Chapter 28 Portals and Pride
The stairwell opened before Caleb like the throat of some great wooden beast, breathing the scent of brine, tar, and sunlight.
As he climbed, the sounds of the Sentinel surrounded him—the creak of rigging, the groan of masts, the rhythmic thud of bare feet upon planks.
When he emerged upon the quarterdeck, the sea struck him full in the face, sharp and cleansing, its wind tugging at his hair and coat.
The horizon stretched endless and gleaming beneath a sky as blue as grace itself.
Yet even in such vastness, he felt the hollow ache of absence, as if some essential part of him had been torn away and cast upon those far, uncharted waters.
Below on the main deck, Liam’s voice rang out, loud and impatient, rallying the men.
Caleb squared his shoulders and started toward him, the weight of command settling once more over his heart like a familiar, but heavy, cloak.
“Well done, Liam.” Caleb halted beside his bosun and looked aloft. The men in the tops moved with nimble precision, reefing and trimming sail against the freshening wind. “You’ve kept the Sentinel steady on her course with half a crew and no quartermaster. I commend you.”
A blast of wind caught Liam’s fair hair, whipping it across his brow. He shoved it aside with a grin, though his expression sobered as he led Caleb out of earshot of the men. The boards beneath their boots creaked with the roll of the sea.
“I’ve been meanin’ to speak with ye, Cap’n.” He gripped the rail, staring out across the glittering expanse where sky met water.
Caleb waited, puzzled. Liam O’Neill was rarely solemn. His laughter and jests were as constant as the tide.
At last, the Irishman turned, remorse shadowing his green eyes. “I betrayed ye,” he said quietly. “Stole yer Ring. I meant to sell it, to pay off me debts, all of me own making.” His voice cracked, and he turned away. “And yet ye risked yer life to save me from the noose. Why?”
Caleb drew a deep breath of salty air. At the time he’d acted on instinct, but now he understood.
“As I said before, everyone deserves a chance at redemption, Liam. None of us are without fault. ’Tis why God sent His only Son to pay the price for what we could not.
He died innocent, for us guilty. Perhaps you did deserve the rope.
” Caleb’s gaze softened. “But I know you’ve a good heart beneath all that bluster.
All you need is faith—in God, and in yourself. ”
Caleb felt the truth of his own words pierce him. Did he not need the same grace he offered others?
Liam’s hand drifted to the green stone that hung from his neck, his jaw taut with emotion.
“And you’ve no need of that trinket,” Caleb said gently, nodding toward it. “A charm’s no protection when the Almighty fights at your side.”
“I canna say I understand it all, Cap’n,” Liam admitted, “but I think I’d like to.”
A burst of light and love swelled in Caleb’s spirit as if God Himself smiled down upon him. Oh, how he’d missed that sensation, the strong presence of the Almighty within him. He gripped Liam’s shoulder, ready to speak further when—
“A sail, a sail! Off the larboard bow!” bellowed from the cross trees.
Caleb seized his spyglass, extending it with a snap. He swept the horizon, waves glittering like shards of glass, until, faint but clear, a white sail bulged against the blue, fat with wind.
He adjusted the focus. No colors yet. Too far. But it was there, prow cutting the sea like a blade.
He lowered the scope as Ayida emerged from the main hatch, her skirts fluttering about her ankles as she made for the rail.
“Who is she?” Liam asked, squinting toward the vessel on the horizon.
“Unclear. Keep a weather eye on her. When she shows her colors, come find me.”
He turned his gaze upon the cook. There was business long delayed, and it could wait no longer.
He summoned Ayida to his cabin. She came reluctantly, eyes wary, the sway of the ship casting shadows across the bulkhead.
When the door shut behind them, Caleb faced her squarely. “Do you know what I do with traitors, woman? With those who defy my orders and steal from me?”
Her chin lifted, dark eyes flashing. “I knows, Capitaine. But I ain’t afraid.”
“Liam tells me you took the Ring while I went ashore for Miss Starr,” he said coldly. “He claims he struck you to reclaim it. Is this true?”
Ayida’s hand went to the bright scarf binding her hair, fingers trembling as if memory might be hidden there. “Why you believin’ dat drunken fool?”
“Because that drunken fool was willing to hang rather than betray me.” Caleb’s voice deepened. The memory of Geneviève’s deceit burned hot in his chest. He’d relied on his feelings, not on the Holy Spirit. He would not be blind again. Lord, grant me Your wisdom.
Ayida drew herself up. “I were goin’ ta take it for safekeepin’. I knew dat Irish rogue had a mind to steal it.”
“Yet he’d never have known where I hid it if not for you.” Caleb’s fist slammed the table. “Rot it, woman, speak truth for once!”
