Page 41 of The Sea Witch (Salt & Sorcery #1)

and cool after the scorching heat of the day, noisy with the raucous laughter of woodpeckers.

Soon Ben and Alys stepped into full sunlight again. They crossed open meadows and skirted around a yam field before emerging

at the edge of Domingo’s only town, imaginatively named Domingo Town.

It was a typical settlement, with clay and redbrick buildings with both thatched and tiled roofs, demonstrating the prosper ity of the island’s inhabitants.

People of many colors walked along well-packed dirt roads, and donkey-drawn carts trundled up and down these lanes, laden with local and imported goods.

A few carriages brought over from the Continent also added to the traffic.

There were shops and offices, and taverns that seemed to cater to a more subdued clientele than the pirate-infested saloons in St. Gertrude or New Providence.

“All Saints,” he said, pointing to the church’s elaborate spire rising at the center of Domingo Town.

She whistled. “Bit nicer than what I’m used to. Norham’s church was made of plain clapboard, held together with guilt.”

“I’ve never been to Massachusetts.”

“I’m sure you’d be welcome there far more than I ever was. You’ve been to Domingo Town before?”

“Long enough to be impressed by All Saints’ baroque style and stained glass. The wealthiest local citizens are its benefactors.

But I’m less impressed by the shop selling charts and outdated maps that leave off half the known world.”

Alys took a step into the town before Ben pulled her into a remarkably clean alleyway.

“I don’t have the time or desire for a back-alley tryst,” she said flatly.

Something poked him in the chest. A small dagger had appeared in her hand and dug between the second and third button of his

waistcoat.

He pointed to a nearby wall, where sheets of paper had been pasted, bearing the likeness of several disreputable men. But

he gestured to one in particular, with the word WANTED blazed across it. Beneath that was an illustration of a woman, the hair helpfully colored in with red ink. Beneath that,

there was a banner proclaiming REWARD FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO THE CAPTURE OF CAPTAIN ALYS TANNER, ￡200.

“My hair isn’t that shade,” Alys insisted. “Still, two hundred pounds is a flattering amount.”

“You fail to see the significance of that handbill.”

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll use disguises.”

“I can obtain a veil from one of the clothing shops, and we should powder your hair. Also—”

“Ben,” she said, and he quieted immediately. “There’s another way to hide who we are.”

“ We? No one is offering two hundred pounds for me.”

“It’s likely that the navy’s also put out word that you’re missing. And you’ve been to Domingo Town before. They’ll know you

here.”

He scratched his chin. Even though he was fully bearded now, there was always the chance someone might recognize him. “How

are you going to disguise us?”

“Firstly,” she said, crisp, “I’m going to need you to stop talking.”

He shut his mouth. Once she seemed satisfied by his silence, she pressed her hand against his chest and closed her eyes.

Surely, she could feel how, beneath her palm, his heart pounded from her touch.

Yet she made no remark. Instead, her lips moved in a silent stream of words. A soft glow encircled her, shimmering along her

skin. He forced himself to remain still as the glow expanded, enveloping him. It tingled along his flesh, as though hundreds

of moths alit upon him with delicate legs and fluttering wings.

Her features shifted beneath the glow. Her nose became thinner, her cheekbones lowering, her mouth changing, full lips compressing

into a little bow. Her bosom grew rounder and her hair shifted from glossy deep russet to flaxen curls.

More tingling glided over his face. He lifted his hand to touch his features, yet they felt the same to him.

The glow dissipated, the tingling stopped, and she stepped back with a long exhale.

“No more Captain Alys Tanner,” she announced. “Go ahead and greet Miss Abigail Williams.”

“A remarkable disguise,” he said. “What of mine?”

She smirked and nodded toward a nearby puddle. “Tell me you recognize yourself.”

He went to the puddle and exclaimed when he gazed into its reflective surface. A man with waves of tawny hair, wide-set brown

eyes, and a pointy nose looked back at him.

“I feel the same.” He touched his face once again.

