Chapter 31 #2
“Hold!” Isobelle’s command carried easily over the water, and they all turned to find her standing in the center of the boat with her arms raised. “You will allow Gaspar to depart with us, or with Satan’s aid, I shall cause the patriarch to bleed from the palm of his hand!”
What could she possibly be thinking? She was no witch. Despite what James had said, there were no witches, no faeries. And it didn’t appear as though Isobelle held a weapon of any kind, let alone a crossbow.
“Release him!” Her voice was calm and confident, revealing none of the emotion she’d displayed a moment before. But her demand was so preposterous, he nearly laughed in spite of the breaking of his own heart.
The patriarch was not amused, however. No doubt he was furious that a witch was about to slip his grasp—and one who had just confessed. But the soldiers laughed. One by one, they looked back at the old man’s white gloves, then laughed again.
The patriarch lifted both hands to show her the flawless white palms.
“So be it.” Her words were punctuated with a small but sharp explosion.
The old man screamed and clutched his right wrist. Red blood seeped from the center of his glove. The two lines of soldiers broke into chaos.
James stood tall in the center of the boat and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Move yer arse!”
Gaspar was relieved to know that his legs were prepared to carry him quickly to the dock, as his mind was busy trying to understand what had just happened.
He tried not to worry over the fact that he’d promised to surrender, especially since he was about to be reunited, for the moment at least, with the woman to whom he’d just bid a final farewell.
He also tried not to worry about getting in a boat with a true witch, since he loved that witch with all his soul.
He ran to the end of the dock and leapt, hoping he could land in the boat half as smoothly as James had. But alas, he knocked Isobelle onto her backside and sent Icarus flying as well. Luckily, he did not tumble out the far side.
Jappot was the only guard to pursue him and when the man reached the end of the dock, he threw his pike with all his might, but it banged against the hull to little effect and splashed into the water.
The rest of the guards seemed torn between watching the departing boat and helping a wounded patriarch.
A few of them lifted a finger or two in a discreet wave.
After a bit of fumbling, Gaspar and James coordinated their efforts with the oars and applied them more efficiently to the water while Isobelle tended to Icarus’ damaged face.
Gaspar leaned toward the big man and confided, “I keep waiting for the next catastrophe. I cannot believe we are in a boat, together, escaping. And successfully.”
James laughed. “Enjoy the moment. We’re nay home yet.”
Gaspar looked at Isobelle. James was wrong; he was already home. But he could see how they might face a few dangers getting to wherever her brother was. However, with an impressive man like James in their company, he had high hopes.
Once they caught the current, James manned the rudder and Gaspar was finally able to take Isobelle into his arms.
“Isobelle, my sweet. You must tell me. Are you, indeed, a witch?”
Her eyes widened in fright.
“Surely you can tell me,” he said with a squeeze to her shoulders. “You can’t believe it would matter to me now.”
She pointed to James. Gaspar hadn’t realized the man was laughing, but when their eyes met, the big man released the rudder and applied himself to holding his bouncing stomach. After a moment, he pulled something from behind his back. It was small, shiny, and black.
“This is a gun. It can shoot small bullets that can drill a hole through a man. If ye shoot him through certain body parts, it will kill him, of course.” He put the thing back.
“Like a cannon. Only much smaller, aye?” He put a hand back on the rudder.
“Hmm,” he muttered. “I doona suppose guns have been invented yet.”
Gaspar looked back at Isobelle.
“Doona be looking sidelong at me, Dragon. I only said what he told me to say.”
“Don’t worry,” James said cheerfully. “Where ye’re going, there will be many things more impressive than a gun.”
Gaspar tried not to worry what that meant for them. “I assume you’re taking us to her brother? This Monty?”
James shook his head and grinned. “Oh, nay. I’m taking ye to the Muir witches. They can get ye to Monty.” He looked out over the Laguna Vida and closed his eyes to the warmth of the morning sun. “Hopefully,” he muttered.
There was no time to ask what he’d meant, for Isobelle pulled his face to her and kissed him.
A short while later, they’d crossed the Laguna Vida and were headed toward the mainland.
Gaspar no longer had to dig so deep with his oar.
He let the Scot steer them as he fell into a rhythm and looked his fill at the woman who had awakened him from a long, deep sleep.
She was the most shockingly beautiful woman he’d ever known, but now it had nothing to do with her hair, or those incredible lips.
It didn’t matter where their boat was headed, as long as they were together.
He could not help but hold onto one worry, however.
He was God’s Dragon, slayer of witches, soon to be placed into the care of his former prey. The worry was, how far beyond the Republic of Venice had his reputation extended?