Of Magic and Rum (Beyond a Contemporary Mythos)

Chapter 15

It’s the second time the red-headed fiery sea nymph has saved my hide since joining our merry band of miscreants. My ego should be far more bruised, but it’s also gotten her mouth on me multiple times, and I have zero complaints. The Sirens’ song had muddled my brain like the fog disguised the perilous rocks they lured us toward. A part of me, internally screaming from the back of my brain, remained completely aware of everything . As soon as Anne’s lips met mine, I felt them but couldn’t react until suddenly, the haze lifted, the Siren’s influence disappeared, and I held her in my arms.

It's been several hours since we sailed from the rocky island, and the crew still showers Anne and Mary with unending gratitude. Those two won’t have to do chores for the unforeseeable future.

“I’ve seen everyone thanking our mythical visitor except for one mule-headed individual who rhymes with smack ,” Duke says gruffly.

I rub the pad of my thumb against one of the wheel’s wooden pegs. “In due time, Duke. Can you blame me for being a smidge jittery that some random rocks will appear to impale my ship after those escapades?”

“I can blame you, and I will because that sounds like an excuse for not pulling your head out of your ass.” Duke coughs into his fist, grimacing and scratching his beard after it subsides.

Anne’s coral hair stands out amidst the crew like the brightest star in a clear night sky. She laughs with them, slaps their backs, and talks about lord only knows what, but she makes it look effortless. This crew, these people, have already become her friends and family.

“I will thank her. But I can’t grovel at one of my crew member’s feet in front of the rest of them.” I wet my lips, that goddamned twitch sparking in my cheek again.

Duke clears his throat, swigging some grog to keep from coughing before wiping his sleeve over his mouth. “She’s not just a crew member. We both know that. I’m not saying to declare your undying gratitude aloud in the middle of the deck, Jack. Take her somewhere private and ensure she knows you appreciate her risking her life for you—twice.”

Somewhere private . Heaven help me, as if I can trust myself anywhere in private with this woman now. But then again, maybe I don’t want to trust myself.

“I’ll talk with her,” I clip, turning the wheel to make the sails catch the wind.

Duke steps closer, his stare burning the side of my head. “I meant now .”

Rolling my eyes, I step away from the helm with my palms lifted. “You are as stubborn as I am. We’ve been spending entirely too much time together in close quarters.”

Duke chuckles—gravelly and hoarse. “On that, we agree.”

Cutting through the busied crew hauling rope and repairing the small holes the ship received from the rocks, I motion to Anne with a finger, keeping my face neutral. “Anne, a word?”

Anne gives sidelong glances to Glog and Mary, who tease her, playfully shoving her as if she’s about to be chastised by the captain. I open the door to my cabin and hold it, ushering her inside before following and closing it behind us. It takes three seconds for Truffles to emerge from his cat slumber and immediately begin curling figure eights through Anne’s calves.

“Aw, hey, little one. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, yes it has,” Anne coos, crouching to pet my cat’s back and head.

Making a clicking sound with my teeth, I produce a dried fish. Truffles happily saunters to my desk to receive the small treat.

No sooner is the cat content and Anne stands; I cross the room, making her backpedal until her ass presses to the door, and I hover my chest near hers. “It’s come to my attention that I’ve yet to thank you properly.”

“And you chose to do that by cornering me?” Her slender fingers explore the sash tied around my hips.

I inhale her scent, the memory of those satin lips moving against mine, torturing my very being. “Mm, does it make you—uncomfortable?”

“Not in the slightest,” she breathes out, her back arching, pushing her hips against me, and those emerald eyes grow sultry and heavy-lidded.

Slipping her hat from her head, I toss it behind me, ignoring the sound of skittering claws as it almost lands on Truffles. “What kind of a name is Rhode, anyway?”

She smiles, sweet and bright. “One not of this world. But I’m not so sure how much it suits me nowadays.” Her finger traces the scar on my brow, the touch trailing down my cheek, neck, and collarbone.

“Thank you, Annie,” I whisper, catching her curious hand and kissing her knuckles.

Her eyes brighten, her body shivering, shuddering from my touch. “You don’t have to thank me, Jack. Because I’d do it repeatedly, and a thousand times over if it means—” Anne rises on her toes, bringing her mouth a breath from mine. “—having you in my life.”

