Blacksouls (Blackhearts #2)

Something in his voice caused Anne to pause. He wasn’t simply talking about the lizard. “How many times did you try?” she asked.

Benjamin drew a deep breath. “Twice.” He gave her a wry smile. “The moon can be both a blessing and a curse. It can light a darkened path. But it can also betray you. The second time I learned and left when the moon was small. I hid in bug-filled caves and came to appreciate the lizards. They kept the bugs away.”

Anne marveled at Benjamin’s ability to overcome any situation. “How terrifying that must have been.”

“It was. But these were more terrifying,” he said, running his hands over the scars on his arms and motioning to his back. “I couldn’t stay and let them do this to me. They’d already killed my family.”

Anne felt sick. She didn’t press and instead waited for Benjamin to talk. He picked up a stick and turned it in his hands.

“You know, some slavers keep families together. But they don’t do it to be kind. No such thing as a good slaveholder. They do it to make escape more difficult.” He looked up at Anne, his eyes sad but hard. “They killed my father when he tried to stop the overseer from—” He broke the stick, his fingers trembling. “Hurting my sister.”

Anne stiffened as she shared his hatred and his pain. A tear slid down her cheek, but she couldn’t move to wipe it off.

“Marie died that night. She was only ten.”

“That’s barbaric,” she whispered, unable to bring strength to her voice.

“I ran the next night. Didn’t know where I was going, but I ran. I ran for my father. For all the ones I left behind . . .” He looked down at his hands and said softly, “I ran because Marie couldn’t. And I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. I will never go back to being a slave,” he said, meeting her eyes once more.

“I won’t let that happen,” Anne resolved, thinking back to the fiery rage she’d felt when the hilt of her gun had burned in her hands as she’d pointed it at the slaver. The next time it would be loaded and she wouldn’t miss.

Anne and Benjamin shared a look of understanding and determination. The thick scars marking their skin would always remind Anne of the cruelty and depravity of men. And women. But they would also symbolize survival. And strength. “Are you ready to go?” she asked.

He nodded.

“The path leads this way. Let’s go.”





CHAPTER 32





Teach


The ship anchored in the clear blue waters of the cay was the same one that had attacked the Deliverance. Teach was sure of it. His pulse pounded as he thought of all the men who’d lost their lives.

His nails bit into his palms as he glared at the ship. Where the mast had once stood tall and proud on the deck, it was now split in half, with sharp spikes of wood reaching up to the sky.

The rigging was taut, but with no canvas. The Deliverance had punched three holes in the side of the ship and they’d been hastily patched. This vessel had been built for speed and maneuverability, but without a working mast, it sat in the shallow waters like a duck bobbing in the waves.

From his vantage point, Teach could see several sailors working on repairs. The rest of the men were scattered across the sandy beach, performing different duties.

A fire burned in their midst, and one or two members of the crew roasted something over the open flames. The men were thin and their clothes hung from them in dirty tatters. It had been more than two weeks since the attack on the Deliverance. Shocked at their appearance, Teach wondered how Easton and his crew had deteriorated in such a short amount of time. Or had they already been in this condition and Teach had somehow overlooked it? During the fight, they’d seemed much more robust. Admittedly, Teach had been intent on securing the Deliverance’s escape, but could he have overlooked their state? It was obvious to him that Easton’s men had needed the cargo of the large merchant ship. And because they hadn’t secured it, they’d paid a steep price.

“Which one do you suppose is Easton?” Kitts whispered.

Teach shook his head. “We’ll have to watch them for a bit. We don’t want to rush into anything.”

Kitts nodded. Motioning to the men behind them, Teach gestured for them to spread out. They crept like spiders stealthily through the vegetation, the white sand muffling their footsteps.

For the next several minutes, they watched the pirates, noting their lack of energy. Strips of canvas were spread before them as they attempted to repair some sails. Others dragged buckets of water into their camp. They’d no doubt filled them from one of the freshwater pools that dotted the island. The pirates’ movements were slow and labored. It wouldn’t take much to overcome the group.

The snap of a twig caught Teach’s attention and he and Kitts ducked under the awning of a large cork tree. Teach held his breath as a thin young man attempted to close his breeches as he returned to the camp. Just as he reached Teach’s side, Teach jumped out, stifling the young man’s shocked cry with the palm of his hand, and dragging him backward. Kitts reached for his feet, but the pirate kicked out, his foot connecting with Kitts’s jaw. At the same time, the young man sank his teeth into the soft flesh of Teach’s hand. Teach threw him to the ground. Kitts drew his pistol and pointed it at the young man’s head. He stilled instantly.

Shouts sounded from the camp and Teach pulled out the pair of revolvers hanging across his chest, ready to fire. But nobody came charging through the brush. The shouts continued, but remained on the beach.

The pirate in front of Kitts opened his mouth to cry out, but Kitts pistol-whipped him, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Ripping strips of material from the bottom of his own shirt, Kitts hastily secured the young man’s hands behind his back, and stuffed another tattered cloth into his mouth. “That should keep him quiet,” Kitts muttered, rubbing his jaw, which was already beginning to bruise.

Peering through the trees, Teach watched as the men on the beach argued over the smoking skewers, charred pieces stuck to the ends. They were clearly suffering if they were prepared to come to blows over that amount of food.

A tall thin figure with light brown hair limped toward the group, and despite his scruffy appearance, Teach knew they had their captain. It was obvious the pirates respected Easton and his command in the way they parted for him to walk through their midst. They quieted down instantly. Although his words didn’t quite carry all the way to where Teach and the others hid, there was no mistaking the confidence in his stance.

“Now?” Kitts asked.

“Now,” Teach said. With a loud cry, Teach led the way, storming onto the beach, his pistols drawn as he fired once into the air.

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