Blacksouls Page 14

  With a growing sense of unease, Teach went around to the back. The courtyard was empty, the barn doors closed. The single-story house also looked deserted. Entering the back of the tavern through the kitchen, Teach was momentarily relieved to see Cara seated at the table, until he saw her tear-streaked face.

  “What happened?”

  Cara sniffed, the look in her eyes haunted. “Beth’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “She was stabbed. Anne found her.” Cara pointed to a spot beside the table. Although it was apparent someone had tried to clean the area, Teach knew from experience that the dark stain would remain for some time.

  “Where’s Anne now?” he asked, a buzzing in his ears growing sharper, more piercing.

  “She went to the fort with Coyle. The governor’s wife has been poisoning the governor. They went to warn him and to tell him about the murder.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  Cara stared at him blankly. “I don’t know. Four hours, perhaps.”

  What could possibly take that long? “Where’s Alastair?”

  Cara wiped her face with the back of her hands. “Upstairs. He waited for them to come to take the body and then he said he wanted to be alone. I’ve . . . I’ve never seen him like that.”

  Teach could only imagine the shock the Irishman must be feeling. “I’m going to speak with Alastair. Will you be all right?” he asked Cara.

  She nodded.

  Running a hand through his hair, Teach strode through the empty tavern and up the stairs to Alastair’s office. He tried the handle, but the door didn’t move. Teach knocked briefly. “Alastair? Alastair, please let me in. We have to talk.”

  An interminable silence followed. Teach leaned in, straining to hear any sound from within the room.

  “Alastair, please. I’m sorry, but we have to talk. Neither Anne nor Coyle has returned from the fort.”

  Nothing.

  Teach considered breaking down the door when the key turned in the lock and Alastair opened it. The older man’s face was drawn and anguished. In his left hand he held a tortoiseshell comb. He looked, quite literally, as if a part of him had died.

  Teach didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. When he’d climbed the stairs, he’d had a vague idea to speak with Alastair about their next course of action. But looking into Alastair’s tormented eyes, Teach hesitated. Alastair had done enough. He’d sacrificed enough.

  For a minute, there was no sound or movement.

  Alastair was the first to speak. “I told them I’d never join them. And I told them I’d butcher any man who ever harmed her,” he said, looking down at the comb in his hand, his voice hoarse. “Never thought they’d send a woman to do the job.”

  In that moment Teach believed one could die of a broken heart as he looked at Alastair’s sloped shoulders. When Anne had left on the Providence, Teach had been overcome with grief. For weeks he’d wondered if he’d ever see her again. He couldn’t imagine the pain of Alastair’s loss, and the corners of Teach’s eyes burned as he watched the older man.

  Alastair finally met Teach’s gaze. “They took her from me. They took the one person who mattered the most to me in this world.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Teach breathed, although the words didn’t adequately express how he felt.

  Turning the tortoiseshell comb over, Alastair held it tenderly in his palm. “This belonged to our daughter. She died when she was six.”

  How much heartache could one person bear? Nodding, Alastair took a shuddering breath. “Beth told me she planned to give this to Anne this morning. I found it in the courtyard. Anne must have had it with her when she left.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Alastair closed his fingers over the comb, a deadly glint entering his eyes. “They’ll pay for what they’ve done. I swear, I’ll make them pay.”

  Loud footsteps sounded on the stairs and Coyle appeared in the doorway, panic gleaming in his eyes.

  “Where’s Anne?” Teach asked.

  Coyle’s lips tightened. “They have her locked up.”

  “Who has her locked up?” Alastair demanded.

  “The governor. We went to warn him about his wife and tell him about the murder, but he didn’t believe me. Webb says Beth and Anne had some kind of a fight over Alastair and now Anne is trying to cover up her crime.”

  Teach’s blood teemed with fury. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him myself if anything happens to her.” If anyone harmed Anne because of that man’s assumptions, Teach would rip him apart. They should have let his wife finish the job of poisoning him. Teach turned to the door, but Alastair caught his hand in a viselike grip.

