Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
WENDY
THE CRACKED SHARK
I t felt good to walk down from my formidable ship onto the beach of a cove full of gold. It felt damn good. I drew in a slow breath of fresh sea air, a smile stealing across my face. My first treasure hunt as a pirate captain. 1
Joanna bumped her shoulder against mine, her grin matching the one on my face. “I believe first dibs on treasure goes to you, captain.”
I threw my arm over her shoulder, the warmth of her a comfort that made me murderous to think I’d almost lost her. “We’re gonna be rich, Joanna. Filthy, filthy rich.”
“Actually,” Wynton remarked, stopping at my side with a little smirk and his braids pulled into a neat knot on the back of his head, “most of the money from the gold usually goes into upkeep of the ship. And if you want my unsolicited advice—”
“I appreciate the balls, so you may continue—”
“I wouldn’t take more than we need. Sticking around too long is never a good idea in this place.”
I tilted my head, looking at the man head on, honestly a bit confused that he wasn’t pissed at me for drugging him or taking over the ship. “Why?”
“We’ve heard strange sounds from the forest that hugs the beach. Lots of strange sounds. A pack of wolves is my closest guess.”
“I like wolves,” I said brightly, peering at the huge, leafy trees that spread up the hills around the cove. They could have hidden a dozen different packs. I probably shouldn’t have been excited by that, but I’d already killed my enemy and made myself captain of his ship. Why not guardian and commander of wolves, too?
“Oh not that look,” Joanna groaned. “That look always gets us into trouble.”
“It does not,” I protested, admiring the hive of activity around us as my crew unloaded empty crates from the small rowboats we’d used to board the beach in front of the treasure cave. “I’ve never once got us into trouble.”
Wynton snorted, which was a little rude. I gave him the finger, which only made him laugh louder.
“Remember that time the pubs shut because of a diphtheria scare, but you convinced us to break into the back room, fill a bucket with ale, and sneak it back to Mama’s? You had that same look on your face then.”
I prodded Joanna’s ribs and strode towards the cave. She was right. As captain, I should get first ribs. But I glanced back to Wynton, because I was trying to be sensible and it seemed like a sensible thing to do. “Anything nasty I should know about before I go in this place?”
“It stinks,” Wynton offered, “and the rotten water will get in your boots no matter how quality they are. Other than that? We were always in and out too fast to find an issue.”
I nodded decisively. In and out fast. Got it. I could do that. I wouldn’t get distracted.
I couldn’t help but notice no one rushed forward to help me as I strode into the archway of the cave, but that was fine. My crew were assholes still loyal to a dead man. They’d learn I was their best option when I had gold. Lots and lots of gold.
I imagined the look on Mama’s face when I returned with a golden crown fit for her head, encrusted with rubies and spinels and emeralds. She’d give me that wicked grin that made her cheeks go round and her eyes glimmer. Mama deserved the whole fucking world for taking in wastrels and orphans like me, and the least I could do was give her a fancy ass crown.
Even if, knowing Mama, she’d spend a couple weeks wearing it to brag about her daughter’s new wealth and then sell the damn thing. Raising a house full of children didn’t come cheap and a crown of gold could go far.
“Oh, this really is foul,” Joanna said, wrinkling her nose as she followed me, the rock underfoot slimy with stale water the ocean had done little to wash away. And Wynton was right—it stunk.
“No pain, no gain,” I said sagely, stepping over a greenish pool that only intensified the stench, keeping my eyes wide open for any lurking threats or rivals for my treasure.
Honestly, I should have become a pirate years ago. I loved killing and gold—what more did I need? 2
“No pain no gain is what you say during a training session,” Joanna huffed, leaping over pools of rank water as we made our way into the cave proper. “Not when dodging puddles of sludge and fighting the urge to cut off my own nose for the crime of smelling this.”
It really was foul, but I kept moving and thought of gold, jewels, sparkling diamonds, tiaras, and goblets worth a fortune from which I’d drink a lovely red wine. I sighed wistfully and almost slipped onto my ass when I lost my footing. My screech echoed off the curved ceiling, duplicating my voice, and only years of fighting experience allowed me to regain my balance.
“We’re going to die down here,” Joanna said with a sigh. “And honestly, that might be better than slipping into whatever the hell is sloshing around my ankles.”
“Just a bit of water, girls,” Sterling shouted somewhere behind us, strangely cheerful. “It won’t kill you.”
Joanna exhaled hard through her nose in a way that told me she was thinking about killing Sterling. I snorted, but forced myself to pay attention as the light grew thinner the deeper we went into the cave. The pools of disgusting water grew more frequent, but the ground was so uneven that there was no hope of bringing a boat in. Which would have been a nice thing to have been told, but nope, my crew were assholes.
As further proof, Rolando broke out into a rousing rendition of The Giant Gong of King John. 3 I glowered for two verses, but by the third I was belting out the refrain along with the others, our lewd chant carrying us through the cave until light spilled through a crack just ahead.
Anton’s voice grated my nerves. “There it is, boys. Hook’s gold.”
I whipped my head around so fast I had to grab for the jagged stone beside me, my eyebrows cutting into a fierce V. “My gold.”
A low roll of laughter went through the crew, and my ears began to burn with both embarrassment and rage.
