Chapter 16 Time Holds No Sway
“Parbleu! What are you doing here?” The marquis spat into the darkness, one jeweled hand fixed upon his hip.
“I needed to talk wit’ you,” Ayida replied, glad the shadows hid her face, where hatred curled her lips.
“At my soirée? Nom de Dieu! Surely you were seen?”
“No, I slip quiet. Nobody sees a servant. I come yest’day too, but your servants, dey look me up an’ down an’ slam de door in my face.”
“Humph.” His nose wrinkled.
“I t’ought you wan’ hear ’bout de Ring.”
“Mais oui! It is the only reason I burdened myself with placing you on that little fat’s ship.” He leaned close, his cloud of perfume making her nostrils flare. “Not only to thwart whatever fool’s errand his imbécile of a father commanded, but to bring the Ring to me.”
Ayida snorted. “He keeps it close, oui. After dat woman show up, he wear it always. Never leaves his skin.”
“Then find a way to take it!” The marquis hissed, teeth clenched. “You are the one who boasts of dark powers, non?”
Ayida lifted her chin. “Not boast, monsieur. My maman, she was Vodou priestess. From I was a child, I learn de herbs, de charms, de poison. It run in my blood.” A heritage she was proud of, a heritage that deserved more than slavery and answering to a crowing peacock.
The marquis swatted at an insect. “Justement! And that is why I bought your freedom. Do well to remember that kindness, or you would still be rotting in chains.”
She did. She’d been a slave to a cruel taskmaster on Saint-Domingue, destined to a life of torture and lack when a chance meeting with Louis-étienne de Montverre had changed her luck.
But only after he discovered her powers.
He sought the Ring of Solomon. She wanted her freedom.
The exchange was made, and she was sent to Jamaica where Montverre arranged for a chance meeting with Caleb and his family.
He knew the do-gooders would rescue her from certain death on the streets, as they had so many others.
Then once aboard the Sentinel, she was instructed to use her sorcery to disrupt the captain, his crew, and his mission.
And ultimately get her hands on the Ring.
Ayida brushed fingers over the bone amulet at her neck, longing to cast a spell upon this man and be rid of him. “I remember, monsieur, an’ I say merci.”
“Then tell me, what have you accomplished for my trouble?”
“I made a leak in de hold, spoil de rice, forcing de captain to make port an’ offload de heavy sacks. I conjured a storm to steer him off course. I call a galleon from de mist to fire upon de Sentinel. An’ I summoned a horde of rats to de deck, hungry as wolves.”
Montverre blew out a laugh. “Mon dieu, you are a dangerous woman, indeed.”
Ayida’s eyes narrowed. Best he not forget that. A nighthawk squawked in the distance. With a simple incantation, she could summon it to land in the marquis’s wig and dig talons into his overlarge skull.
“Mais alors, what came of it?” he demanded, impatient.
“Somehow de captain an’ his crew overcame every ding. But wit’ de rats…” She folded her arms. “I dink he use de Ring.”
“Vraiment?” He tapped his chin.
“Why not just kill de man an’ take it?” Ayida asked, longing to be free from this buffoon’s rule.
“Because, fool! The Ring must be given freely, or it has no power.”
Ayida raised her brows. “Den why he ever give it to me?”
“That is your problem.” His tone was silk over steel. “Delay him. Ruin him. Capitaine Hyde must not complete his idiot father’s designs, or the Ring is lost to me forever.”
Ayida dared one more question. “What do you wan’ wid it? You got enough gold.” Though she tried to hide it, loathing slipped into her tone.
Montverre’s temper cracked. He stepped forward, face gleaming pale in the shadows. “Taisez-vous! None of your affair!” His voice dropped again, low and cold. “Do as I say and as I promise, you will be rewarded. Not only free, but a queen on any French isle you desire.”
From slave to queen. A future she deserved. And though she doubted the crowing peacock’s word, she would play his game, until the day came to play her own.
“Go!” he snapped, dismissing her with a flick of his jeweled hand, before he turned and marched off, wig bouncing in indignation.
?
By the time Caleb, Desi, and his crew had returned to the Sentinel last night, his mood was as dour as the dark clouds smothering the moonlight above them.
He’d been unable to find Monsieur le Marquis anywhere, and none of his servants or slaves knew of his whereabouts either.
