Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
“You must be Anne.” I hold my shaking hands up to show I’m unarmed.
She gives me an unimpressed glare. “Captain Anne to you.”
“Sorry.” I immediately feel stupid for apologizing. She’s here to kill me. I would be an idiot to think otherwise.
“Sorry, are you? Sorry for wrecking my ship or killing my husband? Which are you sorry for?” Her voice has a Caribbean lilt to it.
“I didn’t do either.”
Her eyes narrow. “That’s not true, now, is it?” She hikes a leg up on the stone beside me and leans forward on her knee. “You’re the reason my Calico Jack is dead, and also the reason why my beloved ship is in pieces. All my crew lost. Every last one of those sorry dogs.”
“You loved Jack?” I don’t know why I ask.
“Loved him?” She scoffs. After giving me another up and down look—and clearly deciding I’m no threat—she stows her gun, then grabs the side of her gray shirt and wrings the water out.
“I never loved that lying sack of piss, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t mine.
” She whips her hat off and runs a hand through her short blonde hair, then flings the water away and replaces her hat.
I glance toward the beach.
“You can yell, little witch, but I promise I’ll slit your throat before anyone comes to save you.” She snarls and taps a blade at her side.
“I’m not going to yell.”
“Good. I’m still going to kill you though.”
“Because of Calico Jack?”
“It’s a matter of what’s mine, you see?”
“I don’t see.” I can’t help it. I glance out toward the sea again, hoping to glimpse Hook barreling toward me with his sword at the ready.
“It’s simple, girl.” She sighs. “He was mine. Low down and dirty—a right whoreson, he was. But he was mine. He took you, then Hook killed him for it. So, as I see it, you’re the reason Calico Jack is at the bottom of the sea, a feast for the crabs.”
That mental image makes my stomach churn.
“Though, can I be honest with you, girl?” She straightens and rests her hand on the butt of her gun.
I don’t think she’s capable of being anything other than brutally honest, but that’s just a guess. “Sure.”
“I thought you’d be so much prettier.” She gives a wry laugh. “I thought you’d be some gorgeous piece of silk or lace. But now that I see you, I can’t tell why you’ve got Hook’s pecker in such a knot.”
I shrug. “I thought you’d be taller.”
She smiles at that, one of her canine teeth a worrisome green color. “I’ve cut down men twice my size, three times even, and fed them to the fish. You needn’t worry about my abilities.”
“Then you needn’t worry about my looks.”
Her eyebrows pop up at that retort. “There it is. Something fiery in you.”
“Honestly.” I throw my hands up. “I’ve been threatened with murder and all sorts of bad shit.
So much so that at this point, you’re not really that scary.
I mean, sure you could gut me in a matter of seconds, and I’m guessing that’s your plan.
But, as you said, I look like ten pounds of shit stuffed into a five-pound bag—”
She snorts.
“And I feel that way, too. I feel like utter garbage. Peter drained me again and again, stole my youth, my energy, my everything. So yeah, I would’ve been prettier if you’d gotten to me before he did.
But it seems we’re both out of luck.” I know I shouldn’t be sassing the vengeful sea captain, but I seem to be fresh out of fucks to give.
“I’ve been kidnapped. Hell, your beloved husband kidnapped me and tried to rape me.
That’s what got him killed. Not me. His own actions.
Imagine that, would you? A man having to answer for his own actions!
” I laugh, the sound just as unhinged as I feel on the inside.
“So, yes, if you want to say I killed him, then fine. I killed him. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, and I’m glad he’s dead.
” I stare up at her. No, I fucking glare up at her.
“As for your ship, well, I’m not the one who decided it was a great idea to shoot off cannon after cannon over a kraken breeding ground.
So maybe you should take a look in the mirror on that one.
” I clap my mouth shut before even more vitriol comes spilling out.
I’m broken. I’m fucking broken, and this woman is standing here poking at all my jagged parts.
It only stands to reason that she gets cut.
I rub my eyes and realize just how sunken they are.
“God, I used to think I wasn’t much to look at.
” I laugh into my hands. “But now? Now I realize I was a fucking goddess. Because I was whole. Because there weren’t bits of me that had been stolen away.
I was never lace, like you said. But I was alive.
Not floating in between life and death. Weak and useless.
” I slump against the cave wall. “So do your worst. I’m over it. Completely fucking over it.”
She flips her blade in the air and catches it with ease. “Aren’t you a sorry sort?”
“Yes. Welcome to my pity party.” I’m tired, so damn tired of everything.
“I just lost my husband, my crew, and my ship. You don’t see me crying over it, do you?” She clucks her tongue at me.
