Chapter Eleven

 

 

 

Denny charted his course with his crew members. Barthelmass, Ebba, the quartermaster, bosun, rigger, ship’s doctor, three sailors, Theodore the cat and even the customary cabin boy, a young stowaway who’d somehow escaped the island, were all informed of the ship’s journey. Denny had always allowed his crew to be a part of the decision-making process. Denny had always prided himself on being strong enough to lead his team that was unruly but not so bloodthirsty that they killed him or abandoned him…or sold him off to what they thought were pirate ships.

As the ship set sail for Algeciras, in Spain, its first port of call, the mood on board was jubilant. Fortunata had been allowed to listen to the plans without offering an opinion.

“I don’t trust you,” Denny told her repeatedly. “And don’t try bewitching anybody on board, or I’ll make you walk the plank.”

“Watch how you talk to me,” she said, which really made him laugh. The stronger he acted, the more her powers seemed to recede.

Two years, seven months, he kept reminding himself. Had she not been running out of money she would have kept him imprisoned forever.

She sulked on her own, reduced to the task of swabbing the deck, per Denny’s instructions. The crew took turns monitoring her.

“And use no poison, mind,” Barthelmass admonished her.

Ebba went below deck to make Denny more porridge. She promised it wouldn’t be poisoned, and Denny was forced to believe her.

They had a three-week journey ahead of them, and the crew remained in good spirits, especially when it seemed that the food on board was pretty good.

“She can’t make food appear by magic,” Ebba informed Denny. “Somehow she’s lost all her powers. She is afraid of you.”

“Good.”

“Who did you see when you hovered between life and death?”

Merritt’s face loomed in his mind. “An angel. That’s all you need to know.”

Ebba nodded and handed him a huge bowl of porridge. Denny felt sure Fortunata had sent her to ask him this question, but Denny had no need to divulge his secrets. He kept his mind blank and focused on the task at hand, getting to Cornwall.

For several days, the voyage went smoothly until they weathered a bad storm on the eleventh day. Fortunata, Ebba, Barthelmass and Bertie, the cabin boy, all took to their beds, slumbering like dormice, avoiding the ship’s wild surges. Denny loved it, as did the rest of his crew. He was surprised that Anisse handled it so well, but though she tried, her cooking was grim. She couldn’t help burning everything that came into her path. She was, however, an excellent seamstress and did a bang-up job patching torn sails and clothing.

In the middle of one particularly violent sea squall, Christoph came to him in his mind.

“Guard your thoughts,” Christoph warned. “Trust nobody.” He then went on to give Denny surprising instructions. He yearned to talk to somebody about the surprising visit from Christoph, but knew he couldn’t. He was just anxious to hit dry land to execute the first of his plans. Plans he had to keep shielded from Fortunata.

 

* * * *

 

The longer Denny was at sea, and the more time he had to think about the past, the more some things started to make sense. One day, while out on deck looking across the ocean with a spyglass, Ebba came to him. She seemed happy now that she’d recovered from motion sickness and was back in the kitchen, cooking.

“Is everything all right?” she asked him.

Denny watched a whale breaching in the distance, the joyful moment spoiled when distaste flooded his mouth at the sound of her words.

“Yes, and you can tell the witch if she has a question to come and ask me herself.”

Ebba looked at him. “But she’s a princess. You must be nicer to her.”

“Really?” He shook his head. “Has it worked for you?”

“Of course.” She looked wary then. “Why? What’s going on?”

“She’s put the warts back on your nose.”

Ebba’s hands flew to her face and her mouth fell open in a strangled cry. They were all over her cheeks and nose. “Fortunata!” she screamed, running for the ladder.

Good. That’ll put the cat among the pigeons. Denny wasn’t afraid of Fortunata’s wrath. He was sick of her. If Christoph’s messages were correct, then change was afoot. Change that everybody except Fortunata would like.

He raised the spyglass back to his eye, but the whale was gone.

In the distance, he spotted two boats. Fishing boats, likely. He flew up to the crow’s nest and kept an eye on them. An hour later, young Bertie joined him, climbing with ease up the flagpole.

“There are two Spanish fishing boats out there,” the child informed him. “Can I fire the cannons, sir?”

