The Devil's Tide (32 page)

Mongrel growled furiously as he stood, aiming the tip of his sword at Dillahunt's face. "Move!" he commanded, jerking the sword toward the cell in the back.

Dillahunt lowered the chain and let Rotter's head slip free. The corpse crumpled at his feet. "This did not go as I intended," he groaned.

Mongrel seized his shoulder and dragged him to the cell, opening the little barred door and hurtling him inside. Dillahunt crashed against the opposite wall and slid down it. Mongrel slammed the door shut, produced a ring with five keys on it, and locked it. Dillahunt quickly sprang to his feet, thrusting himself against the bars. "Vane ordered you to put the girl with me!"

Mongrel raked his sword across the bars and would have sliced off Dillahunt's fingers had he not jerked them away just in time. "Vane will hear of this!" Dillahunt protested.

The bald man pocketed the keys and stomped toward Calloway. She scurried into a far corner, panic flooding her gut.

"Do not harm a hair on her head!" Dillahunt bellowed.

"Don't think it's her head he's interested in," Avery Dowling replied.

Mongrel grinned sadistically. He clutched the hair at the very top of Calloway's head and lifted her onto her feet. She shrieked as pain seared across her scalp. He released her hair and wrapped his arm around her waist, dragging her toward the tunnel they had entered from.

Dillahunt's shouts echoed behind her. "Jacqueline! Bring her back here, mutt! I'll bloody kill you! I'll kill all of you!"

As Mongrel dragged her down the tunnel, Dillahunt's protests faded. She beat at her captor's arms and kicked his legs, but she was useless in his iron grasp. They reached a fork in the tunnel, and Mongrel turned a sharp corner, and she was no longer certain where she was. She dragged her hands along the walls, bloodying her fingers and palms.

"Strength is always within reach," Kate had said. Calloway looked around desperately, but she saw nothing she could use against Mongrel.

He made another sharp turn at a fork. Calloway clutched a sharp rock protruding from a wall. Mongrel tugged at her until her fingers slid loose. "Move!" he commanded, thrusting her forward, into the light of the next wall sconce.

The sconce!

This one was coming up on her side. She stared at the four sharp prongs that held the burning candle. When Mongrel had dragged her close enough, she seized the sconce, lifted it from its hook, and swung it wildly. Fire curved around her in a wide semi-circle. Mongrel dodged too late, and the sconce smashed into his skull, dousing his bald head in hot wax. One of the prongs shredded his scalp to the bone, and wax instantly seeped into the wound. He loosed an inhuman wail, slapping frantically at his face as blood and wax washed down in steaming rivulets. "Move!" he shrieked. "Move! MOVE!! MOOOOOOOOOOOVE!!!"

Calloway reared back, angled the torch downward, and plunged the four prongs deep into Mongrel's bare belly. The candle exploded across his torso, blood spurted from his gut, and fire gripped his skin. He sank to his knees, clutching the handle of the sconce, struggling to pull it out. His red, mutilated face twisted in anguish. He collapsed onto his back with the sconce protruding from his belly, convulsing violently for a full minute. The wax hardened in the trenches it had burned into his flesh. The fire burned out, dimming the passage.

Calloway crumpled against the opposite wall, unable to pull her eyes from the dead man.

Distant voices echoed down the tunnel. The voices were growing louder, and footsteps soon followed. The walls gradually brightened as the men approached. One of them must have been carrying a torch, but the curve of the passage kept them from view. Calloway got to her feet and ran the opposite direction. She came to a fork and skidded to a halt, trying to figure out which direction Mongrel had dragged her from. She went left and came to another fork. The voices were further now, but she still heard them. She went right this time and continued on for a long time, until she was certain that she had taken a wrong turn.

When the sconces ended and she was suddenly immersed in darkness, she decided to turn back, feeling along the rough walls. How had it gone dark so quickly? After a long walk in the dark, without any sign of the sconce she had passed, she started to panic. Had the candle extinguished? Had she really turned around, or had she turned full circle and continued in the same wrong direction? Did these passages run on forever? She ran her fingers over the wall on her right as she stepped cautiously onward, worrying that she might plunge into a bottomless pit at any moment. Her eyelids were peeled, yet she saw nothing.

