7. Sold Souls
SOLD SOULS
Jack woke her the next morning by dropping the ash bucket by her head and grumbling, “Defiant wretch.”
Ignoring his sour mood as she set to work, she tried to find solace in the monotony of her tasks, but her mind traitorously tugged toward familiar terror. It had followed her from prison and now lurked in her freedom, still entirely itself but in a slightly different shape.
Cecily was cleaning her final drum when the crew began wandering from their quarters. Her eyes flicked to the door every time she spotted movement, as though waiting for Morgyn to emerge and pounce. And each time, her heart would leap to her throat, then calm when she realized there was no threat.
But she expected one in the same way one might feel a war was brewing—because it certainly was. Morgyn and the other women wouldn’t forget her forever, and soon they would realize the status quo had changed and come to make her pay for how horrible she’d been in prison.
It was exhausting to be so on edge, so afraid and counting down the days until she wouldn’t have to be so vigilant.
She couldn’t wait to be off this ship. She hadn’t realized she’d grumbled it aloud when Jack answered with a mocking, “Don’t tease me, I beg you.” Then he gave her two buckets of fish and ordered her to help Stede gut them in a far corner of the main deck.
Cecily was happy to work with the cook again, especially if it kept her away from the others, but again didn’t make that apparent to Jack.
Stede had brought her a handful of dried apple and a bit of salted meat, which he told her to finish before she started on the fish.
She ate while he showed her how to cut off their fins and heads, then slice their bellies open and scoop out the innards.
Her knife was sharper today, and Stede would most definitely account for it before the day was done.
And though the smell of fish was anything but pleasant, she was beginning to think that anything might be bearable if only she could listen to Stede talk, distracting her with long, meandering stories of mermaids, sea serpents, and ghosts.
“Ghosts?” Cecily asked when he mentioned them. She’d heard stories, of course, but her father had told her she didn’t need to fear them, and she’d trusted him enough that they’d never been a worry.
“Aye, ghosts,” Stede said, scooping a fish’s innards into a bucket along with all the fins and heads. They were nearly finished by now, and had only a few more to clean. “You heard’a Jonah Lovibond?”
Cecily shook her head. And because she was eager for this chore to take as long as possible—both for the sake of listening to Stede and avoiding Morgyn—she slowed her knife and said, “Tell me.”
Stede smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. “Captain Jonah was a good man, which you might scoff at, being high and mighty as you are.”
A quiet laugh puffed from her lips.
“Commander in the king’s navy, but he was in league with some pirates. He followed his own code, and certain pirates liked him for it. Well, Jonah married a lovely bride and brought her aboard his ship. You’ll find most sailors consider a woman on board to be bad luck, but—”
“Why doesn’t Copson think we’re bad luck?
” Cecily interjected. The captain stood at the helm with a compass in hand, his eyes on the horizon.
Jack stood beside him, discussing something that made his eyes softer.
His father smirked, Jack smiled, and the sharpness of his face cracked to reveal an arresting beauty that made her forget she’d asked a question—until the cook spoke again.
“Copson is bad luck,” Stede said, and she quickly pulled her gaze away from the first mate. “Bringin’ a woman aboard only makes him stronger, I think. And with all’a you, I reckon it’ll probably make him immortal.”
She deftly ran her knife through a fish and gutted it smoothly. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”
Stede flashed a grin. “Anyways, Jonah didn’t believe in the bad luck his pretty new wife might bring, and he didn’t want to leave her at home.
You see, Jonah was desperately in love with her, and she with him, and she was newly with child.
I don’t imagine there was a happier couple in the world at the time, and as she loved the sea and sailing, it was only natural that she should join him.
“All went well for the first little while, but one night Jonah’s ship got caught in a terrible storm.
The story goes that he knew he was doomed—he was in a bad stretch of waters that were difficult to navigate in good conditions, so they would be impossible to survive in a storm.
With a pregnant wife and a terrified crew, Jonah did what few sailors dare—he called on Davy Jones. ”
“Who’s Davy Jones?” Cecily asked quietly, as though saying his name might be like saying Bloody Mary three times or walking over a grave.
“He rules those who die at sea,” Stede said grimly, dark eyes serious.
