Of Magic and Rum (Beyond a Contemporary Mythos)

Chapter 28

Dark, ominous clouds litter the sky as we row in three dinghies, growing closer and closer to the London Bridge. Anne and Glog sit behind me, and we’ve removed anything on our persons that might give us away as pirates. My shirt sleeve covers down to my wrist to disguise my tattoo, my hair’s tied back, and I left my captain’s jacket in my quarters. We will appear as fishermen and wouldn’t have a “captain” on a tiny boat. The sight of the buildings in the distance makes me uneasy, and the hanging scents of oil, perfume, and horse shit agitate me. Thinking I’d never have reason to be back here was foolish.

“Remember. Our mission is to find repair supplies. We don’t stop for any other reason, keep your heads down, and do not run.” I lean back with each stroke, rubbing my palms against the oar’s wood.

“Want me to talk to the shop clerks? Figure you’re the most recognizable of us,” Glog asks.

“Fair point and a grand idea, mate.”

Anne’s chin appears on my shoulder. “I hope you realize how backward this is pretending to be a fisherman’s wife. Cannibalistic, really.”

Smirking, I turn just enough to give her lips a quick peck. “In and out, love. Why don’t you focus more on the wife portion of it, hm?”

Anne has yet to remove her head from my shoulder, and I can feel her smile through the thin fabric of my shirt. “Was that a proposal?”

It’s impossible to hide how my upper body tenses at this. Not that the idea of it disgusts me. I only never thought I’d find a woman I could see spending the rest of my life with, let alone making one my wife .

“Did you—want it to be?” I say the words slowly, keeping my tone neutral.

She laughs and pokes me in the ribs. “I’m not sure I’ll ever grow tired of making you sweat, Jack.”

Chuckling, half-heartedly, I narrow my eyes at her. “I’m going to hold you to that when we’re back on board, Miss Bonny.” I jut my chin at her oars. “Now, back to rowing.”

Anne lets out a final laugh before the butt of said oar is jammed into my side, making me grunt. The London port is characteristically bustling with activity. Dozens of dinghies matching ours float between larger fishing boats. There are two tall ships within the massive mix, undoubtedly belonging to privateers—bloody traitors. A forlorn sigh pushes from my lungs because this is the last place I wish to be.

“Captain, if we’re supposed to be fishermen, shouldn’t we have, I don’t know, fish on our boats?” Glog asks while we’re paces away from the dock.

“Shit.” I look at Anne pleadingly. “Would you be a dear? I promise we’ll toss them back.” Pressing my hands together in prayer, I offer her my best fluttering puppy eyes.

Anne glares at me while she does it, but soon, our dinghies have flapping fish and enough water for them to survive, but not so much to sink our boats. I pick one up and smear its scales over my face, neck, and hands.

“What in the name of the Seas are you doing?” Anne asks, sneering at me.

After I feel sufficiently scented, I toss the fish back into the water. “You think fishermen smell like lilacs?”

“No.” Anne slaps her hands atop her thighs, and rises. “But I’m sure you’re thankful I do smell like lilacs versus the alternative.” She eyes one of the fish in the boat.

“And I have been ever the gentleman not insinuating nor asking such a question of a lady.” I bow my head just as the boat bumps against the dock.

Much like every other time, Anne’s laughter gives me renewed life and purpose. She kisses me as she passes, and I offer a hand to help hoist her onto the wooden planks. She takes it, and I swat her ass on the way up.

Glog steps forward and daintily holds out his hand. “Going to help me too, Cap?”

I smack his fingers. “Get up there yourself, you knob.”

We’ve made it to port, our dinghies docked, and no one the wiser. London may be risky due to how active the Navy is here, but it’s also prime for blending in with its constantly expanding population. Horses’ hooves clop along cobblestone roads, and so many pairs of feet are walking the streets that it creates a constant dust plume. The gray clouds have muted the setting sun, and they’ve begun to light the torches bordering the walkways.

Ragnar and Mary are behind us, and I point at the gunpowder shop that they’re to visit. We used most of ours, continuously firing the cannons, and no longer have reserves. They nod and disappear into the store.

We continue to walk, and I keep my chin lowered. My body freezes whenever we pass anyone resembling a Navy sailor or officer. We near every manner of shop selling poultry, linens, and jewelry but have yet to find one for carpentry. I pause long enough to get my bearings before Anne’s hand curls around the back of my neck, and she yanks me into an alleyway. Whether she’s suddenly grown extremely horny or she’s doing this for a reason, I don’t give a shit. My hands are instantly groping her back, up to her shoulders, kissing her, nipping at her lips. Breathlessly, I whirl us around until I’m in front of her and press her to the stone wall.

Anne flutters her eyes open, those pale fingers tracing her reddened lips. The way she’s looking at me like she’ll never get enough of this, has me pressing my hardened cock against her stomach.

“There was a Naval officer lingering on you too long for comfort. I was scared he recognized you,” she says.

My precious Anne.

Pressing an arm above her head, I grip her waist and grin. “If you wanted to have your way with me in an alley, all you had to do was ask, Annie. No need to make excuses.”

“Jack,” Anne laughs and shoves my hip. “I’m being serious.”

“Thank you.” After kissing the tip of her nose, I tilt my head to one side, peeking at the bustling streets. “Are they gone? Or should we continue our ruse?”

