A Pirate's Curse (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) Page 4
Hands shaking, she took his shirt, quietly slipping it on. Her fingers bunched the bottom of the fabric into a tight ball. She lowered her gaze and stared at the floor.
He edged backward. The lass retreated to the chair and hung her head. He wanted to loosen her queue, have her brown tresses cascade down her back and run his fingers through her thick locks. “What’s your name, lass?”
Her whisper bearable, she answered, “Hannah.”
“Hannah?”
Tears splashed onto her breeches. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, chase away her fears, but he still needed answers. His crew depended on it.
“Hannah, Hannah Knight.”
Kane ran his hand through his hair.
Could it be? He tilted his head toward the door. “Your father?”
She lifted her head and stared at the door. “Yes.” She sighed. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He itched to wipe it away, but kept his hands at his side.
“His name?”
She winced.
His voice came out harsher than he wanted. His tone softer, he repeated, “His name?”
“Justin. Captain Justin Knight of the Dolphin.”
***
Hannah bit her lip at the anger storming in the captain’s green eyes. The soft glow of the lanterns glistened on his sculpted muscles on his naked chest. He tightened his fists. She sucked in her breath. Was he going to beat her? Why had his demeanor change?
He had offered her his shirt. What kind of pirate does that? Didn’t they rape and torture women?
Hannah clutched her shirt tighter. His masculine scent of sandalwood, mixed with salt, encased her like a comforting blanket. Even still, her stomach churned in waves and her heartbeat thundered. She refused to cower instead raising her eyes and meeting his deadly gaze.
“Has your father sailed this way before?”
She could barely hear him, but his malice for her father was embedded in every word. She frowned. “Yes, why? My uncle’s the Governor of Saint Kitts and we were headed there.”
“Does the name Palmer mean anything to you?”
Kane growled the name, hate oozing from his voice.
“Palmer? No, why should it? I don’t know why he pursued us.” She tilted her chin. “My father’s ship was a merchant ship and had limited arms. The Dolphin was designed for trade, not battle. My father and his crew tried to outmaneuver them, but they came upon us too fast.”
“So what was your cargo?”
“My dowry.”
“Your dowry?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “My father was taking me to marry my betrothed.”
“His name?”
She blinked. “Why do you want to know his name?”
He towered over her and she leaned her back against the chair, trying to melt into it. She did it again, pushing a man to his very limits. When would she learn?
His fingers grabbed her chin and he tilted it up. She was surprised at his gentleness. Despite his tenderness, he could easily hurt her. Whip her into answering his questions. Chills cascaded down her spine and her hands tightened on her shirt. She peered into his commanding eyes, his dark lashes outlining them, deepening them. “His name?”
His soft voice and tender touch propelled her. “Jacques D’Aubigne. He’s a plantation owner in Saint Kitts.”
He dropped his hand. “Bloody hell.”
“Do you know him? By your tone, I take it you don’t like him.”
Refusing to answer her, his eyes clouded and his hand shook. “Tell me what just happened.”
She frowned. “Happened?”
“The pot,” he demanded. “Are you a witch?”
Hannah bit her cheek. Tell him the truth? The Captain and his crew were a suspicious lot. They’d kill her for sure. She shook her head. “No, I’m not a witch. Just a mere woman.”
He snorted and grumbled something inaudible under his breath.
“I don’t know how the pot moved. I swear I did nothing.”
“Are you in league with Zuto?”
She blinked. “No, you keep bringing up his name. Who is he?”
“Zuto’s a powerful demon sent from Coaybay.”
“I don’t understand. What’s Coaybay?”
“Coaybay is part of the Underworld.”
“I still…”
He ran his hand through his thick hair. “Zuto doesn’t work for Satan if that’s what you’re thinking. His god is Maketabori, the God of the Underworld. Maketabori sent Zuto to Earth to curse a lake on an uncharted island.”
He ran his fingers down her arm and she shivered. What was it about this man?
“Tell me about last night.”
