The Devil's Tide (28 page)

The crack of thunder gave her a violent start, for it was alarmingly close, and there had been no lightning to foreshadow it. Kate pushed off the rail, scanning the horizon aft of the ship, in the direction she thought the report had sounded from.

A flurry of movement on the main deck seized her attention. She took a few cautious steps forward. A man rushed up to the lantern nearest the bow, and she glimpsed the comely face of Gabe Jenkins before he doused the light. An instant later, the second lantern was extinguished, and the entire deck was pitched in darkness.

She heard a shuffling of feet, maybe ten or twelve men rushing about. She heard a man gasp, then a strange groan that trailed into silence. Someone protested, "Wait, no! Please!" and then said no more. Another man said, "Ogle? Is that you?" followed by a gurgling noise, and then fell silent. A would-be scream was smothered in its infancy. Shadows were moving from spot to spot, crouching and rising.

When she saw the sharp outline of a cutlass, she ducked low, clutching the hilt of her own. How many had they killed already? She retreated to the bulwark, setting her back against it, and prayed no one knew she was there.

A muffled shriek emanated from the hold. A flurry of movement below trembled the deck. Someone shouted, "I yield! I yieeeeld!" and then howled gruesomely.

The girl is down there,
she reminded herself. Not that she could do anything for her. They were too far removed.

She let her eyes adapt to the darkness, watching for more shadows, but she saw no further movement.
They must have all gone down to the hold.
She slid along the starboard bulwark, hunched low, moving toward the captain's quarters. She had to get to Nathan. He was the only one she could trust right now.

If he's still alive.

Her toes caught on something soft, and she went tumbling over it, landing hard on her palms. She dragged her legs off of whatever she had tripped over. She reached out to the dark mound, and her fingers sank into something wet and squishy. She fought an instinct to recoil, sliding her fingers up the surface, which was mushy in places and hard in others, until she felt hair. It was a human face, completely bashed in. She jerked her hand away, gasping hoarsely in terror.

Something shuffled behind her. She spun, whipping her cutlass from its sheath in a single, fluid motion. Her arm seemed to hit a brick wall, halting in midair. A shadow loomed over her, clutching her wrist. He shoved her away and she crumpled to the deck before him. "I'm not your enemy, lass," said a familiar voice.

"Bellamy?"

The surgeon leaned close, offering his hand. She took it, and he helped her back to her feet.

"They're killing everyone," she nearly shouted.

"Quiet," he said. "That was Yarlow you just stuck your hand in. Candler's dead too."

Kate was in the process of wiping the goo off her hands onto the rail, but she stopped as the words registered. She clutched her stomach, struggling not to vomit as the metallic taste of bile saturated her mouth. She met Yarlow her first day aboard
Crusader
and liked him instantly. He had seemed to enjoy her company in return, recounting his horrific capture by slavers in Africa to his recruitment by Guy Dillahunt, who had intercepted the slave ship that was transporting him.

Candler, on the other hand, she had encountered only briefly. The man seemed intimidated by female company, and she was never able to speak more than two words to him before he hurried off in another direction.

"Why would anybody kill them?" she rasped, gripping her belly. "They were harmless!"

"I don't know, but I'm not waiting around to ask."

She almost laughed. "Where are we gonna go?"

He hesitated. She couldn't see his features, but she knew he was thinking. "I don't know. We'll take one of the boats if we have to."

"We have to get to the cabin first."

"I know," Bellamy muttered grimly. "I heard it too."

"I thought it was thunder."

"It wasn't."

The surgeon moved ahead and she followed closely, hand on his shoulder. They continued along the starboard side until they were nearly to the captain's cabin, when the door slammed open and light spilled out. Annabelle emerged, a gun in her hand. Bellamy pulled Kate down low, back to the rail. Annabelle looked around cautiously. "Ogle?" she called.

Ogle ascended from the hold, stepping into the orange column of light streaming out of the captain's cabin. He was half covered in blood and smiling like a child. Red droplets fell from his blade, pattering the deck. "The deed is done," he proclaimed.

Annabelle smiled with confidence. "Teach will be pleased." She shifted suddenly, aiming a finger at Kate and Bellamy. "Grab those two."

Bellamy stood before Kate, drawing his cutlass. His silver hair shimmered in the light of the cabin. Ogle approached eagerly, licking his red lips. "Put away the blade, old man. You'll only cut yourself."