“Glamours exist only on the surface. Beneath the illusion, we haven’t changed. Here.” She took his hand and brought it to

her face, gliding his fingertips along her cheeks and lips. “Feels no different.”

“No different,” was all he could manage, his voice hoarse.

Her movements stilled, and she stared up at him with eyes that weren’t hers, yet beneath the change of shape and color, there

was the spark that belonged to her alone, charging the air between them.

A bray came from a donkey pulling a cart full of kegs. The noise pierced the bubble of intimacy surrounding them. She stepped

back, and he did the same, nearly tripping over an empty crate in his haste to put distance between them.

“The church,” he said gruffly.

“The parish records,” she said at the same time.

He moved toward the street, then stopped to hold his arm out to her.

She stared at it with a puzzled frown. “My feet work just fine.”

“Any man in love would offer his woman his arm when walking with her,” he explained.

She continued to study his proffered arm, as if it contained a hidden danger. “I, uh, don’t have experience with it.”

Now it was his turn to stare at her. “You’ve been married.”

“Samuel liked it better when I walked behind him.”

A low curse escaped Ben.

“But you’re an expert in wooing,” she said quickly.

“There was a girl I courted. Tried to court, in Havana. Beatriz, a chandler’s daughter.

I had such plans, you know. Romantic notions of us on the water, and she’d be dazzled by my seamanship.

In truth, Beatriz wasn’t much impressed with a warrant officer, and refused to go out on a cutter I’d hired for the day. ”

“So, we’re both new to it.”

“Today, we’ll both have the full sweetheart experience.”

With an encouraging look as much for himself as her, he offered his arm once more.

Slowly, cautiously, she took it. Her fingers rested lightly on his sleeve, and his body tightened from even this slight pressure.

“The hell with this timidity,” she muttered.

Her grip tightened around his arm, and they both sucked in a breath at the feel of her holding him firmly.

“Damn, Sailing Master,” she exclaimed, squeezing his forearm. “Another surprise. You’re hard as marble.”

Did his disguised cheeks turn as red as they felt? “Time to get this mission underway.”

“I’m going to be struck by lightning,” Alys said under her breath as they crossed the threshold of All Saints into the narthex.

A sudden quiet descended as the heavy carved door shut behind them, the clatter of traffic and human voices fading. The vestibule

smelled of cool stone and herb-scented linen.

“God is very busy,” Ben answered. “He surely has other concerns besides smiting a few sinners in a corner of the Caribbean.”

“Except one sinner’s a witch, and I’ve been told with great authority that such a person isn’t welcome.”

“Opinions founded on ignorance. I didn’t know much of witches, not so long ago. You might be the first witch I ever talked

to.” Certainly, she was the first witch he’d ever touched. Ever kissed.

“And now you’d set a place for me at your table?” She shot him a dry look.

Inside, the church was bright, lit by windows lining the nave. Rows of oak pews faced the pulpit and altar, and the chancel was decorated by carved wooden arches. Light shone through a stained glass window depicting the Annunciation, more evidence of the wealth of the church’s benefactors.

Ben moved to the font to dip his fingers in the holy water before crossing himself.

“This place isn’t safe for me,” Alys muttered, pulling away from him.

“Good afternoon, sir and miss.” An elderly man in a clerical collar approached them. “I am Reverend Gardiner. How may I be

of assistance?”

Alys went to Ben and wove her fingers with his.

“Miss Abigail Williams,” she sang, “a pleasure to meet you. I wish to be married to my darling Thaddeus.” She fluttered her

lashes at Ben. “Been courting me forever, but Thaddeus finally asked my father. And he gave us his blessing,” she added with

a very atypical squeal.

Ben made himself look down as if abashed.

“Felicitations,” Reverend Gardiner said, beaming. “We’ll need to read the banns, of course.”

“Of course,” Ben agreed.

Breathlessly, Alys said, “Before we do that, we need to ensure that there’s no chance... that is... our families are

very close... and we’d hate to think that there could be any problems... being so close... ”

“Yes, I see, my daughter,” the reverend intoned. “We cannot have any besmirching from consanguinity.”