’Twas like the man disappeared. Or mayhap he was avoiding Caleb, unwilling to answer his difficult questions.
Unwilling? Or a willing participant in the answers?
Now, however, after a fitful sleep, broken by nightmares he couldn’t remember—and didn’t wish to—and after instructing his crew to continue repairs using the replenished supplies, he invited Miss Starr for a walk along the shore.
A particular shore. One that held far too many memories, mostly good.
Yet all the joyful ones had been washed away by one night of horror.
“Where are we going?” She followed alongside him, her golden skin aglow in the morning light.
“You asked me about my history on this island and my association with Montverre.” He paused, remembering her many questions, both at the party and when they’d returned to the ship.
He’d finally had to promise to tell her everything in order to stay her tongue and put her abed, albeit in her own cabin.
In addition, he’d halted all repairs until the morning, allowing the crew to get some much-needed rest.
“You were really upset last night at the party. I could sense that you and the Marquis don’t get along.”
“Get along? Hmm. If you mean there is suspicion, distrust, and animosity between us, then aye.”
“Seems there is a lot of that going round in this town. People don’t seem to like you much.”
“’Tis why I’ve brought you here.” He brushed aside a thick palm frond and led her into a large clearing, framed by a verdant jungle on one side and a sandy beach on the other.
The area that once pulsed with life, now lay scarred and hollow.
The remnants of charred timbers poked from the dirt like broken bones.
Where once twenty huts had stood, nothing but blackened stumps and half-buried stones remained.
Iron pots, kicked over in the mayhem of that night, sat empty like mouths screaming in agony.
A fallen beam covered in moss, marked where the thatched meeting place had stood, where Caleb and his family had fed the impoverished freedmen.
Vines snaked over the ruins, the jungle reclaiming the land as if to cover up the horrors of that night.
The stench of scorched wood and human flesh still hung in the air, and Caleb swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
Desi took in the scene, her eyes focusing on each detail. “What happened here?”
Moisture stung his eyes. Slamming them shut, he forced it back. He could still hear them, children’s voices as they skipped and played, the hopeful chatter of people set free, and songs of joy floating in the wind.
But then other sounds pushed those aside—screams, pistol shots, the crackle of flames. A shudder ran through him, and he gripped the cross around his neck if only to anchor himself to something good, something real.
Opening his eyes, he took her hand in his, pleased when she received it, and led her past the carnage to the beach.
Morning sun set the sea ablaze, glittering across the white sand.
Turquoise waves lapped the shore in a steady rhythm, spreading their foam in bubbly arcs.
Caleb released a breath and shifted his shoulders, shaking off the morbid gloom.
The sea never failed to soothe him. Its vastness, majesty, and depth made everything else seem small by comparison.
And unlike most people, he could always count on it.
Even when the storms struck in all their wild fury, he understood them, respected their power.
“Do you mind sitting in the sand?” He halted before a spot beneath the shade of a palm.
She chuckled. “I was born on a beach.”
He didn’t know whether that was true or not, but the lady’s sweet laugh swept aside his angst.
Huffing as she fiddled with her skirts, she plopped onto the sand and gazed over the sea. Caleb sat beside her, laying his arms across his drawn-up knees.
“So, you gonna tell me what happened back there?”
In truth, he no longer wanted to, but he could see the lady would not give up her quest.
He flattened his lips, seeking the words to describe the torment constantly raging within him. “Two years past, my family and I ran a mission here for escaped slaves. ?le Du Crane became known as a haven for those who were fortunate enough to break free from their masters’ chains.”
“I’m surprised,” Desi commented, “that Louis-étienne de Montverre”—she spoke his name haughtily—“allowed such a thing.”
Caleb smiled. “In truth, he was quite charitable, even going so far as to give us food and supplies.”
She blinked. “I don’t get it. Why help you when he obviously has his own slaves?”
Caleb shook his head. “I admit, it does seem rather improbable. But we were not in a position to deny his assistance.” A breeze stirred the fronds above them and tossed a loose strand of her golden hair over her shoulder.
“As you can tell, he lords over this island as if he owns it. That he allowed us to help the maroons and preach the Gospel outweighed our disdain for his slavery.”
Caleb paused and lifted his face to the sun, longing to change the topic.
“Obviously something horrible happened.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I can tell it upsets you.”