Page 19 of The Sea Witch (Salt & Sorcery #1)

Torchlight revealed only wary glances and suspicious glares. It lit the crescent of glittering sand beneath everyone’s boots

as both captains and crew faced off on the beach. Hands hovered close to weapons. Van der Meer’s mage stood at the buccaneer

captain’s side, his fingers curved in preparation to deploy a spell, but then again, Stasia and Susannah also had glints of

reddish magic dancing over their hands, ready to be called into use at the barest hint of treachery. Tension strung taut between

the two parties.

Her hand resting on the pommel of her cutlass, Alys kept her attention fixed on Van der Meer. The torchlight rendered him

even more striking than he appeared in daylight, cutting in the sharp planes of his face, making his teeth flash white in

his sable beard, but she wouldn’t be swayed by his handsome face again. Nor anything else he offered her. Deceit often lurked

behind the most beautiful of facades.

Samuel had been widely considered the most fine-looking man in Norham.

“Hostility has no place here,” Van der Meer said in his honeyed voice. “We’re all of us friends, aren’t we?”

“Friends don’t chase each other from St. Gertrude to here.” She gestured to the beach.

“We could be quite friendly once more, if you only say the word.”

Stasia snorted.

“That port’s no longer open. Besides, I don’t expect you’re tailing my ship just for a sentimental fuck.”

The warmth in his dark eyes cooled. “You won’t share what you know about Little George, and this fail-safe of his? We all

saw what happened to Fontaine and the Diabolique . None of us want to suffer a similar fate.”

“I’m a simple woman, Jacob. I keep to my ship, run my raids, and not much else.” Alys was careful to keep her expression shuttered—but

she had a lifetime of practice hiding what she thought and believed. Especially from men.

Van der Meer shook his head. “Ignorant people don’t have naval officers pursue them from the tavern. Nor do they sail with

such purpose as you have been since leaving St. Gertrude.”

“I’m to believe you won’t find the fail-safe, and then turn around to sell it to the Royal Navy. Stow your protests, Jacob,

and don’t pretend like I’ve insulted you,” she said when he placed a hand on the center of his chest, as if personally wounded.

“After what passed between us in Mérida and then ?le-à-Vache, and your considerable record of betrayal, even Jesus Christ

wouldn’t have faith in you.”

The other captain shrugged. “It’s possible I have only been searching for someone that I can believe in.”

“That wasn’t me?” Alys feigned a sad frown.

“We needn’t be enemies or competitors,” he wheedled. “Why not search for the fail-safe together? Ridding ourselves of that

leviathan would benefit every pirate. It would be an advantage, combining my knowledge of these waters with your ship’s abundance

of magical ability. After all, it has been merely a year since you came to the Caribbean, and there are gaps in your knowledge

I would be happy to fill.” He punctuated this statement with a roguish grin.

Alys exhaled. “Flirtation’s a poor negotiating tactic when one party has no further interest in the goods being tendered. Besides,” she added, “I recall at ?le-à-Vache that you referred to me and my crew as that seafaring pack of magical bitches . So, much as I appreciate your offer, I decline.”

“Liefje—”

“And if you follow me again,” Alys continued, “I’ll make good on my vow to send your ship to the bottom of the seafloor. There

are nearly two dozen witches aboard my vessel, whereas you have only one mage.”

She flicked a contemptuous glance at the man in question, who quailed beneath her regard. The mage shrank even more when Susannah

and Stasia encouraged the magic around their hands to glow brighter, red light flitting demonically over their faces.

“I favor our odds,” Alys noted. “Now, this parley’s concluded. Good night, Jacob, and fair winds.”

Van der Meer bowed, ever gallant, but he didn’t look particularly pleased by the way negotiations had fared. He muttered angrily

under his breath, little knowing that Alys knew Dutch and was well aware of the variety of insults he hissed at her.

“You’re perfectly welcome to go fuck yourself,” she said in cheerful Dutch.

He scowled but said nothing more.

With one eye on the other pirate captain, Alys turned to head back to their beached jolly boat. Her crew pushed the small

boat back into the water and they all climbed aboard. As Dayanna and Inés took up the oars to row them back to the Sea Witch , Alys kept her attention on the beach while Van der Meer and his crew clambered into their jolly boat. The captain moved

stiffly, his posture rigid. He wasn’t happy, taking out his frustration by yelling at his men, who slouched over their oars.

“Will he shadow us?” Stasia also watched the other pirates.