Ben nodded eagerly. “You understand, Reverend.”

“Can’t be kissing cousins, can we?” Alys giggled.

It was all Ben could do to keep from gaping at her. Never had he heard her actually giggle .

“The parish register will have the answers you seek.” Reverend Gardiner waved them toward the back of the church. “I keep

it in the sacristy. This way.”

The reverend ambled up the aisle, leading them to a plain door beside the altar.

“Thaddeus?” Ben whispered when he was certain the old man couldn’t hear him.

“It was either that or Zebediah,” she whispered back.

Reverend Gardiner unlocked a door and then gestured for them to enter. It was a small chamber containing sacristy credens,

with wide shallow drawers that held vestments. There was also a piscina for washing, and a taller heavier cabinet. The reverend

used another key to unlock it. From a drawer, he pulled out a thick leather-bound book, tooled with gold adornments, which

he set upon a table.

“The answers you seek are in there,” he said, smiling.

“I’ll look, Thad,” Alys twittered.

She stepped to the register and flipped through the pages. She read for a long while, with Ben and the reverend occasionally

exchanging polite smiles.

“Oh, here’s my cousin Hecuba,” she said, “and here’s your great uncle Boaz.”

Ben watched her expectantly. The answer to Little George’s clue had to be in this book. What would they do if it wasn’t? The

Caribbean was vast, abundant with tiny islands, hidden coves, secret locations. All the things that made it so appealing to

the lawless. But the fail-safe had to be out there, somewhere.

Alys continued to read, making her way through three years of records. And then she glanced up at Reverend Gardiner. “I’m

not seeing any shared kin, but just to be sure, might I look at the older register?”

“This is all we have,” the old man answered quickly. “There was a fire, you see, three years ago. A candle tipped over, and

alas, the register was lost. We were all quite despondent.”

“That is a shame,” Ben said. “Is it enough, dearest Abby?”

“I’m certain it will be fine,” Reverend Gardiner interjected. “I see no reason why you two should not be married.”

Alys ran to Ben and threw her arms around his neck. “We can be wed, dearest, dearest Thaddy.”

As his hands came around her waist, she lifted up on her toes. Their lips met.

Her mouth was soft and nimble against his. One brief peck turned into a longer deeper kiss. He pulled her closer, his palms

warming as he held her. She pressed snug against him.

He hadn’t expected she’d be so sweet. Or how right it felt to have her in his arms.

“Well,” Reverend Gardiner boomed with strained joviality, “we know this will be a most fruitful union.”

Ben and Alys broke apart. Her eyes were dazed, her disguised lips slightly swollen from their kiss, as surely his were.

“We’ll come back to discuss the banns,” Ben managed when she appeared unable to talk. “Thank you, Reverend.”

He grabbed Alys’s hand once again and tugged her out of the sacristy, down the aisle, and then out of the church. Together,

they stood blinking in the bright sunlight as traffic moved around them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His breath came quickly. Hers, too. She brought her hand up, fingers lingering on her

lips. Currents of lightning shot along his limbs.

Words attempted to form but broke apart before he could speak them.

Finally, she said thickly, “When I looked through the register, I used magic to search out the answers we needed. But they’re

not in that register. They’re in the older one.”

“The reverend said it was destroyed in a fire.”

“The register exists,” she said, “but it’s kept hidden elsewhere in the church.”

“We should come back.”

“When there’s no chance of anyone being there.”

“The church should be empty tonight.”

“Until then, we’ll need to find somewhere to hide. Somewhere private.” She let out a shaky breath.

“You’re trembling.” Her tremors reverberated through her hand, all the way up his arm.

Even with her disguise, she looked drawn and tired. “It’s the glamour. I can’t... I can’t hold it much longer.”

Her hair had already begun to shift from blond to red, and her lips were filling out, taking on the shape of her own mouth.

God knew what he looked like.

“Come.” He led her hurriedly down the street. “I know where to go.”

He prayed he could get them to safety in time.