"I've cut many men," Bellamy replied casually. "Both with scalpel and sword. Never cut myself."

Ogle advanced until their blades crossed, and the metal screeched as the edges scraped. "And I've killed twelve men tonight. What makes you think you'll be the man to end my murderous spree?"

The surgeon grinned. "I don't doubt your skill against snoring opponents, but I have the advantage of being awake."

A third blade appeared, resting on Bellamy's neck. Kate looked sideways, and there was one of the Maynards, grinning broadly. She had no idea whether it was Dick or Richard. "We'll put you to rest soon enough," the Maynard assured Bellamy.

Bellamy's eyes swept from Ogle to Maynard, back and forth. After a moment he released his blade, letting it clang on the deck.

Annabelle stepped forward. "That's better. Now, who do you serve, old man?"

Bellamy frowned. "What kind of question is that?"

"Don't be rude to the lady," Ogle grated. "She asked who you serve."

"I don't answer daft questions."

Kate shrank behind Bellamy's legs.

Annabelle tilted sideways to get a look at her and then looked at Bellamy again. "You'll find this daft question far more difficult to answer with a sword in your belly. Who do you serve?"

Bellamy spat at her feet. "Enjoy your lofty position while you can, girly. It won't last long."

The strumpet sighed impatiently. "I'll ask once more. Who do you serve?"

The Maynard leaned close and whispered in Bellamy's ear, "This is the part where you say, 'Blackbeard.'"

Bellamy wrenched his face in disgust. "This is the part where I tell you to fuck a blowfish. I'm a surgeon. I serve the wounded."

Ogle looked around. "Then you serve no one. They're all dead." He plunged his cutlass into the surgeon's gut. Bellamy doubled over Ogle's shoulder, trembling face turning purple, eyes bulging from their sockets. Ogle jerked the blade sharply upward, shearing through the old man. Kate glimpsed the sharpened tip moving up his back in a red line. When the sword moved no further, Ogle pulled it out, and Bellamy fell dead.

With her shield gone, Kate was completely exposed before Annabelle, Ogle, and the Maynard. They gathered around her, with Annabelle in the center, hands on her hips. "I'll have a word with you now, unless you'd care to join your friend."

"More of an acquaintance," Kate said as she got to her feet as casually as possible and stepped over Bellamy's corpse.

"Until a few moments ago, I'm sure," Annabelle quipped with a shrewd smile. She offered her hand. "You're skilled at making friends when you require them."

Kate moved past her, toward the cabin. Annabelle followed, with Ogle and the Maynard flanking her. Kate struggled to keep her breath shallow as she stepped through the door. She knew Annabelle would be studying her for a reaction.

There are no surprises in here. You know what you'll find.

He was splayed on his back across the desk, legs hooked over the front. The bullet had penetrated his brow, just above his left eye. Blood streamed out of his ear, collecting upon a dark red mass that had oozed from the back of his skull. His expression was frozen in dumb shock.

Nathan, you bloody idiot. Were you truly surprised?

Ogle's cutlass loosed a metallic shriek as he sheathed it, nearly causing Kate to jump out of her skin. She managed to keep her feet firmly planted. She glanced sidelong at the big man, wondering if she could snatch the weapon from his belt and elude his sweaty, bloody hands quickly enough to sink it into Annabelle's neck. A few hacks to sever that pretty head from those perfect shoulders.

The strumpet's voice was gently modulated. "He gave me little choice, I'm afraid."

Kate sensed Annabelle's eyes on her back, and she knew better than to turn away from Nathan too quickly. She gradually swiveled to face her, crossing her arms. "So it's true what they say."

The strumpet cocked her head inquisitively. "What's that?"

"Blackbeard holds grudges."

Annabelle's eyelids fluttered in bewilderment. "I have to confess, I expected a different reaction."

Kate put on a honeyed smile. "Expected, or hoped for?"

"I worried that I might need to kill you. I worried that the sight of him might drive you to do something rash. Forgive the theatrics, but I had to know." Annabelle gestured at Nathan's corpse. "You should have another look, before we give his body to the sea." She frowned. "Sailors always say that. 'Give his body to the sea.' Does that make them feel better about dying at sea? I think it's horrific. Imagine what happens to a body down there, nibbled apart by fish. I can't think of anything worse."