I cup her chin with both hands, ready to devour her, to make her mine. Our mouths are so close now her breath moistens my chapped lips, and as I draw closer, my thumbs swirling her cheeks, her eyes closing to receive me, the clanging godforsaken bell goes off on deck.

“Christ,” I curse, sucking in a breath and steadying myself against the door with one hand.

Anne flops back to her heels, concern wrinkling her forehead. “What does that sound mean? An alarm of some kind?”

“They’ve spotted a ship. Either it’s a shipment vessel or the Royal fucking Navy here to ruin our day. I sincerely hope it’s the former,” I mumble before giving a peck to her forehead.

We both freeze. How easily the action came to me.

“You’re welcome,” Saint Anne says, blissfully breaking our silence. “Captain,” she finishes, chewing on her bottom lip as she says it.

This woman is bound to be the death of me, and I can die the happiest, luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.

“Ready for your first sea battle that doesn’t involve melodious wenches trying to skewer us with jagged rocks?” I open the door and hold my hand to the exit.

Truffles stares at me indignantly before he plops his butt on the center of the map resting on my desk, his tail swishing, waiting for me to call him.

I sigh because I rarely allow my cat on deck, and he scarcely has an issue with it except for now, which is the worst possible moment for a feline to scurry the floorboards. “Sorry, Truff. Maybe next time.”

And as I close the door, he lets me know what he thinks of my answer by hacking up a furball that he’ll undoubtedly plant dead center on my desk—little bastard.

Anne rushes on deck but steals a glance at me—a sensual quirk of her brow, which I can only hope means something akin to “we’ll continue what was about to happen in your cabin later.”

I flash her a wink and a knowing smile before rolling my shirt sleeves to my elbows. “What do we have, gents?”

“Squid spotted a merchant due east. The first one we’ve seen since leaving Nassau,” Red announces, eagerly rubbing his palms together.

Thank Christ. The last thing we need is the Navy pricking our asses after dealing with the Sirens. What we do need is a win in a big, big way.

“Right then. You all know the drill. Hoist the colors, ready the sails, and for fuck’s sake, ensure your flintlocks are loaded and cocked,” I command, making my voice thunder across the deck.

Anne scurries to Mary’s side, shoving the pistol handle at her. Anne cinches her brow and shakes her head, pushing the flintlock away. Mary glares at her before shoving the weapon into her hand and pointing at Anne’s belt.

Better to have it and not need it, is what I’d be saying to her.

I storm for the helm, Ragnar tossing my hat as I pass him. He’s already barking orders to the men in charge of the rigging.

When I reach the wheel, Duke is peering into a looking glass, and he holds it out to me with an affirming nod. “Should be some nice haul on that one. Judging from the route, they seem to be crossing from the British colonies to Africa. They’re probably carting rum and gunpowder, if not other goods.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” Grinning, I lift the glass to my eye, squinting at the blurred image of the ship in the distance. They only have four cannons.

This was one of the advantages of stealing from merchant ships. Though they were armed to protect from pirates, it was never something we couldn’t handle. And that’s if several men became brave enough to take a stand. This is rarely the case. With any luck, it’ll be a quick job with new plunder below deck in time for supper.

With the black and white Jolly Roger skull and crossed swords flapping defiantly in the breeze atop the mast, I patiently wait as we edge closer to the vessel. The cargo ship doesn’t try to outrun us, nor does it attack, but it simply sails to a crawl so subtle it’s as if they’ve stopped altogether.

Once we’re resting side by side in calm waters close enough for the men on the other ship to hear me, I cup my hands around my mouth. “Which one of you do they call Captain?”

“I’m Captain,” one man says, holding a hand skyward as he steps forward from the crowd.

Like a proper jackass, I grin and wave. “Good afternoon. I’m Captain Rackham. By now, I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re not, in fact, a fellow merchant vessel.”

The other captain rolls his eyes before folding his arms in a huff. “We took note of your flag, yes. But you lot are shit out of luck. Another pirate crew already looted us.”

Big fat liar.

“Huh. Funny.” I tap a finger on my lips. “Because you’d think, if that were the case, you’d be headed east back to the Americas. And here you are heading straight on the trade route to Africa.”

A man beside the captain elbows him in the side as if to silently say he’d told him it’d never work.

The captain sighs and drags a frustrated hand over his silver beard. “Fine. Alright. Can you blame me for trying?”