“No, you cannot.”

“Aw. What kind of pirate are you anyway?” Bertie asked, his hopeful glance falling into dismay.

“The regular kind. Who suggested firing the cannons, anyway?”

“Fortunata. She promised me lollies if I blew up those boats.”

“Go to the kitchen and ask Ebba to boil you some lollies. Tell her I said to do it and that it’s a most urgent matter.”

Bertie’s face brightened. “Really? I can do that?”

“You have my permission. Do you like treacle toffee?”

Bertie looked moon-faced. “I’ve never tried it.”

“She makes the best treacle toffee in the world. Mention that to her when you ask her nicely to make her some.”

“You’re the best dread pirate I’ve ever met!” Bertie hurled his arms around Denny, who laughed.

“I’m the only pirate you’ve met, aren’t I?”

“A bit.”

“A bit?”

“I met Pirate Captain Rigby.”

“He’s not a captain. He’s a second mate!”

“Huh. He says he’s a captain. He took my father on his ship and left me on the island. ‘Tis a stinky island, isn’t it?”

Denny nodded. “I thought so. Now climb down and get yourself some toffee.”

“Aye, aye, Captain! Sir!” Bertie managed a salute as he shimmied back down the pole. Suddenly the two fishing boats in the distance vanished. Now that was strange.

Denny didn’t have much time to worry about it. Barthelmass appeared on the deck.

“We have a fire in the boiler room,” he shouted up to Denny.

“No, we don’t. Go down to Fortunata and tell her to quit clowning around. Tell her no more fires, no more fishing boats, or I’ll make her scrub every inch of this tub!”

Barthelmass looked at him, bug-eyed. “You really want me to say all that to her?”

“Yes, I really want you to say all that to her,” Denny mimicked. “Now.”

His dark tone sent Barthelmass scurrying below deck. Denny was in a bad mood now. He flew back down to the deck, pacing. He emptied his mind of all thoughts. It was no good letting her rub him up the wrong way and delve into his mind. He knew just the thing to stop her antics and went below deck. The pleasing smell of treacle streamed from the galley. Little Bertie was laughing, and when Denny poked his head into the galley, he saw that the lad was eating a piece of fried bread as he sat atop the table.

The boy’s cheeks flamed and he scuttled down to the floor. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t apologize.” Denny was exhausted. The truth was, all the secrecy and thought-guarding was taking its toll on Denny.

He sat on the long bench at the table, Bertie moving beside him. The child seemed cold. Denny didn’t say anything. Maybe it was because he forced himself to sleep in increments at night, circling the ship at odd hours to keep an eye on Fortunata. He started to doze when he received an unexpected visit in his mind. This time it was the twin seers from the jury.

They spoke in unison, but with perfect clarity. He held his breath as they gave him instructions. They suddenly vanished. When he blinked and opened his eyes again, Fortunata was standing in front of him, hands on hips.

“Sleeping on the job, Captain?” she sneered.

He looked up at her. “Something like that.” He smiled at her, knowing his secrecy rattled her. Her uncertain gaze shifted from side to side.

“And you, cabin boy. Go make my bed.” She pointed to Bertie, who stopped eating.

Denny watched him a moment. The kid was frightened but there was something about the child…a defiance Denny admired.

Fortunata in turn stared at Denny, who blocked his thoughts from her.

“Be kind, Fortunata. He’s a mere boy.”

She flared her nostrils but stopped short of a response. Every chance she got, Fortunata bossed Bertie around, especially when she thought Denny wasn’t near them. Ebba pulled Denny aside to report Fortunata’s behavior, but he shrugged it off.

“This isn’t like you.” Ebba seemed stunned. “You are the one who always protects women and children.”

“I know,” he said. “Say, do we have any toffee left?” Denny didn’t want to hear about any shipboard dramas.

Over the coming days, he took to giving Bertie errands away from Fortunata and making sure they were never left alone together. In their final week before they arrived at Algeciras, Denny stepped up his nighttime patrols of the ship. Twice he caught Fortunata attempting to enter Bertie’s cabin and so he moved the boy into a cabin with the rigger and gunner, instructing them to shoot Fortunata if she tried entering their quarters.

