A Pirate's Revenge (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (2 page)

“Why? So, he can gloat?”

Doc shook his head. “Da capt’n’s worried about you. He’d have been here, but Hannah’s still not fully healed, and after one of Palmer’s men was seen in Tortuga, he’s too scared to leave the lass.” He lowered his voice. “He never wanted you to suffer our fate.” 

His warm tone reminded William of a father consoling the youngest son abandoned by an older brother. William didn’t argue. Christ, he knew his brother didn’t want him to be cursed. Hell, William didn’t want to be cursed. He waited for his incisors to lengthen and waited for the undeniable thirst. He’d seen how Kane suffered. Soon food would turn to sand in William’s mouth, and he wouldn’t be able to swallow anything, not even water. He’d be a roaming corpse, lusting for his next pint of blood. Trying to get his mind off his upcoming gloom, William tilted his head. “Any word on Palmer and his damn witch?”

Doc’s face clouded. “Da devil’s gone into hiding. No doubt da bastard’s stolen another ship. We won’t know who she is until da ship fires on us.”

William placed his palm on the cool window. “Aye, I’m sure of that.” The
Soaring Phoenix
was anchored in Tortuga’s bay, her sails doused. The crew nailed the last boards to repair the
Phoenix’s
damaged hull from their recent gory battle with Palmer. Men mopped and scrubbed the wood while others rolled barrels of water and gun powder onto the deck. Cook was busy hustling in boxes of vittles. “The repairs are almost done,” William said. “And we’ll hunt Palmer down and finish him once and for all.”     

“Capt’n’s says tonight’s our last day for shore leave. Tomorrow, we sail out to sea to pursue Palmer, the devil himself.” Doc studied him, the merriment leaving his face, replaced with his intense surgeon’s eyes and tight-lipped mouth. “William, d’ye not feel anythun’?”

William sat on the edge of the bed, tapped his foot rapidly on the floor, and gripped his trousers. He flitted his tongue over his teeth and felt nothing jagged. Maybe he had escaped his brother’s fate. Mother of mercy, he hoped so. “I feel well. Maybe I’m not cursed.”

“Then why would Lark ask for your forgiveness after he cast da spell?”

“How the hell would I know why a witch would ask for forgiveness? Witches are liars and in league with demons.”

Doc lowered his gaze. William winced at his harsh tone. He shouldn’t have spoken to Doc that way, but he was drowning in fear, a fear of what he was going to become. Why
had
Lark asked for forgiveness? The witch’s face had been filled with sorrow when he uttered 
nogard
. Kane suspected it had been an incantation straight from Coaybay. After Lark had said it, William had twirled around in the air like a tornado. He passed out and remembered no more until he awoke a few days later on board the
Phoenix
, the battle forgotten. All except that word. It haunted him. Lark’s voice echoed in his mind over and over. What the hell
did
it mean?

“You should be feelin’ da hunger now,” Doc said. “Your fangs should be gettin’ pointy like this.” He lifted his lip and bared his sharp, elongated, vampire canines.

“I’m not hungry, and my teeth are the same. See?” William peeled back his lips and revealed his teeth.

“I don’t understand. This is different than when we were first cursed.”

“I told you, I’m not cursed.” William didn’t know who he was trying to convince more himself or Doc.

Doc raised an eyebrow. “Not bloody likely. Ronan said as long as Lark done wore da
yari
he was Palmer’s pet slave. So, you think Lark cast da spell an’ you twirled around in da air to fool Palmer?”

Heat washed over William’s cheeks, and he wanted to thrash Doc for stating the obvious. Something he didn’t want to believe. Dread nestled in his gut. Something evil would happen. He chose to ignore the foreboding and hung onto his faith of escaping his brother’s fate.

“Nothing has happened,” William said. “And nothing
will
happen. You can tell my brother I don’t need a nursemaid.”

Doc put his hands behind his back and cleared his throat.

The sun sank deeper, and the sky darkened. “Black magic has cursed us,” William said.

“Not all magic is evil.”