“Not one bit.” Hopping from the helm, I move to the railing, looking at him dead in the eye. “I can be a fair captain. That choice is yours. Let us peacefully board and allow us to relieve you of most of your cargo. Or resist, and things will get ugly quickly. But know this—” I hang onto one of the rope riggings and hover over the ship’s edge. “—we will board either way.”

Grumbling, the captain tears off his hat. “Just get what you want and get the hell out of our way, pirates.”

Music to my sinful ears.

“Smart lad.” Flashing the fellow captain a wink, I turn to my crew. “Boys, would you be so kind as to drop anchor and lay out the planks?”

The crew is a flurry of activity, and Anne sidles beside me with her hands on her hips. “And you say I’m the one full of surprises.”

“Come again?” I check that my flintlock is ready while pretending to only half pay attention to her despite the urge to undress her with my eyes.

“Wouldn’t it have been just as easy to catch them off guard and raid the ship?”

I swear this woman is after my heart, balls, and anything else she can get her gorgeous hands on.

“Sure. But why risk injury or the lives of my crew when ninety-five percent of these merchants value their lives and families over something as trivial as material possessions that don’t belong to them?” I’m watching the crew lay out the first plank from our ship to theirs, and anxious jitters have me flicking my belt.

She moves closer, brushing our jacket sleeves. “You do run a different outfit here, don’t you?”

“Someone said to me once—” Without hesitation, nor shame, I wrap a hand over her hip and lower my lips to ear. “—ruthless when I have to be, never simply because I can be.”

The sound of her swallowing air, gulping it down, pulls a wicked grin to my lips. And when the last plank falls with a gratifying thwack , the smile turns villainous.

I pat Anne’s waist and step back. “Shall we plunder graciously?”

A certain glint I haven’t seen in her gaze sparks before she bites her lip. At Mary’s side, the two pirate women are among the first to walk across the planks to the awaiting merchant ship. I follow behind them with an extra swagger in my gait.

Once my boots thud against the deck, I tip my hat to the disgruntled captain. “We greatly appreciate your hospitality on this fine day, Captain.”

The captain refuses to make eye contact with me and snarls when he sees my crew hurrying past him with crates and sacks cradled in their arms. “There’s no need to talk, scallywag. Just get the fuck off my ship.”

Wagging my finger at him like scolding a dog, I meander through the crowd of nervous merchants. “Now, now. There’s no need for such hostility. I used to be one of you, you know? Such a lonely existence it becomes—and a poor one at that.”

“You? A merchant?” The captain scoffs and spits tobacco. “You’re a disgrace to the profession.”

My jaw tightens, heat flushing my neck, and I’m ten seconds from retorting when Anne pauses near me, a crate of rum bottles in her grasp. Her ears perk, and she slowly pivots on her heel. “Jack, something isn’t right.”

A knot carves into my gut, and I hear it the moment she speaks—the hammer of a flintlock pulling back. In unison, Anne and I turn toward the sound, our pistols removed from their holsters and aimed. The crate of liquor falls to the deck, the bottles clanging together but, fortunately, not breaking.

“It isn’t right,” a younger blonde man shouts, the arm holding the pistol shaking uncontrollably.

With our weapons raised, I sidestep to one side while Anne covers the other.

“What the shit are you doing, boy? I ordered you all to stand down,” the captain shouts, keeping his hands poised in the air.

“What—what happened to us all voting?” the blonde man asks, switching his aim between me and Anne. And I sure as hell wish he’d keep it on me because every moment it turns on her, I want to tear his eyeballs from their sockets.

“What do you think this is? A fucking democracy?” The captain stomps his foot. “Stand. Down.”

The boy’s gaze flares with rage. He’s not going to listen. “No. It isn’t fair. We go back without delivering the supplies, and we don’t get paid while these—these fucking pirates get to take it all by force. It isn’t—” He points the pistol at Anne, his finger moving for the trigger, and I blow a hole in the side of his head before he even entertains the thought .

This had to be the day of the other five percent. And now—we do things the hard way.

If a man’s blood sprayed on her cheek and shirt bothers Anne, she doesn’t show it. The deck quickly becomes a tidal wave of clashing cutlasses and pistol fire. Anne drops to her knees, avoiding a slashing sword aimed for her neck, and still crouching, circles to the other side of her attacker, plunging the blade into his back. Anne doesn’t pause or react. She pulls her sword free, swings it, and lunges toward the next enemy.