A chill ran down her spine. “When Jonah called on Davy Jones, he appeared. And in exchange for the lives of his sweet wife, their unborn child, and his crew, Captain Jonah sold his soul to the veritable devil. Davy may rule the dead, but he has use for a man who’s neither dead nor alive. ”
He paused. Cecily stared at him for a long moment, then pressed, “What happened?”
“The storm ceased,” Stede said. “The seas calmed, and the ship safely passed through the shoals. Rumor says Jonah haunts the Atlantic, carrying out a code that is neither of kings nor pirates, but of Davy Jones alone. Some say he can travel impossible distances in no time at all—some have claimed to see his ship, Neptune, near Florida on Monday only for another to see it off the coast of Morocco on Wednesday. And those who’ve seen him say he captains a crew of some of the wickedest souls lost to the sea.
A true ghost who’s nigh-immortal and inescapable. ”
By now, she’d finished cleaning her buckets of fish, and she dropped her knife into one of them.
Her hands were covered in gore, and she splayed her fingers, admiring the blood and scales.
With how much she worried for her own soul, she wondered if Davy Jones might be inclined to keep her if she died out here.
“What does one do to earn a visit from a ghost captain?” she asked.
“Oh, deplorable things,” Stede said. “But Jonah only appears to those who truly deserve it. There be devilish creatures in these waters, and strange things happen because of ‘em. But stay aware and you’ll be fine.”
She wondered what kinds of strange things he meant. Suppressing another shiver, she prepared to ask him, but a smooth voice spoke from beside her.
“Perhaps Jonah will come for you.”
Cecily startled. Jack had appeared close by, and he flashed a sharp grin when she saw him. Remaining well out of arm’s reach, he added, “If I ask nicely, of course.”
She scowled. Chuckling, Stede snatched the buckets of fish and innards, then stood.
“I suppose this means I’ve lost my help for now,” the cook said. “Thank you, Cecily. Be sure to wash those hands before you offend anyone with the smell.”
After Stede left, Jack said, “You do smell awful.”
“Whose fault is that?” she countered, making her way to another bucket they kept full of sea water. She dipped her hands in and began to scrub them clean.
“Yours. Entirely your own fault. I didn’t ask to be your keeper.” His lip curled. “And you didn’t have to wear the damn fish. How’d you get it all over you?”
She had no snarky reply for him, silently lamenting that the bucket couldn’t hold enough water to wash away the ash on her clothes or the fishy stench that would cling to her even after the fish guts were gone. Tonight, in her little home, she’d take a long, luxurious bath with rose-scented soap.
“Do you sew?” Jack asked.
Cecily dumped the dirty water over the edge of the ship. “Of course I sew.”
“Great,” he said flatly. Minutes later, he had left her sitting on a crate beneath the mainmast, mending the frayed edge of a canvas sail. She’d hardly made any progress when Morgyn wandered over, her hair blowing in the wind like she was some sort of vengeful pirate goddess.
Flanking her were two of her favorite henchwomen, Thea and Susan.
They were lesser among criminals, committed for petty theft and forging a nobleman’s signature on a letter of recommendation respectively.
There was little to distinguish them intellectually, but Thea was known for her proud display of a mouth full of crooked teeth while Susan’s eye twitched every few seconds.
Of all the women, Susan was the only one Cecily pitied.
Every time her own eye twitched, she was half tempted to pull the whole thing out, so she couldn’t imagine having the urge to do that every fifteen seconds—and she had, of course, timed the intervals while bored on the prison ship.
During those times, Susan had known Cecily was staring, and she’d always looked away and trembled.
“Still working?” Morgyn asked as she stopped before Cecily. “My, you are a busy girl.”
Cecily stabbed her needle through the sail. “It’s good for one’s mind to stay occupied.” Steeling herself, she looked at Morgyn and showed her teeth in her best impression of a grin.
Morgyn stared back, eyes unblinking and intent.
Cecily’s stomach curdled. She knew that look. Morgyn was planning something, whether by her own cleverness or some awful bit of information she’d discovered. Did she know about Cecily’s crime? Had Jack said something after all?
She resisted looking in his direction, lest she draw Morgyn’s attention there too.
“I see you cleaning an awful lot,” the prison queen mused. “Jack said it was penance.” A grin. “For cutting his face.”
Cecily held her gaze, breathing evenly. “And?”
Those cunning, dead eyes seemed to glitter. “Were you trying to kill him?”