“Jacob’s a cunning man, but not especially courageous. I reckon our seafaring pack of magical bitches is enough to keep him cowering and licking his own bollocks.”

“There may be others,” Stasia pointed out. “From what you said, that tavern was full of greedy buccaneers looking for any

means of advancing their own causes.”

“Jacob was skilled with his tongue,” Alys said. “He also can’t hold it. Word will get out that we’re not to be trifled with,

or consequences will be inflicted. Besides, half the Brethren of the Coast shits themselves in fear when our name is mentioned.

I take comfort in that.”

“We may want to reserve our concern for what is happening on our own ship,” Stasia said, looking toward the Sea Witch with a frown. “It appears that our naval guest is trying to escape.”

Ben’s fingers itched for his rosewood and brass backstaff so he might measure the altitude of the sun, but all the tools of

his navigational art remained behind on the Jupiter . Trapped as he was in Alys Tanner’s quarters, he couldn’t stand upon the deck to gauge the sun’s shadow. The cabin held the

heat of the day, yet without the warmth of the sun upon his back, a chill skimmed along his skin.

The sun and the horizon—beautiful eternal entities that only responded to a skilled hand coaxing the mysteries of location

in the vast, vast world.

He had no polar stars to find his position.

Instead, his compass had been replaced by the captain. He’d sensed her throughout the day. She’d been solidly confident, but

something troubled her. Unbalanced, as if she tried without success to steady herself with the horizon.

His own balance reeled. Without his tools, his work, nothing gave him equilibrium. Not the familiar texture of the brass buttons

on his coat, not the tendons flexing in his hands, not the sounds of the gulls crying to each other.

He’d jolted with the realization that he was what unsettled Alys Tanner. It was mutual, then. Yet he took no comfort from this shared restiveness.

Restlessness made him rabid, desperate for anything to occupy his thoughts. He’d moodily stared out the window that ran the

length of the cabin, watching the clouds, the water, the birds that wheeled above the waves, the dolphins cavorting below

them—whatever might hold his attention.

Late in the afternoon, a speck of another ship appeared on the horizon.

Alys had left behind a spyglass on her desk, and Ben trained it on the dark fleck that grew larger as it attempted to close

the distance between the two ships.

God, let it be a member of the Royal Navy’s Caribbean fleet. Finally—he could end this nightmare of being trapped aboard a

ship brimming with pirate witches, and sever whatever it was that wove his consciousness with hers. In every capacity, he

pulsed with awareness of her.

His gut sank when, instead of the Union Jack, the ship flew a black flag emblazoned with a skeleton wearing a hat.

“Hell.”

Jacob Van der Meer. A slippery eel of a buccaneer who was as known for his cunning as well as his duplicity. Only last month,

Van der Meer had fired a pistol into the back of Enrique Ocampo when the other pirate captain had been foolish enough to partner

with him on a series of raids along the Honduran coast.

Van der Meer was one of four other pirate captains spotted in the vicinity of his father’s ship on the day of the murder.

The Dutchman or a member of his crew could be the killer.

And if his ship, the Edelsteen , was following the Sea Witch , chances were high he possessed malicious intentions.

Ben raced to the door of the cabin. He’d raise an alarm so they might evade whoever was in pursuit. But then his hand hovered over the door, pausing before he could pound on the wood.

If Alys’s ship evaded Van der Meer, Ben would lose a crucial, desperately needed opportunity. The closer Van der Meer’s ship

got, the more Ben could discover... He wasn’t certain what , exactly, he might be able to find, but something was better than nothing. There could be a hint, a clue, anything .

He went back to the window, watching through the spyglass as the Edelsteen grew closer. His gut clenched and his muscles jumped with the need to move, but there was nothing to do except wait.

At some point, the Sea Witch became aware they were being followed, because the ship took up a very specific course. A tiny island was close at hand,

reachable just before sunset, and it seemed it was their destination. But why would they pick that location, when it had a

small inlet and rocky cliffs and not much else of note?

Ben kept his spyglass trained on the Edelsteen as night started to fall. The Sea Witch sailed right into the island’s inlet, effectively cornering themselves.

It made no sense. Alys Tanner had proven herself a skilled captain. Only a novice would entrap herself and her crew.

He imagined her on the deck, gilded in the day’s last light as she gave commands to her crew. What did she feel, as Van der

Meer’s ship drew closer, and her own ship cornered itself?

Guarded but determined. Not the emotions of a panic-gripped captain.