Of Magic and Rum (Beyond a Contemporary Mythos)

Chapter 8

I’m a whirlpool of confusion, lust, and weariness. The universe has thrown many obstacles my way, but none as dangerous as Anne Bonny. And I’ve had my fair share of women—broken enough hearts while in port and felt no qualms about it, but Anne ? From the first moment I saw her in that tavern, I knew there was something different about her. The fire? The angst? Her willingness and confidence to go toe-to-toe with me physically? Verbally? Fuck. My mind should be focused on one thing: the jewel.

I drag a hand over my face, busying myself with the ship’s wheel while absentmindedly half-assing the melody of a sea shanty under my breath.

“You know you don’t need to steer the ship with every tiny shift, right, son?” Duke asks, appearing at my side with his arms crossed.

Moving the wheel harder than necessary to the right and then back left, I flash him an unenthused grin. “Maybe I just want to feel the power beneath my fingertips.”

“Or—” Duke moves in front of me. “—you came up here to do some deep thinking. What’s on your mind?”

“There are far too many things to bother you with them, Duke,” I grumble, spying Anne emerging from below deck.

Finally.

She and Mary went down there an hour ago to readjust her attire.

When Anne comes into full view, an odd flutter bursts in my chest, floating down to settle in my stomach. I knew Mary would have enough spare clothes to outfit Anne without her having to roam around in shitty-smelling ones. But the outcome? This—I wasn’t expecting.

She’s not showing an ounce of skin save for her face, neck, and hands, but she has grown more attractive. The green dress has been mostly torn away, leaving bits draping around her waist hanging over a pair of tight brown trousers. A loose-fitting black leather corset hugs her ribs, sprouting from a billowing white tunic shirt. A dark green sash catches the wind breezing over the deck, sending it flying behind her like a ship’s colors on the mast.

I can’t be sure if I’ve bothered to blink for the past several minutes. Clearing my throat, I gaze at the water, squinting and forcing my concentration elsewhere.

“Ah, now I see,” Duke says with a traitorous chuckle.

“See what, old man?”

Red approaches Anne, bowing to her and displaying his hand over her attire with a shit-eating grin I want to slap straight off his face. What can he possibly have to say to her?

“Taken a liking to our stowaway, have you?” Duke’s broad, bushy face appears in front of mine, blocking my view of Anne.

My grip tightens on the wheel. “I’m weighing our options as I always do, Duke. If she can wield a sword as she claims, she’ll be far more useful to us than a cabin boy.”

“Mm, yes.” Duke interlaces his fingers and rests them on his stomach. “And she needs the proper pirate attire to prove this, right?”

Take this for what it is, Jack: Be. More. Careful.

“One must look the part to feel the part, no?” It takes everything in me not to leer at Anne waltzing about the deck as the crew dotes on her.

As if I have a say in the matter. I’ve spoken no claim to her. Nor does she have a fig of interest in me beyond my ability to get her to her family. She’s using me as much as I am her, and I’m almost— enthralled by it.

Duke chuckles and nonchalantly shoos me away from the wheel. “Whatever you say, Jack. Now, let me get back at this thing. I’m getting antsy. Never make an old man impatient.”

My neck stiffens, but I relent after giving Duke a pinched expression. Anne speaks with Glog now, both laughing. Glog’s hands flitter as usual when he’s explaining recipes or probing for ideas. I stay out of sight as best I can, snatching Anne’s hat from a barrel of grain I’d stored it in. I’ve gotten close enough to hear their conversation, and they’re not talking about Anne at all but Glog’s plans for a new drink.

“I’ve been experimenting with different mushrooms that aren’t deadly to consume, but they seem to have a sort of—effect?” Glog teeters his hand back and forth, his eyes widening excitedly.

Anne folds her arms, accentuating her breasts beneath the loose tunic, and I pluck furiously at the hat’s brim in my hands. “What kind of effect? And would you put it in addition to the alcohol?”

“Yes. The alcohol makes your head fuzzy, but the mushrooms would make you feel like you damn well never left the ship when on land.” Glog slaps his hands together.

“Well, you two sound like you’re hitting it off rather quickly,” I chime in, sidling beside them and hiding the hat behind my back.

Anne whips around to face me, her gaze briefly dropping to my lips, but it’s long enough for me to assume she remembers the kiss. I had wanted to see how long it would take before she shoved me away. To my delight, she lasted several more seconds than I’d predicted. “When everyone sleeps in hammocks below deck except for the captain , you tend to get to know one another.”

“Anne, my sweet—” Sliding forward, I bump my knuckle under her chin. “I can certainly make room for you in my cabin, in my hammock, if you’d be more comfortable.”

“I’d be far too tempted to smother you with a pillow, Jack,” Anne snarls, snappy as a whip. She smiles, showing most of her teeth, and her chest swells.

“I’d love to see you try.” I chew on my bottom lip and let my eyes roam her exposed cleavage.

She pulls her blouse up, denying my view, and huffs. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in your hammock.”

