Now was the time to rid herself of this peevish cur. She’d far too long endured his insolent remarks and demeaning insults.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a pouch and took out a vial of the potion she’d concocted the day before.
“What is that?” Della Morte dabbed his neckerchief over his sweaty forehead.
“It is your death,mon amour.”
Chapter 32
E
meline’s hair hung to her waist in a tangled sticky mass, and her salt-encrusted skirts grated upon her stockings with each step, but she couldn’t be happier as she emerged from the jungle arm-in-arm with Blake.
Despite the wounds on his chest and arm, he’d told her he had won the sword fight. Even so, before they emerged onto the shore, they halted and peered through the leaves of a thick shrub. Yet they saw no battle, no waiting enemy, and hence, no trap set for them. In truth, neither Della Morte’s crew nor his frigate were in sight, while Blake’s men lounged aimlessly upon the sand.
Upon seeing them, Finn leapt up from the boulder he perched upon and approached, Pedro and Charlie following behind.
Only then did Emeline see three bodies lying in the sand.
Blake followed her gaze, then released her and uttered, “Stay here” before heading toward them.
“It be Della Morte hisself.” Finn slipped beside Blake. “An’ ’is henchmen.”
Defying Blake’s orders, Emeline followed, her mind spinning with Finn’s news and her heart clenching at the sight of renewed blood trickling down Blake’s arm.
Halting before the bodies, Blake frowned when he saw Emeline beside him. She’d seen the dead before, but these men appeared to have suffered immensely. Their lips were blue. Their vacant eyes stared up at the sun, a mangled look of horror frozen on their features.
“What happened?”
“Dunno,” Charlie offered. “That pirate lady, she sprinkled something on them, an’ they all dropped t’ the ground.”
Pedro let out a whimper and Emeline drew him close. “’Twas most likely some evil hex.”
“Death and wounds,” Finn muttered, backing away. “Sweet Jesus, preserve us.”
Blake frowned. “Did they find the Ring?”
“Nay.” Sam’s voice turned Emeline around to see the old surgeon approaching, medical satchel in hand. “I overheard them arguing. When they couldn’t find it, she killed these three and left with their crew. Let me bandage your wounds.”
Blake glanced at the cuts on his chest and arm as if just now noticing them. “Nay, I’m all right.”
“Let him do it, Blake,” Emeline appealed, drawing his tender smile. Was it her imagination or was there something different in his eyes, in his smile?
“Sure were some fight ye ’ad, Cap‘n,” Finn shoved his pipe back into his mouth.
Taking Emeline’s arm, Blake drew her away from the gruesome scene. “Where are Della Morte’s crew?”
“They went wit’ her, Cap’n’,” Charlie said with an incredulous snort.
“Willingly?” Blake lowered to sit on a boulder where Sam could begin his ministrations.
“Aye, after they saw what she did to their leaders.”
Emeline nodded toward Blake’s crew scattered across the beach. “Why didn’t she harm you or take Blake’s ship?”
“That be the strange thing,” Finn mumbled, teetering the pipe still in his mouth. “She came right up t’ us like she were going to kill us all, but something stopped her.”
“Aye!” Pedro added in an excited tone. “She said somethin’ about us bein’ protected afore she marched away, cursin’ an’ hollerin’, carryin’ on like a beached shark.”
