A Pirate's Revenge (Legends of the Soaring Phoenix) (32 page)

The tall man folded his arms across his chest and glowered at the mistress. Jealous perhaps?

“I knew you would give into temptation, weak human,” the man said.

The mistress slapped the man on his burly arm. “Hush, Zuto. Our Master is pleased.”

Zuto shook his head. “For now, Natasa. For now. But if you fail—”

“I won’t fail.” She scowled, flames dancing in her pupils. Her voice rattled not with anger, but with fear. 

In the bay, three men in a long boat paddled toward the beach. The first man to disembark was impressive in size, having long red hair and a straggly beard.

“I want you to go with those men.”

“Why? Who are they?” Lark said.

“Allies. This is Captain Quinton Palmer,” Natasa said.

Palmer nodded and grunted. By his icy sneer, Lark gathered the man did not like him.

“We have a common goal,” Natasa said. “Bring me Captain Justin Knight and Hannah O’Brien and Mariah Fey. Sink the
Soaring Phoenix
.”

“And they are?”

“Enemies,” Natasa said. “Captain Knight left three men infected with small pox on an island. Maketabori’s worshipers resided on this island and were nearly wiped out from the disease. He wants Knight and his daughter dead.”

“And Mariah Fey?”

“She’s a meddlesome witch,” Natasa said. “She has defied me for the last time.”

Lark winced. Each word was loaded with anger and hate. If this Mariah would have been here, Natasa would slit her throat.

Natasa took a deep breath, and the fury lines etched in her face lessened. “I want those three brought to me. Alive.” 

Zuto sighed, as if bored with this conversation. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

Lark met his hard gaze. “Who?”

“The dragon,” Zuto said. “You’ll have to kill him before you can seize the others and sink the
Phoenix
.”

“A dragon?” Was the man daft?

“Lark, you can defeat him,” Natasa said.

Zuto scoffed.

Lark clenched his fists and wanted to punch the man in the jaw. Zuto gave him a cold stare. Power slammed into Lark, and he staggered backward.

“I’m a demon,” Zuto said. “I do not like challenges.”

Lark’s eyes widened. “Demon?”

“Fool,” Zuto said. “So, is she.”

Sparks of recognition rushed through Lark.
Oui!
Merde!
That was why her hand was so icy.
 

“She stole—” Zuto said.

“Silence!” Natasa hissed. “Yes, we’re demons, and you are a warlock.”

“I do not possess any magic.”

“Idiot,” Natasa said.

Zuto laughed. “Appears he’s doesn’t know what he is. Nor how to wield it. Maketabori will be
so
pleased.”

Natasa sliced her hand through the air. “Enough. I’ll not listen to you. You mock our Lord.”

“No.” Zuto shrugged. “I only point out the numerous flaws to your foolish plans.”

Natasa slid her hand around Lark’s neck and leaned close. Her hand was cold and slimy as if it had been dipped in swamp water. He wanted to shove her away, but he kept his arms to side. “The
yari
around your neck binds your powers,” she said.

Lark fingered his neck. “You mean this choker?”

“
Bohiti
,” she said.

The choker clicked and fell away from Lark’s throat.

Palmer caught it. “What are you doing? He’s—”

“No longer a danger to us,” Natasa said.

Shivers rushed over Lark. Power fluttered in his chest, shooting throughout his body. He tilted his head and arched his back, loosening his muscles, rejoicing in his returning strength. He wanted to destroy, kill, maim. ’Twas all that mattered. 

“You’re a warlock and a potent one. You have people who want to steal your gift,” Natasa said.

“They will be dead,” he vowed.

Palmer eyed Lark warily and gripped the yari tight. “I’ll keep this. For now. If you’ll excuse me…” He walked over to his men and talked in hushed whispers.

Zuto looked at Natasa and lifted his eyebrow. “So sure, are you?”

“You doubt me?” Her voice echoed with surprise, as if she couldn’t believe Zuto questioned her abilities.

“Yes, I do,” he said. His voice filled with disdain.

“I’ll prove you wrong, demon.”

Like Zuto, Lark suspected her challenging words hid uncertainty.

Zuto laughed, and his red eyes darkened. “You do that, fool.”

Natasa clasped Lark’s arm. “Do not pay attention to him.”

Zuto shrugged and strolled toward the jungle, still chuckling.

Lark glared and wanted to toss a rope around the demon’s neck and hang him from the nearest tree. “He does not think I have the power to defeat my enemies.” His voice was strong, but disquiet reigned inside. Could he defeat a dragon?

“If you prove him wrong,” Natasa said. “my master, Maketabori, will reward you.”

“Who is this Maketabori?”

“The God of the Underworld.”

“What will be my reward?”

“Anything you want.”

He smiled. Power. He wanted more. He brushed her fingers off his arm. “I will come back and seek my reward.”

***

Lark clasped the railing of the
Fiery Damsel
and stared out to sea. In the distance, the white sails of a frigate cruised across the horizon. “Is that the
Phoenix
?”

“Aye,” Palmer said. He lowered his spyglass. “Our bloody enemies are straight ahead. We go into battle.”

“No need to attack.”

“What are you babbling about witch?”

“I am not a witch. I am a warlock. And do not take that tone with me.”

He pushed Lark’s shoulder. “And what, exactly, do you propose to do?”

Lark bristled at his sarcastic tone and knocked his hand away. “Do not touch me. Watch and see, pirate.”

He stretched out his arms and gazed up to the sky. “I call upon the Goddess of the Sun, Sekhmet. You have the power of life and death. I ask for your destructive side. Your thirst for the blood of men. I’ll satisfy your lust. Hear me, Goddess.”