The close echo of her own frantic short breaths filled her ears. For all she knew, she was a mile deep in the mountain and would never find her way back.

Harry's boy, who apparently had no name of his own, pretended not to steal glances at Kate's rear as she stepped timidly into the steaming hot water. Her eyelids fluttered involuntarily when she sank into the copper bathtub. "Is that warm enough, miss?" the boy asked nervously. He couldn't have been more than twelve, with shaggy brown hair, a narrow face, and twig-like arms and legs.

"It's perfect," she said.

The boy snatched up the two large buckets he had used to ferry water into the tub and scurried off, afraid to be in the same room with a naked woman for very long. "Give me a shout if you need anything," he called over his shoulder. "I'm in the next cave over." He disappeared into a dark passage in the back of the cavern.

"Mmkay," was all Kate could manage to say, closing her eyes and resting her head against the back of the tub.

Vane's lofty cavern overlooked the canyon below. Calico Jack had led Kate up a frightfully narrow stairway that zigzagged up the eastern wall, then into a little tunnel that arched up and around to one of the three bridges stretching across to the western wall, right into Vane's cavern. As she stepped onto the thin bridge, with the ships and channel far below, she discovered she had a paralyzing fear of heights. Calico Jack had to guide her across. His every mannerism toward her had been chivalrous, and he would flash a smile any time their eyes met. "I know a woman just like you," he said in his strong, fetching voice.

"I doubt that," she had replied. "There aren't many women like me."

"Then I have been most fortunate," he said, giving her hand a squeeze. Her stomach fluttered. "Are you alright?" he asked, studying her. He looked so very concerned.

"I've never been this high," she said.

"Few have," he replied.

The expansive cavern was luxurious. The large canopy bed in the center of the room was carved of solid mahogany, stained with a deep burgundy finish. Gold leaf accents spiraled up the bedposts. Maroon silks draped from the canopy, elegantly braided. The mattress was covered with spotless ivory sheets, topped with shimmering gold cushions. The figure of an octopus was carved into the headboard, tentacles spreading outward from the bulbous center. Each tentacle curled at the end, grasping white, inlaid pearls. A little round table stood to the left of the bed, flanked by two gold-cushioned chairs. Beyond that was a giant armoire, set against a rocky wall, nearly touching one of the many stalactites. On the opposite side of the bed was a dressing table, with a mercury mirror hanging on the wall behind it in a gold leaf frame. The floor was uneven, so all the furniture was slightly angled. Candles were scattered all over, wax melting upon natural ledges in the rocky walls. The flames flickered in the soft breeze that occasionally drifted in through the wide entrance.

Outside, a dark blue starry canvas twinkled above the black wall of the canyon's eastern side. A bout of laughter rose from the dock somewhere below.

The hot water soothed Kate's aching limbs. She had been sitting in a cell for too long, never able to find a comfortable position on the hard floor. Sleeping was even worse, and too often she would wake to find she had cast aside her blanket and was naked for all to see.

If nothing else, several days in a tight cell had given her time to wear down Calloway's defenses. Kate hoped the girl was safe. She had inquired with Calico Jack as he escorted her to Vane's quarters, and the quartermaster assured her Calloway would stay with Captain Dillahunt. Kate wanted to check on her, but she couldn't exactly run around a pirate fortress bare-naked. Vane promised to bring her clothes, and she wasn't going anywhere until he did. She felt guilty enjoying a hot bath while Calloway was being transferred from one cell to another, but she wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to clean up, especially when there was nothing else she could do. Maybe she could convince Vane to release the girl. Then again, maybe she was safer in a cell.

Kate closed her eyes, and the blotted remnants of the many candles shimmered like blurred stars against the back of her eyelids. She drifted in warm darkness, wondering distantly if this was what the womb felt like. A woman emerged from the black, strolling towards her, smiling with an outstretched arm. Kate couldn't see the woman's face clearly from so far a distance, but she knew it was her mother based on the long, vibrant red hair, and that bright, flowing yellow dress Kate remembered so fondly. It was her mother's favorite dress, and she wore it so often that eventually it faded. She had been dead ten years, but Kate had never forgotten her face. As she neared, she saw that her mother had aged ten years, as if she'd been alive all this time. Faint lines curved from the corners of her eyes and mouth, and her dimples were not as smooth as they used to be. Still, she was as beautiful as ever. Kate fell into her arms, squeezing her tightly, so she wouldn't be able to escape. "I missed you, mother."

