Treasure of the High Seas: Chapter 10 (Patreon)

Chapter Ten

Eliza

As the ship pulls alongside ours, I study her flag. It’s black and tattered, with a devil and crossbones symbol in the center. Those colors belong to The Wraith, an Aruwasi sloop captained by Emmett Hayes. I’ve done business with Hayes before, trading coin and valuables. He’s never been a problem for me. Only for wealthy merchant ships.

Still, this is a strange meeting place. Better to do business at ports than out on foggy open water. A chill crawls down my spine. Hayes might well try and rob us of our hard-earned cargo despite our past business dealings. 

“Captain?”

Penny stands at my shoulder, cutlass drawn. Together, we watch The Wraith’s deck. Ghostly figures gather by the railings, staring at us like lost souls adrift in purgatory. Thrice-damn this fog. It’s difficult to get an accurate count of Hayes’ men, or how well-armed they are.

“You and Squirrel take one of the cannons. Put Jim and Red on the other.”

Penny backs away without a word, touching each named crewmate on the arm. They follow her and take up their stations, two at each cannon. With Will in the hold, that leaves me with only six mates if a fight breaks out. We’ll struggle to hold our own against Hayes’ crew, which numbered one and twenty last I counted.

“Hail!” a gravelly baritone calls from The Wraith. “We come to parlay.”

I almost refuse. With Lady Harrington aboard, the risk is great. But rejecting the offer could start a fight anyway—and I’d rather fight with swords than cannons and muskets. They might damage The Maelstrom after she’s just been repaired.

I cup my hands and call, “Send a party aboard.”

To Scrumpy, I say, “Get the corvus. Only let seven cross.” That will put us at even numbers.

Scrumpy fetches the corvus, carrying it more like a thin branch than a heavy board, and lowers it between the ships’ decks. One by one, Hayes’ crewmates cross, all young, sturdy alphas and betas. They’re armed, but none draw their weapons. Waiting in grave silence, they look to their leader as he strides onto my ship.

Hayes is a rail-thin alpha with sharp features and skin pale as a ghost’s. He resembles a wraith himself, a specter from the depths below. His shiny black hair is pulled into a tail at the nape of his neck, and his chin is fastidiously cleanshaven.

“Captain Lockheed,” he says, touching his tricorn hat. He’s dressed as quite the gentleman, with a wine-red coat embroidered in gold. His scent is dark and smoky, with the bitter tinge of sage.

My nose wrinkles, my upper lip curling back. We’re two dominant alphas, and he’s infringing on my territory.

I touch my hat in turn, but my other hand remains on the hilt of my cutlass. “Captain Hayes. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hayes’ bright blue eyes linger on my blade. “No need for hostilities. We’ve only come to trade.” He withdraws a fat money pouch from his coat, rattling the coins inside.

My teeth clench. I don’t trust this display at all. “What are you looking to buy? My ship isn’t a market shop.”

Hayes takes a gold coin from the pouch. With a flick of his thumb, he sends it spinning through the air. I catch the coin, biting down on its edge. Real gold.

“Something only you can sell,” he says. “I’ve come for Lord Harrington’s daughter.”

I keep my face carefully blank, but the center of my stomach becomes a cold, sucking whirlpool.

Shit. How does he know about Lady Harrington?

I sense my crew bristling behind me, and the sharp, metallic smell of aggressive pheromones rises from both parties. One wrong look, one slip on the trigger of a pistol, and a fight will break out.

“Who is Lord Harrington?” I ask Hayes, in a calm and level voice.

Hayes chuckles, seemingly undisturbed by the tension. “Come now, Lockheed. All the islands know. Elbios, too. The Governor has put up a reward for Lady Harrington’s safe return, one far larger than your ransom.”

I scowl at Hayes. What does Governor Pennyford hope to accomplish by offering such a large reward to other pirates? Is he willing to pay extra simply to spite me? Governor Pennyford has riches to spare and every reason to hate me.

“What’s your plan? Buy Lady Harrington off me, return her to the governor, and pocket the difference?”

