The Devil's Fire (32 page)

He rapped on the door of the first room. When no answer came, he moved to the second. After a moment, a female voice said, "Who’s there?"

"I’m Captain Benjamin Hornigold," he answered.

"I don’t know you," came her muffled reply.

"I know
you
," he called. "Can we talk for a moment?"

"I don’t think so."

"I imagine you’re hungry," Hornigold said.

He waited. The door opened. The light spilled in on the wildest mane of red hair he’d ever seen. The face within was beautiful, but clearly exhausted and pained. Her lips were cracked, her left cheek was bruised, and blood stained her torn shirt, which she was holding closed with a clenched fist. She squinted in the sun, squeezing one eye closed.

Hornigold offered his hand. She regarded it suspiciously for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, and finally took it. He guided her to a little round table and offered her a chair. She pulled away from his grasp and sat down. She tossed her hair out of her face, and for a moment he glimpsed her right ear, or rather the hole where he ear should have been, before her hair fell back into place. He held in a gasp of revulsion.

"What do you want?" she asked, looking out across the harbor. Her hoarse voice broke on the last word.

Hornigold took off his long maroon coat and hung it over his chair before sitting opposite the woman. He brushed wayward bits of dust from his white shirt and adjusted the white handkerchief that hung loose around his neck. Finally, he revealed his intent. "I’m looking for Katherine Lindsay."

If that name meant anything to her, she managed not to show it. "I don’t know who that is."

"She went missing a year ago." Hornigold set one leg across the other and rubbed annoying smudges of sand from his polished leather boot. "Her husband was killed by pirates. The family is looking for her."

"That’s sad," the redhead said, her incredulous expression betraying no hint of emotion.

"She was kidnapped by a rather elusive pirate named Jonathon Griffith. I knew him briefly. A generally decent man." Her right eye twitched, but Hornigold couldn’t be sure if that was a reaction to the sunlight or the sting of his intentional baiting. "Griffith perished last night, just out there," he pointed to the bay. "Perhaps you saw the fire?"

"I did," she said. She looked at him. "You take the time to personally inform every resident of this?"

Hornigold smiled politely. "Most of the pirates on that ship are dead. Those few that were caught will hang shortly. However, a one-armed young man named Nathan Adams presented himself to Woodes Rogers yesterday."

She blinked.

"It seems this Adams is eager to claim the reward for Lindsay’s safe return. He claims that he served as a deckhand on Lindsay’s ship and was taken hostage along with her. He claims that Lindsay and he escaped from Griffith’s ship last night and swam to shore."

"That’s a wild story," the redhead said with a smirk. "Rogers believe everything he hears?"

"Certainly not," Hornigold said. He realized that he had been idly stroking his moustache and promptly jerked his hand away. It was an annoying habit he had never been successful in smothering. "However, it’s a claim worth investigating while young Adams sits in a cell awaiting execution." He studied her for a reaction.

"He’s going to hang?" she said, her chin quivering very slightly. She looked into the wind, hair sweeping past her face.

Hornigold resisted a smile. He had found his woman. "Only if he’s lying," he said.

Sassy Sally’s portly cook ascended the stairs at that moment and lumbered up to them. He set a bowl of turtle soup before Hornigold and glared fiercely at him. Hornigold seized the man by his collar. "Bring me a second bowl, minus your saliva."

The cook shrugged innocently. "I dunno what you mean."

"Listen to me, you shit, the soup isn’t for me, it’s for the lady." The cook’s eyes darted from Hornigold to the woman. "Now bring her another bowl or I will split you from cock to—"

"Yes," the cook nodded frantically, "‘Cock to apple.’ I heard you say this inside! My mistake! I thought soup was for you." He pulled away, retrieved the soup and shuffled off.

Hornigold sat back down. The redhead merely raised an eyebrow. "Chivalry is alive and well in the Caribbean, I see."

"They don’t like me here. It seems I’ve stifled much of their business."

The cook returned rather swiftly, depositing another bowl on the table, this time in front of the woman. He bowed slightly and smiled nervously. "Apologies," he said, and threw Hornigold a furious glare before scurrying away.