Clouds covered the sky, and a lioness’s head replaced the sun. A roar, louder than thunder, jarred the
Fiery Damsel
. Power gripped Lark, surging through his body. His blood pumped faster, sweeping tingles across his skin. The Goddess had granted his request.

“Bring a squall large enough to destroy the
Phoenix
.”

The wind howled, and the blue sky darkened. Lightning flashed and thundered grumbled. Waves rose high and hurled toward the frigate. Angry clouds, shrieking wind, and lightning followed. “She will not survive.” Lark gazed up at the blue sky. “The Goddess wants blood.”

Palmer glanced up at the skies and turned his head side-to-side as if Lark possessed paltry abilities. “You’re supposed to bring Knight, his brat, and your sis—”

“My what?”

“Nothing. They are to be alive. Without those three, we might as well never return to the island.”

Lark smirked. “Afraid?”

“You’d be too, if you had any bloody sense in you.”

Fear flowed from Palmer, and Lark laughed.

Palmer shoved Lark, and Lark staggered into the main mast, smacking his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, witch. You were once my slave and will be again.” 

Agony stabbed Lark’s shoulder, but he refused to grimace. He regained his balance and cast his gaze over the bullying brute. “You will not touch me.” He conjured his power and flicked his wrist. Ants crawled out of the wooden planks and up Palmer’s legs into his trousers.

“Where the devil did these blasted things come from?” Palmer slapped his legs and danced around the deck. “Get these things off me.” Panic rang in his high-pitched voice.

Ants crawled out of his shirt and covered his face. Palmer clawed at his cheeks and fell onto his knees, swaying back and forth. “Please make them stop.”

Lark smiled. “That is a taste of what I can do. Do not make me mad.” He snapped his fingers, and the ants vanished.

Palmer stumbled to his feet. Hate burned in his eyes. Lark lifted his eyebrow. Palmer would have terrified a lesser man, but Lark was not a lesser man. Power surged through him, and he was greedy for more. Natasa had said the crew of the
Soaring Phoenix
wanted to rob him of his new abilities. How dare they? They would pay.
Oui
, they would pay.

He frowned. French? Was he fluent in French?
Oui
. Did his family live in France? One of the colonies? He tried to remember, and the same throbbing pain smashed between his temples, robbing him of breath. He struggled to inhale and exhale. He clenched his fists, refusing to give in and cry out.

“What’s wrong, witch?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Lark ran his hand through his hair and shook his head, trying to block out the blinding headache.
Concentrate.

Ahead, the
Soaring Phoenix
swayed dangerously side-to-side as waves smashed against her hull. Water rushed up over her deck, and her crew grabbed anything they could to keep from washing overboard.

“Palmer, set a course for her,” Lark said.

“I give the orders around here,” Palmer growled.

“Do you want the quarry to drown? You will have to explain to your god, Maketabori.”

“Bastard,” Palmer grumbled.

Lark wanted more than storms to hit the enemy’s ship. He closed his eyes and laughed, cursing it with terror, a terror that would freeze even the bravest man’s soul. He pointed at the frigate and sent his chilling laughter toward his enemies.

He concentrated and slowly moved his hand down his face. “Let them see the hate in my eyes. Give me your spyglass.”

Palmer spit on the deck, barely missing Lark’s boots, and handed over the spyglass.

Lark jerked it out of Palmer’s hand. “Do you need another lesson?”

Palmer’s smirk died on his lips, and his face paled.

Lark enjoyed the terror in Palmer’s eyes and the mayhem and chaos breaking out upon the
Soaring Phoenix
. His headache diminished. He smiled, sure of victory. 

The sky blackened, and the sun disappeared. Swells of water crashed against the
Phoenix’s
hull, and she bucked back and forth. Water gushed across the wooden decks. The sails flapped and flattened. Men frantically pulled on the halyard and mooring lines.

Mariah gripped the railing of the
Soaring Phoenix
and hung on tight. The stench of sulfur permeated the air, and she choked on the fumes. ’Twas not from gunfire.
Mon Dieu!
  Lark. The dream. He had turned. He was a warlock. She had to get to the
capitaine
to tell him of the dangers. Darting between pirates, she bumped into a burly man, slipped, and fell. 

William grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “What’s wrong?” 

“Take me to the
capitaine
. I need to talk with him.”

Sean hurried up next to them, his blond hair plastered from the driving rain. “Never seen a storm form out of thin air.” He pointed to Kane at the helm. “Capt’n’s in a foul mood.”

William shook her arm. “’Tis black magic, ’tisn’t it?”

Mariah winced. “
Oui
, take me to
le capitaine
.”

He clutched her hand and used his shoulder to plow a path through the rushing crewmen. Sean followed close behind.  

Thunder boomed, and Mariah clutched William’s hand tighter. The ship listed to the side, and she slid toward the railing. She cried out, and William hauled her in front of him, lifting her off her feet and carrying her the rest of the way to the foredeck
.
He set her on her feet, his arm pressing her against his broad chest.

Rain smashed against Kane, and he lowered his spyglass. “What do you think? ’Tis magic?”

“
Oui
.”

“Sean, take the helm and keep to the port side.”

“It will not be any use,
Capitaine
.”

He gritted his teeth, his scar on his cheek whitening. “Why?”

Mariah stared up at the sky. The odor of sulfur intensified, and she curled her lip. The sky grew darker and waves rose higher. The
Phoenix
thrashed up and down. Salt water sprayed onto her face, stinging her eyes and staining her lips. “Because I know whose magic it is.”