Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
“Hey!” I go sprawling face first onto the mossy ground.
Starkey chuckles behind me. “Your balance is atrocious, darling.”
“Shut up!” I scramble to my feet and wipe my sleeve across my forehead.
Nessie claps from her seat on the back porch. “Give it to him good, girl!” she cries.
“What she said.” Widow nods.
“Is the little mainlander going to hurt me?” Starkey has the nerve to turn his back on me and speak to Bill who’s sitting near the fire pit. “Am I going to lose my life to a darling girl?”
Bill shrugs.
I lunge for Starkey, my wooden sword aiming right for the center of his back.
He turns and easily deflects it.
“Ass,” I grumble and back up a few steps.
“I thought Widow taught you a thing or two.” He tsks. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Go easy, Starkey,” Widow shoots him a nasty look.
“Why should I? No one else will.” He lunges forward, his sword slashing perilously close to my face.
I drop low and smack my sword against his knee.
Widow jumps to her feet and yells as I fall back onto my ass again. “You got him!”
“That?” Starkey pushes his blond locks off his forehead. “That was nothing.”
“That would’ve been a gusher if her blade had a bite,” Bill intones.
Cecco, shirtless and with an amused smile beneath his mustache, sits in front of Bill and leans forward.
“Ready?” Bill asks.
“As I’ll ever be.” Cecco looks over his shoulder. “Make it beautiful. Something the ladies will love, si?”
“It’s a skull, Cec, I’m sure the ladies will swoon.” Bill shakes his head and grabs a long stick and a small bowl of black ink. When he starts whacking Cecco’s back, the Italian grunts but keeps still.
“You want one?” Starkey asks. “Maybe a snake between your breasts or—”
“Starkey.” Widow’s tone bears a warning.
He glances at the house. “Fine. James ruins all my fun.” His gaze slides to Widow. “Except the fun you and I have together.”
“Don’t start.” She grabs her silver cutlass and stands. “You and me, Moira. Let’s go.”
I climb back to my feet and roll my shoulders.
We’ve been at this for at least an hour, and even with a cool breeze soughing through the trees and along the mossy ground, I’m still soaked with sweat.
Out of shape—but can you really be out of shape if you were never in shape?
Doesn’t matter. I bend my aching knees and wait for Widow to come at me.
She doesn’t wait, her attack furious as she comes at my left. I cross my blade over my body, holding it downward so that her blade glances off instead of slicing me in half.
“Good!” She backs up. “Now come get me.”
“Seriously?” I’ve been on defense this entire time.
“Seriously. You might actually have the upper hand in a fight—”
“Against a drunken nymph maybe,” Smee snickers as he walks by. He goes into the big house with an air of self-importance I’d love to stomp out.
“I could kick that guy’s ass, right?” I ask Widow.
She winces. “Smee? I mean … He’s not the best at hand-to-hand, but I’ve seen him carve pure art with a rapier.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That sounds disgusting, if I’m being honest.”
“It was.” Cecco nods.
“Quit moving,” Bill grunts.
“Smee got into it with one of Anne’s boatswains. It ended with more blood than I thought a single body could hold.”
I groan. “Is there anyone on this ship who can fight at my level? Hey, wait, what about Cookson?”
Bill laughs and stops whacking Cecco’s back. “I once saw Cookson take a man’s head off with nothing but a strainer and a rusty potato peeler.”
“That’s right, you sorry cum-twang.” Cookson bursts from one of the cottages with a pot in his arms, then stops when he sees me. His face goes red. “Oh, no. Begging your pardon.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve actually been wondering where all the spicy pirate language was, but here we are.”
He limps closer to the fire crackling behind Bill. “Pay me no mind.”
“No, I want to hear more about this thing with the strainer and the potato peeler.”
“Aw that tweren’t nothing, miss.” He sets the pot on the iron grate over the flames. “Nothing ter brag about. You go on now. I wanna see you with a proper pig sticker getting ter work on this sorry lot.” He grabs a ladle and stirs the pot.
“He’s being modest. I saw the whole thing. I almost vomited,” Cecco says. “Brutal.”
With a newfound respect for Cookson, I go back to play fighting with Widow. Once she’s thoroughly kicked my ass about fifty times in a row, she sheathes her sword.
“Enough for now. If I beat you into the ground today, you won’t want to work tomorrow.”
“So true.” I lean on my sword. “Very wise.” This right here is why I skipped gym whenever possible in high school. At least the jocks aren’t picking on me, though. They actually seem to like me this time around.
“Go on. I don’t want to smell you at supper time.” She waves her hand in front of her nose.
“Harsh.” I laugh and head toward the house.