The woman stared uncertainly at the murky contents of the bowl. "Eat," Hornigold insisted. "You appear famished." She greedily seized the spoon and slurped up the soup. Her shirt fell open and Hornigold shifted to one side, hoping to catch sight of a nipple. Unfortunately her damnable hair deprived him from this angle. When she had emptied the bowl, she tossed the spoon in, slid it back to him, and returned her sight to the bay.

"You are Katherine Lindsay, are you not?"

"I am not," she replied easily.

"That’s unfortunate," Hornigold said. His hand inevitably drifted toward his moustache as he wondered if he should return with guards to seize this woman. "Might I ask what your name is, then?"

"Kate," she replied, and for the first time, she actually smiled.

"Kate?" he said, astonished at the nerve of this woman.

She tossed a cavalier hand in the air and said, "It’s a common name."

Hornigold winced as his fingers absently gave his moustache a fierce tug. He dropped his hand to his lap and held his wrist firmly in place. "Tell me, Kate, what’s to keep me from dragging you before Rogers?"

Her lips parted, revealing clenched teeth. "It would be very foolish to present a false woman to Lindsay’s family."

"Oh you are false; of that I’ve no doubt," Hornigold proclaimed, standing and slipping his coat back on. It had grown a tad chilly for his liking, and this conversation was nearing its end. "But you are also Katherine Lindsay."

"How much are you willing to bet on that, Captain Hornigold?" she asked, standing along with him. She circled the table. Her blood-soaked shirt hung loose, hair covering her breasts. Her trousers were tight against her slender, muscular thighs. She was smiling confidently.

"How much is at stake?" he asked nervously.

"More than Katherine Lindsay is worth," she replied casually. "More than your little ship is worth."

Anger swelled in his chest. The nerve of this bitch! He started at her, hand poised for a crushing blow, but he managed to stop. She didn’t flinch. She set her hand atop his, which was still raised, and slowly pushed it downward. He was transfixed by the taut muscles of her heavily sunned arms. "I may not be Katherine Lindsay, but I did swim from his ship last night."

He pulled away from her. "Then you’re a pirate."

"As were you, I imagine," she retorted.

"I am no longer!" he protested bitterly. "I am a privateer! I have always been so! Sometimes a man must resort to extreme measures in extreme circumstances, but I have never attacked my own. The dog they call Blackbeard twisted my crew against me and took it upon himself to attack good British sailors."

"Then you’re a smart pirate," she replied quickly, "but a pirate nonetheless. There are far worse than you roaming those waters."

"One less, it would seem." With finicky fingers he adjusted the black collar of his red coat, which was nearly a match for the color of her hair.

"You mean Griffith?" she sneered. "It’s my understanding he was not the worst of the Caribbean’s troubles. The man burned down his own ship, for heaven’s sake!"

"Did he?" Hornigold said. "I would’ve guessed he’d had help. Perhaps from a vengeful woman whose husband he’d murdered. Terrible luck bringing a woman aboard. Most pirates know better."

"Very terrible for Griffith," she said. She was closing on him again. Whatever exhaustion had plagued her earlier had completely faded. "Not so terrible for you."

Some silly part of him felt like leaping over the balcony to get away from her. "You’re insane, do you realize that?"

"I’m alive," she said. "Griffith is dead." She sat on the table before him, folded her arms, and crossed one leg over the other. "And I can make you a very rich pirate hunter." She raised a finger to correct herself. "Privateer."

Hornigold wrenched his eyes from her and set his fists on the balcony railing. He swept his gaze over the bay, trying to avoid the white sails of Ranger. They were far too bright, pervading his peripheral vision. "Virgin sails," a cackling Blackbeard had once said in ridicule of Hornigold’s tidy ship. "Afraid to get dirty."

He turned and found her smirking at him, her tresses moving softly in the wind. He caught another glimpse of her mangled ear. "What was he like?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Griffith."

"I don’t remember," she answered without haste.

He chuckled. "Was yesterday so long ago?"

Again she unveiled that pleasing smile that softened her face. She was very beautiful, but her sun-touched skin, lean muscles, the bloodstains on her shirt, and the occasional fleeting glimpse of that recently lost ear reminded Hornigold that this woman was not to be trifled with. He had never met a woman like this, and he suspected that if he left now, he never would again.

Her reply was methodical. "Not so long that I don’t remember the location of Griffith’s greatest secret."