“You might not be crying, but you’re here to kill me because you’re pissed about it. Maybe you should cry instead. Seems healthier than going on a murder spree.”
She smirks, her lips twisting into a smile. “You only say that because you’ve never been on a murder spree. If you had, you’d know there’s nothing like the feel of fresh blood on your hands.”
“I have enough blood on my hands as it is.” I see Coy and Tootles again, Slightly too, their dead eyes and their fear.
“I suppose I should be getting on with it.” She glances out toward the Jolly Roger. “These fools will be on me soon enough.” She flips her knife into the air once more and catches it, then leans toward me.
“You won’t be touching her.” Hook’s cold voice wraps around me like the most comforting of hugs. He’s crept up behind Anne, his sword at her throat. “Drop the knife.” He reaches forward and yanks her gun from her belt.
Anne’s eyes narrow on me. “I was going to do her a favor. Look how pitiful—Hey!”
Hook’s drawn blood, his blade cutting along her throat and sending a crimson rivulet to her collar. “I said drop it, Anne.”
She lets it go, the blade embedding in the sand at her feet. “Ponce,” she hisses.
He pushes his sword forward, drawing more blood.
“Wait!” I scream.
“Lass?” He cocks his head at me.
“Don’t kill her!” I shriek.
“Why not?”
I flounder around, my words not forming anything intelligible. “B-because you can’t just kill her like this!”
“Why not?” Anne asks, confusion coating her words.
“Are you serious?” I gawk at her. “Do you want him to kill you?”
She blinks, clearly thinking over her answer.
I shake my head vehemently. “No. Nope. No killing. You can take her prisoner or something, but don’t just do a murder right in front of me.”
Hook and Anne both look perplexed, as if I’m speaking an entirely different language I made up five minutes ago.
“But lass, she tried to—”
“I mean it!” I rub my eyes again. “No more!”
Hook makes a frustrated growl, then backs up and gives her a hard kick to her ass. She goes flopping at my feet, and then Widow and Shiner are on her, dragging her out of the cave as she spits and screams curses.
“Are you all right?” Hook kneels in front of me.
“You were going to cut her throat? Just, ‘wham bam, you’re dead, ma’am’?”
“Aye. That matters naught. Tell me you’re all right.” He takes my hands in his. “Please, lass.”
The concern in his eyes make my own water. “She didn’t hurt me. But I think … I think I might be giving up,” I admit. “I’m just so tired.”
“I know, lass. But you’re stronger than you know.”
“Am I?” I shake my head. “Anne didn’t seem to think so.”
His jaw clenches. “If the Jolly Roger were still afloat, I’d keel-haul her sorry ass until she drowned.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Oh, I love a good keel-haul.” Cookson chortles as he limps up with an armful of driftwood and starts setting up for a fire. “It’s when we tie a rope ter the brigand, then drag them from port ter starboard, you see?”
That gives me a somewhat amusing mental image. “You just drag them back and forth across the deck until they get tired or something?”
Cookson bellows a laugh. “Goodness, no. We pull them under the ship. Haul them right past the keel again and again.”
“Through the water?” I think my eyes must open wider than they ever have. “That’s … that’s torture.”
“No less than she deserves.” Hook turns to the pile of driftwood and begins striking a flint at the base of it.
“Bit more kindling. Here, Cap’n.” Cookson pushes some sort of hay-looking stuff beneath the logs.
It catches quickly, sending wisps of smoke into the air.
In only a few moments, a decent fire is started and Cookson is perching a pot over it.
“Can we still keel-haul her once we’re back at sea, Cap’n? ” he asks, hopefulness in his tone.
“If I don’t kill her on the shore, perhaps.”
“All right. Fair enough. I don’t want ter go getting me hopes up.” Cookson nods and pours some water into his pot as Starkey and Cecco show up with more wood.
“No killing.” I know my words fall on deaf ears, but they don’t argue with me, just go about making the fire.
“She’s beached as well as she can be, Captain.” Smee is winded as he jogs into sight. “Once the tide goes out, we’ll be able to repair her. Might be a week, perhaps two, but we—”
“You have two moonrises, Smee.” Hook stands. “And that’s too long.”
“Two moonrises?” Smee, soaked and pale as he is, goes almost translucent. “There’s no way—”
“Then you better find a way, Smee!” Hook yells and advances on him. “I’m getting Moira to that goddamned Spinner or we will all die trying, including you. So, I suggest you get to it!”
I wince at his tone, glad I’m not on the receiving end. Then again, Hook has never spoken to me like that. Not once.
Cowed, Smee lowers his chin. “Yes, Captain.” He sulks away, then starts barking harsh orders at the crew to collect Anne’s timbers and start a fire to heat pitch.