The Pirate Fairy (18 page)

Their parents’ enemies must never know where their ashes were. Even a small amount could give their enemies power. Only a few people knew their precise location. The priest, Cillian, and now Merritt. He folded the cloak and stuffed it into the small space. Beside it, he lay the small gold cross belonging to the priest. Merritt had found it on the altar in Gremma’s house. He had no idea what Fortunata intended to do with it, but she hadn’t begun her magic on it. Now she never would. In the encroaching darkness, he replaced the stone block and filled in the dirt. He cleaned off the ceremonial dagger he’d used, hoping God wouldn’t mind his using it, then, when he was certain all trace of his work was gone, he left the church.

Merritt visited the four remaining owners of the hexed items and returned their belongings to them. By the time he returned to the palace, he’d had a long and exhausting day and he wanted nothing more than a hot bath, some food then sleep. He stopped by the stables first and found Cillian covered in a blanket and eating hay.

“He seems somehow different,” Avery remarked, rubbing Cillian’s nose.

“How so?”

“A little younger.”

Merritt didn’t say anything for a moment, then he asked, “Did he have a wound when he came back this morning?”

“Aye.” Avery looked surprised. “I was able to fix it, but I still have no idea how he managed to hurt himself.”

“It was my sister,” Merritt whispered. “I want you to leave the palace with him. He’s not safe here.”

“But—”

Merritt pressed a bag of gold into Avery’s hands. “I will get you more. But until you hear from me, you are to keep him in the stables by the forge.”

“Smitty’s forge?”

Merritt nodded. “If anyone asks, I’ll say Cillian needs new shoes.”

“He does need new shoes, but I thought Smitty was under the weather.”

“Smitty’s in fine fettle now.” Merritt grabbed Avery’s arms and looked into his eyes. “Neither of you are to come back here until you hear from me directly. Don’t believe any messages. Don’t listen to anybody. I will come to you myself.”

“Yes, sir,” Avery said. “Are we to leave right now?”

Merritt nodded. “Yes. Just wait until I get my sister out of the way.” Merritt raced outside and caught Fortunata creeping toward the stables.

“Hello, sis,” he said, hands on hips.

Fortunata gave a soft little shriek. “You scared me.”

Good
. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked, looking evasive. Even in the near darkness, her sudden fear was palpable.

“I’ve destroyed the spells you cast. I’ve taken off all the hexes. How could you do this to the people we know and love?”

“I never—”

“Don’t lie. I know everything.”

A myriad emotions crossed her face. “What have you done with Gremma?”

“Sent her someplace safe.”

She let out a sigh. “And the cloak?”

“Gone.” He paused. “Can you explain yourself?”

Fortunata looked emotional when she said, “I know this will sound weird, but I did it out of love.”

“Love?” he scoffed. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Yes, I do. I love you and I am so afraid you’ll leave me. I thought…I thought if I kept you sedated, sort of here and not here, you wouldn’t miss him.” She shook her head. “But you still love him. And I know he loves you. I have never had anyone who loves me like that. Never.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t try hexing your lovers you might fare better.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The love spells, Fortunata. You can’t help yourself. Like all of your spells, they backfire.”

“They don’t backfire. They just don’t always go the way I want them to.” She blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m especially sorry about the horse. I know how much you love him. Sometimes I think you love him more than me.”

“I do, as it happens.”

She gasped.

“Cillian never grated his fingernails into my coffee in order to keep my loyalty. He never drugged me or kept me a prisoner in my room. I know you think you love me, but you don’t know the meaning, and now, I need a hot bath and a lot of space from you.”

“But—”

“Not now, Fortunata.” He held up a hand. “Just give me time.” He stalked away, surprised when two men from Denny’s old pirate ship approached him.

“It’s Rigby, isn’t it?” Merritt asked.

“Aye, sir, glad you remember me.” Rigby looked shifty-eyed when he said, “Cap’n Denny managed to escape. He gave me a note to give you. Hopes you can meet him.”

Rigby handed him the note. Merritt took it just as Fortunata came up behind him.

“What’s going on here?” she asked.

Rigby and his friend took off.

“He brought me a note from Denny.”

“Impossible,” Fortunata said. “Sweetie, it’s a trap.”

“And I’m to believe you? The worst liar of all?”

“I promise you, Denny is in his prison cell. He cannot escape.”

“How can I trust you? You’ve kept us apart all these months.”

“I’m sorry. Truly, I am sorry, but I don’t believe Rigby. I cannot believe Denny sent that note.”

“Well,” Merritt said, mustering up more confidence than he actually felt, “that’s a chance I am going to have to take.”

Merritt opened the note but in the blanketing darkness couldn’t read much. He picked out the words ‘ship’ and ‘harbor’ and ran toward the ocean. His breath caught in his throat. His lost love! He couldn’t wait to see Denny and ignored Fortunata, who screamed his name.

“It’s a trap!” she yelled at the same moment Rigby jumped in front of him.

Rigby threw a punch, which Merritt easily ducked. Rigby threw another punch, which glanced off Merritt’s chin. Dazed, Merritt swung back, aiming for Rigby’s solar plexus. He hit him, surprising Rigby who reeled back, letting out a loud, “Oof.”

Somebody came up from behind Merritt. He turned to see Fortunata attempting to fight off the man Merritt had seen earlier with Rigby.

“No!” she yelled, laying her ineffective fists on him.

Rigby came roaring back and attacked Merritt once more.

“Do something!” Merritt yelled at Fortunata. Of all the times for her to suddenly stop throwing spells.

Rigby took Merritt to the ground, another sailor racing over to help him. Merritt fought them both.

“He has courage!” Rigby yelled with a laugh. “The pirate’s whore can fight!”