William snorted. A witch hadn’t betrayed the woman Doc loved, either. “Who told you this? A witch?”

“There’s good magic out there, lad.”

“I don’t believe it. Magic is evil. You of all people should know this.” William leaned against the wall. “Look what magic has done to you.” 

Doc glanced out the window. “Aye, ’tis not been an easy life,” he said, his voice fading.  

William wished he hadn’t sounded so disgusted. Doc deserved better than this life. They all did. Although Kane had taught his men how to drink from humans without killing them, William didn’t want to be like them. They were monsters, bloody parasites, feeding on the living.

A sudden pain throbbed in William’s jaw. He opened his mouth and shut it. He rubbed the side of it. ’Twas swollen. Why the hell was it swollen? His heart beat faster at the realization he was about to shift into a leech.

“Sumthun wrong?” 

“I don’t know.”

He rolled his tongue over his teeth and scraped over something keen at the back of his jaw. “Doc, are my eyes red?”

“No. Why?”

“I felt something sharp.”

“Open your mouth. I don’t see anythun.”

William huffed, annoyed. His imagination was toying with him. He’d been believing the worst, and he sailed free from it.

Doc put his hand on the window. “Soon, I’ll have to leave you. I need to feed.”

William hung his head. “I know.”

When Kane and his crew left to feed on their victims, William would stay aboard ship and get drunk. For the past year, he’d played the coward. Sometimes he’d awaken from a drunken slumber in a cold sweat, fear pumping through his veins, convinced they were attacking him, their teeth tearing into his flesh and draining his blood. The crew had never fed on him, but who would not have nightmares living on a vampire ship for weeks?  

He could have left, abandoned his brother. But Kane was all he had left, his only family. Without Kane and the crew of the
Soaring Phoenix
, as a mortal, he had no chance of killing Palmer and avenging his mother’s murder.

He needed a drink. A bottle of rum always blocked out the curse. He rubbed his neck, not wanting to think of Ireland, his mother, Palmer or vampires. “I shall go back to the
Phoenix
.” 

A red-hot pain struck his gut and he gasped. He doubled over and tried to breathe. 

“Are you well?” Doc asked, his voice filled with concern. 

William panted and tried to speak, but as if invisible large hands choked his throat, words failed to form. He managed to blurt out, “No.” He sat on the double bed. Sweat beaded his skin, his clothes plastering against him like molten tar. “I’m so hot.” He inhaled deep breaths in effort to remain calm. “Doc, can you open the window?”

Doc clasped his shoulder. “William, you’re growin’ pale.”

William motioned with his hand. “Please open the damn window.”

Doc unlatched the French window and pushed open the sides. “Feel better?”

“No, I can’t breathe.”

Doc put his hand to William’s forehead. “You’re hotter than a burning coal in hell.”

“I’ve got to take my shirt off. Bloody hell, my pants are melting into my skin.” Sweat dripping into his eyes, William shed his shirt and tossed it on the floor, and then wrenched off his boots. He leaned over and put his elbows on his knees, resting his head in his palms.

“William?”

“I’m dying, Doc. I’ve never felt this hot.” He unbuckled his belt and stripped out of his pants. “What’s happening to me?”

“Maybe da curse is different with you.”

“Not what I wanted to hear. Grand, just grand.” 

Doc grabbed a pitcher off the dresser and poured water into a cup. “Here, drink, lad.”

William could hardly take a sip, his hands trembled so badly. The tepid water trickled down his throat, but his stomach revolted as if he had swallowed sea water. He spit it out onto the floor and dropped the cup. Spasms gripped his gut. He bent over and moaned, but his moan changed into a screech. 

“’Tis da curse, lad. I’m sorry.”

William shook his head. His long hair fell and stuck to his wet face.

Breathe.

He toppled off the bed onto his hands and knees. He arched his back and yelled. The pain was excruciating, unbearable. Muscles twisted, bones cracked, and moved beneath his skin as if they were stretching, increasing in size, growing. His skin constricted tighter and tighter.  