Denny was so tense by the time they arrived at the port, he could hardly see straight. When they docked, he asked Fortunata to accompany him ashore. He made sure visions of coins, lots and lots of lovely Carpathian coins danced in his head. She saw them of course and her eyes gleamed with predatory joy. Denny instantly guarded his thoughts again and mentally rubbed his hands. He invited Bertie and Anisse ashore with them. As the crew members drifted off in different directions, Denny’s small party accompanied him through the main plaza a few feet away from the ocean.

Denny thought Algeciras was one of the ugliest ports he’d visited over the years, but he could have hugged the place, so grateful was he to be on dry land. Bertie ran over to Los Arcos, the public fountain, and ran his hands through the water.

“Fresh water,” the boy kept saying and suddenly jumped into it.

Denny and the others hauled him out, but Bertie was good natured about his brief romp.

The square had been improved since Denny had last been here, marked off with chains attached to stone posts. Poplars and a plethora of palm trees bordered the square. The sudden burst of orange blossom tickled Denny’s nose. Young Bertie snagged an orange from one of the many trees planted in wooden boxes in the square and held it to his face.

“Oh. A fresh orange,” he murmured over and over again.

Denny almost felt sorry for him. He led his group toward the entrance to the Rastro de Sabado—Saturday Market—where they found busty, colorfully dressed women selling everything from embroidered shirts and dresses to thick slices of pan de la casa—house bread—topped with tomato, ham, and baked and drizzled with olive oil. Denny treated them to some as they toured the tables where Moroccan sailors sold antique furniture and trinkets that looked they’d been stolen. There were also some questionable fellows selling dirty clothes and rusty tools.

People stared at Denny, pointing at his wings, but he ignored them.

“This place is amazing,” Anisse said, her face alight at the rich colors of yarns and fabrics on display.

He encouraged her to buy, slipping coins into her hand. When he was certain the others weren’t looking, he walked away, past the old man selling ugly stones with odd images painted on them with gouache. Everything he painted, whether it was a tree or a house, had a human face somewhere in it. And the human face had demonic eyes. The old man made money because his work was weird, but Denny slipped him some gold, declining to take one of the stones.

The old man’s fingers closed around Denny’s as he took the coins. “You’re back,” he said.

Denny resisted the urge to say, “No, I am not.” He smiled at the old man who had no sense of humor but kept an eye on Denny’s treasure. He moved along a cobbled street and, checking over his shoulder to ensure he wasn’t being followed, Denny turned into a tiny alleyway. For a moment, he stopped. Time had stood still since his last visit. The little corner was still filled with tall, whitewashed buildings that had seen better days. They’d each been separated into little apartments with their windows open and the inhabitants milling about inside. Denny paused to inhale the smell of oranges, freshly washed clothes hanging on lines strung between the buildings, coffee and something else. Hope. He glanced around. Somebody was playing Spanish guitar. Guitarra Latina they called it. The guitar of the common people.

He darted into the narrow passageway between two of the buildings and tried to focus on his quest. She’s here. He felt her presence, took a deep breath and plunged down another narrow pathway. He stopped at the place with the red door. Many places painted their doors red to ward off evil. Too bad it hadn’t worked this time. He opened the door, walked inside and ran straight through the house. In the back room, he opened another door and stepped into a tiny storage room and waited a fraction of a second before pushing open a space that looked like a thin line between two bricks. It worked. He went inside and found the same claustrophobic, dank room he’d encountered before. The priest hole. He felt along the bricks and was stunned that his gold was still there. And, boy, it had really multiplied.

And to think I contemplated banking it with goldsmiths! He stuffed his leather pouch and three satin ones Anisse had sewn for him near the start of their voyage. Weighed down with gold, he turned to find Fortunata right behind him.

“What are you doing here?” He feigned surprise, but wasn’t sure if she believed him. The room was still dark and he made his way out, even as she grabbed him.

“You can’t hide from me!” she screamed.

“I’m not trying to hide.”

“You can’t run, either.”

He left the room, shutting the door. Fortunata shouted in frustration, beating her fists against it. She couldn’t make it open. He ran then, but Fortunata was soon close on his heels, Bertie behind him. Where had he come from? Had he released her? In the alleyway, Anisse stood with a bolt of purple silk over her shoulder.

