Pirate's Wraith, The (30 page)

He leveled a pistol at her. “Where?”

The excruciating pain in her head made the bullet seem like a good idea.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

He cocked the trigger. “Answer.”

She considered the fact that they had all gone through the same hurricane. More than likely, his gunpowder had been thoroughly doused.

“
How long?” Fury glittered in his eyes, but when she did not answer he lowered the pistol. “You lay in a stupor all night. It is now noon.”

She nodded.
“Well ... by now ... Captain Sterford should be halfway to New Providence.”

Hooper narrowed his eyes.
“Why would he leave you here?”

“
He wasn’t alone. Time and tide wait for no man—as I am sure you know—and when I did not show up at the appointed hour they undoubtedly sailed away.”

“
Who is with him?”

“
Jibby, and ... um ... gee ... you know that sailor with all the tattoos ....”

He drew the knife from his boot and held it against her throat.
“You lie.”

Cold steel dug into her skin and warm blood trickled down.

“I am telling the truth about Jibby. We rescued him from the Spaniards.”

He removed the blade.
“What Spaniards?”

She pressed her fingers against the wound to stop the flow of blood.
“After the storm, we landed on another island. It had just one mountain on it. One side of the mountain was vertical rock. Maybe you’ve seen it.”

He shook his head.

Despite the misery in her head, she wondered why Hooper wanted Harlan. Was it because Harlan’s navigational skills were respected. Maybe the new captain wanted to get off this island and did not have a clue which way to go.

No. M
ore than likely, he wanted to kill Harlan. After all, he already attempted it once and had not succeeded. Revenge factored in as a big part of the pirate creed.

With a clarity that surprised her considering her current state, she remembered the old story of Scheherazade. For one thousand and one nights the doomed virgin told stories to prevent her execution. Lesley launched into an embellished version of their adventure with the Spaniards in hopes that Harlan could find and rescue her before Hooper became bored.

“Enough.” He growled after five minutes had passed. “First, I shall have you. Then I shall use you for bait.”

Despite the tropical warmth surrounding her, Lesley went numb.

Chapter Nineteen

Harlan woke to the sounds of vultures feasting on Jib
by’s rotting flesh. Two of the vultures stood nearby assessing him as if he would be the next delicacy. He jumped up, but rising so quickly left him swaying like a drunkard. The vultures hissed as he clung to the trunk of the tree he had fallen against when he saw Elsbeth.

Had he truly seen her? Had that been a dream? Or a nightmare?

The vultures advanced toward him again. He picked up a rock and threw it, but missed in his addled state. Still, the threatening birds moved away, eyeing him with malice.

He glanced upward and saw the sun at its apex in the clear sky. Had he been in a stupor all night and all morning? A cold sweat broke out on his brow and sickness roiled in his belly.

Where was Lesley? He had meant to search for her when the ghostly form of Elsbeth had come to haunt him. He looked around and saw the small wooden pony on the sand near his feet. Yes, she had come to him and had begged for his forgiveness and an end to the anger he had harbored toward her all these years.

He wiped the icy sweat from his face. No, he did not hate her anymore. In fact, since Lesley had come into his life, he had stopped harboring the bitter animosity for Elsbeth that had caused him to live such a reckless existence.

He did not want to be a pirate anymore. He no longer cared to steal the riches of others by force. He did not care if he lived out the rest of his days as a poor man if only he had Lesley by his side.

He bent down and touched the toy. It held nothing more than the warmth of the air surrounding it. Stuffing it into his pocket, he staggered along following the trail of the rivulet and leaving the vultures to their grisly task.

Snatching more plums when he came upon them, he fortified his body and his head cleared. With his faculties now focused and alert, he discovered Lesley’s footprints since her crutch left neat indentations in the soil. The trail led him upward along a gradual incline which soon widened out onto a flat, grassy plateau. The rivulet had cut a small gash through the wide plain and at one point it tumbled down over a fall of rocks. It should have been a beautiful spot, but his breath caught in his throat when he saw the crutch and bucket on the grass along with a pool of dried blood. Larger footprints led away from the scene.

With his heart pounding, he began to run while tracking the deeper impressions in the soil made by someone who must have carried Lesley away after injuring her.

How could he have let her out of his sight? He loved her. She had changed him and given him hope in the future. Without her, he had no reason to go on living.

Smoke rising from a fire warned him to take care as he neared a small encampment. From a safe vantage point behind a lush overgrowth of palmettos, he drew as close as he dared and surveyed the scene. Wrath filled him when he saw the boat on the beach, which had belonged to the
Lyrical.
Cook stood over the fire roasting fish while Aloysius plied mussels from the rocks at low tide. Two more men appeared to be fashioning traps.

The loyalty of the men could not be counted upon and with only one knife to defend himself he did not stand a chance in fighting them. But where was Lesley?

The answer to his question came soon enough when a high-pitched shriek rent the tropical air. Harlan’s heart nearly stopped. The four men ignored the sound and continued their work.

They did not look up
—as if they expected to hear such a cry—as if they were following orders.

His blood boiled. Slipping noiselessly along behind the palmettos, he came to the back of a small hut. What he heard inside multiplied his rage, but he knew he must contain his heated fury and act with cool though deadly precision.

“You touch me again and I will scream even louder.” Her brave words belied the touch of fear in her voice. Harlan fisted his hands.

The deep tones of the guttural male laugh gave Harlan all the information he needed to know about the other occupant of the hut.

“If you persist, I will gag you and tie you, but I will have you. Sullying Sterford’s wench will be a delightful amusement.”