Her hands trembled and her stomach twisted into double knots as the horror of the night before washed over her. “I thought they were pirates,” she said, “but they were…were...”
“You’d never seen the likes of them before?”
She shook her head. “No. They were vicious. Evil. Demonic.”
“’Tis important,” he urged. “Go on,” he whispered, his voice husky.
“They had red eyes and they attacked the crew…” She wiped her moist cheeks. Her crew’s scream echoed in her ears. “The crew fought bravely, but the pirates would not die…”
He grabbed her hand and squeezed, not painful, but comforting. For some reason his touch gave her strength. She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“But that wasn’t the worst part. They lunged at the crew and…and…and drank their blood.” She tilted her chin. “I’m not lying.”
“I didn’t say you were,” he said. “Tell me more.”
“You believe me?”
“Aye, I do.”
His eyes reflected sincerity. His thumb caressed her shaking hand and she breathed deeply. Her fear lessened, but a sneaking desire swept through her. He was so close she wanted to touch his sleek chest, but she resisted and kept perfectly still.
“How did you escape?” he asked.
“We jumped off the ship,” she said.
“Your father abandoned his crew.”
Disgust dripping from each word, his hardened voice startled her. His mouth was set in a straight line.
“My father wanted to save me.” But even as she said it, she doubted her father. Had he sacrificed his crew? Was he saving her or was he saving himself?
“I want to hear more,” Kane encouraged, his voice softened.
“We watched them kill the crew and toss the bodies overboard.” She half sobbed. “They were my friends.” She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. “You won’t believe this next part.”
“I’m waiting,” Kane said.
She pulled her hand away. Her hand was cold where warmth had been there. She clasped her hands together. “They changed into bats. I swear. Disgusting, flapping, bats. As big as a tawny owl. Two of them fought over us.”
He stiffened. “Aye, I see.”
His hand brushed over the whip and she sucked in her breath.
“I won’t hurt you, lass. That I promise ye. But you’re in danger.”
“What? From?”
“Palmer and Zuto. Your father’s hiding a secret from you.”
“A secret? How do you know?”
“Palmer knows who you are. He won’t stop hunting for you. Your story confirms my suspicion. You see lass your father abandoned three men infected with small pox on an island. One of them was Derrick Palmer, Quinton Palmer’s brother. Small pox spread through the local Natives killing most of the tribe, including a Shaman’s seven year old daughter. He prayed to his God of the Underworld, Maketabori, for revenge and Maketabori sent a demon. The demon Zuto cursed a fresh water lake and whoever drinks from it turns into a blood sucking demon during every full moon.”
“What are you talking about?” Hannah countered. “I thought there is only one God.”
“As did I, but apparently I was wrong.”
“So what does this have to do with me?”
Her mouth ran dry. “He plans to kill me?”
“Aye.”
Hannah frowned. She was trapped aboard a pirate ship and hunted by a maniacal demon bent on killing her.
Chapter Four
Palm trees swayed in the wind and the waves rushed up on the sandy beach, leaving seashells and seaweed. Crabs crawled sideways and stared, never blinking. The fragrant smell of jungle flowers filled the air. The beauty of the beach contrasted with the bowels of Coaybay. Zuto definitely preferred this to Coaybay, but he didn’t relish remaining here forever. His Lord and Master, Maketabori, God of the Underworld, refused to grant his freedom or even allow him to leave the island unless he handed over Captain Justin Knight and his daughter. Maketabori’s word was as fluid as the rolling waves, susceptible to change at his will. The girl was innocent and not responsible for her father’s crimes, but what choice did Zuto have? He’d do anything to be free, to live among humans and to discover love, including handing over an innocent girl.
He shielded his eyes with his palm. Sweat trickling down his face, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the blue horizon. He tapped his foot on the hot sand. Where was the damn Fiery Damsel? Two days ago, he’d woken uneasy to a foreboding dream. His dreams were never wrong. Knight and his daughter had returned to the Caribbean and Palmer was supposed to sink Knight’s ship and bring them back to him so he could hand them over to Maketabori.
