Chapter 24 The Exchange #2
Desi stiffened beside him, breath quick and shallow. Caleb pivoted to face the sharp glint of ten swords leveled at his heart. Lord, I need Your help.
“By all means, Marquis de Montverre,” he said evenly. “Yet what spectacle can the ring produce here in the jungle?”
Montverre’s grin widened. “It is said to command the storm.” He lifted his gaze to the canopy of heaven, where a thousand stars burned like cold fire over a clear velvet sky. Slipping the ring onto his finger, he thrust it upward. “I command it, rain!”
The night answered with the chorus of katydids and the distant lap of waves. No wind stirred. No cloud darkened the heavens.
Montverre’s smile withered. His eyes narrowed, hard as flint. Caleb braced for the order, Kill him, seize the girl. His muscles coiled to snatch Desi and run.
Then, plop. A drop landed on his brow. Another kissed his cheek. More came, pattering upon leaves, drumming the soil, splashing against steel. Caleb lifted his face, blinking at the sudden veil of rain. Above them, a lone black cloud swelled, blotting out the moon.
Montverre’s laughter rang through the clearing, manic and triumphant. He spread his arms wide, rain streaming down his laced cuffs, and lifted his face to the heavens. “Voilà! The power is mine!”
Caleb’s gaze locked with Desi’s. Shock mirrored between them. She knew the ring was false. Then how did this happen?
And in the marrow of his bones he knew this was no sorcery, no trinket’s deceit.
This was the hand of the living God!
“Satisfied?” he called over the rainfall, swiping water from his brow. His voice cut sharp with defiance. “I believe we’ll be leaving now.”
Montverre lowered his arms, dripping lace plastered to his sleeves, and gestured for his men to step back. Yet as his eyes met Caleb’s, malice burned there, black and unyielding as night.
Caleb tightened his hold on Desi’s hand and stepped backward, never breaking eye contact with Montverre.
Their shoes sank into the mud, the clearing became a blur of steel, shadow, and dripping leaves.
The marquis had called off his men, aye, but his smile lingered like a serpent coiled in the grass.
Turning, Caleb gripped Desi’s hand tight, and together they moved, steady at first, then faster as the path gave way to the shelter of the jungle. Each step away felt stolen, each breath defiance.
Behind them, Montverre’s voice rose above the rain, low and venomous. “You may flee tonight, Capitaine Hyde. But mark me, la vengeance est à moi. Let the ground open up and swallow them whole!”
The words chased them into the trees, a curse clinging to the dark. The marquis thought to use the ring to destroy them, but soon enough, he’d discover its impotence.
Caleb drew Desi close, his boots thudding through muck and broken shells.
The humid night pressed in, heavy with the stink of tar, sweat, and fish.
Her hand clung to his as though to life itself.
How could he fault her? He could scarce imagine what terrors she had borne beneath Montverre’s roof, yet by God’s grace, she had strength enough to run.
He returned her grip with steady reassurance, though his pulse hammered with dread.
Laughter, drunken song, and coarse curses spilled out of shuttered taverns from men too sodden to care. Beyond those yellow pools of lamplight, darkness blanketed Port Marigot in a sleepy haze. The bay itself lay swathed in gray mist, the black waters reflecting faint shards of moonlight.
At last, the familiar silhouette of the Sentinel rose before them, her masts ghostly in the gloom.
Caleb hurried Desi down the quay, the boards slick with brine, and steadied her as she caught the swaying rope ladder.
She scrambled up with surprising vigor, and he leapt after her, the deck solid and welcome beneath his boots.
Lantern light glimmered off Alden’s grin as he strode forward. “’Twould seem your stratagem bore fruit, Captain!” His hand clasped Caleb’s shoulder, rough with affection, then dipped toward Desi. “Welcome home, Miss Starr.”
“Thank you.” She rubbed at her wrists, the red marks still raw. “It is good to be back.”
“Report,” Caleb said sternly. They needed to make their escape, and now. He cast a wary glance over his shoulder, half expecting to see the marquis striding from the fog, a legion of lanterns and steel at his back.
“She’s trimmed and ready, Captain,” Alden said briskly, nodding toward the quarterdeck, where Liam loitered in shadow. “Liam and his men stand ready to loose her and make sail at your word.”
Caleb’s jaw hardened. The Irishman’s betrayal still festered like a wound, yet necessity demanded trust, however bitter the taste.
“Good.” He looked out upon the bay, dark and glass-smooth, not a breath of wind to stir it. An ill omen.
“Aye,” Alden muttered, crossing his arms. “We’ll need a merciful wind to get us going. And”, he frowned, “more of the men have fallen ill.”
Caleb’s stomach tightened. Was there no end to his troubles? “What says Brandt?”
“’Tis no fault of his, Captain. He labors without ceasing, yet no cure is found.”
Caleb exhaled, the weight of command heavy upon his chest. He turned to Desi, who lingered silently by his side, her eyes shadowed, her lips pressed tight. No doubt the poor lady was still in shock.
“Double the watch,” Caleb ordered.
“You expect trouble? He fell for your ruse, no?” Alden cocked his head.
“Aye, but ’tis only a matter of time before he realizes he’s been tricked.” Shifting his stance, Caleb rubbed his jaw, the grit of stubble beneath his palm. “The man is cunning. If not for the Ring, then for his daughter.”
“Geneviève.” Alden gave a dry laugh. “Aye, she is his precious jewel.”
“Precisely. Last I saw her, she vowed retribution.”
Desi loosened her hold on his hand, stepping back as though needing breath. Caleb longed to comfort her, yet the urgency of escape pressed hard.
“The sooner we quit this cursed port, the better,” he said, lowering his tone. “I’ll be in my cabin. Send for me at the first sign of wind, wave, or foe.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Caleb reclaimed Desi’s trembling hand and guided her below, the lanterns swaying overhead casting long, uneasy shadows across the deck.