“Why not? It comes with a full pardon.” Hayes lowers his voice as though to speak in confidence. “You’re lucky I found you first. Every dog on the seas will be after you soon, and few to none will offer you terms like these.”

Most captains would scoff at splitting such a fortune, but Hayes and I are pragmatists, not selfish brutes. He knows that, and he knows we’d both walk away richer. Despite my reputation, I don’t go looking for fights unless my honor is at stake.

Unfortunately for Hayes, I care little for Governor Pennyford’s money. I care about making him hurt. I care about cutting out his heart and his pride, both of which are stored safely in his pocketbook.

I stand taller, straightening my shoulders. “You know I can’t,” I tell him, one hand on my hip. “Leave now, with all your limbs attached, and I’ll do you the favor of forgetting this ever happened.”

Hayes blinks, seeming taken aback. I can tell that he fully expected me to accept his terms. Alphas like him hate hearing the word no.

Someone laughs. Someone from Hayes’ side. Then everything goes silent except for the hiss of the waves.

That laugh is a spark to a power keg. 

“Pity,” Hayes drawls, pure poison on his tongue. He might have come with reasonable intentions, but now he won’t be satisfied until he slits my throat. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

He jerks his chin toward a solidly-built beta, wearing a blue headscarf and a revolver. The beta draws, and the rest of Hayes’ mates follow suit.

My crew does the same.

“Last chance, Hayes. No amount of money is worth your life.” Even as I say the words, I know they’re useless. If Hayes backs down, his crew will never forget. To fold now is to forfeit his leadership.

“Perhaps not,” Hayes says, “but the Governor’s generous reward is certainly worth yours.”

The man in the blue scarf aims his revolver at me.

Scrumpy bull rushes him.

A shot rings out, then a scream. Hayes’ man goes flying over the railing, splashing into the dark waters below.

Hayes stares in shock. Only for a split second, but it’s enough. I draw my cutlass and charge, my crew right behind me.

I swing for Hayes. He diverts with a sideways cut, sending my blade off to the side. Fire flashes in his cold blue eyes, and a savage grin spreads across my face in answer. It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper duel.

He slashes down at my shoulder. I pivot, letting him miss and fall forward. Hayes spins too, and our swords meet with a sharp clang.

Hayes swipes for my midsection. I backstep, but his blade slices one of the buttons from my fluttering coat. Before he finds his center of balance, I throw my shoulder into him and shove.

Grunting, Hayes staggers back. He braces his feet and thrusts, but a large man stumbles between us. Hayes’ cutlass skewers him straight through the middle. The tip of the blade sprouts from the man’s belly, followed by a bloom of crimson blood.

While Hayes wrenches his weapon free, I hear a familiar whistle. Charlotte has bought me precious time. Then the cannons fire, and I can hear nothing but the lion’s roar of battle.

Smoke stings my eyes and clogs my throat as I dart away from the railing. Hayes follows through the dark gray plumes, grim determination carved upon his pale face.

Hayes thrusts high. I parry, steel ringing on steel. He cuts down. I sweep his cutlass aside and riposte. Each clash sends a harsh ripple up my arm. We dance forward and back, our feet struggling for purchase upon the slick boards.

I slice in low from the left, but my boot slips in a puddle of blood. My knee hits the deckboards with a hard crack. I throw my sword up, gripping the blade with my free hand just in time to catch Hayes’ cutlass in the cross. He snarls, pushing down with a surge of strength befitting a giant.

It knocks the breath right out of my screaming lungs. My arms buckle at the force, but my shoulders hold.

A second round of cannon fire rocks the ship. Hayes jolts, and our swords slide apart.

I tuck and roll, landing on my feet.

Hayes meets me blade first.

The heavens open above us. Blinding sheets of rain beat down, plastering my braids to my face and neck.

In the first flash of lightning, I see Hayes barreling toward me. I retreat to the midship and duck behind the mast. His cutlass clangs against the chains we fished it with. I feint left, then gamble with a short swing around the right side. 