  “I’ll go,” Alastair said, but Teach pulled away.

  “No, you’ve done enough.”

  Moving with surprising speed, Alastair stepped in front of Teach. When just a few minutes before he’d seemed defeated, Alastair now shook with purpose. “You’re in no position to go.”

  “And you are?” Teach asked, his gaze locked with Alastair’s.

  Alastair blanched beneath Teach’s cold words. “Don’t you understand, boy? You cannot let them see how much she means to you. I’ll go and speak with the governor.”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” Teach insisted.

  “No you’re not. This isn’t about you right now and your need to do something. I know you feel helpless, but we have to make sure Anne comes out of this alive. You stay here and wait for me.”

  “But what will you say? I’ve already tried to talk to the governor. The man’s a fool,” Coyle said, his face taut.

  “Pelham is behind the poisoning. I’m convinced of it,” Alastair said.

  “And if the governor doesn’t believe you?” Teach asked as Alastair headed to the top of the stairs. “What will you do then?”

  Pausing, Alastair turned to look at them, his expression grim. “I don’t know. But don’t worry,” he said as Teach raised his hand to protest. “I’ll think of something. After all, I have nothing left to lose.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Anne

  Taking a corner of her apron, Anne dipped it in the stagnant cup of water the jailer had left her. She was the only one occupying a cell in this wing of the fort, a dark and humid place with a single torch illuminating the dank, sweating stone of the bulwarks.

  Anne sat on the floor, cleaning around each fingernail with nerveless fingers. She had been locked up for the better part of the day. At one point, she’d tried to read Dampier’s book, but it brought her no comfort. The last time she had looked, her mother’s pocket watch had read half past four in the afternoon.

  Through the cell bars, a faint glow appeared down the corridor, accompanied by the clang of irons and swishing skirts. As the light grew, Anne also recognized the sound of heavy breathing. Stealing a glance through her lashes, she saw it was the governor’s wife, accompanied by three men. Two of the men were the slavers Anne had seen at the whipping post. The third one she didn’t recognize. Although he couldn’t have been that old, he was hunched over, and his shoulders appeared frail beneath his long coat.

  Bracing herself against the upcoming confrontation, Anne kept her eyes on her task. The footsteps stopped in front of her cell.

  “Is this her?” the stranger asked. His breath came in short pants, as if each step was a struggle.

  “Aye, it is, Governor.”

  Anne dipped her apron once more, her fingers starting to shake, trying to suppress the fear welling up inside her. She had held Beth with her right hand, so of course there was more blood there.

  “Not much to look at, is she?” He clicked his tongue in disgust. “Nothing more than a common criminal spitting such vile accusations against my wife.”

  So much blood.

  “Look at me when I talk to you.”

  Anne turned her back to them slightly, continuing the study of her nails.

  The bars clanged as if they had been struck by something. An
ne jumped but did not look up.

  “I said look at me when I’m talking to you. Do you know who I am?”

  Anne paused and finally met Governor Webb’s gaze. “I know exactly who you are. You’re the man being poisoned by your wife.”

  Mrs. Webb gasped, raising a gloved hand to her mouth. Only Anne saw the act for what it was. The governor put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Perhaps he was afraid she might swoon. In truth, he could have used his wife’s support, for his eyes were sunken, deep shadows beneath them.

  “Please,” Mrs. Webb said, moving her hand on her husband’s chest. “Make her stop! I can’t bear such lies.”

  The governor’s face contorted with rage as he leaned closer to the bars, his face demonically lit by the torch. “My wife hasn’t left my side since I took ill. She’s the one who’s been nursing me back to health.”

  Anne gave a short laugh. “If you wish to live, I suggest you have someone else drink the tea she brings you.”

  For just a fraction of a second, Anne saw doubt in Webb’s expression.

  Mrs. Webb stepped forward, no longer cowering at her husband’s side. “Don’t you dare threaten us. You’re the one who’s committed a crime and now you’ve come here, hoping to cast a shadow on my good name. You’re the one covered in blood. Not me.”

