Page 60 of Bloody Black

I don’t think. I don’t debate. I launch myself over the rail, and it’s only in that one spare second before hitting the ground that I wonder if my ankle will break.

My feet land inches from his body, safe and sure, and I fall to my knees. “Teach!”

I’m assessing. Inspecting. The wound bubbles and pumps blood with each of his breaths.

The knife, I can’t even see. Blood creeps beneath him in a slow, ever-widening arc, bright red against the snow.

There’s yellow, and the stench of urine.

Teach has pissed himself in fear, either because of falling or because of Venka.

“Shh. I’ve got you,” I tell him. I’ve got to find that damn knife.

My trembling hands unbutton his shirt, so soaked in blood it will have to be thrown away.

But the knife hilt is… I swallow hard. I can see only the barest glimpse of the pommel, just under his heart, angled downward .

“Get it out.” Teach claws at his chest, gasping. “I can’t breathe—”

“If I pull this blade, you’ll bleed out.” I press the wound with my gloved hand, and Teach hisses, pales even further.

The entire moment reminds me of Soren in his study, Soren… like destiny has come home to roost.

Think, Anne. Think. What can I do?

There’s a doctor in the castle, and a healer, but I’d have to drag Teach back inside and then get him to the infirmary. That would be difficult enough to do, but on a day with a royal wedding? Impossible. There’s no guarantee they would even be there.

I could take him back to the ship. But how would I get him down to the dock from here? Throw him off the cliff? Carry him off the castle grounds?

I could go get help.

But that would draw attention to myself. I hate to leave him, especially out here, lying in the snow. I need someone else. I need someone who would be strong enough to carry him. There’s no way around it.

“Teach… I’ll be right back. I have to go get Samson.”

My own gaze flicks toward the sea, toward the horizon. Toward where the Queen Anne’s Revenge is at anchor. “He’ll get you back to the ship. Take that knife out, stitch up the wound. Everything will be fine. You’ll have some rum and sleep it off.”

“Don’t go,” he replies.

“What do you mean? I can’t just sit here.”

“Don’t go,” he repeats, putting his hand over mine .

He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had. Always patient, believing in me, every step of the way. Always reminding me that my future could be good. That I, flawed as I was, could be good. Reminding me not to drift too far from the girl I once was.

“Okay,” I say, voice trembling. “Let me just think.” Think, when the blood is spreading and spreading, wetting my knees.

“I’ll uh…” What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Teach exhales softly. “There’s nothing for it, Anne. That knife is too deep.”

“Tremaine can get it out. He’s a good doctor.”

His brown eyes blink. “I’m not going to live through this one.”

“Don’t say that.” I’m still looking around, frantic to figure this out. But every plan I can imagine involves moving him, and I don’t think I can manage it.

Not by myself.

“I never thought I’d live to see the great Blackbeard cry.”

I hadn’t even noticed. Brushing the tears away with my bloodied palm, I shake my head. “I told you to go to the chapel. I told you to stay downstairs.”

He gives a faint smile, inhales, and exhales. “And I told you that you don’t always have to be alone.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Still, this woman never says thank you .” Teach laughs softly.

Unable to help myself, I brush his dark hair back from his forehead. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Several beats pass, the two of us silent.

In the distance, there’s the sound of the waves crashing against cliffs.

I squeeze his hand, attempting to soothe myself.

I always believed we would win. That we would all emerge unscathed, because we were in the right.

Justice would triumph, and revenge would be sweet.

Teach was the only one who didn’t quite believe.

“This should have never happened to us. You didn’t deserve—you never asked for this. I am so, so sorry.”

“Take me home to the tropics,” he interrupts. “Where the sun is always shining. Once this is all over. Don’t let me be buried here.”

“I won’t. I know how you hate the cold.”

His eyes are closed. His lashes are damp, his skin pale as the snow falls around us. I study the scar on his eyebrow, the one from a brawl two years ago at Port Relquin.

“They’ll tell our story, won’t they?” he asks softly. “Queen Anne and Blackbeard and all of it?”

I swear they will. “Someday, someone will remember us. You and me, Teach.”

He nods, a contented smile on his face. “If you save me, I’ll wake up, and Holly will be there.” He sighs. “But if I die… I’ll see my girls again. My wife and daughter will be waiting for me. That makes it a good day.”

He’s always so positive. Always the optimist.

I can’t imagine my crew without him, can’t begin to fathom it. I have to force the words past my lips. “That’s right. It’s…” my voice breaks. “You’ll wake up and see my and Holly’s faces, or you’ll be with them. Either way, it’s a good day.”

And thus it was that Edward Teach of the Queen Anne’s Revenge , loyal friend and sailor and Captain, died. With his hand clasping mine.