“Get back to the ship,” he yelled. “I’ll explain.”

She didn’t skip a beat. She turned and moved as fast as she could under the weight of the fabric. Denny ran straight ahead, Fortunata literally breathing down his neck. Her claw-like talons emerged and grabbed him. He knew he had to get her to the good witch before Fortunata destroyed him.

He barreled into the door he’d seen in the dream sent by the twin seers from Fortunata’s island. The door had been marked with a pentagram in oil. He jumped through the entrance, Fortunata and Bertie right behind him.

Two men grabbed Fortunata, who shrieked and writhed. A ghostly figure emerged from the dark recesses of the room.

“Gremma!” Fortunata spat out the word. “What are you doing here?”

Denny couldn’t help staring. This Gremma person was the spitting image of the twin seers. She must have been the third sister. Triplets. She looked exactly like them save for a couple of hideous warts on her face.

“I can’t believe she’s here.” Gremma kept staring at Fortunata. “Change me back, and all this will go away.”

One of the men released her right arm, and Fortunata pointed a withered finger at her. The warts vanished.

“Arrest her,” Gremma told the man who grabbed her again. “She cast spells on me, her own brother and everyone else in our kingdom.”

“You said you’d make it go away,” Fortunata hollered.

“And I am, though probably not the way you expected.” She turned to Denny. “What do you want me to do with her?”

“Keep her here. Under heavy guard. I bring you Carpathian gold.”

Gremma seemed surprised. “I’ve never seen this before. And it really multiplies?”

Denny nodded. “Oh, yes.”

Gremma sat down, as though exhausted. “You just want me to hold her?”

“No. I want you to remove her deadly powers. Put a spell on her that makes her do only good. And if she tries to do something wicked, she gets a boil on her bottom and a wart on her face.”

“No!” Fortunata squealed.

“I like that idea.” Gremma played with the coins now, mesmerized. “And maybe the boils cannot be removed. If she wants them removed, she loses a year of her life.”

“You’re not as nice as your sisters,” Denny observed.

“She cursed me twenty-three years ago and banished me from the palace. I’m a little…annoyed.”

Denny nodded. “I can understand that. We will stay in touch. Once you inform me that she is fully cured, Prince Merritt and I will come for her.”

Gremma gave him a lovely smile. “That may take a very long time.”

“Fine by me. Oh. There’s one more thing. Please make her remove the hex on this child, Bertie.”

“I’m hexed?” Bertie looked befuddled.

“But who is he?” Gremma asked.

“I’m not sure, but I detected the chill of bewitchment around him. And I suspect he’s Arthur Fellows, my former ship’s doctor. He’s in love with her.” Denny gestured to Fortunata, then down to Bertie. “He’s an idiot.” He glanced down at Bertie. “No offense, Bertie.”

The boy shrugged.

“And what about you?” Gremma asked. “Can I remove your wings?”

“You can do that?” Denny hadn’t counted on that bit of good news.

“Oh, yes. I’m the most powerful witch in the universe. That’s why she did this to me. She tricked me and I fell for it.”

“You can remove my wings.” Denny had never been so relieved in his life. It was almost climactic when the seer waved her hand and the wings vanished from his body. He breathed a bit easier and smiled at Fortunata.

“I’ll get you for this,” Fortunata snarled at Denny.

“Can you remove the wings from her lady-in-waiting, Anisse?” Denny asked.

“I can.” Gremma nodded. “I just need something she has touched.” Her hand fell on one of the silk purses. “She made this?”

“Yes.” Boy, she is good.

“Consider it done.” The seer reached over and shook his hand. “I will need to keep Fortunata imprisoned to counteract all the wrongs she has done. It will take at least a year, unless you were thinking of my keeping her here longer?”

“Yes, two years and seven days,” Denny said.

Gremma smiled. “The same amount of time she kept you imprisoned. By the time I’m through with her she’ll be so sweet she will give you toothache.”

“No, I won’t.” Fortunata glowered at her.

Gremma ignored her and gestured to the two men who dragged the weeping Fortunata away.