  Anne couldn’t believe the woman’s audacity. “I saw you. You claimed you needed a poultice for boils. That’s why you asked Beth for the nightshade. And then you killed her when she was no longer useful to you.” Anne’s voice caught.

  “Boils?” Governor Webb frowned, glancing down at his wife.

  She clutched his arm, shaking her head. “Lies! She continues to tell lies! I’ve never met that woman in my life.” Mrs. Webb rounded on Anne, her limbs shaking. Anne could see the fear in her eyes. “You probably had some petty argument with her and then you stabbed her. Perhaps you want that awful tavern keeper for yourself. He has such a taste for colored girls.”

  Anne was on her feet, unwilling to sit still any longer. If she’d had her pistol on her, Mrs. Webb would be on the ground right now, bleeding out. “Her blood is on your hands. Has anyone bothered to check the back of your wardrobe? Or perhaps you’ve already stashed the dress in a fireplace somewhere.”

  The color drained from Mrs. Webb’s face. She shook her head, pointing at Anne. “You have the devil in you.”

  Governor Webb was silent as he looked between Anne and his wife, his brows drawn together.

  “Are you going to let her speak to me like this?” Mrs. Webb demanded. “I told you it was useless coming to see her. Anyone associated with Alastair Flynn is trouble. That man is too powerful by far and needs to be taught a lesson. Who’s in charge of this island? A tavern keeper? Or you?”

  Her words had their desired effect. The governor shook himself and snapped his fingers. The two men stepped forward, treacherous smiles curving their cruel faces.

  “Bring her,” Governor Webb said, his voice impassive.

  “You’ll fetch a good price for her, Governor. We’ll see to that.”

  No! Ice-cold sweat dripped down Anne’s spine as she backed away, dread settling like fog around her. The taller slaver inserted the key in the lock and opened her cell. She eyed the irons they picked up, the hairs pricking on the backs of her arms. They reached for her, but Anne jumped to the side, trying to race past them, but a fist to her cheek stopped her short flight. Dazed, she fell back, landing on the floor in a painful heap, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.

  The governor’s wife laughed, a sinister sound that raised gooseflesh on Anne’s skin. Turning over, Anne spat a stream of blood on Mrs. Webb’s light blue dress. With a shriek of rage, the woman ripped the whip out of the slaver’s hand.

  Anne shielded her face with her arm. The pain was blinding and instantaneous. Even as Anne cried out, a rag was stuffed in her mouth and her wrists were caught in a painful grip behind her back as she was hauled to her feet. A triumphant look shined in Mrs. Webb’s eyes as the governor declared, “We don’t need to go to the whipping post for this one.”

  Fighting in earnest against her captors, Anne kicked out repeatedly. After several seconds of near misses, one of the slavers gave a disgruntled shout. He slammed his fist into Anne’s stomach. Doubling over in pain, she gagged around the rag stuck in her mouth. Cold metal clasped around one of her wrists as the men dragged her unceremoniously across the cell. The heavy chain was laced through several bars before another cuff was attached to her other wrist, effectively securing her in place.

  Anne didn’t have time to brace herself before the first lash sliced through the thin material of her shirt, the searing pain bringing tears to her eyes and she cried out. Time and again, it was brought down across her back in a relentless assault. With each stroke, Anne’s skin softened and tore open until she felt the trickle of blood between her shoulder blades. Her back burned where the leather strips cut into her flesh.

  After seven lashes, there was a pause. Anne briefly registered the woman’s panting over the pounding of her own heart.

  “It’s my turn,” the slaver said.

  With a muted cry, Anne fought against her bonds as the slaver took up where the governor’s wife had stopped, but there was no escape. Anne had no idea where the whip landed, for every blow was pure agony. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she hung limply by her wrists, her head hanging forward between her arms against the bars. The rag in her mouth muffled her sobs.

  Eventually the flogging stopped. The shackles were removed and Anne collapsed to the floor. With shaking fingers, she took the rag from her mouth, watching dully as Mrs. Webb and the governor stopped beside her.

