A Pirate's Agony (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix Book 3) (2 page)

Not caring if Thomas hurt her, she slapped him across the face. “No! You can’t do this to me.”

He didn’t flinch, but his syrupy smile turned her insides into creamed porridge. “Aye, I can.”

He lifted her over his shoulders and carried her out of the flat. Her heart hammered stronger and stronger. Blood pounded in between her ears, blocking out all reason.

Her Freedom. ’Twas being stolen.

She twisted her body and pounded her fists on his broad back. 

Now, she knew what was worse than being beaten and raped. Tomorrow, she’d be a slave.

Caribbean, June 1671

Amadi hung on to the halyards to hoist the flapping sail. Angry waves crashed against the
Soaring Phoenix
like battering rams. Water rushed over the deck and splashed onto his calves and boots. “Hang on, men!”

Men groaned around him as they struggled to hold onto the rope. Amadi’s palm burned as it slipped. Rain pelted against him, stinging his skin. His vision blurred. The loud thunder, flapping sails, and howling wind blocked out the cries of the men. Fuming black clouds blocked out the stars and the waning moon. ’Twas as if Maketabori, God of the Underworld himself, had unleashed his fury.

His captain, Kane O’Brien, gripped the wheel with his legs spread apart. Amadi’s loyalty to the man had no bounds. Because of him, he was a free man.

“I need you to unfurl the rugged sails,” Kane yelled. “She’s trying to broach. The waves will tear her apart.”

Amadi had to strain to hear his order. “Aye, Capt’n.”

The capt’n tilted his head. “We’ve got to make port to ride out this storm or crash against the rocks.”

Lightning sizzled overhead and illuminated Saint Kitt’s familiar rocky cliffs. The ship was closer than Amadi anticipated. If the capt’n could steer away from the jagged coral reef…

He climbed the slick rigging that swung side-to-side. A halyard swung lose and slapped him in the face. He yelled and slipped. He dangled like a flopping fish. As he struggled to hang on to the rope, pain burned in his over-stretched arms. The damn rope cut and scratched his palms. Ignoring the pain, he gritted his teeth, tightened his grip, then by sheer force of will, swung his feet into the rigging. He bowed his head to shield himself and caught his breath.

Thunder rumbled. Rain pelted harder and harder. The
Phoenix
sailed closer to the deadly reef that had sunk ships and claimed hundreds of sailors. 

With his last remaining strength, he crawled up the rigging until he reached the top of the swaying mast. Below, waves battered against the hull and water sloshed up on deck, threatening to pull men out to sea. The
Phoenix
swayed back and forth, getting closer and closer to turning onto its side. Amadi forced himself to edge across the footropes under the yard to unfurl the small, rugged, sail. Below, the capt’n struggled to hang on to the spinning wheel. 

Amadi’s heart pounded harder than the crashing waves. One slip, and he’d crash to the deck, or worse, be swept out to sea. He wished tonight was a full moon. If he fell, he could change into a vampire bat. 

But tonight wasn’t a full moon. He wasn’t a vampire. He was a human. A vulnerable human.

The ship rose up and down on the crest of a wave. He clung to the ropes. Waves rolled against the hull, and below, men scrambled to cling to the flapping lines. He edged out onto the foot-rope, but then the
Phoenix
dipped toward the port-side. He lost his footing, but this time, he couldn’t hang on to the rigging. He fell backward screaming. Lines and sails rushed past him.

He tensed, waiting to crash onto the deck of the
Phoenix
, breaking bones, but he splashed into a swirling black sea and plunged deep into the ocean. Salt water stung his eyes. He sucked in the sea. His lungs burned. He clawed and kicked his way to the surface. Air. He needed air.

He burst through the surface and inhaled, only to have waves smash into his face. His trousers ballooned around him and weighed him down. He bobbed up and down like an empty wine barrel.

Lightning flashed in the dark sky. The
Soaring Phoenix
rode up and down on the swells, moving further away.

Men ran along the deck. Amadi waved his arms. “Ye damn fools, help me!”

But cracking thunder blocked out his cries. He yelled again and again. But ’twas useless.

