Till Dawn Tames the Night (21 page)

"And it's Azzedine who told you
you
should rape my captive?"

Robert clutched the knife. With his eyes fairly popping out of their sockets from fear, he stared up at Vashon. "She's a woman, Vashon! She's fair game on these seas!"

Vashon put his booted foot on Robert's wrist. The seated man groaned and let go of the knife.

"That girl is my property," Vashon pointed out. "And you know what happens on these seas when a man tries to steal another's property?"

"Vashon!
Don't kill me! Don't kill me!" Robert begged. He squirmed further into the corner, and Aurora had never seen a man so terrified. The way Vashon was behaving frightened her too. He was so calm.
And so angry.
Though she loathed the man cowering beneath him, she couldn't stand idly by while Robert was slain. She couldn't be responsible for another man's death.

"Vashon!" she cried out, "I'm not hurt! You cannot kill this man!"

Vashon turned. He took one glance at her molested state and she could see the fury spark anew in his eyes.

"Robert, you dog, get on your feet," he said ominously.

"No! Vashon, please . . . !"

"Vashon!"
She climbed down from the bed. "I'm unharmed! This man was stopped! I agree he deserves punishment, but not death! In truth he did little more than you yourself—"

Vashon whipped around to face her, and the words died on her lips. That she had accused him of doing what the cur beneath him had done seemed beyond his ability to endure. His anger looked to ready to explode. She wasn't sure what he would do next, but just as his attention was off Robert, the other pirate suddenly pulled a pistol hidden in his wet, grimy waistcoat. Aurora gasped in horror. Yet a split second before Robert squeezed off the shot, Vashon reached for the fallen knife and ran it expertly across Robert's throat. The pirate was dead in an instant.

She had never seen so much blood. It was on the floor, on the wall, on the body.
And on Vashon.
Without even realizing it, she was screaming, but when Vashon reached for her, she slapped him away.

"Don't touch me," she cried, hysterical. "Don't touch me with
those
handsl
"

Vashon numbly looked down at his hands. They were spattered with blood. She turned away and wondered if she was going to retch. Suddenly, uncontrollably, she began to sob, but whether it was from an attack of nerves or simply the shock of seeing a man die so violently, she didn't know.

"This man's life is hardly worth your tears," Vashon told her woodenly.

"You killed him," she sobbed.

"And he would have killed you.
Eventually."

"But he did not."

"Would you have rather I waited until he did?"

She wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks with a shaky hand. "I'd have rather you left me on the docks of St. George's. I want no part of killers!"

She looked at him and had never seen him so cold. His entire face, his entire body had gone rigid. But not a word escaped his lips.

"Vashon!
What's going on?" Isaac burst into the cabin and wildly looked about. He took in the dead pirate slumped in the corner and Aurora's state.

"Old Robert got aboard, then," the captain said.

Vashon only nodded. He never took his eyes off Aurora.

Isaac took another uneasy glance at the body. "Well, from the looks of him, I'd say he swam from the
Bleeding Heart.
I don't know how he did it, Vashon. We were so careful—"

"I sense a disturbance." Azzedine entered the cabin and calmly looked down at his man lying in a pool of blood. His remorse seemed as fleeting as his guilt.

"We know you sent him, Azzedine," Isaac snapped. Vashon still did not speak.

"He acted on his own." Azzedine looked once more at the body,
then
smiled. "But take heart,
mes
amis
,
at least Robert was so gracious as not to bleed on your exquisite carpet."

Aurora glanced at the corpse. She could hardly believe that only minutes before the man had lived and breathed. It was true the pirate Robert was vile, but now that he was dead, didn't he warrant more respect than merely an appreciative comment that he'd not died on the rug? Or was that how these men treated their dead, as callously as they treated the living?

Azzedine wandered closer to the body. Isaac was shaking his head and mumbling something about getting Benny to clean up the mess. Vashon was still staring at Aurora.
Unobserved, Azzedine bent over his man.
He picked something up from the floor and it wasn't until he had it pointed at Vashon that Aurora realized it was a gun.

"Vashon, I should very much like to kill you," Azzedine stated. He cocked the trigger and Aurora felt the blood drain from her face. She waited for Vashon to act, for surely he was going to kill this pirate too, but he didn't move. He just stared down at Azzedine while the pirate readied to murder him.

It was mesmerizing, this play being acted out before her. Never had she seen a man so utterly dispassionate about the value of his own life. She watched Vashon, and as she did so, she saw firsthand that attitude that had frightened so many men. Vashon's willingness to die was terrifying.

When Azzedine squeezed the trigger, Aurora screamed. But miraculously the gun didn't fire. The weapon made a loud thump,
then
Azzedine broke into laughter as if he had just played a horrendously amusing trick.

"I should very much like to kill you, Vashon," the pirate chuckled, "but alas, the powder is wet in this gun. Poor Robert! He died for no reason at all. When he threatened you with this pistol, he didn't think that the gunpowder would be rendered useless during his swim to the ship."

"Azzedine," Isaac growled, "return to your ship. And count yourself fortunate that you didn't end up like your man."

Azzedine bowed. "Till we meet again,
mes
amis
!"
He sauntered out of the room, snickering as if he'd told some kind of hilarious joke.

When Azzedine had gone, Isaac gave Vashon a look of disbelief. But Vashon didn't notice. He was staring at Aurora.

"You could have been killed," she said to him, her voice distraught. She'd never understand this man. At times he behaved as if a demon possessed him.

"So would you rather me be killed or be a killer?" he asked.

"Are those the only two choices? Is this life of yours so uncivilized that there is nothing in between?"