The Maelstrom pitches, taking another heavy hit from The Wraith’s cannons. Their roar stabs my ears, followed by high-pitched ringing. I have to finish this quickly.

Through the pouring rain, I catch a muddied glimpse of Hayes’ boots peeking around the mast. I slash the empty air where I hope he’ll be.

Hayes rounds the mast on the opposite side.

His blade bites into my shoulder.

My sword pierces his guts.

Those pale blue eyes go wide as glass marbles as he falls to his knees.

Somehow, I’ve kept my grip on the handle of my cutlass. I can’t feel my hand or arm anymore. Not the wound in my shoulder, nor the lances of pain piercing my ears.

I feel nothing but cold as I slit his throat, leaving a deep scarlet smile there.

Hayes is a fellow captain. He deserves a dignified death.

As he collapses onto the deck, I fall against the mast. I peer through the rain and smoke with stinging eyes. Most of the fighting has stopped. A heavy weight lifts from my heaving chest when I recognize most of the silhouettes standing.

There’s Scrumpy, looming above the others. Penny’s waifish form beside him. There’s Jim and Squirrel, Charlotte’s beanpole shape, and—

“Eliza!”

Will sprints over, skidding to a stop in front of me. He clutches a revolver in one hand, the other fluttering as though he doesn’t know where it’s safe to touch me. He clamps onto my good elbow and wraps my arm around his shoulder, attempting to pull me from the mast.

I cling on. Lady Harrington. He’s supposed to be with her. Why has he abandoned his post?

“Where is she?”

“She’s safe,” he says. “Eliza—”

“Count?”

“All hands, but—”

I shake him off. “Gather the survivors. I’ll take the terms of their surrender.”

Will glares at me. “Eliza, you’re bleeding!” He unties the scarf on his head and wraps it tight around my arm.

I grunt as he pulls it tight, summoning the dregs of my strength. “Do it,” I tell him.

With a tortured look, Will turns away. He and the rest round up three of Hayes’ men, the remaining survivors. As the heavens weep, they look upon the corpse of their slain captain as I do my best to stay upright. I can no longer feel my legs. Nothing at all.

“I am Captain Eliza Lockheed,” I shout over the howling rain. I stare them all down, sending out the most powerful wave of pheromones I can muster. “Storm of the Southern Seas. Your captain is dead by my hand. If you surrender, you keep your lives. If you join us and sign my articles, you keep your freedom and profit. What say you?”

A flash of lightning and the deep growl of thunder punctuates the question. If I believed in the Triumvirate, I’d thank them for the dramatic touch.

The three men, all alphas, look at each other. They’re big brawlers, sturdy men who could easily overpower me while injured. But not with my crew’s swords at their backs and Scrumpy looming over them like a mountain.

In their wide, wild eyes, I see fear. They are afraid of me.

Good.

The first, a dark-skinned man with a scruffy beard, speaks up. “Aye, Captain.”

The other two answer in chorus.

“Aye, Captain.”

“Aye, Captain.”

I push off the mast and stand under my own power, just for a moment. “Offer the same to your crewmates.” I point my sword at The Wraith. “You’ll have your share when we sell her cargo.”

Penny steps in front of me, smoothly taking over. Her presence is much larger than she is, and even the three strong prisoners are cowed. With Scrumpy and Charlotte to provide extra muscle, she goes to parlay with the remaining crew aboard The Wraith.

As soon as their backs are turned, I sag against the mast. I begin sliding down onto the bloodsoaked deck until Will catches me. This time, I let him lead me to my cabin without argument. The climb down with one arm is treacherous, not to mention painful, but I manage with his help.

I sag into the armchair immediately. Will unties his scarf from my arm and peels off my ruined coat. The bleeding picks up again, and at last, I feel my wound. The pain burns hot and cold at the same time.

Will cleans it as best he can while I grind my teeth. He withdraws a flask of rum and splashes some across the wound, sending white sparks across my eyes as the alcohol eats into my flesh.

I swallow a scream.

When I stop seeing stars, he thrusts the flask of rum into my good hand. “Drink.”

I down the rest in a single swallow, unable to taste it.