  “You’ll be put on a ship tomorrow,” Governor Webb said.

  “If she survives the journey.” This from one of the slavers.

  Mrs. Webb sniffed, her dainty shoes peeking out from the bottom of her blood-spattered skirts. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. The devil will welcome you to hell.”

  “I’m already there,” Anne whispered, her voice hoarse. She didn’t flinch when the whip came down on her one last time.

  The cell door shut with a clang and they left Anne lying there on the grimy floor. Clenching her jaw, Anne closed her eyes against the searing pain as the footsteps of her tormentors receded down the dark hallway.

  CHAPTER 21

  Teach

  Thunder rumbled in the distance as heavy pewter clouds rolled across the evening sky. Although they weren’t unfurled, the sails of the Triumph shuddered in the wind. Teach secured the knot of the mainmast, blinking against the raindrops beginning to fall from the sky.

  He’d already secured the lines once, but his muscles and fingers twitched, determined to find some task, some kind of release for his frustration. A handful of men clambered over the ship behind him, part of a skeleton crew the governor had allowed Teach to assemble until they were ready to depart. Then he and his men were free to go.

  Teach glared at the fort on the other side of the harbor. He shouldn’t have listened to Alastair.

  “It’s not in Anne’s best interest to have you go storming in and causing an uproar,” Alastair had said. “Wait and see what I can do first. Wait for me at the Triumph.” He’d instructed Teach to prepare the ship and act as if everything was normal, but nothing about Teach’s stay in Nassau had been normal.

  “Teach!”

  Exhaling loudly, Teach turned. Coyle stood behind him on the deck, his eyes weary, his mouth turned down at the corners. Teach’s chest turned hot with fear.

  “Where is she? What’s happened?” Teach demanded.

  “She’s still at the fort.”

  “Where’s Alastair?”

  “He’s at the tavern.”

  Teach strode across the deck, but Coyle grabbed Teach’s arm, halting him. “Let him rest. He’s done all he can for now.”

  Jerking out of Coyle’s grasp, Teach rounded on him. “While he’s resting, Anne is still locked up in that bloody plac
e. And so are my men.”

  Coyle’s eyes flashed with their own fury. “You’ll see your men shortly. And at least they’re still alive. In case you’ve forgotten, Beth is dead. Let the man have a moment to mourn.”

  Teach felt a sharp stab of guilt and tried to draw a steadying breath. Dragging a hand across his face, he gave Coyle an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry. I truly am, but unless we do something now, I’m afraid I’ll experience firsthand what he’s going through. I can’t allow that to happen. I won’t allow that to happen. With or without your help, I plan on getting Anne out of the fort tonight. I take it the governor didn’t believe Alastair?”

  “He didn’t get a chance to speak with him.”

  “Then I’ll go and speak with him,” Teach growled, but Coyle stopped him once again.

  “Would you listen to me? I know you’re upset, but rushing off without a plan won’t save Anne.” Coyle ran his hand through his hair. “Alastair was with the governor when he collapsed. He didn’t collapse from hunger or fatigue. The man was spitting blood when they dragged him away. Alastair saw it with his own eyes.”

  “Then that should prove that what Beth told Anne was true.”

  Coyle shook his head. “Nobody believes the story. They say Webb’s in ill health because he’s obsessed with finding Easton. The governor’s wife claims ignorance of the entire thing. Says she never set eyes on Beth.”

  “But her driver—”

  “Nobody can find him.”

  A ripple of dread ran down Teach’s spine. How many people would the Webbs kill before they were stopped?

  “The most important thing now is to get Anne out of that fort tonight. We’ll take her to Alastair’s sloop and set sail with the tide. That’s why Alastair needs to rest. He said he saw her, but it was only for a moment. She’s—” Coyle swallowed, and Teach noticed the hesitation.

  “She’s what?”

  “We’re getting her out of there, Teach. I’m just worried about the storm,” Coyle said, eyeing the flash of lightning in the distance.