Merritt flew into a rage. “Help me!” he shouted at Fortunata whose face was a blur as Merritt tumbled on the ground with the two pirates.

“You weren’t supposed to hurt him,” she shrieked at Rigby. “Somebody’s coming! Take him. Now!” She waved her hand at Merritt, who sank into nothingness. The whole world turned black.

* * * *

Denny had lost all track of time but was exhausted. He knew he would sleep as soon as he lay on his bed.

He couldn’t think straight, let alone have a serious conversation with Ebba, who chattered at him nonstop all the way back to his cell. He wished she would go away. She went on and on about her fears that the jury would dislike him because of his rough edges and his hard life.

“I’ve done my best,” he said. “But it’s not over yet, right?”

“Maybe not.” She looked flustered. “Usually when the jury calls for a session to end early they’ve already reached a verdict and they leave it in the judge’s hands. They will give you an opportunity to accept their offer.”

“You mean the trial is possibly over?”

“Maybe. We can discuss it if and when the offer is made but I am pretty certain they will make an offer before we go to court in the morning.”

“What do you think they’ll offer?” he asked, using the last remnants of water in his cell’s drinking glass to clean his teeth.

Ebba seemed to find something of tremendous interest in his barren wall space.

“What?” he asked.

She did an odd thing. She pressed her hand against the beige-colored wall and pushed, as though expecting a secret door to emerge. “I don’t think you will receive the death sentence.”

“That’s a relief.”

She swallowed. “I suspect they will offer you life imprisonment, or a lifetime of slavery.”

“Such exciting choices.”

She looked at him. “Which are you most inclined to accept?”

“I have no idea,” he said, wondering if she had already been given an offer to present to him. She would just have to wait. He was more convinced than ever that she had no intention of helping him, but didn’t want to see him hang, either.

“How is your brother?” he asked.

“Fair. He’s in the infirmary. They gave him a draught. He enjoys those. They help him sleep.”

Denny didn’t respond. He hated medicine and couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a draught. He recalled now he’d taken one years ago for a tooth extraction. It hadn’t done much to ease the terrible pain. The memory came back so vividly he could feel the tooth aching all over again.

He lay on his bed facing away from her. He was tired of all this. Maybe execution would be a release.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she said, giving him a comforting pat on the back. The truth was he’d always seen himself as invincible. Perhaps most men did. He’d never thought that he would end up on trial for his life. For a long time, he lay on his side staring at the wall. Perhaps it was apt. It was blank, like his future. He had to face facts. It was unlikely he’d be a free man again. His life as he’d known it was over.

Gone
.

Given the choice of
imprisonment, or a lifetime of slavery, he’d have to consider which option would best give him the means for crafting an escape. He had his wings, didn’t he? He could fly. How far or for how long, he had no idea. He suspected the slavery option involved having one of his wings clipped, just like the cursed pirate eagle,
Howard deGacy
.

Denny kept pondering his problem. Upon his intake, everybody had made a big deal about his inability to fly, and his painful wings. He was starting to hurt now and needed more nectar.
Maybe I will die in my sleep. That would end all my problems
. He closed his eyes, the mess that had become his life parading around in his mind like a French carousel.
Stop the world. I want to get off.

Utter desolation consumed him. He blinked back hot tears
. I’m a fairy. No, I mean, I’m a pirate. Pirates don’t cry!

He tried to will himself back to his favorite daydream, his one and only deeply erotic encounter with Merritt, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate. The cell door lock jangled, and half expecting the tittering of Unseelie fairies, he was surprised to see the door swinging open but nobody there. A sudden chill descended on the room like a thick, wet blanket as he tried to sit up on his bed. Cold tendrils of pain shot out around him, pinning him to the mattress. Thick, wet tentacles wrapped him in their invisible embrace. Stunned, he tried to breathe, but it was like being smothered by a big, slobbering, unseen octopus. Whatever it was that held him sucked at his face, chest and arms. He was powerless to fight it. The thing pressed on Denny’s heart as though trying to work its way inside his body. Denny tried to fend off the harrowing attack but couldn’t move.

They sentenced me to death. And this is how I am going to die
.

His mind kept spinning. Bones snapped in his torso and the screams coming out of his own mouth frightened him. The thing crushed Denny’s wings, then invaded his mouth. Denny gave in then when his heartbeat hammered in his head. He saw Merritt’s face in his mind. And his sister’s. He knew now that she hadn’t gone on to some merry life in Australia. She was in trouble and he could no longer help. Just as he thought the end was coming, the thing backed away from him.

Something puffed in his face. “Huh-huh.” An unusual smell like sausages invaded the small space.

“Is he still alive?” a soft voice whispered. Was it a woman?

“Enough, Cetus,” a harsh masculine voice responded.

Cetus?
Denny opened his mouth to scream but no sound emerged. He’d heard tales of this infamous sea monster that was part octopus, part human and dragon too. Other seamen had warned him that the creature lurked in the ocean surrounding the Caribbean. He would have dismissed the stories as the result of too much liquor on the high seas, but the people who’d reported to him had seemed terrified months after their encounter with this Cetus creature. After he’d been cursed, Denny had learned first-hand that anything was possible.

He finally managed to sit on his bed, wondering if Cetus would lunge at him again. Denny’s whole body shook as he struggled to regain his breath. It took every ounce of effort in him to do so. A fresh wave of pain tore through him and, suddenly, his feet were wet. He glanced down, his mouth opening wider into a silent scream. The floor to the cell was receding and his bed disappeared into the wall behind him. He was in a cave. An ice blue, watery cave with slippery steps that appeared to have people’s faces frozen beneath them.