I’m the one standing dumbfounded, and I may have blocked a blade or two, may have even stabbed several men trying to catch me off guard, but my focus remains on her —Anne. Just as she had made socializing with my crew look effortless, so too is her prowess with a sword. It’s dawning on me—she’s a mythical being. These moves and these instincts can very well be ancient. The thought makes my pulse race. Anyone can run me through where I stand, and I won’t care because I can’t tear my gaze away.

Mary’s voice shouting my name snaps me back to reality—but only partially. I’m cutting through merchants to get them out of my way. Their foolishness keeps me from the majestic sea nymph currently defending me and my crew with every thrust and sway of her cutlass.

I break long enough to snatch my leather gunpowder pouch from my belt and reload my pistol, snapping the cartridge back once finished. Mary removes both daggers from their hilts at her hips and stabs them into the neck of a man who dared to tackle her. She shoves the now-dead man off and leaps to her feet, collecting the daggers from the corpse. With Mary’s back turned, another man storms behind her. I aim my pistol and fire at his chest, sending him flying to the deck on his back before he gets within paces of her. Mary nods in appreciation.

Anne continues to handle anything the petty merchants, unaware they’re fighting a deity, bring her way. We’re fighting for our lives, the cargo, and our way of life. Gradually, the merchants’ numbers dwindle. The battle continues around the perimeter of the ship, but I take the opportunity, trotting behind Anne, my chest heaving at the sight of her torn shirt stained with blood, dirt, and oil.

“Anne,” I call out, my voice thunderous.

She’s nearly breathless when she turns to face me, the sword held firmly in her grasp, but her expression softens when her gaze lands on me. I grab her free hand and yank her toward me, our chests colliding, and my mouth is on hers before she has a chance to rationalize any of it. Keeping my sword ready at my side, I use my free hand to curl around the back of her neck, pulling her tighter against me and deepening the kiss.

Anne kisses me back, a sweet taste laced with the rust and dirt coating her lips. She whimpers against my mouth, her hand bunching my shirt between my shoulder blades. The metallic clangs of the crew fighting the remaining merchants around us fade, replaced by only her breathing and the sensual murmur in her throat.

The wind catches her hair when we pull away, making a fiery tendril blaze between us. I secure it behind her ear, and an uneasy yet calming sensation settles around us like a dull shockwave. It’s enough to make us stumble, and I press a hand to her back, squinting at her to gauge if she felt it, too.

“Did you—” I start, searching those mossy eyes for an answer.

“Feel that?” She finishes for me. “Yes,” she whispers.

“Please, we relent, we relent,” the merchant captain shouts, falling to his knees in a defeated heap with his hands clasped behind his head.

Ragnar stands over the captain, the point of his blade a hair from the man’s nose. “When only you and three of your men remain, now is when you surrender?”

“We—we can still get back home with this many. Please, the boy is dead. I never wanted any of this to happen,” the captain pleads, tears staining his dirt-ridden cheeks.

Ragnar shoves the point of his sword into the man’s sternum, making him cry out.

After squeezing Anne’s hand, I turn to the scene unfolding before us, dragging the point of my cutlass dramatically across the deck as I walk. “I don’t recall you sounding as apologetic when you were telling us pirates to get the fuck off your ship.” Moving in front of the captain, I poise on the blade. “Nor when you called me a disgrace of an ex-merchant.”

The captain clasps his hands together in prayer. “Please. Please, I beg you. I have a family.”

Ragnar growls beside me, still thirsty for blood.

Grasping Ragnar’s shoulder, I coax him back and bend forward to make the captain look at me. “You should be eternally grateful I’m feeling merciful today. But remember this: you’ll be hard-pressed to encounter another pirate captain with the same scruples. You might want to re-think your life’s choices, family man.” Standing straight, I shove my boot into his chest. “Round up the rest of the cargo, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Anne sheathes her sword and rejoins me at my side, exhaling a haggard breath. “Ninety-five percent, huh?”

Smirking, I ignore her jab and wipe my sleeve over a patch of dirt on her cheek, swiping it away. “You’re quite the sight with a sword in your hand.”

“Oh, yeah?” Grinning like a vixen, she strolls past me, brushing her hip against mine. “You should see me underwater.” And she leaves me with that gem, making her way to Mary, Red, and the rest, checking on them.

I’ve believed in magic since my late mother told me bedtime stories about hydras, epic heroes, and flying horses. And while I can’t place or make sense of what settled around us after that kiss, something in my gut tells me that it was some form of acceptance—by the universe itself.