“What an odd thing to say to a pirate.”

Anne’s cheeks flush, and her eyes become two thin shards of emerald. She opens her mouth to retort, but no words follow.

“I think I’ll try a cup of what we discussed, Anne. You two, uh—carry on,” Glog says while backing away as if we were a lit cannon on a short fuse.

Anne’s hair now has several braids, and she rubs one between two fingers. Her focus turns to the rope coiled tightly around the mast. “I’ve been making an effort to become acquainted with the crew. Except for the healer. He always seems busy with this, that, and the other.”

“Aranck is his name. And you should be relieved if you never have to meet him. That means you didn’t need his services.”

Anne sticks her bottom lip out as if to say, “Good point.”

“Here. It was the only thing that didn’t stink to high heaven. I figured you’d want it.” Revealing the hat hidden behind me, I hold it out to her.

Anne eyes it and snaps her gaze to me, still not taking it. “Did you piss on it or something?”

I blink. “Do you think me that juvenile?”

Silence. Pure irritating silence.

“No, Anne.” I slip the hat on my head and slap it for good measure. “I did not soil a perfectly good hat. Happy?”

Anne snatches the hat and flops it over her hair. “Hardly.”

Squid is walking on deck, which is an unusual sight, considering he only ever comes down from the crow’s nest during a storm. He typically even sleeps up there during the night. But what shocks me to the core is the sight of him—emptying the latrine bucket.

“Anne, dearest.” I trace my fingers through my beard, focusing on Squid gleefully performing one of Anne’s chores and smiling as he does it.

Anne’s neck turns rosy.

“Did you somehow swindle Squid into doing your chores?” I flick my finger in his direction.

She waves across the deck at Squid, and he waves back. They grin at each other. “Yes. I told him I’d give him a portion of my daily food rations if he did it.”

Won Squid’s heart through his stomach. It doesn’t surprise me in the least.

“You know you can’t share rations? It’s to ensure everyone doesn’t die of thirst or starve.” This is partially a load of shit, but I want to see how far I can take this.

“If I faint on deck, you can be the first to stand over my unconscious body and tell me you told me so, but I assure you I don’t need as much food as he does. Do you know how much energy he uses swinging around up there?” Anne squints at the crow’s nest. “And, Captain , we’re not consuming any more rations than given. We haven’t broken any rules.”

Fuck. Either this woman is after my heart or leading me into a trap to run her dagger through it. Whichever the case, I’m—intrigued.

“Point taken. Now then—” moving to a barrel with several swords sticking out of it, I snatch one and point to her hat “—since you no longer have the excuse of the sun being in your eyes it’s time to prove your worth, Bonny.” I toss the sword to her, and the test begins with how she catches it—or doesn’t.

She not only catches it, but with a flourish. She twirls the blade as if to check its balance and grace.

And here I thought I’d have to pull most of my swings. This is so much better.

I beat the hilt of my cutlass against the mast, signaling to the crew that a duel is about to commence. They gather around us in droves, creating a cage of bodies and leaving us enough room on deck to maneuver but no chance of retreating. Not that I’d ever back out on a fight, friendly or otherwise. It’s still to be determined whether Anne truly is friend or foe.

“Are there rules I should know?” Anne asks, already starting to circle me, crossing one booted foot over the other.

I follow her, pace for pace, tossing the handle in my palm. “Are there rules of engagement when you’re fighting an enemy?”

“No?” Anne gives a slight head shake.

“You have your answer.” I strike without giving her a chance to stew on it any longer.

Her blade swings skyward, blocking me, but her mouth falls open. And in the next moment, the stunned expression melts into determination, and that sass I’ve already begun to like about her blossoms. She dodges to the left and right and slashes downward. I slide backward with my hands at my sides to avoid the tip of her blade slicing my chest.

“Is that how you got that scar, Jack?” Anne spins the sword, her words as daunting as her foot placement. “Poor timing?”

I flash her a grin. “Noticed my scar, did you?” Reaching one hand to my back, I keep my sword pointed in her direction and yank my shirt off, tossing it aside.

No rules.

“Seriously?” Anne pauses and points at my naked torso with her cutlass. Fighting her urge to ogle me is a losing battle with each passing second.

“Feel free to teach me a lesson and follow suit, lovely.” I take two strides forward and launch at her right side.

Anne’s jaw clenches, and she swings her blade to catch mine in a hold before landing her foot into my stomach, pushing me away, and leaving a boot print on my skin.

Chuckling, I wipe the mud from my belly. “You’re full of surprises, Anne. I’d ask you how you learned to fight like that, but you’d undoubtedly lie and claim your dad fought in the Nine Years’ War or something equally asinine.”

“You have me all figured out. So, why ask?” A new kind of fury blares in Anne’s eyes, and like oil to a fire, she’s at me, slashing, slicing, punching, and elbowing.

Our blades circle the other, and I lunge forward at her arm. Anne deflects, turning her body away from it and using her palm to push the blunt side of the weapon away from her.

These are expert moves that only come from years of practice.