When she’d gone, Bertie fell asleep in a chair.

“He will awaken shortly and will remember none of what happened to him.” Gremma said, “You’ve done a very kind thing.” She paused. “How are my sisters?”

“They are wonderful. They miss you very much.”

The seer looked overcome with emotion. “I will contact them and let them know I’ve regained my powers. I’ve been so limited, thanks to Fortunata.”

“I wish you well,” Denny said. “And now, I must return to my ship.”

He took the last of the remaining coins from the priest hole and hastened back to port. His crew was rushing back with fresh provisions. Only Ebba seemed upset that Fortunata had been arrested.

She sighed. “Fortunata made life so interesting.”

“No, she made it scary,” Denny retorted. He begged the crew to hurry with their repairs and the replenishment of their stocks.

The following day they left for the port of Plymouth, and Denny got used to life without wings again.

“What do you miss the most?” Anisse asked him over breakfast one morning.

“Being able to fly up to the crow’s nest. My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“Me too. But at least we have the memories. Most people don’t even have those to look back upon on a chilly morning.”

“Aye, ’tis true.” Denny studied his maps. He felt whatever he had to face in Penzance was worth everything he had to go through to rescue Merritt. He’d chosen Plymouth as the port at which they’d dock, but hadn’t counted on running into The Pirate Fairy at sea. Denny and his crew had first spotted her at daybreak and had laughed when they’d seen the ship had been attacked by a whale. She was sinking.

Denny and his crew offered everybody safe passage, but Captain Rigby refused to leave his ship.

“Fortunata can fix it,” Rigby said. “Where is she?”

“Imprisoned.”

Rigby looked shocked.

“Where is my sister?” Denny demanded.

“At his house, in Penzance,” one of Rigby’s crewmen responded.

“And Merritt?”

“He’s there too.”

“You traitor,” Rigby said, and lunged at the sailor.

Denny swung his way onto Rigby’s ship and fought him, first by sword, then pointed the gun Fortunata had given him. Half expecting it not to work, Denny fired, but Rigby jumped overboard, straight into the path of a circling school of sharks. Rigby didn’t even have time to scream, they devoured him on sight.

 

* * * *

 

Three days later, Denny and his crew arrived at Plymouth and loaded up with fresh supplies before heading to Cornwall. They rented horses and buggies to travel by road to Rigby’s house. Merritt and Polly were nowhere to be seen, but Rigby’s men came out and gave no resistance to Denny. It was a good thing too. He’d been a good boss to Sorenson and Foster. They seemed pleased to see him too. They accepted his gold coins and took off for some parade down on Market Jew Street.

“It’s St. Piran’s Day,” Foster said.

“Never mind that, where’s my sister?”

“She’s in the kitchen, cooking.” Foster looked embarrassed. “Prince Merritt’s in the bedroom. He’s sleeping. They both sleep a lot. Is Fortunata really in prison?”

“Yes, she is. And she’s been turned into a good witch.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Foster said and hurried down to the parade.

Denny found Polly in the kitchen. She was darning a sock and looked up, surprise, then pleasure crossing her features when she saw Denny.

“Is it really you?” Her voice cracked, as though she couldn’t believe her own eyes.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

They ran to each other. He hugged her hard.

“Did I just die and go to heaven?” she asked.

“If you did, then so have I.” He touched her face and hair. She was Polly. Still the same girl. Older, but still the sister he loved.

“How did you find me?” Tears pooled in her eyes.

“It’s taken me years. Are you all right, Poll?”

“I am…now. Denny. I’ve missed you so much!” She burrowed her head under his chin.

“You’re so tall,” he murmured as they clung to each other.

“I’m not ten anymore,” she said, though her voice sounded like that of a little girl.

He held her tighter. I will never let her out of my sight again. He held her, delighting in the sheer luxury of being with her again.

When they parted, they were both crying.

“There is so much to tell you,” she said, swatting at her tears. “I don’t know what kind of spell is upon us, but all I want to do is clean, cook and sleep.”

“Take a rest for now and I’ll find Prince Merritt, then we can all go to the parade.”

“He’s a very nice man. I really like him.”