She tugs my beard and slips a hand into mine. “They’re gone. Come on. I saw the carpentry shop across the street.”

It’s probably for the best. The last thing I need is getting caught because I’m distracted by fucking my pirate queen in an alley. There are much better towns for such things—other alleyways.

We are in and out of the store within minutes, our arms stocked with new supplies of tar, oakum, dowels, and a small batch of lumber. The rest of the crew should be halfway back to the docks, and we make our way as briskly and discreetly as possible.

Almost there. I can see the docks in the distance.

“John Rackham, is that you?” A man’s voice roars .

Anne’s eyes go wide, and we halt. I can ignore whoever just yelled my known name through the London streets, but doing this may risk him repeating it. With any luck, no one of note heard him.

Slowly, I turn and force a smile when I notice the voice’s owner is none other than Robert Carlisle. A man with far too much money and a frequent buyer of goods I used to ferry for coin. Despite being filthy rich, he never once tipped me.

“My word, it is you.” Robert looks shocked at my appearance—the long hair and beard I’ve acquired over the years. “How have you, uh, how’ve you been, my boy?”

“Out of England. So, I’ve been right grand.” I glare at him, my lip bouncing in a snarky smile, and edge closer. “And you? Still stiffing people out of their money?”

Anne tugs my sleeve. “Jack, we should be going, love.”

Robert grimaces, holding a lacey handkerchief from inside his jacket sleeve to his nose. “I have my own trading company now. No need to hire outside work.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I grind my teeth, Robert’s presence making my blood boil.

“Jack,” Anne whispers again, yanking my arm this time. “We need. To. Go.”

Robert gives an incredulous stare. “And taking orders from a woman now. That does surprise me.”

And the gasket pops.

Anne tightens her hold like she knows I’m about to lose my shit, but I shrug away from her and stand toe-to-toe with Robert. Snatching his frilly handkerchief, I deliberately wipe my hands with it, keeping eye contact with him. When I throw it against his chest, it reeks of tar and fish and has black and brown stains. Robert holds it between two fingers at arm’s length.

“Have a nice life, Bobby. And if you ever see me in this shithole again, do me a favor and don’t say hello next time, yeah?” I lift my hand like I’m about to slap him, reveling in his wince before lowering my arm and turning away.

Anne threads her arm with mine, and we walk a bit faster now. “Thought for sure you were going to punch him square in the jaw.”

“I should have. But we’ve been through too much lately for me to jeopardize your lives over a meaningless cod like him.”

My blood still boils, and the surroundings don’t do well to let it simmer.

When we finally make it to the docks, I blow out a breath, some of the tension in my back releasing. But we have yet to be safe. We still need to return to the ship, repair it, and sail away with England unawares.

Back on board, hammers are flying, sails are being sewn, and wood planks are slapping against holes in the hull. Anne offers to help Mary, and Laust has proven himself useful in helping repair the holes.

I’m in my quarters, staring at navigation charts. Duke has always been better at this than me. And it’s not as if I can’t get us to where we need to go, I simply hate charting.

“Goddamit, Duke,” I seethe, tossing the metal compass to my desk and slumping in my chair. The compass bounces to the floor, narrowly missing Truffles’ tail, and he lets out a shrill screech.

I hold my face in my hands, wishing this weren’t reality. But if this is a dream, Anne would be a figment of my imagination. She’s as real as the scales scattering her skin and the hauntingly beautiful teal eyes that appear when she’s a nymph.

“I know, I know,” I say to the ceiling. “I can hear you now, Duke.”

He’d tell me to pull myself together and focus on the tasks at hand. No one has ever gotten anywhere wallowing in self-pity. And he’d be right.

I’m just starting to make myself feel better when the crow’s nest bell starts ringing. I lunge from my cabin to the deck only to see in the distance precisely what I’d hoped I wouldn’t see. A Naval ship heads straight for us, and we have no means of escape now. Panic chokes me. Not for fear of myself being captured or even the thought of the gallows, but terror for them taking Anne and the crew. How in the hell did they know we were here?

Anne runs to me. “Jack, what do we do?”

“Listen to me.” I curl a hand behind her neck and point a stern finger in her face. “I don’t care what happens, do not use your powers.”

Her mouth opens to protest, and I slip my palm over it.

“Promise me. Because when we’re captured, and I hate to say that we will be, I can’t stand the thought of anyone strapping you to a table and experimenting on you or doing other heinous things.” Letting my hand fall from her face, I keep her gaze trained on me. “Promise me, Anne.”

Her lips form a thin line. “I won’t use my powers.”

“Good.” I turn to the crew all staring in terror at the approaching ship. “Prepare to be boarded.”

“Captain?” Red asks, confused.

“This isn’t the end, ladies and gents. Look at it as a minor inconvenience because I’ll be damned to have come all this way just to be hanged like a dog.” Standing on a barrel, I look around at the men and women who’ve put their faith in me. “If we fight them, we will die. But once we’re on land it will be an entirely different story. We will get out of this. And we will see more treasure.”

A man appears at the railing of the Naval ship. “Ahoy there, Rackham. They promised me a pardon if I told them where you were.” His arms shoot out, and a shit-eating grin so vast that I can see it from this distance slithers over his lips. “How could I refuse?”

My blood goes beyond boiling—it explodes.

Charles Vane.