No one could be turned into a living rag doll. Could they?
By accident? Truly it was a horrifying thought.
William shook his head. “Superstitious preacher burned her body. Left her in a bit of a pickle, indeed.”
Valynda nodded. “But for Lady Belle, I’d have been trapped in between forever.”
In between what?
Cameron wasn’t sure she wanted to know that answer, so she asked the other question that plagued her. “Belle?”
“Our doctor,” Bart said, jerking his chin toward one of the riggers. “Belle Morte’s one you don’t want to run afoul of. She’s a powerful maven who can give the strongest hell beasties a run for their money.”
Cameron scowled at the sight of a beautiful dark-skinned woman who seemed harmless enough—until she pulled out a large machete to slash expertly at the ties of a sail before flipping down to land on the deck with the skill of a master assassin. In one fluid, graceful movement, she sheathed her weapon then shimmied up another rope. Aye, the deadliest objects were often the most beautiful. “An Obia?”
“Nay, love. Something much, much darker. We don’t speak of it, lest we offend her and she curse us for it.”
Cameron crossed herself. What have you gotten me into, brother? She’d come here seeking help and salvation for the two of them. Yet there was no salvation on this ship. Never had she seen a more damned lot in all her life. If ever there was a crew bound to Lucifer’s lowest pit, this had to be it.
And she was sailing in the midst of them all, straight for hell’s domain.
Stark cold terror seized her as a rotten feeling crept through her very soul. “Question, Mr. Death?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Am I the only human on board this ship?”
To her deepest chagrin, he hesitated. And when he finally answered, it wasn’t what she wanted to hear and gave her no comfort whatsoever. “Define the word ‘human.’”
3
“Am I the only human on board this ship?”
Devyl didn’t so much as blink at Cameron’s question as she came to rest right in front of him where he was issuing orders to the riggers on deck. If anything, the good captain appeared bored by her while they left the port behind and broke into open sea. “Suppose it depends on the definition one uses for ‘human.’”
She gave him an irritated, droll stare as he repeated his quartermaster’s words in a bland mumble. “I am unamused by your hedging, Captain.”
He arched a sardonic black brow with a look that caused a chill to run down her spine. “Who says I’m hedging?”
It was a titanic effort not to roll her eyes at a man—or perhaps infernal beast would be more accurate—who she was quite certain might very well suck out her immortal soul and feast upon it. “Can you at least tell me why I was brought on board this ship, then?”
“For your protection.”
Why did she have such a hard time believing that? Probably because she couldn’t imagine a more dangerous group in existence than the one rushing around her.
“From?”
Forget the crew, she was beginning to doubt if there could be anything more lethal or terrifying than the creatures who called this ship home.
He let out a long, slow breath as if seeking some sort of patience. “We are not your enemies, Miss Jack. Of that much you can rest assured. While we might be an unsavory, untoward, and uncivilized group, we are not without our honor.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we reserve our venom for those who’ve earned it.”
And those words failed to comfort her. “You’ll have to forgive me if your benediction causes me alarm.”
“No need to apologize. You’ve every right to fear us. As I said, we are an unsavory lot.” He turned those dark, soulless eyes toward her, and this time, she saw for a fact that they did indeed turn red as blood.
