JAMES
My mind wanders and my feet kick up rust colored dust as I walk down the streets of Carmine.
The town gets its name from the massive red rock that sits like a miniature island at the mouth of the bay.
The minerals color it red and as the ocean crashes against it, the color bleeds into the surrounding tide, tinting the water with a hint of crimson.
. I think it looks like blood. And with the sands of the beaches colored black from the nearby iron deposits, it’s certainly a fearsome place to behold.
Carmine is supposed to be neutral territory, but it’s not.
While it’s not quite a pirate stronghold—the proximity to De’Vero makes that impossible—the lawlessness of the city gives it a darker edge while still being a hot spot for legitimate trade.
Both for the Seven Landings and pirates.
De’Vero citizens and nobles will rarely admit it, but they can frequently be found reveling in the red streets whenever they’re looking for a respite from the formalities of court or their much more civilized lives.
The welcoming light of the Demerara spills across my boots as I push open the door and step inside.
I’m immediately assaulted by the smell of stale alcohol and sex.
The open style courtyard has rooms on all levels looking down on the tavern portion of the establishment.
I make my way through the crowd to a table in a corner and sink into a chair.
It isn’t long before a woman comes over, sets a pint of ale in front of me and plops down on my lap.
“Hello, handsome,” she purrs, pushing her breasts, which are spilling out of her corset into my face. “Julliette is working at the moment but we can occupy ourselves until she’s done if you like. ”
She’s beautiful, alluring and soft in all the right places.
But as my hand slides around her slim waist, that’s not what’s on my mind.
Hard muscles, smirking lips and dimples sure are though.
Juliette is usually the one I come here to see but even the thought of her doesn’t push Fox’s words from my mind.
I pick up the ale and take a drink, but it’s not enough.
“Fetch me some rum, love.”
She inclines her head and slides off my lap. I’m still mulling over Fox’s words when I see Harrison approaching. He falls into the chair opposite me.
“It’s done. It’ll be at least a day before a messenger makes it back.”
The woman returns at that moment with two glasses and a bottle of rum.
Harrison eyes her with interest and she giggles as he pulls her down on his lap.
I take a moment to study Harrison discreetly.
He’s a good looking man, rugged and vicious with that Scandinavian heritage.
But I don’t get any of the feelings I get looking at him like I do when I’m around Fox.
I focus on the rum and down several shots while they’re whispering and flirting with each other.
Fuck. Was Fox flirting with me? Why the hell would he do that? God, that man is confusing.
“I swear you’re drinking more than normal,” Harrison says, looking at me suspiciously. “You can’t let him get to you.”
I lean back and turn my attention to him. “He’s a mass of contradictions.”
“Why do you even care?” Harrison asks bluntly. “Just kill him and be done with it. I’ve never seen you this indecisive, especially when it comes to a—”
“Don’t fucking say it,” I growl.
Harrison catches himself. “When it comes to one of them .” He shakes his head. “He’s messin’ with your head, man.”
“We don’t know for sure who he is,” I grumble.
“Like that’s stopped you before—I swear, you’re acting…strange,” Harrison says.
“Maybe you should just fuck him,” the woman states.
We both look at her but the comment is innocent as she’s busy toying with Harrison’s shirt, sliding her hands across the skin she uncovers. Harrison looks over at me and smirks.
“Is that it, Captain?” He asks. “Ready to explore the other side of things?”
I scowl and don’t answer.
He chuckles and shrugs. “The water is grand on that side of the pool too—but don’t fuck F— that man —” he says, catching himself again and his humor turns into irritation. “I’d rather you beat the shit out of him and then kill him.”
Luckily, Harrison’s attention quickly diverts to the whore as she plants kisses on his neck. He shoves her off and stands up only to drag her back to him.
“Come on, love, upstairs with ya,” he winks at me before they head off towards a more private setting. They leave me with the rum, and I plaster a fuck off look on my face that quickly makes it obvious I want to be left the hell alone.
A few hours later, I’m drunk. Which isn’t a surprise seeing as all I did was drink. I haven’t seen Harrison downstairs again but I glance up to see Lan pushing his way through the crowd. He slams his hands on my table and leans in close.
“He’s gone,” he whispers harshly.
I look at him sharply. “What?”
“Gone. Slipped the manacles.” As I curse viciously he hands me a piece of paper. “For you—I’m assuming.”
I snatch the paper from him, already shoving away from the table. I’m halfway across the yard of Demerara when I abruptly stop, staring down at the words in my hand.
Some men are made of storms
he’s made of the silence that comes after
Below that, scrawled in the corner:
Don’t worry, this isn’t goodbye.
Try not to miss me—
“Motherfucker—” I hiss.
I crumple the paper in my fist and stride quickly out of Demerara into the street.
“Find Harrison,” I bark, nodding back towards the brothel. “Get a few of the men together and search.”
I knew I should have had someone in the room with him. Or locked the door—something other than just the damn manacles attached to the wall. I’m quickly sobering up as I make my way to the black shores of the beaches. I needed to make some careful inquiries to see if anyone saw him make it to shore.
Another hour later, I’ve had no luck and to make things worse, now I’m thinking too hard about what his note meant. I don’t recognize the two lines of poetry, meaning he either is quoting something I’m unfamiliar with or maybe even wrote it himself.
God damn this man.
And then the part about this isn’t goodbye —that’s ominous—and the more I think about it, the more I think I’m missing something big. It’s like when a word is on the tip of your tongue and you can’t quite remember—
I’m heading back up from the beach to regroup with Harrison and Lan when I round a corner and run straight into a line of six De’Vero soldiers. Like this night couldn’t get any worse.
“James Blackwell.” A soldier steps forward while the group circles me. My hand goes to my pistol but the barrel of a musket presses against my back. “I wouldn’t do that.”
The man yanks my wrists behind me and clamps on manacles. As they’re leading me away I know this is too neat to be a coincidence.
Fox escapes and hours later I’m arrested? This has to be his doing.