Scrubbing his jaw with the heel of his hand, Caleb growled, feeling the damp of the night clinging to his fingers.The docks stank of smoke, tar, and the sour sweat of men gathered to reckon.Theclap clapof Brandt’s cane announced the surgeon as he limped toward them, the old man’s face a map of exhaustion.
“They are far too ill to move, Captain,” he said without waiting for a question as the cane swept over the twenty men left standing.“These are the only ones not infected.”
Ayida moved through the shadows behind him, hands folded, eyes wide and bright as a saint’s.She gave him a quick nod and a smile, displaying an innocence he no longer believed.
The throng halted beneath theSentinellike a black wave, a cursing, spitting mass of fury and disgust.The click of a dozen musket hammers peppered the air as his men cocked their weapons.
Caleb raised his voice until it cut through the din.“What do you want?”
A man stepped forward, the scowl on his face as deep as the scar running from his forehead to his chin.Moonlight gleamed off the bald spot atop his crown while strings of greasy locks hung past his shoulder.Pistols and knives clustered on a leather baldric that did little to hide the threadbare shirt beneath.He spat out his words with the certainty of a man speaking for others.
“Ye and yer crew are under arrest.Come wit’ us, or we’ll set yer ship afire and watch her sink into the bay.”
“On what charge?”Caleb called.
“Witchcraft and sorcery,” the man brayed.
“An’ casting curses upon our fair town,” another man added.And the horde answered like wolves baying at the moon.
“There is no devilry aboard this ship.Who sent you?”Though Caleb already knew.
“We come on our own.We’ve seen enough of your magic and witchery.The whole lot o’ ye should be burned, along with yer ship.Devil’s work it be.Sure as I am Sam Miner, constable of Marigot!”
Memories rose, close and ugly, of another time, not long past, when the same accusations had driven Caleb and his family from hearth and home.Then, the threats had been words.Tonight the air smelled of tinder and blood.
With the miracle of the rain cloud alight in his spirit, Caleb lifted up a silent prayer.Lord, I pray, answer me this night.In Your mercy, save us.Surely the Almighty hadn’t rescued him from Montverre only to have him die, along with his crew, in a fiery furnace?
Caleb looked over his men.Twenty to their fifty.Should the mob rush to board them, his crew could thin their ranks but not hold the ship, not when more than half his men lay below with fevers.
Thunder and Flame!Of all the times for his men to fall ill.And God to be silent.
Caleb gripped the railing and lifted up a prayer so small it might as well have been a pebble tossed into a storm, “You have my word,” he called to the constable below, “we will set sail as soon as the wind stirs.”
“Not good enough!The only way to rid the world of the devil’s ship is to burn her.”
“Ayes” fired into the air.Along with a single torch.Yellow and red flames streaked an arc across the night sky, landing on the deck.
Caleb spun.“Keg, douse that!”The master gunner snatched a bucket of slops and flung it.The flame sputtered and faded, hissing into the night.
“That’s yer final warning!”the constable crowed.“Down ’ere, face a trial, or fire will convict an’ burn ye where ye stand.”
The soft rustle of skirts and breath of lavender told him Desi had come above.His mouth went dry at the sight of her; a pale face in the torchlight, eyes alight with fear and a fierce sort of trust.A look passed between them—more than affection, an unsaid pact—and the urgency of it made his chest ache.
Caleb moved his gaze from the lady to Alden.He would not see her harmed.Or any of his crew.Fingers cold in the pocket of his waistcoat, he fished out the Ring and slid it on his finger.The metal fit like a promise, a warm comfort unfurled beneath his skin, familiar, intimate, dangerous.
“Nay, Captain.”Alden’s grip closed on Caleb’s wrist.“Pray.Don’t use the devil’s power.’Tis what has brought us to this.Pray, my friend.Pray to a God who has more power than a vile trinket.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?”Caleb jerked his hand free.“If God doesn’t answer soon, our fate is already written.”
Alden grimaced.“It always brings a curse, Captain.”
For a heartbeat the world stilled.The sea’s lap fell silent, the mob’s roar dulled.The Ring thrummed like a heart against Caleb’s palm, a pulse of heat that made the hairs along his forearm stand.The salt air sharpened as if the night itself had leaned in to watch what he would do next.
Flames cut like knives through the dark.Two more torches flew through the air, one tumbling toward Brandt, and Caleb lunged, shoving the old surgeon aside with a shoulder that sent him sprawling.The torch thudded a foot from Brandt’s cheek.Stripping off his coat, Alden beat the blaze into a wet, cursing mess.Liam ground the other into the planks with his heel.
A thunderous roar broke the night sky, and Caleb glanced over the railing.The savage mob, mad and blind with courage borne of numbers, swarmed the rope ladder, claws and fists and knife-points catching at the rail.
His men levelled weapons, muzzles and blades glinting.