Will stitches me up with a sail needle and thread while I try and find my bearings. The wound, though deep, looks like a clean cut. A damn lucky thing I have my own personal surgeon in the family. I’ve seen lesser wounds go bad in a matter of days.

“What happened down in the hold?” I ask him.

“Nothing,” Will says, without taking his eyes from his work.

I should be angry, but I can’t summon the strength. I’ll dress him down later, when I’m not on the verge of fainting from blood loss. “You disobeyed a direct order,” I grumble.

Will ties the thread off and cuts it. “I made a choice. I’d do the same again.”

“You idiot.”

Will’s chin juts forward at a stubborn angle. “You needed me, and it’s a damn good thing I turned up when I did. You’ll find one of those dead sailors with my bullet in their head.”

“What about Lady Harrington?”

“I left her with explicit instructions to shoot anyone coming down.” He binds the wound with a fresh strip of linen, tying it tight enough to make me hiss. “You might try saying thank you.”

I shrug Will off and attempt to stand. My knees buckle, but I manage, holding onto the back of the chair until the wave of dizziness passes. “We’ll finish this later.”

“Eliza—”

I shoot him a hot glare. “I’m not Eliza right now, am I? I’m Captain Lockheed. Go make sure Lady Harrington is unharmed, and tell Penny to bring me Hayes’ men. I need to witness them signing the articles.”

Though Will’s brow furrows with worry, he obeys. He climbs the ladder and closes the hatch. Alone at last, I let the pain take me. With a low groan, I accept it into my body, allowing it to spread as I adjust to its presence.

As far as injuries go, it isn’t the worst I’ve had, but it’s the kind of wound that can go bad quickly. Hayes’ blade bit deep into my shoulder. Even if I keep it clean and dry, it might become infected. I won’t be using my sword left-handed for a while.

I’ll need to rely on Penny and the others to break the new mates in. Until I recover, I’m just an old dog barking without its teeth. But they don’t need to know that. If I summon enough strength to look and act the part, they’ll fall into line.

The hatch opens. Lady Harrington climbs down, her footsteps loud on the rungs of the ladder. Her sweet, agreeable scent has turned sour, like buttermilk gone bad, and the look she gives me is pure loathing. Will must have sent her, though for why, I cannot fathom a guess.

“Forgive the delay,” she says, setting foot on the floor and sweeping her hair out of her eyes. “I was saying a prayer for the poor souls you butchered.”

I release a thick breath through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry their corpses offended your delicate sensibilities, Lady Harrington, but they were trying to kill us.”

Her thin brows arch as she braces hands on hips. “For what childforsaken reason would they?”

A hot flush of frustration crawls down my neck. How dare she act so pious and judgmental when this was all to protect her? I took a serious injury and almost lost good mates, all to keep her out of Governor Pennyford’s clutches.

“For you, foolish girl,” I snarl, stepping into her space. “Your fiancé has offered double your ransom to fetch you back. If this is how you thank me, perhaps I should have accepted Hayes’ offer.”

Lady Harrington meets me glare for glare. “I never asked you to commit murder on my behalf, nor did I ask to be abducted in the first place! None of this is my fault—”

My hands clench into tight fists. “But it’s because of you.”

Lady Harrington’s soft red lips peel back in a snarl, her tousled blonde curls a riot about her flushed, heart-shaped face. “And what do you suggest I do about it?”

Our scents rise between us, growing thick in the air. Lady Harrington no longer smells sour. Instead, sweet, enticing notes of cinnamon fill my nose, reminding me of honeyed bourbon. When I breathe in, it fills the bottom of my lungs and sits there, spreading warmth within my chest.

She is arrogant. Infuriating. Far more trouble than she’s worth, even with her price doubled. I never should have taken her in the first place—

Lady Harrington’s cornflower blue eyes lock with mine, sucking me in like a whirlpool. I cannot look away, except when my gaze flicks down to linger on her lips, slightly parted in expectation.

I bend down, crushing them beneath mine.