“I like him too.” Denny never wanted to let her go, but she settled into a chair by the window, smiling as she slipped into sleep, her face in the sun. He would get her and Merritt away from here, away from whatever poison she’d been given. He hoped the seer’s magic would soon work and the spell would be broken. He ran from room to room, searching for his lost love.

And there was Merritt, sleepy in bed, his eyes aglow when he saw Denny. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, darling, you are not.”

When Merritt smiled, Denny didn’t know what to say. His mind, body and soul melted into an insane puddle that made him say the daftest thing ever. “There’s a parade. Please tell me we can leave this house and go join the fun.”

“How did you know I love parades?” Merritt reached for him. “There’s something we have to do first, though.”

“There is?” Denny couldn’t stop smiling.

“Oh, yes, there is.” Merritt laughed as Denny threw himself across the bed and kissed him.

“No ropes for us today,” Denny said. “I want both your hands on me.”

“I want that too.”

It felt so good to touch him again that Denny took his time just running his fingers across every inch of skin.

Merritt seemed to come back to life, got up and kicked the door shut. “I know what’s different. You’ve lost your wings.”

Denny laughed. “Your sister can no longer hurt us.”

Merritt looked amazed. “Really?”

“Really.” Denny grabbed him and took him down to the floor, trying to get between his legs.

Merritt twisted and turned underneath him as if fighting Denny, even as his hands held Denny’s head to his. Their cocks connected. Denny’s was rock hard, Merritt’s was not.

“It’s the sleeping potion,” Merritt said.

Denny ground himself against him and Merritt’s breath quickened. Denny pulled Merritt’s shirt up and over his head, a couple of buttons popping off against the floor. He took hold of Merritt’s left hand, licking and kissing the palm as his fingers flexed in pleasure. Denny stole a glance at Merritt’s face as he sucked his fingertips, one by one. There was a look of disbelief as well as furious lust. Denny bent forward to lick his face and neck.

Merritt moaned as Denny moved down to his torso. As he traced Merritt’s ribs with his tongue, Denny held Merritt’s hands up over his head, and heard his deep, contented sigh. Denny kept rubbing, dry humping Merritt’s crotch with his knee, and at last, Denny felt him harden. He reached up with another kiss for Merritt’s mouth, one hand going to his swollen cock. He couldn’t help himself. He needed to touch that sweet, thick, piece of manhood. He had the juiciest one Denny had ever seen, his balls heavy in his hands. He ran Merritt’s cock head against his face. Merritt squirmed for entry into Denny’s mouth, but Denny had to make him wait.

Denny tightened his grip on Merritt’s cock, running it down his throat and to his chest. The second the head touched Denny’s nipple, they both groaned. Denny took Merritt’s pants all the way down past his feet. Merritt’s fingers made quick work of Denny’s pants, and as he inched the fabric past Denny’s ass, Denny knew in seconds he was going to be inside Merritt, his man panting for a hard pounding, his legs wrapped around Denny’s waist.

No, Denny wanted this to last.

He kept rubbing Merritt’s cock over his arms and face, licking his way down Merritt’s thighs. His legs opened up. His body implored Denny, fuck me. But Denny kept at it, licking him, teasing him, tasting him. Oh, yeah.

His cock was in Denny’s mouth now, and Merritt’s gorgeous ass came off the floor. He flailed around as Denny sucked him thirstily. Merritt’s cock adored Denny, and he kept a hold on Merritt as he started to come.

As soon as he was finished, Merritt’s body still tensing, his pulse racing, Denny put his mouth straight down onto his ass. Merritt’s feet rested on Denny’s shoulders.

Merritt reached for him as Denny used Merritt’s juices to prepare him for Denny’s cock. Merritt touched Denny’s cock with his fingertips. “I want it, I want it, I want it.”

Prince Merritt’s wish was Denny’s command. He plunged into him, loving how tight Merritt was, how good it felt to fuck him. Finally. Merritt grabbed Denny’s face, their mouths glued to one another. When they finally broke apart to breathe, Merritt said, “I love you, Denny.”

“Merritt, I love you, too.” He sobbed when they came together. It was perfect. It was bliss. It was better than dreams.

And it was better than any bleedin’ parade.