Who are you, Anne?

We become a whirlpool of parries, thrusts, and slashes, circling each other and occasionally hopping on barrels or gaining extra momentum from dangling ropes. She’s matching me swing for swing, and dare I say, I’m beginning to lose my breath. She’s across from me now, her chest heaving, and the next swing she throws, she uses her blade to launch spent gunpowder scattered on a nearby railing into my face.

How. Dirty.

Coughing and sputtering, I grin despite being temporarily blinded. I’ve been listening to her footsteps as she sneaks behind me. I swipe my arm over my eyes and predict her next move, a thrust at my side that I avoid by sliding. Grabbing her sword-carrying elbow, I yank her forward, turn her around, and push her back against the mast.

She’s fighting me, but I tower over her, and her petite wrists are within my much larger grasp. I shove her hands above her, but she refuses to drop the sword. Instead, she seethes at me, but it only encourages me, and I press into her, scraping my chest against hers.

“No hard feelings, dearest,” I whisper, still smiling.

Her eyes are unblinking, and I know she’s about to try something. But whereas most women would try to knee me in the balls when in a similar situation, she surprises me by slamming her boot into the top of mine. When I grunt, my grip loosening on her hands, she knees me in the ribs . I let out a growling wince, and she drops to her knees, sliding across the deck on them only to swivel on her heel and face me again with her blade pointing in my face.

More lust. More fury. More fucking confusion over this woman.

We started as a man and a woman cast together on the same path. We’re now two carnal beings out to prove something to each other. The crew cheers and whoops around us, but the noise becomes a distant hum in my ears. My only focus is on those jade eyes glaring at me between crossing blades. My colors, the white skull and crossed swords on black, flaps in the breeze above us, our blades mimicking the very symbol I sail beneath.

I misjudge a step I think she’ll take and pay for it, her sword grazing my arm. Hissing, I snap my gaze to the wound, satisfied to see only a minor scratch and a thin line of crimson. “Don’t get cocky now, Anne.”

“Believe me—” Anne snarls and swings her sword once, twice, and the third time wielding it with more effort and stronger impact “—you have enough cock for the both of us.”

“Why, thank you.” I spin behind her, and her sword blocks mine with lightning speed. Sliding my blade with hers, I make the tips of our noses almost touch. “And you haven’t had the pleasure of its company yet.”

“Yet?” Anne growls, pushing away from me. She’s at me again, but the swings are more labored now.

And mine aren’t much better. Every muscle from my right shoulder into my back is on fire, and my bicep is twitching. She takes an overhead swing, and I smack it once with my blade, stopping her forearm from coming down any further with my other hand. And with one swift kick behind her calves, she’s on her back on the wood with a loud thud that echoes across the deck, her cutlass clattering several paces away.

I’m straddling her a breath later, putting enough weight on her to keep her from squirming but not enough to keep her from breathing. I shove the blade at her throat, and when our gazes lock, it’s not a reaction I could’ve predicted. Not from her or me. One of us should be furious, or disappointed, or Christ, even concerned perhaps? But she’s peering up at me as if she sees me for the first time. And in her, I sense a journey to be explored—a challenge .

“I’m about to kill you, Anne. I’m the enemy.” I press the blade closer to her neck, just enough to not pierce her skin. “And after I’m done with you? I’m going to kill Mary next. And then Squid and Glog. What are you going to do about it?” I’m roaring now, hoping Anne will do what she needs to because I don’t know if I can turn her away after this.

Anne’s body is shivering, her teeth chattering. But it’s not from the cold. It’s from fury . A small blade pushes against my throat, and a thin bead of warm liquid rolls over my chest—the dagger. I hadn’t felt her move for it, hadn’t heard her reaching for it.

If I didn’t think she’d stop me, I’d say to hell with the crew and have her right here on this fucking deck.

Lightly wrapping a hand over hers clutching the dagger to my throat, I pull it away, and she lets me. “You ready to swear yourself to this crew, Anne? To this ship?”

“Aye, Captain,” she whispers, bewilderment still in her eyes.

I grind my hips against her stomach, watching her bite her lip, before crawling off and holding my hand out to her. She ignores it, not surprisingly, and pushes to her feet.

Mary tackles Anne’s side, pulling on her hat’s brim. “Who the fuck are you, darling? Really? That was bloody amazing.”

“I’m just Anne,” she replies.

We stare at one another as I backpedal through cheering men, making my way to the helm and beckoning her with a “come-hither” finger. She soon follows as if in a trance, offering warm smiles to those congratulating her, but her gaze never falters from me.

I hold up my palm and instruct her to do the same. Anne Bonny swears to The Revenge and its crew on this day, blessed by blue skies and sun. She swears to the right to vote in affairs, not steal from her fellow crewmates, always be battle-ready, never desert the captain or crew, and that all disputes will be handled on land and never on the ship. She swears her undying loyalty to her captain and to a life of piracy for as long as she sees fit to remain in our crew.

And on this day, I can swear the sun shines brighter because of it.