Her shoulders slumped. A weary sigh escaped her. “I’s sorry, Capitaine. It were de Marquis. He promise me island and crown if I bring him de Ring.”
“Montverre.” Caleb’s jaw clenched. “The devil’s spawn never tires of meddling.” He took a menacing step forward. “How long have you been his spy?”
She shrank back, eyes glistening. “Since I come aboard.”
“All this time you’ve eaten at my table, sailed under my command—and served my enemy.”
Her voice trembled. “He freed me from chains on Saint-Dominigue. I owed him. I dought no harm would come of takin’ a silly ring.” Her hand went to the bone charm at her throat.
Caleb’s mind reeled through every calamity that had befallen the Sentinel—the plague of rats, the storm, the galleon’s ambush. “You called evil upon my ship,” he said, his tone a whip of steel.
A tear slid down her cheek. “At first, I did it for me. But den I thought maybe I could use de Ring to free my people from slavery, same as you fight for de oppressed.”
“You cannot sanctify wickedness with good intentions,” Caleb thundered. “You wielded darkness and called it light.”
“I know dat now.” Her shoulders quaked. “You a good man, Capitaine Hyde. I sees dat now.”
Betrayal. Always betrayal! Caleb’s hand tightened around his sword hilt, rage burning through grief. For a heartbeat, he thought he might strike her down.
“What am I to do with you?” he whispered.
Before she could answer, a rap on the door cut through the tension.
“Enter!” Caleb barked.
Liam appeared, face grim. “’Tis Montverre’s ship, Cap’n, fast on our wake.”
Caleb fisted his hands. His blood turned molten.
He looked toward the ceiling where the timbers groaned. The French fiend was after the Ring. The hunter had found them again, and half Caleb’s crew lay sick below.
Lord, how am I to stand against him now?
?
Desi felt numb. Hollowed out. As if she were a spectator watching the world reel off its axis, going through the motions of life—working, eating, speaking, even pretending to feel. Everything had the strange, muffled quality of a tragic play viewed through glass.
And maybe that was a mercy. This detachment. This blessed distance. It was the only thing holding her together, a thin veil between sanity and the abyss that waited beneath. If she let herself feel, she’d tumble headlong into the dark and never find her way back.
The stench of antiseptic and death still clung to her as she stepped into Ocean’s Echo. She didn’t even bother to wipe her feet. Didn’t care. Above her, the doorbell gave a hollow jangle, the sound echoing like a dirge.
“There you are!” Camila’s bright voice cut through the haze like sunlight through dirty glass. She stood near the back with a tall man in an impeccably tailored suit, her newest boyfriend, Briar… something.
Ethan hadn’t liked him. Desi’s gut agreed. But Camila’s face glowed with a happiness Desi hadn’t seen in months.
Behind the counter, the girl with the orange bob—the one Desi had privately dubbed Pumpkin Girl—was back at her post, snapping gum and scrolling through her phone with black-lacquered nails. No sign of Chad. But then, what did any of it matter anymore?
Desi turned toward the stairs, but Camila and her Armani shadow blocked her escape.
“Briar wants to show you something,” Camila said, practically buzzing.
“Wonderful,” Desi muttered. “Maybe another time? I’m exhausted.” She tried to edge past them, but Camila pressed on.
Hadn’t she promised the man she’d show him the dive site? The Sentinel. Caleb’s ship. The name alone sent her insides collapsing in on themselves.
No. No, she couldn’t go there. Couldn’t let herself feel. She pressed both palms to her temples. Stay numb, Desi. Stay numb.
When she opened her eyes, a book appeared before her, old, heavy, bound in cracked leather. A jeweled finger tapped an illustration.
A Ring. Ancient Hebrew carved into the metal, and in the center, the stone—dark, ancient, unmistakable.
The Ring of Solomon.
“Is that the Ring you found on your last dive?” Camila asked, excitement lighting her eyes.
Desi’s heart gave a single hard thud. “What?” She grabbed the book, flipping to the title page. The Testament of Solomon, Apocryphal Books, Complete Edition.
Trying to mask her shock, she forced a shrug. “Maybe. Hard to say. It was pretty corroded.”
Briar smiled, a slow, self-assured curve of lips that revealed teeth so white they looked manufactured. His gaze lingered on Camila, and she giggled. And Camila never giggled.
“You’re not going to believe this, Des,” Camila said, tossing her hair. “Go on, tell her, Briar.”
“Miss Starr,” he began, voice smooth and cultured, “I’ll get straight to the point. If you can recover this exact Ring”—he tapped the image again—“and bring it to me, I’ll pay you five million dollars.”
Camila’s mouth dropped open. Greed flared in her brown eyes like sunlight on glass.
Desi’s knees weakened. Five million? Was he serious?