Her mother didn't speak, and when Kate looked at her, she was simply smiling warmly. The smile was a combination of amity and pride, though Kate couldn't imagine why her mother would be proud of her. "I have so much to tell you," she said uncertainly, burying her face in her mother's bosom and trembling in her grasp. The tears fell freely then, darkening her mother's dress. She wept and wept, until she couldn't possibly have any tears left to shed. She squeezed her eyelids shut, until the tears stung her eyes and forced them open again. The yellow dress was soaked through, completely translucent, but the skin beneath had an ethereal greenish tint. Kate looked at her mother's face, but the elegant face that looked back was not her mother's. Her hair had gone black and straight. Her eyes were gone, replaced by illuminated blue orbs. The yellow dress dissolved into water, splashing at her feet, revealing a lithe, green figure.

"I remember you," Kate muttered, pulling away in terror. "You came to me on Hornigold's ship."

The petite mouth split into a wide grin, revealing rows of pointed sharp teeth. The wraith burst into a fit of giggles, aiming a long finger at Kate.

Kate jerked into consciousness, splashing water over the side of the bathtub. For a moment, she had no idea where she was or why she was there, and she sat there gripping the rim of the tub until her memory slowly returned. The water had lost some of its warmth. She didn't think she'd been asleep that long. She contemplated getting out before the water went cold, but she couldn't bring herself to leave just yet.

Vane entered through the tunnel in the back of the room. Two very large men followed after him, carrying a big brown chest between them. Kate sank further into the water to avoid their leering eyes. They set the chest before the bed and then started back the way they came, with Vane snapping his fingers at them.

The captain took off his coat and threw it over the chair in front of his dressing table. He produced a ring of keys and jingled them at Kate. "My two jailors are dead, and Dillahunt's woman is missing. What do you know about her?"

Kate lifted up slightly, frowning. "We barely talked," she lied. "I know Dillahunt fancies her."
And would be very upset if anything happened to her.

"Dillahunt refuses to talk. I might have to torture him."

"I doubt that will do you any good," Kate replied nonchalantly.

"You're probably right." Vane set the keys on his desk, and Kate pretended not to notice them. "Well, these problems have a way of working themselves out. If the girl doesn't turn up soon, she'll starve."

Kate tried not to think about Calloway fumbling in the dark, scared and alone.

Vane took a step toward her. "I'm sorry about the tub. I've been attempting to procure something nicer to match the rest of the room."

Kate snickered dismissively. "I've been relieving myself in a bucket in front of two people for the past week. The tub is just fine."

His expression went rancid. "I'll do my best to forget that statement."

"Turn around," she said. He did, and she stepped out of the tub, quickly wrapping her old blanket around her. She was shocked at how much dirt she'd left in the water.

Vane opened the chest. It was packed full of colorful garments. He rummaged through them for a long time before he produced a black chemise. Kate shook her head. "I prefer breeches."

He curled his lip in revulsion. "Your mouth is moving, but nonsense is flowing out."

"Breeches, or I'll stick with the blanket," she insisted, clutching the blanket to her breasts. "I've grown fond of it."

"Fine. At least put on a bodice. Your tits could use the boost."

"I might try one," she said, curious how her breasts would look.

She slipped into a pair of dark brown breeches that might have hung loose a year ago, when she was thin as a rail. She laced a long-sleeved, cream-colored shirt only so far, leaving her shoulders bare. He helped her into a sleeveless black bodice intricately embroidered with two dozen roses that were the same shade of red as her hair. The roses trailed thin, intertwining brown stems lined with thorns. She couldn't help but smile when she looked down. The bodice boosted the top of her breasts above a low swooped neckline. She adjusted her sleeves as he laced up the front. He turned her around and adjusted the backside.

"You're good at this," she said.

"I'm better at getting you out of it."

"Maybe another time."