The men grabbed lines to hold on to the flapping sails. No one looked his way. 

The
Phoenix
swayed and sailed further and further away. And his hope died.

He swam toward the ship, but it was as if Poseidon clutched his legs, determined to pull him into the dark sea. He was a good swimmer, the best on the ship, but each time he took a stroke, a punishing wave smashed into him, tossing him in the opposite direction.

Drawing on his last remaining strength, he smacked his arms against the waves and kicked hard, but his efforts were met with water washing over the top of his back, pushing him under. He gulped for air, only to inhale the salty sea.

An enormous swell hurled him backward. He somersaulted underwater, helpless to stop. He bashed into something hard. Pain exploded across the back of his head.

Blackness swept over him, and he remembered no more.

***

Amadi woke to the sun shining on his body. Waves foamed and swirled around him. He coughed up water and rolled to the side. Where the hell was he?

Throbbing pain sliced from his head to his back. He pushed up, but his shaking arms collapsed. 

He spat out bits of sand and shell and wiped his eyes. “Bloody hell.” He slumped onto his back and rested his arm on his forehead. Why wasn’t he dead? He should have drowned. Was it due to being immortal and a vampire, or something else? Could Mariah or Hannah have had something to do with it? Mariah was a witch and could have cast a spell to save him. Or Hannah could have used her telekinetic powers to keep him from drowning.

Not likely. Hannah was the capt’n’s woman, and Mariah was William’s. Neither the Capt’n nor William would let those ladies out on the deck during a deadly squall.

He could now say something good about his vampire powers. At least, he hadn’t drowned. That was something, right?

Waves whirled around his legs. He rested his forearms on the wet sand and rose. Splitting pain shot to the back of his head. He winced.

Swallowing deep breaths, he focused on the now calm, blue ocean. The sea always eased his pain. Where was the
Phoenix
? He hoped safely tucked in the cove. Capt’n didn’t like to lose his men and would order a search. But where would he look?

After such a terrible storm, the
Phoenix
would need repairs. If she was docked on Saint Kitts, he’d find her—in their secret cove. Two huge cliffs bordered the cove. Only one ship could enter. If any other tried, she’d be blown to bits. 

But he had another problem. He’d been a slave on Saint Kitts.

Amadi crawled into a sitting position, crossing his legs. This wasn’t good. He needed cover—to hide out until he could get his bearings.

He crawled to his feet. Blinding pain slammed into his head. His stomach swirled. He couldn’t fight the nausea and spit up Cook’s dinner of salted fish and sea water onto the white sand.

He turned his head at the foul smell and swayed on shaky legs. Refusing to fall onto the ground, he gritted his teeth and widened his stance. A cool breeze brushed over him. He staggered. He was a big man, but in his weakened state, a small gust could knock him on his arse. Lush jungle with palm trees, jungle flowers, and ferns beckoned.
Cover.
He needed to rest and hide, but it was so far away. Less than a hundred feet, but it might as well be a hundred miles. 

Trying to push back the thumping pain in the back of his head, he forced himself to move. His boots sank into the sand, his feet squishing in the soggy leather.
Move. Just Move.

Something splashed behind him. A chorus of
phhishhht
and stomps launched fear in his swirling gut. He glanced over his shoulder. His heart stopped. Cold, hard, terror turned his pirate bravery into mush.

Men on horseback. A large bulky man pointed. “There. We found one! Get the large buck.”

Christ, slave traders.

Amadi drew on his vampire strength and ran for freedom, but his wobbly legs failed to obey. He stumbled onto the sand. Not caring about his pounding head or swirling stomach, he sprinted toward the jungle. He refused to be a slave again, to feel the harsh lash against his back, to be robbed of his dignity. Death was a better alternative.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. 

The galloping horses gained on him—determined to trample on his freedom. Hot breath hit the back of his neck. Sand and water sprayed on the back of his legs. The men whooped and howled.

“Get ’im, Sammy!”

Amadi’s blood pumped between his ears, roaring faster than the waves whirling around his boots. Birds cawed from the shadowy jungle as if shouting “Escape. Escape. Escape.”

