A Pirate's Revenge (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (3 page)

Ravage.

William released a high pitch cry, and people covered their ears. He landed upon the bucking horse, digging his talons into its flesh. Blood squirted onto his body, soaking him. He bit into the horse’s neck and tore out a mound of flesh. Warm juices squished in his mouth and trickled down his throat. The tender meat was more succulent and moist than any roasted beef or Irish mutton he’d ever eaten. Raw muscle melted in his mouth and soothed his aching belly.

Gunfire cracked, and fiery pain hit his shoulder. He jerked his head around. Men approached. Some peered from behind wagons. Others pressed against buildings. All had muskets trained on him.

William wanted to tell them to run to hide. The hunger—God ’twas unbearable. Rather than uttering the words, he screeched, and fire burst from his mouth.

“William, no!” Kane yelled from the window above. “Get out of there before they kill you.”

Beneath him, the horse lay dead. Exposed bone, mangled flesh, and blood coated the ground. He was knee-deep in gore.

Muskets fired again. A stinging pain stabbed his back, silencing his breath. Agony blinded him, and he wailed, a wounded wolf howl. An arrow punctured his upper back, just above his wing.

Fear and hate reflected in the men’s eyes, and they inched toward him. William shuddered and jumped into the twilight sky. Air soared around him, and he was surprised at how easy ’twas to move his new muscles, as if he’d flown for years. His wings were graceful and his body balanced. But after the encounter with the townspeople, weariness seeped inside him, and each time he flapped his wings, the arrow crept deeper into his tight muscles. Pain throbbed in his shoulder, and he flew erratically. He wanted to rest, but not by the town. He couldn’t face the townspeople, the crew, his brother…—Hannah.

He needed some place high, a place hard to find, a place to hide his shame. The mountains. He’d lose himself inside a cave. His stomach was full and heavy. How could he have killed that poor terrified beast? He, who had condemned Kane, was now a true monster. A killer. A dragon.

Below, Tortuga’s buildings diminished as he rose high into the sky. He sped over dark meadows, lush trees, waterfalls, and rocky cliffs. The wind rushed over him. The dreaded rising moon laughed at him. Long, dark shadows appeared behind trees and boulders.

William aimed for a black hole in one of the highest peaks. He hoped the cave nestled between jagged rocks was empty. He landed on a narrow ledge and stalked inside. He could barely keep his eyes open and wanted to crawl away from the world, away from the angry townspeople, away from the crew, away from Kane and Hannah. Most of all, he wanted to hide from himself. What if this was permanent? What if he was no longer a man but a beast?

Damn Zuto. He’d find him and tear his flesh from his bones. 

Curling his bulky body against the cold, jagged wall, William rested his head on his forelegs and groaned. The arrow embedded deeper into his flesh. He twisted his head and gnashed at the arrow, but he couldn’t reach it. Every time he took a breath, anguish spread down his back, and the shaft seemed to move deeper into flesh. Maybe he deserved this. Maybe the arrow would kill him. Maybe this would put him out of his misery.

He lumbered deeper into the blackness. Tears wet his cheeks.  He was worse than a vampire. He was a dragon. 

Mariah Fey hid behind the cluster of pine trees and chewed her lip. Just as
Grand-mère
had predicted, a blue and green dragon had landed in front of the cave. Its huge wings collapsed onto its back, the beast wobbled into the cave and disappeared.
Grand-mère
had said that only by working with the dragon would she able to free her brother.

Below her, at the bottom of the mountain, the glittering streets of Tortuga were so far away. She was alone. Alone with a dragon. 

“
Mon Dieu
,” she whispered and made the sign of the cross. Fear squeezed her heart. She fought the urge to flee down the trail to the safety of her home.

Grand-mère
had been right when she’d said a dragon would be coming to Tortuga, and she was destined to meet him.
Grand-mère
had said the beast was a shape shifter and would change back into a man at dawn. But what if she was wrong? Mariah clutched her satchel close to her chest to keep her thundering heart from leaping out of her rib cage.
Grand-mère
had insisted Mariah take a thread, a blade, scissors, and some of Lark’s clothes, but
Grand-père
insisted she bring her Queen Anne pistol. On instinct, she patted the gun tucked inside her belt.

Each time
Grand-mère
had a premonition, she grew weaker. She had gasped for breath, and her skin turned gray. Her sharp violet eyes had stared at Mariah earnestly, insisting she obey.
Grand-mère
was ill, had been for a very long time, and lately, her visions were not always accurate. Still, Mariah humored her and agreed to hike the trail to the cave at night to see if a wounded dragon would emerge.

Mariah remembered her mother’s strength and lifted her chin like a proud Fey woman. She crept through the trees toward the cave. The wind blew, and she couldn’t help but inhale the sweet fragrance. Usually the pine essence eased her trepidations and filled her with peace. Not now. The trees bent to the wind, and this time, their fragrance failed to chase away her rising terror.

She stepped on a twig, and it cracked. She froze mid-step, too afraid to move, worried the giant serpent would hear. She didn’t know if she could utter a spell before it overtook her. She’d stopped and listened for the scraping of claws on the ground or the flapping of wings. When she couldn’t hear anything but the thumping blood between her ears, she took another step and focused on the entrance of the dark cave, hoping feral eyes didn’t peer at her through the darkness.

She pressed her back against the wall and put her hand on her queasy stomach. Sweat trickled down her back. She didn’t know if she could do this. There was a dragon in the cave. An enormous dragon.

Grand-mère
said Mariah rivaled her power, but one exhale, and she was a sizzled witch.

“Move,” she mouthed, “Just move.”