“Don’t rise to it,” Joanna murmured, her eyes heavy and dark. “It’s what they want.”
Huh. Maybe they were trying to get a rise out of me.
“I don’t see dear ol’ Hooky anywhere, so it looks like this gold is mine now. In the sacred law of the islands, finders keepers.”
“She’s got you there, quartermaster,” someone said good naturedly. Maybe Ramone.
Anton said nothing else, which probably meant he had that puckered asshole sucking a sour lemon look on his face again. I snorted at the imagery and jumped across the last pool of green slush, landing in front of the crack of light.
I held my breath, excitement chasing through my blood, and squeezed through the crack. It was just wide enough to admit a person of a more portly nature, but we’d have issues getting the crates in. Ooh! We could make a human chain and pass gold from person to person. I was a genius.
Bright light hit my eyes, severe enough that I had to squint as I pressed through the crack, the sudden brightness sharp compared to the dim of the cave we just walked through. When my eyes adjusted and I saw the towers and piles of pure, gleaming gold around me, I let out a low whistle.
“Hel-lo, beautiful,” I greeted the treasure, my chest filling with love and greed in equal measure.
“Holy shit,” Joanna exclaimed when she stood beside me, her dark head tipped back to look at the gold that piled all the way to the ceiling. Hook was a fool for leaving this here. Anyone could come along and take it all for themselves.
I turned when Wynton ducked through the crack, straightening to cast an appreciative glance around us. “Wynton, we’re gonna need more crates. We can’t leave any of this behind.”
He levelled me with a look. “Don’t you remember what I said?”
“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of all this gold! It’s singing to me.” I strode across a carpet of coins to the nearest tower, my heart leaping when I saw necklaces and circlets and whole trunks full of mysteries.
“You, my darling,” I told the treasure, “are coming home with me.”
“ B eautiful teamwork,” I praised, watching my crew pass gold down the line to the crate Wynton held back in the cave, mostly because I didn’t trust any of the others not to do a runner with it and leave me and Joanna here. For seasoned killers and pirates of terrifying renown, they were superstitious babies. They were more scared of two women on their ship than the supposed sea monster who’d been circling our ship for the last two nights. Not that I’d seen even a glimpse of it. The crew were going mad.
“Oh, great pass, Sterling!” I called out, watching the tall man spill not a single gold coin.
He saluted and accepted a huge orb from the stocky man on his other side, passing it down the line with impeccable form. Sterling was a beautiful specimen of a man, from his long braids, strong-planed face, and that lithe body. For a moment, I entertained thoughts of us two sneaking into my captain’s quarters together, but the little vision was ruined by the memory of Hook wrapping his hand around my throat, the look in his eyes fervent with violence and rage. A hot shiver worked through me, and I scowled.
He was dead, dammit. Yes, it was a shame we never got to play before I murdered him, but it was too little, too late. I just needed my body to stop lighting up the second I thought of our fight across the deck of the Banshee.
“This one’s full, captain,” shouted a man with a grizzled white beard and a scar through his eye.
“Perfect.” I skipped down the line to inspect the crate, my heart overflowing with covetousness. “Great job, boys. Really stellar work. Maceo, Sterling, and I will help you carry it back to the boat.”
“If it doesn’t sink the fucking thing,” Maceo muttered under his breath, but in the weeks that I’d known him I’d found that to be pretty normal. Rain or shine, Captain Hook or Captain Wendy, that man was never happy.
“Keep filling up crates, gents,” I shouted as we three began towing the crate of gold back towards the cove mouth. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“In a jiffy,” Maceo muttered, fierce eyes casting judgement on me. It was an effect that would have been more impressive if he wasn’t glaring out from behind two curtains of brown hair I’d seen several times on singers and crooners passing through the Silver Isle.
“Nothing wrong with that word,” I chided, my mood buoyant. “You can express all manner of things with the word jiffy.”
“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to jiffy myself,” Maceo grumbled, earning a swift grin from me and a rich laugh from Sterling.
“That’s the spirit,” I crowed, grunting when the weight of the crate tipped towards me and muscles strained in my biceps. I had it easy though; poor Sterling was walking backwards through the cave, dodging pits full of stinky sludge water and… was that a crab? Damn, if my hands weren’t both full, I’d have given Mr. Crab a little wave. He was so cute.
“Almost there, gents,” Sterling said, puffing hard breaths. “And uh, captain.”
“I’ll forgive that slight,” I said very generously, grunting as the weight of the crate dipped to one side, “because you’re pretty.”
Sterling gasped. “Hear that, Maceo, Fil? Captain thinks I’m pretty.”
Maceo’s expression flattened. “Go jiffy yourself.”
I snorted so loudly the sound bounced off the widening ceiling as we reached the beach. Oh, that word was so catching on. Sweat beaded on my brow when we came out into the sunlight, and the bright light blinded me for a split second, so I didn’t know why Maceo spat a filthy, colourful curse for a moment.
By the time I squinted at the beach, light reflecting off the grassy hills that wrapped protectively around the Banshee, it was too late. Maceo, Fil, and Sterling dropped the crate onto the sand, and I did the same, reaching for a blade when I saw we were surrounded.
There had to be forty of them, all dressed in sleek black leather with masks over their heads that made them look unsettlingly like jackals.
Wolves, Wynton had warned. Well, here they were.