“We have to go,” he burst out.
Boom!TheSapphireshook, and cries rang out above them, sending a shiver down Heather’s spine.
“Go?” She blinked. “Do you meanfight? I haven’t a weapon, but I am willing to?—”
He shook his head sharply and clasped her hand in his. “Off the ship.”
Boom-boom.
“Pardon? What of the others? What of Berta?” Her heart squeezed. “And my plants!”
“I’m afraid we haven’t time.” He cut a glance at her and took her mother’s journal from her numb fingers. “Please trust me, Heather.”
And she did.
Percy tugged on her hand, and in a momentary panic, Heather reached out with her free arm and grabbed one of the potted plants that sat upon her chest of drawers, the minty horehound leaves shaking with the movement. She couldn’t very well leave without at leasttryingto save one.
Percy tutted softly and shook his head, but he led her through the nearly abandoned mess deck—where he retrieved a satchel in which to stow the journal—and up the companionway onto the gun deck.
Boom!
An involuntary curse escaped Heather as the cannon fire reverberated through her chest. She hesitated while men scurried about, loading the cannons and preparing the ammunition. But she hadn’t long to look, for Percy pulled her toward the next companionway.
Boom—crack!Fear sizzled along her skin and hastened her steps as the wall behind them splintered, spraying shards of wood through the air and sending a man sailing past on a hoarse cry.
“My god,” Heather breathed.
Percy tightened his hold on her hand. “Butcher will leave no one left alive.”
“Butcher?”
He nodded brusquely. “The captain. The damned thing is that his pirates are capable of being decent men, but they’re tempted by greed, bound by duty, and ruled by fear. And Butcher is not one to forgive; he will kill any man who defies him.”
“How do you know all of this?”
They ascended hastily to the quarterdeck, where—blimey—hand-to-hand combat had broken out.
Percy’s lips tightened as he took in the crush of pirates running across wooden planks that now connected the two ships. Others swung down onto the deck from ropes. The thudding of footfalls, the cries of pain, the clangs of swords and cutlasses, the splashing of the ocean, and the occasional crack of a pistol filled her ears. Gentle wind swirled past, carrying with it the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and the metallic zing of blood.
Heather tamped down her nausea. She wanted to pursue the matter of the man called Butcher, but this was most certainly not the time.
“We will need to fight our way through,” Percy said over his shoulder as he shifted his satchel.
He led them forward, then paused to retrieve something from the ground, and Heather’s hold tightened instinctively around her plant.
Boom-boom-boom!
She flinched as the ship trembled beneath her feet.
And, slowly, they moved. Men jostled around them as Percy swung his cutlass and cleared their path.
A shout and a sickening gurgle came from beside them, before one of their crew fell at their feet with a hollowthud. The pirate standing behind him whooped triumphantly before he rushed toward Heather.
Oh, ballocks. Another man leapt upon Percy, leaving her alone with her pirate, and despite her hours of training, her instincts took over.
With a screech, she lifted the plant high above her head and swung it downward. It connected with the pirate’s temple with a solid clunk. The man toppled to the deck, dirt and shattered earthenware spread over him.
“Capital hit,” Percy said beside her, his breath coming hard as he stepped over his own opponent, who was sprawled beside Heather’s.