Widow and I haven’t spoken about what I said by the fire last night. I know I need to apologize to her, but I don’t need the entire pirate crew listening in as I grovel. Besides, I think her kicking my ass over and over was pretty good payback for me telling her she’s not real.
A bright blue frog is singing its heart out on the porch railing as I approach, its neon pink eyes nearly glowing in the gloom. I find myself wondering what the island would look like in the sun. As bright as it is at night, it must be beyond beautiful in the day.
Nessie rocks in her chair, her silver hair swept up in a high bun as she works on some embroidery. “I put some new things in your closet, my dear. Pants that actually fit you, a few tops, and I even made you a dress should you feel fancy.”
“You made clothes? Like with your hands?”
She nods. “James was kind enough to bring all the fabrics I asked for and more. An embarrassment of riches.” She grabs a large pair of golden scissors and cuts the thread she’s working on.
A chill goes through me, like someone just walked across my grave.
Nessie seems to notice and stows her scissors in her pocket.
“Sometimes the thread is over.” She pats the front of her embroidery hoop with her fingers.
“But others go on.” She flips it over and shows me a wealth of colored thread hanging through the fabric.
“Such is the way of it.” She turns it over again, showing me an embroidered image of the golden tree at the center of the island.
“Such is the way of all threads. They have to end.”
“We’re just talking about thread, right?”
She smiles and goes back to stitching. “Of course. What else could we be talking about? Tell me if you’d like anything else. I love making clothes.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I’m beginning to suspect Nessie is a lot more than a housekeeper.
I walk in the back door, the house cool and dim compared to outside. Thunder rumbles in the distance, though it could be the ocean crashing on the far side of the cliffs. Up in this hideaway, it’s hard to know for certain.
I pass through the kitchen, then into the hallway that runs to the staircase.
My steps slow when I hear Smee and Hook talking in Hook’s office.
I haven’t gone in there. The doors are always closed when I pass by, and the absolutely enormous crocodile skeleton mounted over the door doesn’t look too welcoming.
This time, though, I pause and listen.
“—plenty of time to chart our course.” Smee sounds whiny. Good. I want him unhappy.
“We set sail in two nights. Tell the crew.” Hook’s tone brooks no argument, but Smee isn’t much for subtext, because he says, “We’ve been at sea for months, Captain. The crew needs more of a break.”
“Once this is done, they’ll have as long a break as they like. But I can’t rest until she’s taken care of.”
“Why?” Smee’s exasperation rankles.
“That’s none of your concern.”
“She seems stable, Captain. She’s even been out there sparring—horribly, might I add—with Widow. An ineffectual fighter, at best.”
What a dick! I’m highly effectual.
“She’s fading. What that goddamn parasite did to her has left marks.” His anger telegraphs through the wall. “There’s only one way, one place, where she can become whole again. As soon as we’ve all had a rest, that’s where we’re headed.”
Smee sighs dramatically. “I don’t understand what hold this mainland girl has over you.”
“You don’t need to understand, Smee. I’m your captain. If you’ve lost your faith in me—”
“No!” Smee practically barks the word. “Never, Captain. I … worry. That’s all.”
“Don’t. Once we handle this, the rest of it will fall into place. We’ll be rid of that bilge rat for good.”
“From your lips to Calypso’s ears.” Smee shifts, and I creep farther down the hall, but linger.
“Tiger Lily arrives tomorrow. Is everything ready?” Hook asks.
I must’ve misheard, so I tiptoe back to the door.
“She and her warriors arrive before the moon is high. The menu is ready, and everything will go smoothly. This time will be different.”
Hook chuckles low in his throat. “You mean this time won’t end in bloodshed? Don’t bet on it.”
“Everyone will be on their best behavior. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Good. We need Tiger Lily on our side for what’s coming.” A chair scrapes across the floor. “All right, if that’s all you wanted to discuss—”
“Not quite, Captain. Alf pulled me aside earlier. He’s been out and about too much, and now she knows.”
“Shit. Has she seen Mullins or Teynte yet?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve had them down at the ship re-equipping. Teynte knows to keep a low profile. Mullins as well.”
“All right. That’s something, at least.” The floorboards creak, and I scamper away down the hall to the staircase.
By the time the study doors open, I’m already halfway up the stairs. When I get to the top, I bump into Skylights.
“Hey.” He steadies me. “I was just coming to do another checkup, if that’s all right.”
“I’m all sweaty.” I pull my shirt away from my chest to get some air in there, but that wafts my smell to my nose. “And stinky. Can we do it later?”
“Sure thing.” He backs up so I can pass. “You’re feeling all right, though?”
“Why? Am I sick?”
He glances away. “Your leg’s not bothering you?”