But something went wrong. Freedom had slipped through Zuto’s fingers. Palmer and his men needed a lesson in failing. Where the hell was Palmer? Disgusting, incompetent man.
A ruby red flag with a black skull and cross bones emerged in the distance. He gritted his teeth. Finally.
The Fiery Damsel set anchor offshore and lowered a longboat. Three men climbed inside, Captain Quinton Palmer and his two henchmen. The sun glistening off his head, one of the henchmen clasped the oars and rowed. The other squatted at the stern, his hand on the butt of his pistol. A giant of a man, his knees bumped his chest in the tiny boat.
Zuto snorted. The fool. Like a ball of lead could kill him.
He paced back and forth on the beach. His stomach twisted, and he wrinkled his nose at the stench of the pirates’ decaying black souls of the guilty, those who should have to pay for their sins. After being trapped in Coaybay for eons, he preferred the white souls of the innocent and wanted to protect them or would, once he slipped through Maketabori's clutches.
Come on. Come on.
When the bald henchmen reached the shore, he and the other man got out and hauled the boat onto the beach. Palmer jumped out. He towered over his two men who had to jog to keep up with him. Palmer stopped at a nearby palm tree and knelt next to a crude bamboo cross marking a shallow grave. He took his hat off and hung his head. His men flanked him and followed his example. Palmer cleared away fallen leaves and twigs.
He rose from his graveyard vigil. With long strides, he marched toward Zuto, stopping a few feet away. For a human, he was taller than most, but at least six inches shorter than Zuto. “What’s wrong?”
Zuto glared. “You’re trying my patience, Palmer. Every damn time you stop at that damn grave. He’s not coming back.”
Palmer gritted his teeth. “He’s my brother. And I’ll…”
“Silence,” Zuto snapped and flicked his hand, commanding the wind.
The wind blew open Palmer’s jacket. He had stuffed a Spanish knife and three daggers in his deep jacket pockets while on each hip, he had a pistol stuck underneath his belt. Zuto snorted. Like any of those weapons could harm him.
Palmer's left eye leaked, spilling a milky substance down his cheek. When Zuto looked into the spongy eye, he glimpsed Palmer’s twisted soul, brimming with hatred, anger, cruelty, death. Zuto’s muscles twisted and tensed. Palmer’s past deeds of murdering innocents turned Zuto’s stomach. How could Palmer live with himself?
Zuto nodded toward the Fiery Damsel. “Still insist on torturing Macmillan?”
“Aye,” Palmer gritted his teeth. “He’ll pay for stabbing my eye.”
“And then?”
“I’ll release him when he swears allegiance to me.”
Bastard. Keeping his face stoic, Zuto asked, “If he doesn’t agree?”
Palmer shrugged, “Then his time aboard my ship will be most unpleasant.”
“Knight?”
“No sign of him.” Palmer shook his head. “Must have drowned.” His face darkened and he whispered, “The bastard died an easy death.”
Zuto stared into Palmer’s angry eyes and read his mind. His gut twisted at the odor of burnt flesh and stagnant human blood. Screams of dying men rang in his ears. Wailing white souls dug deep into his heart, demanding revenge.
He formed his fists into tight balls and punched Palmer in the mouth. Palmer staggered into the tall henchman. Blood flew into the air. The man grabbed Palmer and steadied him. Zuto wanted to thrash Palmer for torturing all these men, but kept his fists close to his side. “Guata!” Zuto slipped into the language of Coaybay and at Palmer’s quizzical face, he changed back to English. “Liar! Too busy caught up in the bloodlust again.”
“No.” Palmer spit out blood and wiped his palm across his lip. “We looked but didn’t find them, my Lord.”
His voice shook. Good, he should be afraid. Very afraid. Zuto didn’t tolerate failure, not when his freedom was at stake. Maketabori wasn’t the only one who could inflict pain. “Now listen, you fools.”
He flicked his wrists and all three men fell to their hands and knees like the dogs they were. Collars appeared around their necks. “You've failed me and will now know what happens when I’m disobeyed.”