“My God,” Doc whispered. “Your back…”

William’s shoulders bulged. He threw his head back in agony. Something twisted around in the middle of his back as if a sword pierced bone, tissue, and organs. What had Lark done to him?  “Something…is…inside me, Doc,” William said, his voice strained. Another burst of pain silenced him then slowly subsided. He hissed. “Stop it. Before—”

Another wave of torture ripped through him and stomped out his thought. 

“I don’t know what to do, lad.”

William’s arms gave way, and he fell onto his stomach. The cold wooden floor failed to cool his sweltering body. A memory of swimming with Kane in a freezing lake on his father’s land in Ireland one summer’s day popped into his mind. He wished he could throw himself into the icy water now.

Something tore through the flesh of his back. He cried out in anguish, but his screams sounded more like a vulture’s shriek.

Black wings flapped back and forth, and chilly air swirled over his body. He had wings! What kind of vampire was he?

He shuddered. Tears welled in his eyes.

Footsteps thudded down the hall. Someone pounded on the door. “Doc!”

Kane
.

The door slammed open. Kane and Hannah burst into the room.

William turned his head, glad his hair prevented him from seeing his beautiful Hannah. Though she given her heart to Kane, William didn’t want her to see him like this, to see the disgust and horror in those brown doe eyes. But he couldn’t help sneaking a peak, only to see her edging closer to Kane, and a familiar loss gripped him. She had chosen Kane over him. 

His face grim, Kane gripped his sword. “Bloody hell.”

Bones crunched, and William’s nose contorted, growing longer and longer and longer. He swept his tongue along a mouth of razor-sharp teeth.

Hannah grabbed Kane’s arm. “Kane, what’s—”

Kane yanked his arm free and stepped in front of her. “Hannah, get back.” 

She slipped around him, her face white. “Kane, he’s turning into a…a…a dragon,” she said, her voice tiny.

No, it couldn’t be. But William was powerless to stop it. His fingers elongated and curled under, turning into talons. His legs lengthened, and his chest broadened. Before his very eyes, his skin transformed into black and green scales.

Freedom.
A strange voice rang in his head, announcing the word like a trumpet. ’Twasn’t his own. Now, he was hearing bloody voices. Who’s was it? Zuto’s? Lark’s?

William’s gut grumbled. His mouth watered. He was hungry. Not just mildly hungry. ’Twas a hunger that made him weak as if he had been lost at sea and starving for weeks.

Kane lowered his sword and took a step. “William, I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Can you hear me?”

Hannah pulled on Kane’s arm. “Kane, stay back. He’ll kill you.” 

Her lower lip trembled. Doc pulled his blade slowly out of the sheath. Every muscle in William’s body tightened. He wanted to hide and avoid their stares. He read their faces.
Monster.
How many times had he recoiled from Kane and his men? This time he was the hideous monster. The abomination. The beast. 

“He’s my brother.” Kane pulled free of Hannah’s grip.  

William would never hurt his brother. But he couldn’t be sure the dragon inside him wouldn’t.

William crashed through the window and glass spattered around him. The slivers of glass plummeted toward the busy street below, pelting carriages, horses, men, and women. Terrified people ran for cover, shielding their eyes with their palms. 

Wings flattened against his back, he plunged head-first toward the ground. He gnashed his teeth and stretched out his arms over his head, ready to feel pain. Air whirled around him, and his fingertips brushed dirt. Dust clouded his vision, and grime coated his lips. He coughed and gagged. 

Wings flapped, and he was soaring into the air. God almighty!

“The devil’s heading for the sky!” cried a man.

Below, people pointed. “’Tis a demon.”

“No, ’tis a dragon. Run for your lives!”

Panic and fear heralded from their voices. An urge to devour fresh, raw meat consumed William. 

Slay. 

The frightened darted across the dusty street into buildings, but some brave fools aimed and fired their weapons. Bullets whipped past him. He roared, and to his surprise, fire burst from his mouth. He swooped down, and men scattered. A white horse tethered to a post whinnied as its eyes rolled backward. It bucked and pulled on the reins.