“
I took a self-defense course and I know how to hurt you.”

“
You have no weapons. I shall slit your throat if you persist in your loud     protestations.”

“
If you kill me, you’ll never lure Captain Sterford to walk into your trap.”

“
He will not know you’re dead--only that we have you. Take off your garments.”

“
Hell no.”

“
Do what I tell you.”

When gasping, choking sounds came from Lesley
’s throat, Harlan sprang into action. He leaped onto the rock at the back of the hut and jumped through the grass roof.

Hooper, startled by the intrusion, did not have time to react. Harlan landed a blow that cracked the man
’s jaw. Hooper staggered backward.

Harlan
’s blood pooled in his boots when he saw Lesley lying limp with dark bruises on her throat, but he had no time to grieve. Hooper growled and came at him with a knife. Lifting a small barrel, he threw it with such force that Hooper fell backward, hitting his  head against a footlocker. The blow knocked him out.

Grabbing Hooper
’s knife, he held it above the traitor’s heart. He intended to wait for Hooper to open his eyes before he plunged the blade downward. He wanted Hooper to watch his life seep away like a receding tide. Vengeance pumped unholy power into his veins. He wanted Hooper to die in agony, he wanted to see every last drop of the man’s wicked blood sink into the sand. He wanted to hear death gurgle in his throat.

When he felt a strong tug on his boot, he glanced down to see Lesley shaking her head and pleading with her eyes. She lived
!

His hand trembled as opposing emotions surged through him. She did not want him to kill the man who would have killed her, but he hated Hooper and could see nothing wrong in ridding the world of such a depraved creature.

Lesley’s eyes brimmed with tears as she formed the word
no
with her sweet lips. That’s when he remembered he did not want to be a pirate anymore. He only wanted Lesley by his side--forever. He lowered his arm, stowed the knife in his boot and swept Lesley into his arms.

* * * *

Lesley could not talk and struggled to breathe, but feeling Harlan’s arms around her and his lips on hers lent her a far different strength.

“
Hooper would have killed you. If he regains his senses, he will try again.” Harlan whispered in her ear.  

She put a hand up and gently pushed him away, though she longed to stay in his arms, but neither of them could risk Hooper waking and calling for his fellow pirates. She pointed to the vines used to fashion the crude table.

Harlan nodded in understanding. Pulling out the vines, he tied Hooper’s hands together. Her hands shook, but she whipped the sturdy vines around Hooper’s feet. Though he remained in a stupor, he stirred briefly. Lesley ripped off the bottom of her pants and handed the strip of cloth to Harlan. He wound a gag about the man’s mouth and knotted it securely in back of his head.

They both paused when they heard footsteps shuffling toward the hut. Harlan drew out his blade and handed Hooper
’s knife to her. She closed her eyes, aware of the inevitable. While there had been too much killing and destruction, in this backward time the strongest survived. If they wanted to live, they had to fight—and win.

Gripping the handle of the knife, she
held her breath as a plank of wood laden with braised fish and steaming mussels appeared beneath the flap of canvas along with a bottle. The footsteps scurried away.

Lesley crawled to the food and picked up a tender portion of fish. She still could not speak, but she sure as hell would do her best to swallow whatever her narrowed esophagus could manage.

Harlan followed her example and the food disappeared in minutes. It wasn’t much but it was the most protein either of them had consumed in days. They shared the water.

Hooper groaned.

Lesley pulled at a few of the boards along the back wall of the hut abutting the rock. Harlan used the tabletop to shore up the structure so it would not fall in upon them. Lesley crawled out, carrying the empty bottle. Harlan followed her. They both crept low, keeping beneath the shelter of the verdant palmettos. As soon as they were safely out of sight of the camp, Lesley hopped onto Harlan’s back.

“
When we reach our boat, we leave this island,” Harlan said.

Lesley forced herself to speak though her throat still hurt from Hooper
’s hands. “Jibby?”

“
Dead.”

Anguish swept through her. He had been so young, so good. The few friends she had made in this ancient world never lasted long. She clung fiercely to Harlan. Would he die, too? An ache welled up from the depths of her soul and she closed her eyes. If she lost him, she could not bear it.

“Forgive me, for I did not bury him. The vultures ....”

Despair took away her last spark of hope. The odds of survival in this wretched time were appalling.

“I saw Elsbeth.” He stopped for a moment and shuddered.

She opened her eye
s and glanced about them, fearing their foes would be hot on their heels. She saw no one, but that did not ease her apprehension.

He shifted her weight and went onward.
“She came as a phantom, begging for my forgiveness and an end to my anger. Afterward, I fell into a stupor. When I woke, the vultures had come.”

“
Elsbeth ....” She thought she had seen Elsbeth, too. Had that been some sort of dream or hallucination? Elsbeth had also mentioned Harlan’s love. That he had come to rescue her seemed proof of his concern for her. But love? Could she love someone from such a barbaric time? Still, he had not killed Hooper at her request. Maybe he could reform.

Then there was the matter of the charm. Could she
return to her own time? How? If she did return to 2011, she would never see Harlan again. Cold steel clamped around her heart.

Harlan paused again at the edge of the wide plateau. He lowered Lesley to the ground.
“Stay here, out of sight. I will fill the bottle.” He took it and went off to the rivulet, leaving her in the relative safety of the bushes. 

But she did not feel secure at all. She glanced all around wondering if Hooper had recovered and sent his band of thugs in pursuit. Anxious, she kept track of Harlan’s progress on the open plain.