The words gave her courage. Whether ’twas false bravery or true foolishness, she forced her wobbly legs into motion.

She peered into the cave and detected a tinge of damp mustiness.

A low growl sent her darting back behind the cliff wall.

She clutched the mountain. Dirt and rock wedged under her nails. Panic crawled across her sticky skin. She turned her head away from the entrance and closed her eyes. She waited and waited and waited. But no hot breath singed her. No animalistic growl turned her legs into seaweed. She faced the cave, afraid of what she might see.

Only blackness greeted her.

She caressed the pearl-handled pistol. If she tried to use it and missed, she’d be dead for sure. Quickly, she untied her belt and secured it around her thigh, sticking the pistol inside. She hoped doing so wasn’t a deadly mistake.

A blustery wind swirled around her, lifting her gauzy dress from her clammy skin. A voice carried on the breeze. “Go into the cave.”

Grand-mère.
Her faith in Mariah’s abilities never failed to astonish her. How could Mariah deny her?

Taking a deep breath, she edged back into the cave and stopped. Two golden eyes peered at her.  “
Je suis
Mariah,” she said, finding her voice.
“Enchantée
.”

The last word was stronger, and she didn’t know if the dragon caught her name or even cared.

The scaled beast hissed. Damp breath swept over her.

She licked her tight lips. “
S’il vous plaît
, I will not hurt you.”

The dragon let out another hiss, but this time, ’twas louder, more menacing. The eyes moved closer.

She wanted to turn and run, but
Grand-mère
had warned her not to give into fear. Lark’s life depended on her working with the dragon. Swallowing her trepidation, Mariah crept deeper into the cave. How this serpent would save her brother escaped her. But she trusted
Grand-mère
and refused to let Lark die. 

She closed her eyes and drew on her power. Her skin tingled, and her heartbeat slowed to a steady clap. “I call forth light.”

The giant reptile gasped.

Mariah opened her eyes. The darkness had fled. The winged lizard had backed into the wall and watched her warily.

“
Oui
, I’m a witch. I’m not going to hurt you.”

A trail of dark blood on the dirt floor led to the scaled devil. She frowned. “You’re hurt.”

The green and blue skinned serpent growled.

She took a step closer, and the beast swiped his talon.

“Please let me help you.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out her thread. “See, I can stitch you.”

Forcing herself to walk, she edged closer to the overgrown lizard, and it snarled. ’Twas foolish. What was
Grand-mère
thinking? She was going to have one dead granddaughter.

The brute was bigger than the largest bull she’d ever seen. ’Twas almost as big as a carriage. The dragon curled its lip, revealing sharp, pink-stained teeth. Mariah’s stomach revolted. The yellow-eyed fiend had eaten something. Man or beast?

“I want to help you.”

An arrow was embedded below the dragon’s right wing. A stream of blood trickled down its side and pooled onto the ground.

Why could the wound not be on the left side? She had to walk around the creature, and it could lunge and take a bite out of her. What if ’twas hissing not because ’twas hurt but because ’twas still hungry?

She shifted toward the winged monster’s right side, keeping at least an arm’s length from its powerful jaws. The giant lizard snorted, and its hot breath rushed over her. If the beast wanted, it could bite her in half.

“I shall kneel down now.”

The dragon twisted its head, gold eyes narrowing. She gulped back pure terro
r and ignored its stare. Mariah studied the arrow. “I am not sure if you understand me, but I have to pull the arrow out.”

She placed her hand on the creature’s sleek scales, and closed her eyes, waiting for the beast to strike. The scales were smooth and not prickly. She was surprised she could feel the beast’s breathing and a beating heart. Opening her eyes, she met his steely gaze, but ’twasn’t hostile. Perhaps ’twas more fear or understanding.

“I know it hurts,” she whispered. “Will you trust me?”

The scaled devil nodded. She sucked in a breath, and her eyes widened. “You understand me,
oui
?”

The dragon turned away and flopped its head onto its legs.

“I do not know if that is an
oui
or no, but I am going to take it as
oui
.”

She gripped the arrow and pressed her hand around the wound. “I am going to count to three. Please do not kill me,” she said, her voice stronger than the fear buried inside her. “One.”

The dragon tensed beneath her.

“Two.”

It trembled.

Not saying the word three, she yanked out the arrow, and blood spurted into the air. The dragon howled. Fire shot out of the cave, across the small ledge, and burst into the night sky. Rocks glowed and faded. Ashen stains blackened the opening of the cave.

Heat flushed over her body, and she wiped the sweat from her brow. The arrow clutched in her hand, she waited to be burned or ripped to pieces. “I am sorry.”

“What the hell are you doing to my brother, lass?”

Mariah glanced up. A red-eyed vampire peeled back his lips and flashed his fangs. She was dead.

She was sure he could hear her quickening heart and tried not to faint again. She remembered him all too well, remembered blood dripping down his chin and soaking his shirt, remembered the unconscious lass at his feet. The moon had glittered off his red stained teeth, then all went dark. She had awakened in her own bed, but his face still burned in her memory.

The same face glared at her now.

Three bats appeared behind the vampire and transformed into men. She bit the inside of her cheek and winced. A wounded dragon and four vampires blocked her escape.

Merde. Merde. Merde.

The first vampire stormed into the cave. “If you hurt him again, I’ll kill you.”

The dragon roared; fire shot out of his mouth, cave walls blackened. Mariah grimaced. The heat from his breath singed her sweaty skin.

“William?” the vampire asked.

She glanced at the beast. “His name is William?”

“Aye.” The vampire folded his arms across his chest. “William O’Brien. I’m Kane O’Brien, captain of the
Soaring Phoenix
.”