain or danger to their lives. His crew were quickly dispatching them easily enough, but the… the relentlessness of the cultists. Their desperation to get to Cedric left a sour taste in Gabriel’s mouth. How could they possibly have expected to survive, attacking the ship like this?
Perhaps they didn’t care, so long as one of them got their hands on Cedric?
“Kill them!” he roared, over the sounds of battle and death cries. “Kill them all!”
The battle was over within moments. Another cultist, already badly injured, rushed at him, practically impaled himself on his sword, and died, one hand grasping for the door.
Gabriel swallowed a sick feeling down, withdrew his sword, wiped it on the dead man’s chest and strode forward to address the crew.
“They were after our hostage!” he shouted, so that his crew could understand the strange fight a little easier.
Dante rose to his feet, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. From what Gabriel could see of the fallen men, he should surely have eaten well enough to get them to the next port without incident. That was good, at least.
He scanned the deck, taking in the state of his men as he made a plan for what should happen next.
“Marco, take Pilcher and some of the others to loot their ship. See if there’s anything of worth, kill any other cultists you find. If…” a horrible thought occurred to him and he faltered before going on. “If they have any prisoners, and if they do bring them over to the Whore untouched. The rest of you, toss the bodies overboard and clean up. You did well, we’ll have rum and revels tonight.”
The crew cheered, then got to work. Gabriel sheathed his sword and then went through the pockets of the dead man at his feet. He found a piece of knotted string that could be witchwork, and a strange pendant around the man’s neck. No coin or anything of value. He cut the string the pendant hung from and closed it in his fist.
Kidnapped by the Gentleman Page 6