"Buried treasure?" Hornigold loosed a boisterous laugh.

She spread her arms. "Is it so farfetched out here?"

"Yes," he replied. "A pirate rarely parts with booty until he reaches port, where it is exchanged for coin and swiftly fumbled into the willing arms of strumpets. Buried treasure is almost always a myth, conjured over bonfire under influence of spirits."

"Almost always," she agreed. "Griffith did not part with his booty. He merely secured it in order to accept a pardon from Rogers, claim the title of pirate hunter, and retrieve it at a later date."

Hornigold frowned. Unfortunately, that scheme made perfect sense to him. He would have done the same, had Blackbeard not stolen his crew and the majority of his bountiful plunder right out from under him. "And you know the location? Can you produce a map?"

"I can draw you a map," she said, tapping the side of her head. "It’s all here."

"I find that difficult to believe."

"As a woman who resided in Captain Griffith’s cabin for a year burdened with nothing but an abundance of time and unrestricted access to his maps, I can assure you, I know many things I should not."

Hornigold pushed himself off the railing and approached her. She gazed up at him but didn’t rise. He pinched her chin and studied her eyes intently. Having served with pirates since 1713, he knew a liar when he saw one. There was no lie in this woman’s eyes.

He released her chin and turned away. If the treasure was as real and lucrative as she claimed, Hornigold might ease in his obligation to hunt pirates. More specifically, he might abandon his search for Edward Teach, who had earned nothing less than a bloody demise at Hornigold’s vengeful hands. Yet, he had always known that hunting Blackbeard was at best a fool’s errand. Teach had warned him not to follow, and in issuing that warning he had deliberately galvanized Hornigold into doing just that. The monstrous bastard ached for a final battle at sea between the two of them. And surely, if Teach won, he would allow no one else the honor of killing Benjamin Hornigold. The last thing Hornigold would see would be Blackbeard’s grinning face swathed in the smoke of that terrible burning beard.

Hornigold felt the woman’s eyes on his back and turned to find her regarding him with a shrewd smile. "You’re thoughts are at war," she said. "Who’s winning?"

"Money always wins," he replied.

"Not always," she said, setting a hand on her leg. "Just ask Griffith."

"I can’t," Hornigold chuckled. The wood groaned as a heavy gust of wind tugged at the balcony. The trees swayed all around, and for a moment the entire island seemed to be moving. "What’s it like to take revenge?"

The wind tossed strands of the woman’s hair in front of her face, but her eyes did not flutter as they held his. "I wouldn’t know."

Hornigold breathed deep the salty air. "I would think it intensely gratifying."

She shrugged pensively. "I would think it too final to be satisfying. A man can only die once, when a thousand deaths would serve him."

Only one test remained now. Hornigold had no wish for an innocent boy to die, but who was to say Nathan Adams was truly innocent?
Lady Katherine
’s crew had not reported a deckhand missing. By their account, only Katherine Lindsay had been kidnapped. "Shame about the boy," he said. "He was so very convincing."

She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but closed her lips.

"To your knowledge," Hornigold pressed on, "did the boy willingly commit acts of piracy?"

"What?"

"Is Nathan Adams a pirate?"

Her eyes flickered away. "What does it matter if he is? Have your governor hand him a pardon and make him one of your crew. You can do that, yes?"

Hornigold proceeded cautiously. "If in fact this boy is a pirate, then he has attempted a perverse deception against ‘my’ governor, and any pardon he may have otherwise received is null."

Her lip curled in disgust, but still she avoided eye contact. "Nathan would
never
have received a pardon even if he had surrendered himself without subterfuge."

"Then you admit that he is false."

"Rogers will kill him no matter what I admit."

"That’s not true," Hornigold insisted. "You will be safely returned to your family, and Adams’ life will be spared." He smiled. "That is, if you are, in fact, Katherine Lindsay."

Her brow creased. Her head sank and she let out a slow sigh that was barely audible over the wind.

"You’re thoughts are at war," Hornigold echoed.

She set one hand in the other and rubbed her palm with her thumb. She didn’t seem to recognize the lines she saw there. Finally she lifted her head and held Hornigold’s gaze. "I won’t pretend I’m someone I’m not."