Of Magic and Rum (Beyond a Contemporary Mythos)

Chapter 20

The ferocious howl that thunders from my lungs is unlike any sound I’ve ever made. My fists slam against the invisible wall a final time after this insufferable asshole steals my Anne from me, and I stumble forward when it disappears. Its purpose is pointless now. It was meant to keep me away—to keep me from her, and now he’s taken her. Seeing blood red, I kick the trunk of a palm tree and crack it in my rage.

“Jack, I brought—” Red starts, breathless from sprinting back. “—where the hell is she?”

The question infuriates me even more, and I slam my boot into the tree, splitting it in half and narrowly avoiding several coconuts collapsing into the sand. “He. Took. Her.”

Ragnar sidles beside me, side-eyeing me cautiously as if he’s the next tree I intend to use as an outlet. “Who took her?”

“I don’t know,” I answer through a snarl, picking one of the coconuts up and squeezing it between my palms.

Mary’s eyes blaze with confusion, and she shoves between us. “Someone took Anne, and you don’t know who they are ?”

Ragnar pulls her away. “Now’s not the time, Read.”

“He came out of nowhere from the lake and conjured an impenetrable wall of water.” Red rubs the back of his neck. “We tried everything to get through it, and it wouldn’t budge.”

Grunting, I hurl the coconut at the lake, my chest heaving as I watch the ripples from the splash. “He threatened to kill me if Anne didn’t go with him. Whoever he is, he was interested in her because of her fins .”

“Do you think he wishes to use her somehow?” Mary’s arms go slack at her sides.

The memory of us rowing toward Vane’s ship plagues my mind, and I shove a thumb between my eyes. “Undoubtedly. What other reason would someone have to kidnap besides their own gain?”

“Ransom, perhaps?” Ragnar offers, flicking his middle finger and thumb together.

The look on the water man’s face—desire, longing, surprise. I’ll slit his throat as soon as I’m within arm’s reach of him.

Anger swells in my chest, but I do my best to shove it away this time. It’ll only cloud rational thought, and right now, I need to do everything I can to figure out a way to rescue her.

Find me, Jack.

She said it with such clarity and confidence, like she knew I would, and it was the only reason she could fearlessly disappear with him.

Glog hunches forward with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Where do we start looking? If this thing that took her is mythical, he might be able to cloak.”

“Why are we bothering going after some wench we barely know? We should be concerned about finding the rest of that gold,” a crew member, whose name escapes me, bursts out brazenly.

The man’s back is against the nearest tree, my blade at his throat before anyone can blink. I snarl in his face and shove my forearm against his collarbone. “You call Anne a wench again, and I’ll have your fucking head.”

The man’s eyes blink once, and he holds his palms up. “Captain, all I’m sayin’ is we should be voting on this. Because it’s a matter that affects all of us.”

“Yeah? You want to vote?” I slam my elbow into the man’s gut as I turn to the rest of the crew. “Is that how you all feel? You want to vote on whether or not we abandon one of our own?”

Mary, Red, and Glog stand firm, but the remaining crew glance at each other. Even Ragnar doesn’t look entirely convinced.

After grinding my teeth, I pace between them. “Before you answer, however, let me remind you this—you all took the same oath as Bonny. And one such part is never to desert your captain or crew.” I stare them down one by one. “Make of that what you will.”

Going silent, I let them mull it over and weigh the pros and cons of what is about to transpire. Most crew members lower their gazes, rubbing their heads and necks uncomfortably. Mary has her arms folded, scowling at anyone who so much as looks unfazed by my words. Red sighs, Glog kicks the man beside him in the leg, and Ragnar—doesn’t move his eyes from me. His decision in this weighs heaviest because he’s my right hand. He still has as much of an individual say as any other crew member.

“And now I ask you again, are we to put the matter of searching for the gold over Anne Bonny to a vote?”

More uneasy glances and unspoken words are exchanged, but ultimately, the island falls pin-dropping silent.

“Alright then. We split into four groups. Each takes a different direction and searches every inch of this island.” Pointing a stern finger, I pass it through the air before them. “And if I catch any of you looking for the treasure before we find Anne, you will not be re-boarding my ship.”

“Let’s move, people,” Ragnar barks, snapping his fingers.

The crew jumps and hurriedly creates four groups.

“Ragnar, Mary, you’re with me.” Despite Ragnar’s apparent indifference toward Anne, I need my best fighters. Something in my gut tells me that finding her will be easier than prying her from the water man’s fingers.

The man who entertained the idea of ditching Anne for the gold in the first place tries to sneak past. I grab his shirt and pull him toward me, his collar choking him on his way. He gurgles and claws at his neck.

“And you,” I seethe. “I’m tempted to leave you here regardless of your actions for betraying your oath.”

“Didn’t mean no disrespect by it, Captain. I know you’re sweet on her and all, but?—”

My nostril twitches, and I tighten my grip on the shirt, choking him now. “Don’t pretend you know anything about my personal life or that it’s any of your business, worm.”

