Page 13 of The Summons (Legend of the King’s Ring #1)

“S

he is no longer here.” Delphine Lavigne stood in the doorway, her shoulders back, her eyes full of more pain than Blake had ever seen. She also wore a more modest gown, which was odd.

He knew he’d hurt her, but there was naught to be done for it now. She could hardly expect him to make a commitment to a strumpet, despite the promises he’d whispered to her in the night. Though a rather beautiful strumpet at that, as his gaze took her in, remembering fondly their time together. Only a small cut on her lip and a fading bruise on her cheek marred her beauty.

“What do you mean? Where is she?” He gripped the hilt of his cutlass, glancing down the street.

“I have no idea, Blake. She disappeared in the middle of the night without a word. Though…” Delphine pursed her lips.

“Though…?”

“It seems she may have been taken against her will.” Fear quivered in her voice.

Alarm shot through him. “By whom?”

“I do not know, but she mentioned being followed.”

Blake hung his head. Who would have cared to take an unknown woman with nigh a penny to her name?

“Now, if you please, I’m soon to set sail.” Delphine started to shut the door.

Only then did he notice the portmanteau and bags perched in the foyer. “Where are you going?”

She gripped the edge of the door, leaning her head against it. “I’m going to live with my sister on Martinique.” Both sorrow and a strange determination filled her eyes. “I’m out of the business, Blake. Starting over.”

Shocked, Blake shook his head. “Why? What happened?” He reached up to touch her bruise, but she slapped him away before he could.

“Find her, Blake. She’s a good woman, decent, kind. Though you don’t deserve her.”

That much was true. He didn’t deserve Emeline, but he needed her. And at the moment, she might need him if she was in trouble. For he doubted word would have reached her family so soon.

“Take care of yourself, Delphine.” Turning, he descended the steps.

“Did you ever love me, Blake?” Her voice followed him, tugging on his heart.

Halting, he faced her, an odd guilt twisting his insides. “I’m incapable of loving anyone. You know that.” Before he witnessed more pain on her face, he walked away, full of more confusion and angst than he cared to admit.

Back on board the Summons , Finn approached him, pipe in his mouth and scrap of parchment in his hand.

“Message came fer ye, Cap’n.”

“From whom?” Blake took it as his men hauled the cockboat on deck.

“Dunno. Sailor rowed it over t’ us after ye left. Said some men paid ’im t’ deliver it t’ the Summons if he sees it make anchor.”

The wax seal bore an unusual crest but one he’d seen before, one which turned the blood in his veins to ice. Breaking it, he opened the missive.

The Ring for Miss Hyde. Sail Northwest toward San Juan Bautista. You’ll find a small island south southeast off the coast of St. Thomas. Sail into the bay. I’ll find you.

Use the power of the Ring and she is dead.

Father Arturo Della Morte

b

Boom! Boom ! The cot shook beneath Emeline. She sprang up in bed, heart pounding. Boom ! A cannon blast! At least a twenty-pounder, from the sound of it. Who were they firing upon? She had no window to peer through. No way to know if it was day or night. Several days must have passed—how many, she had no idea. In her loneliness and despair, she’d lost track of time. She’d lost track of her sanity. And if not for the presence of Almighty God, she’d surely have lost her life as well.

She’d not seen Senor Della Morte again. Not since he’d called her Captain Keene’s paramour. Not since he’d nearly choked her to death. In fact, she’d seen no one, save the same skinny man who had first come to her cabin. Each day he came only once—with food and to empty her chamber pot. Each day, he responded to her questions with a single sneer before he left.

She asked him to relay a message to his captain—that she was most definitely not Captain Keene’s mistress, and that the knave would definitely not give a care whether she lived or died. All truths which needed to be explained. Still, she had no idea whether the messages reached the vicious Jesuit captain at all.

Were they now engaging in battle? With her below deck where a shot could blow her to bits? What did it matter? She had made her peace with God.

Well, she hoped she had, anyway. During the long days and nights, she’d appealed to Him for help and comfort, and she’d felt His warm, loving presence. She knew He was with her and there was a reason for all of this madness. What she didn’t know or understand was what that reason could possibly be.

Thus far, she’d been kidnapped twice, spent days in a brothel, discarded like so much refuse by one man, then nearly killed by another. If God sent her on this mission to spread the good news of the Gospel, she’d done her best. She’d witnessed of the love of God to a pirate and a trollop, but neither had paid her any mind.

Lord, you should have sent my sister or brother on this mission, for I am certainly failing in every way. In her loneliness, she’d finally realized that God was the One who had granted her words of knowledge, visions of understanding her enemies, but what good had it done? Surely in the hands of someone more worthy, this gift would do its mighty work.

Another thunderous blast rang, but this one from another ship. A nearby ship.

Dropping to her knees, she began to pray for the safety of all involved.

b

“Land ho!” The expected shout came down from the crosstrees, prompting Blake to raise the spyglass to his eye. There, less than a mile off their starboard bow, the small islet burst from the sea like a cork floating atop a bottle of azure wine.

