Page 44 of The Summons


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“I believe it has naught to do with your grace, as you say, but the rules you’ve no doubt heard about the Ring.” Blake cocked a brow.

Della Morte scowled. “If you refer to the myth that I cannot pry it off a dead man’s finger, I am aware, though not entirely convinced.”

“It must be given or found alone without a body. That includes a corpse. ’Tis no myth,” Blake said. “Dare to test it?”

From the look twisting Della Morte’s face, he found the challenge hard to resist. “Hand it over at once or she dies!” His loud outburst scattered birds from a nearby tree.

Yanking it from his finger, Blake held it in the air between them, just out of the Jesuit’s reach. “The woman?”

At one nod from Della Morte, his man pushed Emeline toward Blake. Catching her, he quickly handed her to Maston beside him, but not before he felt her warmth, heard the slight intake of her breath. Against his will, an odd joy swirled through him that he had the power to rescue this sweet flower. The first decent thing he remembered doing in quite some time.

“Don’t, Blake,” she protested.

He dropped the Ring into the puckish wastrel’s hand.

Della Morte examined it, a huge grin stretching his mouth wide before he uttered a yelp of victory.

Blake gestured for Maston to take Emeline and retreat.

“You are a bigger fool than I thought,” Della Morte crowed.

Blake grinned. “Am I, now?”

Shrieking startled the Jesuits. Bandit dropped from the tree, dashed across the sand, leapt in the air, and snatched the Ring from Della Morte’s hand before the Jesuit captain knew what happened.

Cursing, he plucked the flintlock from his belt, cocked it, and pointed it at the monkey. “Give that back to me, you bedeviled beast!”

Emeline screamed. The shot missed Bandit as he scrambled to the woman and gave her the Ring.

Perfect! Spinning, Blake raced across the sand, pulling Emeline along with him. Timing was everything now.

“After them! Shoot them!” Della Morte roared as he reloaded his flintlock.

Clutching Emeline, Blake dove into the brush behind a group of boulders he’d spotted earlier. Maston and Finn, pistols drawn, followed as they’d been instructed. Twenty of his crew, whom he’d snuck ashore on the other side of theSummons,came grunting and shouting from the jungle, blades and knives drawn like the pack of savages they were.

Shots echoed across the water, wind, and sand.

Blake took the Ring from Emeline. “Get behind me!” He nudged her back.

Della Morte and his crew charged toward them, kicking up sand, shouting obscenities, pistols loaded, and blades drawn. Nothing stopped them, not even when they spotted Blake’s men heading toward them. Instead, they shouted all the more ferociously and quickly engaged the oncoming horde.

Finn and Maston fired, striking two of them.

Blake slipped the Ring back on his finger. “Hurricane, rise now!”

There would either be a deadly battle on this island today, or the power of the Ring would save them all.

“Stay here!” he shouted to Emeline, then leapt over the boulder, drew his cutlass, and swept the blade down on the first Jesuit he encountered. His blade met flesh, and the man held his side and stumbled away.

Turning, Blake found Della Morte marching toward him, fire in his eyes.

Raising his cutlass, he met the man’s first blow with force, the clank of metal screeching through the air. He forced him back, but the Jesuit recovered quickly and drove his saber toward Blake’s legs. He leapt out of the way and swept his blade in from the right.

Above them, the sky grew thick with black, rolling clouds. Wind whipped up sand, stinging Blake’s eyes. Wavelets turned into mighty rollers crashing ashore.

Thunder bellowed. Chest heaving, Della Morte glanced toward the sea where his frigate lurched over incoming waves.

The Ring was working!