“Captain,” Mary beckons, raising both brows at me as a cue that I’m taking things too far.

Reluctantly, I let the man go but shove him. “Get your ass moving. But I swear to the heavens, if I get even a whiff that you’re doing anything but what I commanded, I’ll stake you to this spit of land by your feet and leave you for the birds. Understood?”

The man is shaking now but nods before fleeing off with one of the groups.

“Captain, any idea where we should start this goose chase?” Mary asks, hanging her thumb from the cutlass on her hip.

No damn idea and it’s infuriating.

“South is the only direction no one has gone. But I’ll go wherever the wind takes me.” I grab a piece of twine from the satchel on my belt and tie my hair back.

Anne trusts me to find her—she sacrificed herself for us. And like hell I’ll let her down.

“I don’t understand how she got taken in the first place,” Ragnar grumbles.

We form a triangle and trek forward, my head constantly swiveling for any signs of movement in the sand, trees, or branches. I even keep my nose tilted to the surrounding air to pick up her scent—salt mixed with something floral and sweet.

Mary nudges Ragnar’s side. “Does it bloody well matter?”

“The man is something—folkloric. Made an impenetrable wall of fucking water between us and—” the next bit gets my blood fuming, and I gulp it down to the pit of my stomach “—he threatened to kill me if Anne didn’t go with him.”

Ragnar mumbles incoherently in Danish. Mary stalks closer to him, hops, and flicks him in the ear. He seethes at her. “What the hell was that for, Read?”

“If you’re going to talk shit, at least make sure we can understand you.” Mary’s lips press into a white slash.

I’ve always admired Mary’s loyalty, but not knowing what Ragnar said is preferable with my current volatile state.

Ragnar circles his mouth with a hand. “I said, this is why you don’t let strangers know who you care about or, in other words, who and what your weaknesses are.”

And I’m right. I was far better off not knowing.

Turning on my heel, I get into Ragnar’s face. “The water man has some sort of magical intuition because I can assure you, we both were fucking statues.”

A long, deep sigh pushes from Ragnar’s chest. “With all respect, Jack, you two have this way about you that I don’t think either of you realize. K?rlighedssyg .”

If he thinks this is a passing infatuation, so help me, God.

Various colorful words and retorts flutter at the forefront of my brain, but instead, I poke a stern finger against Ragnar’s sternum. “I’m not doing this with you right now, mate. But rest assured, I won’t be forgetting it.”

Ragnar’s right eyelid has always drooped more than his left, and when a frown deepens his features, it gives the illusion he’s been punched there. And I can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind. But Ragnar is never one to talk out of his ass. It pisses me off to know he’ll undoubtedly get to hear the words “you’re right” from me—the asshole.

“Hey, Jack,” Mary beckons, standing on a riverbank and tilting her head from side to side.

After Ragnar and I share a look of silent understanding, I move to Mary’s side and stare at the entrancing waters.

“Anything look strange to you?” She nudges her head at the river, encouraging me to look closer.

When I don’t see anything, I eye her sidelong and she points to the water. After a few more beats, it dawns on me.

“We’re walking up hill,” I start, combing the bit of hair below my lip with a single finger.

Mary folds her arms, waiting for me to draw a conclusion. “Uh-huh.”

“And the stream—it too flows up ward.” I wave my hand through the air, my cheek twitching at the revelation. “That’s not right.”

Mary squats near the river. “No, it isn’t. It’s almost as if?—”

“It’s hiding something,” Ragnar finishes, his gaze traveling the water’s length where the mouth opening appears to disappear into nothing .

There could be acid, man-eating piranhas, or the river might turn my hand to stone, and yet I still feel the compulsion to stick my finger in it. Aside from the pleasant coolness given the dank island heat, nothing happens.

A putrid brown glob plops onto my boot, and I frown at it. “Read, I thought you stopped chewing tobacco?” Grimacing, I stand and shake my foot. When the spit doesn’t come off, I dunk my boot in the river.

“I did,” Mary responds, her expression blank.

Something scurries through the trees behind us, a brief high-pitched cackle follows it, and fades away. Scents of shit and sulfur waft, and I glue my heels to the ground.

“Don’t anyone—” I begin, but Mary steps forward. A roped trap catches her ankle, pulling her skyward toward the tree’s canopy. Unsheathing my sword, I slash the rope, cutting it clean and sending her flying to the dirt on her back. “Move,” I finish, glaring at our surroundings.

More laughter echoes—dozens of voices, if not more. Numerous pebbles launch from the bushes, pelting Ragnar’s face and bouncing off my back. Given the weak force they were thrown, it’s mostly minorly uncomfortable.

Ragnar runs a hand over his cheek. “What the hell is this?”