Blake knew that spit of land, for he’d careened there often. The Jesuit had chosen well. The shallow bay would allow only the Summons to enter, whereas its narrow inlet could easily be guarded by the Jesuit’s Venetian Frigate, preventing their quick escape. Which was exactly what Blake would need—a quick escape. If his plan were to work.

That if had been scraping away at his soul for a day. ’Twas a huge if , one that relied on too many variables for his comfort, even for his normally crazed ventures. But what choice did he have? Even with all its power, the Ring was useless to him if wearing it sent him to the madhouse.

Scanning the area, he spotted the bare masts and furled sails of said frigate coming into view hugging the leeward side of the island. Hang it ! The Jesuit captain had positioned his ship so that should Blake decide to fire upon it, he’d have to sail within range and scope of the frigate’s twenty eighteen-pounders. All of which were run out and ready to fire.

And fire they did. Boom ! One of them belched its load, jetting black smoke in the air and flinging a shot into the sea just yards off the Summon s’ starboard quarter.

A greeting, no doubt, but still Blake groaned and focused the glass onto the frigate’s deck. A man in black—not Della Morte—stood amidships, his arms crossed over his chest, spouting orders to the crew, none of whom rushed around in the usual frenzy of battle. Certainly Della Morte had not ordered them to sink the very ship that carried the Ring he so desperately craved.

Two more shots erupted, both landing in the sea.

Blake’s crew cursed and dashed about. Lowering the scope, he found Maston staring up at him with a scowl. “Orders, Capitaine ?”

“Warning shots,” Blake said. “Charlie!” he shouted to the master gunner, “return our greeting if you please.” Nodding, she promptly directed her crew to fire one of the guns into the open sea.

The Summons crested a wave, sending foamy water over her bow. Blake gripped the railing as Finn uttered a string of foul curses beside him and ran a sleeve over the sweat on his forehead.

“All this fer a wench! Have ye lost yer mind, Cap’n? I says it’s a trap an’ we’s outgunned an’ outmanned. We’ll be sunk t’ the depths fer sure.”

Behind them at the helm, Rummy belched his agreement.

Blake frowned. They were right, of course.

After completing her task, Charlie gazed at Blake with skepticism.

Even Maston, who loved a wild adventure, raised incriminating brows at him as he ordered the topmen to lower sails.

Movement brought Blake’s gaze to Bandit swinging down the backstay. He landed on the starboard railing, his little monkey eyes spearing Blake as he screeched and shrieked as if the world were coming to an end.

Perhaps it was. Perhaps Blake was the biggest fool of all to risk his crew, his ship, and, quite possibly, all their lives. All to save Emeline. And regain control of the dark side of the Ring. Of course, he couldn’t tell his crew that last part. All they knew was he traded a Ring for the woman, and though there’d been complaining and grumbling and even calling for a vote, one reminder of the fortune he’d recently acquired for them shut their mouths.

He finally answered Finn. “Do you know what the Jesuits will do to Miss Hyde if I do not at least attempt her rescue?”

“Scupper me, Cap’n! Wha’ business be it o’ ours?” Rummy chimed in with disgust. “The woman got ’erself into trouble. Let ’er get out o’ it.”

Blake swept stern eyes to the helmsman. “ We got her into this trouble, and we are going to get her out. You take me?”

The helmsman grimaced but quickly looked away, keeping his one hand on the wheel.

Cursing, Blake rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to stifle his rising doubts. But the ghoulish demons had only grown more intense, the nightmares more frightening. Even worse, his father kept appearing, each time more grotesque in form and more enraged with hatred. He hadn’t slept in over a week and he was truly starting to wonder if he’d lost all sense. He needed Miss Hyde… Emeline . She was a ray of light in a dark world. A goodness and innocence the world desperately needed. He needed. In truth, he could not get the kiss he’d stolen from her out of his mind. Nor the sensations it stirred.

Besides, he had the Ring. He’d not gone to such lengths to acquire it only to back down from the challenge of a mewling muckrake.

Pedro hopped on deck from the hatch amidships, hauling a bag of gunpowder for Charlie, along with some matchsticks. After handing them to the master gunner, he leapt up the quarterdeck and approached Blake.

“We’re rescuin’ Miss Hyde, Cap’n?” His blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

Finn groaned.

“That is the plan,” Blake said then shouted to Maston to take in fore and main. The bosun promptly brayed further orders to the crew, sending more men scrambling aloft.

“Hard a starboard, Rummy. Watch your luff. Bring her in nice and easy.”

Finn scratched beneath his bandana. “We’re headin’ into the bay? We’ll be prime fer the pickin’, like fish in a net!”

Rummy growled.

Pedro gazed at the island. “But we gotta rescue Miss Hyde. She’s a good lady.”