"I don't think the dead care," Kate mused. "Only the living dwell on such things."

"You're so smart," Annabelle said, but Kate detected a hint of sarcasm. "Really, you should have a last look. He was your friend, wasn't he?"

"I saw him," Kate promised her. "It's a good clean shot. Do you make a habit of killing?"

"What do you think?" The strumpet spread her hands. "I just claimed a ship in naught but a few moments."

"With your own hands, I mean."

Annabelle tightened the belt of her robe. "He was my first."

"And you're eager for more?"

Annabelle's hands slid away from the belt, moving behind her back, where she interlocked her fingers. "I'll do what I have to do. Whether I enjoy it or not is beside the point."

Kate hazarded a step forward, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Ogle clutch the hilt of his cutlass. "I'm worth nothing dead."

"You're worth nothing to me either way," Annabelle argued. "I can't exactly claim your bounty, can I?"

"Oh, I'm certain Blackbeard has his ways. He just took a ship without lifting a finger. One of his spies could turn me in and relay the reward to him. But you already know this, or you would have killed me by now."

Annabelle's eyes narrowed. "You're a keen woman. Come now, are you not the least bit sad?"

"Nathan was a fool," Kate replied with a lazy wave of her hand in the general direction of Nathan's corpse. "I tried to kill him myself once, did he tell you that? Probably not. Five days isn't a generous amount of time to get reacquainted. I'm sure most of the catch-up was spent in the bed, yes?"

Annabelle reached out to touch Kate's arm. It took everything Kate had to not flinch away abhorrently. "He was interested in little else," the strumpet giggled. "You know how it is."

Kate joined in her laughter, but Kate's laugh was distinctly bitter. "Oh yes, let's bond over the men we've killed, shall we? Did Nathan murder your husband and take you against your will as well?"

Annabelle took a step forward, raising her hand, and for an instant Kate was certain she was going to strike. Annabelle's fingers delved into her hair, pushing it back from her missing ear. "That must have been painful. What happened?"

"Jonathan Griffith's quartermaster was hungry."

Annabelle recoiled. "Edward Livingston?"

"You knew him?"

Her eyes darkened. "I wish I didn't." She faced Nathan's corpse, putting her back to Kate. It was a while before she spoke again. "I wonder where I'd be if not for that man."

Kate was very curious to find out what Livingston had done to this woman. "Set you on a dark path, did he?"

"That's a matter of perspective."

Kate couldn't help herself, blurting, "And you've smartly murdered anyone who doesn't share your perspective."

Annabelle turned and placed a hand flat across her chest. "My God, I love how funny you are."

"I wasn't trying to be funny."

"Probably not," the strumpet replied with a saccharine smile. "You have a natural sort of wit." She tapped her chin with her index finger in contemplation, eyes descending. "I'm curious. Would you be so amusing without clothes?"

"I don't follow."

The strumpet grinned, perfect white teeth contrasting mahogany skin. "Let me help you." She snapped her fingers at Ogle. "Unburden her." Ogle stared at Annabelle questioningly. Annabelle sighed. "Take off her clothes."

Ogle's eyes brightened as comprehension struck him, and he stepped forth without hesitation, huge hands grasping at Kate's clothing. She made no attempt to pull away as the big man easily shredded her shirt and tossed it to the floor. She slapped her hands over her breasts.

Annabelle continued to tap her chin inquisitively. "Despite the little bits of skin you like to tease the men around you with, I think you prefer wearing clothes."

Kate smiled obliviously. "If you're hoping for equal ground, I have a lot of catching up to do."

Annabelle looked at Ogle. "Why have you stopped? Don't you want to know what she looks like down there?"

Ogle nodded hungrily and proceeded to slide Kate's pants down her legs. He stared at her crotch the entire time, never blinking.

"You match," Annabelle said with a wicked smile, biting her fingernail. "How exciting! You never know with redheads."

After Ogle had bunched her breeches at her ankles, his clammy hands slipped around one of her thighs, grasping tightly, and he smashed his face against her skin. Kate remained still as his tongue darted out of his mouth and slid up her thigh, tugging at her skin like the underside of a slug. He gradually made his way toward the nook between her legs. She let her mind wander. She thought about the gently rolling waves of the ocean on a clear day. She tried to imagine how lovely the warm Caribbean water would feel against her bare skin, with the hot sun beating down on her shoulders.