Mary coughs, still lying on the ground, holding her stomach and groaning. “Whoever it is—” he sits up on her elbows, glowering at the surrounding brush “—I’m going to strangle them to their last breath,” she shouts.

A tiny creature, no taller than my knees, scampers from a bush, moving so quickly I can scarcely make it out before it’s hiding in another plant. My eyes may deceive me, but I saw a forked tail. Maybe even—horns?

“That looked like—” Mary hurries to her feet and points where the creature fled. “—was that a—” She inches forward but stops, tossing a wide-eyed expression. “Are we dead, Jack? Are we in Hell? I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me, but you’d think I’d remember?—"

I raise a hand to silence her rambling. “We’re very much alive.”

“It can’t be the only one. I heard more.” Ragnar unsheathes his sword and sidesteps near the bush.

We all edge forward with weapons held firmly in our grasp. I kick the bush, jolting back when the creature yelps. Mary slashes her sword through the branches. The being screams, the tip of a severed tail flopping to the ground, oozing black blood. The creature runs past us, holding its bleeding tail. Seven more emerge from the shadows, letting the injured one hide behind them.

“Christ. What are they?” Ragnar asks, readying his blade.

With my pistol in one hand, I twirl the hilt of my sword in the other. “No idea.”

Certainly not of our world. More like Anne’s world.

Anne. I need to get to Anne .

With Mary’s sword pointed at the tiny creatures, her face kept forward, she says, “Are they going to do something? Attack us? Or will they stand there gurgling and drooling with their knuckles dragging on the ground?”

They vary in height, with only one tall enough to reach my mid-thigh. Some are a deep red, while others are muddy brown or taupe. Each has long, slender, pointy ears. One has a chunk from its left ear missing, another’s ears droop toward their cheeks, and all have small brass hoop earrings adorning their ears. Their eyes blaze yellow and orange like a raging fire, and their noses are gangly and pointed. They’re naked save for random bits of burlap slung around their waists or chests.

One slides forward, the tallest of the bunch, and clacks its long, jagged black nails together. Its mouth opens, revealing rows of yellowed razor-sharp teeth, and a series of garbles, clicks, and snarls follow. The rest of the creatures throw their fists in the air and charge us. We hold steady with our weapons raised, preparing for them to attack with their claws, tails, or teeth, perhaps? But they do none of this. Instead, they circle us, darting between our legs and hanging from tree limbs to swat our heads, cackling maniacally.

One wraps around Ragnar’s ankle and holds fast even when he attempts to shake it off. Grunting, Ragnar kicks forward, causing the creature to let go in a shriek and fly into a palm tree.

“These things aren’t trying to kill us. They’re just being a nuisance ,” Ragnar spats, his nose wrinkling.

“They’re distracting us.” I swing my sword at several nearing my knees, warning them to stay back. “Which means we’re heading in the right direction. Push through them.”

A command easier said than followed.

Whenever one of us gets more than two steps ahead, the creatures swarm our feet, forcing us to step and trip over them. I kick at some, bash others in the head with my pommel, and avoid all-out murdering them because I’ve never been one to kill while not being threatened. Except for the being who stole Anne from me—a threat on her life is a threat on mine.

Mary glares at one creature and slams her boot on its tail, halting it from running away. It makes a squeaky noise of surprise and blinks up at her, feigning innocence with those dewy, devilish eyes. Several of them have snuck behind her and are climbing her body until they’re at her head, pulling her hair and covering her eyes. Mary grabs each one and tosses them.

With every passing moment, these hellions wreak havoc, increasing the chances that something is happening to Anne. And to add oil to the fire, I have no idea why the asshole wanted her in the first place, which could make things worse.

“Enough of this,” I yell, my voice thundering. Picking one of the creatures randomly, I shove my blade’s point at its throat. “Either you let us pass, or I start lopping off heads.”

The creatures freeze but look at one another bewildered. One clacks its nails together; another pulls on its ears, and one squints a single eye at me.

“Can’t even make a proper threat because they don’t understand you. Of course,” Mary says with a groan.

I don’t lower my weapon and pan from one creature to the next, waiting for them to break. Because I don’t believe them as far as I can throw them—and that’s pretty damn far. Grinding my teeth when none of them make a peep, I shove the blade closer to the creature’s neck, drawing black blood. “Fine.” I start to slice.

“Wait,” one shrieks. A tiny creature, the smallest of them, standing only to my mid-shin, shuffles from the group. “We let you be.” This being is dark red, bordering on burgundy, and both horns are broken, leaving only nubs.

The other creatures swat the outspoken one, hissing and snarling. The swats become more violent, evolving into shoves and pushes. The talking creature covers its severed horns and dashes behind us, disappearing into the forest.

Ragnar moves to go after the creature, but I raise a hand to halt him. “Don’t bother. They’re retreating.” I lower my sword from the trembling creature’s neck, and it takes off, leaving a liquid trail of piss in its wake.

And I point at a trail leading up river.