Stunned, Blake stared at the lad. He had no idea the woman had made such an impression. “Never fear, Pedro. I’ll do my best to keep her safe. Now, run along. Bring up more gunpowder in case we need it.”

Smiling, the boy sped away.

After casting Blake a look of scorn, Finn stuffed his pipe back in his mouth and ambled off to attend his duties. Blake, however, was not granted a moment’s peace as Maston eased beside him.

“The crew’s none too happy, Capitaine, ” he whispered over the rush of wind. “There’s no treasure to be had and no reason to risk our lives.”

Squinting in the noonday sun, Blake scanned his raucous crew spread across the main and foredeck and those up in the yards. Fifty filthy, ill-mannered souls, bloodthirsty men who’d just as soon gut him like a fish if he didn’t keep them floating on gold. Aye, he supposed a few of them were loyal, but most he dared never turn his back on. “Will they obey for now?”

Removing his tricorn, Maston ran a hand through his damp hair. “ Oui , but only because you’ve gained them much coin. Though none can quite grasp why you engage in this devil-may-care rescue.”

Wind tore over Blake, cooling his sweat and tossing his hair behind him. Devil-may-care, indeed. For if there was a devil, he’d definitely not want Miss Hyde rescued. The thought gave him some satisfaction.

“Janson!” Maston yelled aloft. “Ease the sheets, brace yards to larboard!” Then turning to Blake, he said, “You have your magical Ring. What need have you for the woman? There are wenches aplenty across the Caribbean.”

Suspicion rose as Blake studied his bosun. He hadn’t remembered telling him about the Ring, and especially not that it possessed power. Perhaps Emeline had spoken of it, or an unintentional mention had slipped through Blake’s inebriated lips. He would have to be more careful. “What now? A magical Ring? Have you taken to your cups early, Maston? And I do not rescue the lady to become my mistress.”

“ Mon Dieu , what other reason could there be?” His brow furrowed as he shook his head at the utter ridiculousness of the thought. “But you are the capitaine , non ?” He shrugged.

“I am. Now enough of this.” He waved him away, and planting his hat atop his head, the bosun marched off.

Taking a deep breath, Blake gazed at the island. The fronds of palm trees lining golden sand waved at him in greeting. Through the narrow inlet, calm turquoise waters beckoned him. To victory or to death?

“Crank, take the soundings,” he ordered, and the man grabbed the log-and-line and flung it over the railing. ’Twould not do for Blake to run aground. Not only would he look a fool, but he’d be completely at the Jesuit’s mercy.

As Crank shouted out the measurements, the Summons eased through the inlet of the bay, passing the frigate off their starboard side. The ship’s guns winked at them in the sunlight as the eyes of the Jesuit crew followed his every move. Where was Della Morte? No doubt already on land.

Wind whipped off the turquoise waters, bringing the scent of earth and tropical flowers, normally pleasant odors that meant a break from the perils at sea.

He fingered the Ring. His plan relied on two critical things. One, this ancient jewel—a capricious relic that possessed both evil and good. And two, an even more capricious monkey. Would either of them obey him today? If not, they’d soon all be dead at the bottom of the sea.

b

No sooner did Emeline’s feet touch the sand than her legs turned to pudding. They would have folded beneath her if not for the two brutes gripping her arms. Their fingers clamped tighter as they dragged her from the water through a thick section of sea grape and mangroves out onto the shore of a small bay. They all but shoved her down onto the sand and ordered her to stay as one would order a dog. Other Jesuits emerged from the foliage behind them, including the infamous Father Della Morte, dressed in attire so fine one would think he attended a coronation rather than a savage parlay, save for the myriad weapons strapped about his waist. A string of Italian spilled from his lips as he ordered his men to hide amongst the greenery, weapons at the ready. At least that’s what Emeline assumed as she watched them scramble away.

Blinking, she continued adjusting her eyes to the bright sun overhead and her legs to being on land again. Stretching them out before her, she rubbed them and attempted to stand. Thankfully, Della Morte paid her little mind as he spoke to one of his Jesuits a few yards away. The palms that lined the shore danced in her vision, but finally the world around her settled and her legs grew firm.

Her heart was another matter. A light breeze stirred her skirts and slapped hair into her face. Flipping the strands away, she inhaled the sweet fragrance of fresh Caribbean air and lifted her head to the warm sun. Though ’twas truly wonderful to be out of that tiny cabin, she had no idea why she’d been brought here. But she did know the reason could not be good.

At least not for her.

A ship sailed slowly into the bay. The Summons ? Aye, ’twas Captain Keene’s brig! There he stood on the quarterdeck, poised tall and strong as if he sailed into port victorious after battle. To say she was shocked would not describe the jolt that nearly sent her tumbling back to the sand. Why would he come? He had the Ring. He had proven himself to be no hero, no defender of the weak or needy. There had to be something else he wanted from the Jesuits.

Either way, she allowed a speck of hope to settle in her heart as she whispered a prayer,

Lord, let Your will be done and no lives lost .