If he made it into the jungle, he might have a chance to outmaneuver them. Just one more step…

Something draped over his neck. A noose! Amadi grabbed the end to brush it off. But his efforts failed. It ripped through his fingers like a whip.

He flew through the air and landed smack on his back, knocking the air out of his lungs. He lay stunned.

The rope pulled on his neck, and he slid across the sand that scraped his body. Gasping, he yanked out his sword. He rolled onto his stomach and sliced the rope. Five men on horseback surrounded him. He scrambled to his feet and scowled.

Don’t show fear.

Hate burned his gut. He would not be a slave. Vampire or human, if he had to, he’d kill them all. 

“What the hell?” A skinny man sat on his horse. His eyes wide, he examined the cut rope. “The buck’s got a sword.”

“He darn got a whip on his hip.”

A man spat onto the sand. “Don’t you know darkies ain’t supposed to have weapons, boy?”

Amadi narrowed his eyes at the spit-chewing swine. He’d not been called “boy” since he was a slave on the
Sorcière de Mer
.

He undid his whip and prayed he possessed the strength to wield it.

The skinny man wiped the sweat from his brow. “I think this here darkie don’t know who he’s dealing with…”

“Aye, Dubois won’t like this.”

Dubois? Hell, the bastard overseer was still alive. When Hannah had been kidnapped and taken to the
Sorcière de Mer
, Amadi should have killed Dubois when he had the chance, but there wasn’t time. Capt’n had been hurt too badly. Bloody mistake.

Another sour-looking man clicked his heels against his horse and edged him forward. Amadi flicked the whip.
Snap. Crackle.

The whip hit the horse on its snout. It whinnied and reared, barely missing Amadi with its hooves. Close, too close. He stepped aside, but he wasn’t fast enough. A hoof slammed into his shoulder. He staggered backward. Pain blinded him, but he managed to hold on to the whip.

Sweat slipped into his eyes. Between his throbbing head and shoulder, he should pass out. Most men would. But he wasn’t most men. He held the whip in his hand, ready to slash beast or man.

He wished with all his might that the crew would burst out of the jungle, or that William would fly down from the sky and exhale fire onto the tormentors. But he was alone. Alone with his worst nightmare.

“Look at him, you fools.” A tall blond man glared at the others. He pulled on his lace cuffs. “He’s obviously not a runaway slave. Must have been washed off a ship.”

The man’s clothes were a cut above the others—silk and lace. With his arrogant disdain, he reminded Amadi of his former master, Jacque D’Aubigne. At least that blackguard was dead.

The others looked between the man and Amadi as if studying Amadi for the first time.

The arrogant man leaned on his horse and stared at Amadi. “But I’ll warrant he’ll bring a fine price for his strength alone.” 

His steely green eyes stripped Amadi of his humanity. “Never,” Amadi said. Damn, his voice came out a bare whisper.

“I don’t think so,” the man said. “You can barely stand. Soon, you’ll be at my slave auction and sold to the highest bidder.”

He was baiting him. But Amadi was a seasoned warrior and waited. He gripped his sword and whip, prepared to fight to the death.

“Seize him,” the man said. 

The other men hesitated and gripped their horses’ reins. Fear and doubt flickered in their eyes.

Amadi flashed them a smile. He was an expert swordsman, and even the Capt’n admired his skill with his whip. A trophy he’d taken from his days of horror.

If he rushed one of the men, he might find enough strength to knock him off a horse and ride into the jungle. ’Twas a longshot. But ’twas the only chance he had.

He stepped toward the nearest tormentor, a short, fat, man. Hard labor was obviously foreign to the slop. 

The throbbing pain in the back of Amadi’s head and shoulder intensified. His vision blurred. He shook his head.

“Hurry, you idiots,” the blond man said. “He’s growing weaker. What are you waiting for?”

The skinny man puffed out his bony chest and took a step closer.

Amadi lashed his whip and slashed the man’s cheek, drawing blood.

The man screamed, holding his cheek, and fell to his knees.

“You’ll pay for that,” the leader said. The promise of agony flared in his eyes.