Mistress of the Stone (16 page)

Sibyl brushed a lock of hair off Luísa’s shoulder. “This wasn’t your burden,
Portuguesa
. I’m sorry the curse made it so.” Her eyes brightened and she clicked her tongue inside her mouth. “But by God, you do take after the old woman. There’s no denying that.”

“What old woman? What are you talking about?”

“Izabel, of course. The Sorceress. You have her eyes and her hard ways. Is that why you became a pirate?”

Every muscle in Luísa’s body tensed. She could flay the skin off this wench with a spoon yet Sibyl studied her with the carelessness of a dolt.

“Speak plainly, Sibyl. If there’s a sorceress here, perhaps she could help me find my father.”

Sibyl laughed. “I don’t doubt it. The Sorceress knows everything that happens on this island, not that she cares to soothe anyone’s misery.” She tapped a finger on her chin. “But for you… Aye, she might for you. If you are who we think you are.”

“And who do you think I am?”

Sibyl rolled her eyes, as if the question was daft for the asking.

“Did my brother not explain why so many hunt for you?” She looked back at him and then to her. “Ah, he didn’t tell you. And you didn’t know. More’s the pity.”

“For what?”

“For your birthright.”

She reached over to touch Luísa, but Luísa jerked away, stumbling on the bench behind her.

“If you’re the one, you’ll bear the birthmark. Every daughter of that wicked woman has worn that mark.”

“You’re mistaking me for someone else, fortune teller. My people aren’t from these islands.”

“That you know,” Sibyl cut her off. “There’s one way to find out for sure. Take off your shirt.”

The woman was mad. “I don’t think so.”

Sibyl didn’t press the issue, waving her hands down in a calming gesture. “Then answer me this, pirate girl, and make me a liar. High up on your right breast there is a star-shaped birthmark, a star with five tips like a pentagram. You have one, and your mother had one. And her mother before her.” She crossed her arms and waited for her answer. “Am I right?”

Luísa could have picked her jaw off the floor. “How did you…”

“Two hundred years ago, a witch lived on this island. Powerful and vain she was, and more than once she cuckolded the native shaman in front of his people. In a jealous rage, the witchdoctor killed her with a poisoned dart, striking her on the chest—right where that little mark is,” she said pointing to her own breast. “Yet before the Sorceress died, she cursed the island and all its inhabitants.”

“What sort of curse?”

“An everlasting one.” Her lids closed slightly. “Those who die on this island never go beyond and never bathe in God’s mercy. They are trapped on the earthly plane for eternity.”

Sibyl’s eyes turned misty in the telling. “Terrified of the curse, the villagers buried her in a sealed tomb.” She sighed. “It didn’t help.”

“What happened to the villagers?”

Sibyl glanced around the room, her skin glistening like soapy bubbles. “Don’t you understand, girl? They’re still here. Who did you think those ghouls were?”

Luísa rubbed her forehead, trying to ward off a throbbing headache and the daunting feeling that what she was hearing was true. “
Dios mío
. What sort of place is this?”

“An unhappy place, my lamb. No one who dies here, leaves here.” An unearthly pallor swept over her face. “Legend has it that only a descendent of Izabel can break the curse, and Saint-Sauveur will not let that happen.”

“That’s madness! Any God fearing man would gladly see the dead find their rest.”

She laughed. “Saint-Sauveur fears neither God nor Satan. If he can use the scion to free the werewolves from turning involuntarily or becoming addicted to the wolfsbane, the pack would make him lord forever. The moonstone is a conduit and you, my dear, are the catalyst. Saint-Sauveur must have you both. That fiend has the chance to reign between God and the devil, and he will take that chance if he can.”

“You mean, if I help Saint-Sauveur, he could help your brother?”

“He would free all were-creatures, everywhere.”

Sibyl nodded toward Luísa’s pendant, now dangling in the open. “Know you not of your trinket? That moonstone has a mate. Even now it probably calls to it. Should the stones find each other and are clasped together, it will allow you, and only you to issue one repeal.”