A bitter expression crossed his handsome features. "There is nothing in between, Aurora. And you remember that the next time I save your life."

"My God," she moaned, putting her head in her hands. "I didn't ask for this. I don't want to be a part of this. I beg of you, release Flossie and me at the next port!"

He walked up to her, put his hands on her arms, and shook her. When she looked up, he said, "You may not have asked for this, but you were destined to be here the day your father stole from Peterborough. So forget your prim and proper little past. It was all a lie anyway. Fate has dealt you these cards. You're in my hands now, and that's where you'll stay until I get the Star."

She let out a low sob. Almost unconsciously her gaze was drawn to his hands on her arms. The splatters of blood on his fingers had dried to a dark maroon, but some was still wet, leaving a smear on her gown. She tried to hide the revulsion that crossed her face, but he saw it. Before she could pull away from him, he nearly threw her to Isaac.

"Get her out of here!" he commanded, a slight break in his voice.

Sobbing, Aurora clutched at the captain's chest. Isaac steadied her and then gave Vashon a bewildered look. But before he could say a word, Vashon repeated his order. "Get her out of here!"

Obediently Isaac nodded and pulled her out the door.

"What kind of man is he?" Aurora asked, wiping away a tear that had slipped down her cheek. She looked across the railing at the brilliant blue Atlantic, marred only by the disappearing silhouette of the
Bleeding Heart.
Next to her, as if unsure of how to comfort her, Isaac drummed his two remaining fingers on the polished railing. "What kind of man is he that he could kill so swiftly, then not even move to save his own life?" She brushed away another tear.

"Vashon has always been a bit of an enigma."

"Does he not value his life? That pirate Azzedine was ready to shoot him, and Vashon didn't even blink."

"He's seen a lot in his four and thirty years, Aurora. It's made him very hard. Sometimes I think it's true that he may not value his life overly much. There seems to be something missing in him, a belief in goodness, perhaps. I'm not sure what it is, but because he doesn't have it, he seems not to care whether he lives or dies. I've seen him take extraordinary risks. But those risks have paid off."

"But you've had to fight hard too or you wouldn't be a pirate like him. You're not so hardened."

Isaac laughed sheepishly. He wiped his balding head and seemed to be groping for the right words. "I'm not a pirate, Aurora. I know you must think me one, but in truth I'm just a ship's captain. That's the life I've led for the past forty years, ever since my wife Rachel was taken from me by the pox."

"I don't understand," she said. "How could Vashon persuade a good sea captain to come with him on such an ignoble venture?"

"I've been with him for almost ten years now." He laughed. "When he tells you he's in legitimate business, you must believe him. He has almost as many ships as the British East India Company. He's a very wealthy man."

"But he was and is still a pirate." Her eyes darkened. She gave Isaac an accusatory look. "And you, who call yourself an honest man, work for him."

"Well, yes, that's true. But Vashon does not pirate any longer—except for this one instance," he added hastily. "In fact, he's most happy just walking the beaches of Mirage and looking over the accounts of his London businesses."

"Then why isn't he doing that right now and forgetting this horrid search for the emerald?"

Isaac looked out to the cloudless horizon. "He hates Peterborough. He truly hates him. Nothing will stop him from getting that jewel."

Aurora grasped at a chance for escape. "But you and the crew, Isaac, surely you see the immorality of kidnapping two women simply for revenge. Act against him, Isaac," she urged, "and let Flossie and me go free."

"The crew and I stand with Vashon," he said simply. He studied his crippled hand.

"But you call yourself a moral man! And surely you cannot speak for the crew! There must be one decent man on this ship willing to help us—and I swear I'll find him!"

"You won't find anyone on this ship willing to help you escape if it means relinquishing the quest for Peterborough. Believe me, Aurora, I speak for the crew. Some of these men have been with me for forty years."

"But not forty years on this ship. Not forty years with Vashon."

"No," he answered. "We served on another ship. She was a whaler named the
Leviathan.
And though there's barely a fifth of her crew still alive, they're all on the
Seabravery
now, and they all give their allegiance to Vashon."

"This can't be possible!" she gasped.

"It's possible," he affirmed. "Take it from an old Jew who doesn't lie."

Frustrated, Aurora once more looked out to sea. There seemed a million miles between her and freedom. The closer they got to Vashon's island, the smaller her chances were of escape. "Take me back to the cabin, Isaac," she said. "I must speak to Vashon."

Isaac nodded and presented her his arm. Trembling, she took it.

When she arrived back at the cabin, the pirate's body was gone and the blood had been thoroughly scrubbed away. Vashon was not there, but Aurora told Isaac to leave her. Vashon would return eventually, and she wanted to ready herself for the confrontation.

When the door closed behind Isaac, Aurora's face turned angry and determined. She settled in to
wait,
sure of the words she had to say to Vashon. No longer would she be timid and afraid in his presence. She had seen him do the-worst sort of deed, and now that she knew what he was truly capable of, it somehow freed her. She was finally ready to bargain with the Devil.

Benny soon brought her a meal, and this time she ate it. She bathed and changed her dress, burying the bloodied garment at the bottom of her willow hamper. All too soon she heard Vashon's voice in the passage, snapping something in French to a passing seaman.

When he entered the cabin, he didn't speak a word. He eyed her once, then took out his logbook and wrote at the tripod table. When the silence became thunderous, she finally spoke.

"The rhyme has another verse."

He looked up from his desk. "What did you say?" he asked,
a wariness
suddenly in his eyes.

"I said the rhyme has another verse."

Slowly he put down his pen. "Why are you telling me this now?"