At first, she freezes, her lips stiff and unmoving. I freeze as well, my heart drumming in my chest. Then she exhales a hot, ragged breath into my mouth. Her hands fly up, tangling in my braids, nails digging into the back of my neck.

My hands seize her waist, gathering her shirt in my fists to pull her closer. I need her closer. Need the taste of her on my tongue. Her mouth feels like fire and her skin burns beneath my palms.

Our noses bump and our mouths slip in an awkward clash of teeth, but it doesn’t matter. Neither of us stops. I cannot stop.

A growl rises from the center of my chest as I claim her lips again. With a breathless gasp, she accepts, meeting my tongue with hers. She tastes of salt and desire, and her body is maddeningly warm and soft; an omega’s body, cleaving tightly to mine. 

Only when my lungs scream for air do I let her break away. Panting, I try to chase her lips. Lady Harrington flinches, yanking her hands back as though she’s been burned. She looks up at me with wide, panicked eyes, and the full weight of what we have done falls over me.

I release her shirt and stumble back, catching the edge of my desk with my good hand. My lips tingle with her warmth, with the ghost of the kiss. By the gods above and below, why did I kiss her?

Lady Harrington’s chest rises and falls with shallow gasps, but she does not speak. For once, she has run out of words. Briefly, she touches the corner of her mouth with shaking fingertips.

I take a steadying breath. I need space. Fresh air. Kissing her was a moment of madness, a mistake that cannot be repeated.

Pushing off the desk, I scale the ladder and open the trapdoor.

“Eliza—”

I climb from my cabin without a backward glance. The trapdoor thuds behind me, sealing Lady Harrington away. As I step from beneath the awning, the rain soaks my bloodstained shirt. I shiver, my skin clammy with cold, but my mouth is still warm. How can a single kiss have branded me this way?

Thunder grumbles from the belly of the heavy black stormclouds. I stride across the deck, slick with seawater and dark pools of blood. The great shadow of The Wraith bobs treacherously on The Maelstrom’s starboard side. In a matter of hours, the proud ship will make her bed in the bottom of the ocean.

My crew and the remainder of Hayes’ men are hard at work in the foul weather, hauling all the cargo they can from The Wraith. With seawater pouring in through the holes in her side, only the most valuable cargo can be saved.

I join them, bringing whatever I can carry in one arm below deck. The Wraith’s crew takes note. They speed up their efforts despite the pouring rain. As always, leading by example is far more effective than barking orders.

The work is also a welcome distraction.

Damn Lady Harrington. Damn her selfish entitlement. And double-damn my own weakness.

We pack away the most important valuables, then drag ourselves below. Every sailor onboard looks and smells like a half-drowned rat, so we strip out of our clothes, huddling together for warmth. We’ve picked up five more of Hayes’ men, making eight in total.

Red plays a tune on his accordion while Scrumpy takes charge of passing out wooden bowls of stew. Everyone slurps it down gratefully. The mood is somber, but I sense no hostility. Hayes challenged me and lost. His mistake. Now, his men are simply grateful to be aboard The Maelstrom instead of being swallowed by the cold, dark sea.

“A shame to see The Wraith sink,” Penny says. “She was beautiful.”

One of Hayes’ mates smiles. Another nods. “Aye. She flew like a gull. I’ll miss her something terrible.”

Murmurs of agreement follow. One of Hayes’ mates shares a story about how Hayes first took The Wraith. Before she was a pirate ship, she was a packet boat carrying letters between the Aruwasi islands. Half the crew signed on as sailors before taking the sloop mid-delivery.

I listen with half an ear. My mind is back in my cabin, lost in the sweetness of Cecily’s lips. The memory makes my knee bounce and my fingers curl atop my thighs.

Cecily? Since when have I thought of her by her first name?

It doesn’t matter. Thanks to Governor Pennyford’s generous offer, we have no choice but to take shelter at Bride’s Rest instead of hiding in open waters. Taking her there is a risk, but I see no other choice. Otherwise, every pirate captain on the southern seas will descend upon The Maelstrom like seabirds upon a beached whale carcass.