“I owe
Capitán
Daltry a debt. I would like to see him free of his curse.”

“Thank you, Luísa, but that’s not what Xander wants. He wants to bring peace to the dead. To me.” She faded right in front of her.

Luísa stared at the thin air, dumbstruck, and made the sign of the cross twice in rapid succession. “
Madre de Dios
.”

Sibyl put a hand as solid as flesh behind Luísa’s shoulder, and Luísa thought she would faint from the shock of it. One deep breath and she pulled herself together, though she wasn’t quite sure how long her legs could keep from buckling.

“It’s all right, Luísa. I won’t hurt you.” She came around to face her, solid once more.

Sibyl was a true ghost, and an unhappy one. The melancholy on that sweet cherubic face spoke of a life cut short. Luísa gathered her wits and asked the only question that seemed important. “How did you die?”

“Badly.” She shrugged. “At the hands of Saint-Sauveur. The sod thought to defile me. Instead, he killed me by accident when I resisted. Poor Xander. He’s never forgiven himself for not being there for me.” She glanced at her sleeping brother. “I tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but Xander’s so stubborn.”

“No doubt he aches because you died alone.”

A sad smile crept across Sibyl’s lips. “No,” she insisted. “Not alone. I was never alone. I had a champion who heard my screams when I fought off that filthy Frenchman. He didn’t reach me in time to save me, but he fought Saint-Sauveur, forcing him to flee, then he stayed with me until I breathed my last. To this day, he protects me.”

“A hero.” It made her heart flutter with a pang of jealousy.

“My lover.” She laughed nervously, turning to Daltry. “I don’t dare tell Xander about him. He seems intent on keeping me a virgin all my life—and afterlife.”

“Humph. ’Tis strange all men think it necessary to keep their women chaste, yet find no regret in seeding any other female.”

“Too true. But I can’t fault Xander too much. He’s always felt it his mission to protect me. When my cards told me the Sorceress had a descendent…” She nodded to Luísa’s locket. “He hoped to find you first and convince you to release me from this mortal realm.”

“God help me, Sibyl. I may wear this stone, but you must have the wrong person. My people didn’t sail these waters two hundred years ago.”

“Someone did.”

She scratched her head. “Papa’s side of the family have sailed for at least a hundred years, but I know nothing of my mother’s people.”

“I’m sorry,
Portuguesa
. You knew nothing of this, and yet you’re as burdened as the rest of us.” Sibyl whisked over to her brother, her skirts, seemingly real enough, rustling beneath her. She pressed her hand against his chest then looked up at Luísa. “You’ll take care of him, won’t you?”

“Ye—yes,” she stuttered. “Will you be safe?”

Sibyl held her hand out and let it fade into nothingness. “Of course. What more can happen to a ghost?”

Luísa’s breath caught in her throat as Sibyl disappeared before her eyes once more.

Chapter Thirteen

Luísa had gotten more than she bargained for in her quest to find her father. It wasn’t enough to fight off French brigands and heinous paramours. Her life had become far more complicated than that. And now there was talk of an ancestor, a sorceress, here on this island. Papa must have known. Why didn’t he warn her?

She worried for the crew. Was Paqua hurt? Or Dooley? The lad had screamed curses at the men who carted her off. There was a scuffle and some blows, but she’d been gagged and scuttled on board the
Vengeance
without knowing the fate of her friends.

And Papa… Sibyl said he was diminished and sick. What had these demons done to him? She was so close. She had to find him before it was too late.

Luísa washed her face and arms at a small basin then searched the meager hut for another blanket. Bone and flesh were weary still, and there was nothing else to do except wait for Sibyl and the daylight to return. The corner niche held some books and a generous supply of dried wolfsbane, but nothing so much as a coverlet. The only blanket lay on top of Xander.

She stumbled over to the man who looked human enough now, and collapsed near his straw mat. There was room on his makeshift bed for two, and a thick mat was better than lying on hardpan dirt.