“But…” Palmer struggled.
“Silence.” Zuto ordered. He twisted his hand and the collars squeezed the men’s necks, cutting off their guttural voices and turning their faces’ red and making their eyes bulge, tears rushing down their cheeks.
He smiled at the terror and pain in the men’s eyes. Spittle drizzled down their mouths. He snapped his fingers and the collars vanished, leaving a bloody red welt around their necks. A reminder of their failure. “Now, listen and listen well.”
Ignoring the men gasping for breath and coughing, Zuto meandered around their trembling bodies. “Knight and his daughter jumped into the ocean right under your noses.” He kicked sand into Palmer’s face and the man winced. Palmer was too arrogant for his own good. He needed to know who wielded the power. “Your nemesis, Kane O’Brien has them.”
Palmer spat out sand. “O’Brien?”
“I want the girl and her father. If you want to keep your immortality, you’ll find them and bring them to me.” He knelt down and seized Palmer’s hair and yanked. “Do you think you can manage this? Fail again and I won’t be so lenient.”
Chapter Five
The captain pushed his chair out and stood. His hand lifted Hannah’s chin, his fingers caressing the side of her cheek. She shivered, but couldn’t move. How could a man be so angry and dangerous one minute and the next considerate?
“If you’ll excuse me, lass.”
He slowly removed his hand and gazed down at her. Desire reflected in his eyes, but with something more, something resembling sadness. He spun on his heels and marched out the door without saying another word.
Hannah sagged with regret as he walked out of the galley. No man had ever stirred such foreign and intoxicating feelings for her and she wanted to explore these new feelings. She shook her head. What was wrong with her? She just met the man.
Father. She had to know if he fared well. Rubbing her arms, she walked across the floor and past the pantry. Cook glanced at her. He gave her a sheepish smile. “Lass.”
She returned his smile, not sure what else to do. He returned to chopping a pineapple and whistled. Maybe Kane hadn’t been lying when he said she had the full run of the ship.
She scurried further into the hull of the
ship and into the crew’s quarters where she had left her father. The sea of hammocks swung with each lift of the ship and three men surrounding the far hammock shifted automatically, adjusting their weight. With his red bandana, black hair, and broad back, one of them had to be Doc. Kane kept his promise. She chewed her lip. The man was a contradiction. One minute—a brute. The next—an honorable man.
A low moan emitted from the hammock. “Father!”
Doc turned around. “Lass, come here.”
All the men stared and she stood where she was, but Doc motioned. “Hannah? Is it?”
Hannah took a hesitant step, but at her father’s next groan, she moved. Ignoring the other men, she stared down at her father. She wrapped her arms tight around her waist, decidedly, if not alarmingly, needing the captain. His strength gave her courage. She cleared her throat. “Are you a doctor?”
He shrugged. “I have learned a thun or two in my time. I take care of da crew. Your father’s gone and got a nasty bump on da head. He’s lost a lot of blood and gone muddled. I’m sorry to say lass da next few hours will be uncertain.”
Hannah reached out her shaking hand and clasped her father’s. She rubbed her thumb over his clammy hand. “Father, I’m here,” she whispered. “Squeeze if you can hear me.”
But his hand remained slack.
“I’ve stitched up his head and he needs to stay warm. He needs to drink and rest.”
She tightened her grip on her father’s hand, willing him to clutch hers, to call out anything. But his hand was limp. “What can I do?”
“Stay by his side, lass. Keep him warm. Try to get him to drink. I’ll bring you my special brew to help revive him.”
She put her hand on Doc’s thick forearm. “Thank you.”
He blinked and his face reddened. “I’ll be back.”
One of the men snorted and Doc glared. “You two out.” He thrust his thumb at the door. The two men grumbled but followed Doc out the door.
Hannah dipped a rag in the bowl of water on a nearby table and squeezed it damp. She brushed her father’s sweating face. “Father please, wake up. Can you hear me?”