He gave an ornery but proud grin. “Exactly that.” I wondered how long he’d been a scourge of the seas. “I think you should head to town,” he suggested, “before things get too wild. The rum flows like rivers here, and after dark, the riverbanks teem with rats.”
I looked out the doors behind him where the sun had already dipped below the landscape, giving way to night.
Edward chuckled. “I can almost read your mind. ‘The moon is full. There’s plenty enough light to guide me to town.’”
“I’m not afraid of the dark,” I grumped.
He glanced toward the stake still clutched in my right hand. “Good. Never fear the dark, Eve. Fear the things that hide within it. And keep that handy.”
Chapter Three
Eve
From the ship’s deck, a dark orange glow to the west was losing its battle against the inky sky. But there was a brighter glow to the east where Brutulo lay beyond the sparse palms, a place of rest for weary sailors… or pirates.
Edward’s ship was anchored alone in a deep, secluded bay. Edward rowed me to shore, the entire time reminding me of his expectations of me regarding Enoch. I didn’t care how much gold he gave me; I wasn’t lying to Enoch for him or anyone else.
“You realize that I can’t promise he’ll release you from your debt.”
“I know,” Edward grunted as he rowed against the cresting waves. The dingy rose and then fell hard as we glided over them, trying to cross the line of breakers. “But it’s worth the chance. I have a ton of treasure. So much, that the coin in that pouch is meaningless to me.”
Must be nice to be filthy rich. And free.
“Where would a young man go if he was new to town?” I asked. Edward stopped rowing. “I’m looking for a friend.”
Edward shrugged before working the oars back and forth. A wave tilted the small boat onto its side and filled the bottom with seawater. I grabbed the sides of the boat and let out a string of curses that made Edward’s calm brows raise.
“What were we talking about before your foul mouth sullied the air?” he smarted, as if he hadn’t heard worse from the men on his ship. “Ah, yes… where to find a young man, new to town and so forth.” Edward pretended to ponder the question. He seemed to enjoy needling my impatience. “He’d have his pick of prostitutes, if he’s lonely. If not, follow the smell of rum. He’ll be in one of the taverns.”
“What if he was wounded?” I hinted.
Edward’s stormy eyes locked onto mine. “What sort of wound?”
“Never mind. He’s probably in a tavern.”
When I splattered onto the earth in thirteen forty-eight, I decided I hated the ground. I hated the dirt and the earth and the scent of mud and manure. But after splashing into the ocean and nearly drowning, only to be hauled onto a pirate ship and sequestered in a cabin, my appreciation for the sand and dirt beneath my feet had been restored. Edward helped me climb out of the rowboat.
“Will Enoch know you as Edward, or are you known by another name?” A pirate name, perhaps?
“So very subtle, Eve. He will know me as Edward Thatch, though most know me as Blackbeard.” He playfully tugged on the strands of his namesake.
“Great. I’ll be sure to tell him,” I blandly promised, letting the sand sink between my toes. Edward hesitated on the sand, staring off wistfully toward the glow of Brutulo. “You’re not going into town?”
“It’s not wise to leave a ship unguarded.”
“Afraid someone will take her?”
He laughed. “Exactly that. After all, I stole her fair and square.” Edward gave the small boat a hard shove into the surf and jumped aboard, gathering the oars in his hands and rowing back over the breakers. He patiently carved a path to deeper water where his precious stolen ship waited for him.
I made tracks in the wet sand, following the light and the lapping sea water into town.
Edward had described her perfectly. Brutulo was brimming with prostitutes, taverns, and brawling men, most missing at least half their teeth. It stunk worse than a field full of manure, worse than a ship full of filthy sailors… because there were many ships docked here, full of many filthy sailors, and personal hygiene wasn’t a priority in this time. In fact, it wasn’t even a consideration.
I was reminded of the only thing I knew that smelled worse. As gross as Brutulo stank, it still wasn’t as bad as the sweet-rotten stench of death. I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget the fetid miasma of plague-ridden Edenshire.
I kept to the shadows, ducking between and behind small thatched buildings, looking for clothing to steal. The gown Enoch provided me was ruined. Not just because of the salt water, but because traveling was also hard on fabric. The wind had almost torn it apart, and what the wind didn’t ruin, the water did. Despite its sad shape, I wanted to keep it. Or at the very least, a piece of it.
The huts that looked like homes were empty, but sturdier-built taverns brimmed full. The merchants had already closed their shops and removed their goods from the makeshift stands set up along the sandy streets, and I couldn’t find a single clothes line that wasn’t bare.
There was one option, however. In addition to the taverns being busy… so were the houses of, uh, ill repute. Slipping through the back door of a questionable establishment, I crept through the dimly lit rooms and up the stairs, avoiding the doors that were closed and the rooms that were occupied, and rushing into one that was open. I closed the door and scurried to the closet, pushing sheer robes and lacy underthings to the side. Please tell me there’s something of substance in here.
The sound of footsteps came from down the hall. Someone paused just outside the door, the shadows of a pair of feet swaying with the candlelight in the hallway. My heart skipped a beat as I waited for the door handle to turn, for someone to walk in and catch me. The person lingered for a moment and then the shadows under the door shifted and the footsteps trailed away.
It was definitely time to leave. I let out a pent-up breath and kept searching. The more I sifted through, the more risqué the garments became. I held up a strappy piece, trying to understand how it was worn, but gave up when I couldn’t figure it out.
My eyes caught on something hanging in the back of the closet, something the color of the sea I’d plunged into; a garment I didn’t expect to find, but was soooo damn glad I did. The gown was smooth and cool like silk, but made of thicker fabric. It was beautiful, probably imported, and likely a gift from a wealthy patron.
As I held the dress aloft, a loud crash came from the hallway, followed by the high-pitched screech of a woman and the angry, deep voice of a man. I clutched the fabric against my chest.
The fight outside escalated as they berated one another. They started moving toward my direction, and while I wasn’t sure which room they were headed to, there was no reason to linger any longer. I’d gotten what I came for. I tossed a few coins from Edward’s pouch on the bed and raised the window pane, slipping out onto the tile roof. With careful steps, I made my way down to the edge and jumped to the ground.
My fingers fumbled with the salt-stiffened buttons at the back of my neck. When the fabric finally parted enough for me to squeeze my head through, I ducked out of the gown and quickly tossed it on the ground. Unzipping my tech suit and pulling the top half down, I swiftly pulled the dress over my head and tugged my arms into the cap sleeves.