The jungle brooded in silence. It seemed all their hunters had suspended their chase, at least for the moment.

Xander looked better, more comfortable than before. She wondered how much longer he’d sleep, and if he’d be well enough to travel come morning.

She looked at his straw bed longingly. No one need know that she had shared a bed with this man. It’s not as if her virginity was at stake. With any luck, she’d wake up before him and he’d be none the wiser. It would mortify her if he knew of her indiscretion.

Luísa lifted one edge of his blanket and slid in next to him.

A loud sigh escaped her as her body settled next to his. She was drained flesh and spirit. A few hours sleep, that’s all she’d ask for.

The moans of the ghouls had subsided. For now, evil rested and so would she.

Luísa lifted the moonstone in front of her face. Its blue shimmer mesmerized her, lulling an overworked imagination into dreamy repose. Was it true? Was her ancestor the cause that chained so many to sorrow? And what could she possibly do to help anyone? She had no magic and no skill, save for one and that was at the prow of a pirate ship.

Her body craved a dreamless sleep, a rest from the nightmares of reality.

She didn’t want to touch Xander, but their woven mat proved too small for anything less than close contact. Reluctantly, she turned toward him and put an arm across his waist.

Her body tingled knowing such conduct would earn her the back of her father’s hand, but at this point, she no longer cared. Xander’s body felt warm and comforting. He had been kind to her, even risking his life.

Besides, there was no one here to tattle on her. She was safe—at least until he woke up.

Xander awoke with the delicate arm of a woman across his midsection. He looked down and smiled to find Luísa lying next to him.

He scanned the dim room. His sister wasn’t here as far as he could tell. Even invisible, she usually manifested a faint mist of effervescence.

It hurt to move, but he managed to turn so he could face his bunkmate.

She was a lovely she-cat. Her skin was smooth and tanned, and her hair was the color of Brazilian mahogany. Her soft, pouty mouth begged for kissing. But so young.

Inácio Tavares had raised his daughter as a pirate to protect her. A bold scheme if ever there was one. How could a father know that decision sealed her fate?

He pushed a curl of dark hair off her face.

She’d enter the tomb for him. He was sure of it. But he had to get her through the jungle first, before Saint-Sauveur retook their trail. The merged stone could only be used once and only on the blood moon. He had no right to choose who was worthier of freedom, but he was willing to take that license if it meant saving his little sister from an eternity without rest.

The curse of the werewolf was an act of God. There was no guarantee the moonstone would even help the lycan. But it would help the lost souls. It was Luísa’s ancestor and that cursed stone that had trapped the dead on this island in the first place. Only the stone and the Sorceress’s descendent could set them free. And both were within his grasp.
 

Luísa stirred momentarily, looking like a flower stretching its petals outward.

Xander felt unusually guilty. This wasn’t her fight. It wasn’t her burden, but without the girl’s help, their suffering would have been for naught.

A monkey’s rowdy chitter redirected his attention. He looked up at an unshuttered window above their makeshift bed. There, looking quite the dandy, was Koko, Sibyl’s Capuchin monkey.

He was a reckless little fellow with warm brown eyes that looked like pools of melted cacao and a grin that always betrayed his wicked intentions. The saucy monkey was a thief—and a good one too.

Koko wound his way down to Luísa’s side. He seemed as much in awe of her beauty as Daltry, but it was the moonstone pendant she wore around her neck that caught his fancy.

With Luísa on her side, the only thing Koko could see was the glimmer of silver surrounding the watery blue stone, but that seemed enough to lure the naughty monkey into more nefarious deeds.

It began with a little paw gently pulling her hair out of the way so he could see his prize. Luísa turned around then so that she lay flat on her back. The little heathen grinned with delight.

The pendant reburied itself under her shirt leaving Koko with only one possible solution. With his tail hooked around the base of the window, he rolled his body until he hung upside down. Once in position, he unbuttoned the top button of her shirt, looking up at Daltry only once to make sure his deed wouldn’t risk intervention.