Lost at Sea Bk. 02 Ch. 03

Bella stared, not sure how to respond. "You know what Will's curse is?"

"Damn it," Jack whispered. "I didn't want to talk about this."

"Too late. Do you know how to get rid of it?" Bella demanded.

"Yes," Jack sighed. "It isn't what you think though."

"What is it then?" Bella asked, wishing Jack would just give her a straight answer.

"No. I've already said too much. You and Will are both too damn smart and neither of you can just let anything lie," Jack shook her head. She stood up.

"Oh no! You don't get to leave now." Bella threw off her blankets and stood up to confront Jack. "You don't get to come in here and drop a half-hearted apology, explain nothing, and admit that you know what the most powerful curse I've ever heard of is, and that you know how to get rid of it, and then leave!"

Jack felt her mouth go dry. Bella was naked and stunning, and all the emotions and memories of the two of them together came flooding back. Jack stared, then turned around.

"Look at me!" Bella snapped.

"I can't. You're..." Jack's heart knotted in her chest. It felt hard to breathe.

Bella rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound. "Imperials," she sneered. She pulled on a blouse and a skirt. Jack stood there, listening to the rustle of fabrics, trying to control her shuddering heart. The silence was somehow the worst thing possible. All the guilt came swelling up without any handy excuse to shunt it toward anger. Somehow Bella had been the naked one, but Jack had never felt more exposed.

"There. Now turn around," Bella demanded.

Jack slowly turned. "Please don't ask me more."

"Like hell," Bella scoffed. Jack looked defeated. It wasn't a look Bella was used to seeing on her face. Not even when Bella had tossed Jack out had she seen that expression.

"It isn't a curse," Jack said quietly. "Or, at least it isn't supposed to be. I think the problem is Will."

"Explain," Bella said flatly.

"I can't. I really have already said too much. Please don't talk to Will about this," Jack asked.

"You don't get to ask me for anything," Bella shook her head, her eyes like flint in the dim light.

"I was trying to help him!" Jack exploded. Bella flinched, afraid for a moment, then she watched Jack crumple at the foot of the bed. The strongest, proudest, fiercest woman Bella had ever known was sobbing. Words came, racked, helpless, unbidden.

"I had to! It... it was... I didn't have a choice! I tried! I wanted... I only wanted to help..." Jack was incoherent.

Bella stood. Her mothering instincts threatened to override everything else. How could she stay angry while watching this? Wasn't her anger justified? Did she even want to stay angry? Shouldn't she? Jack had done so much, hurt her, hurt Will, offered no explanation. Now this? What was this? What did Jack mean? Suddenly it was Bella who felt like she didn't know what to do.

The initial burst of emotion over, Jack was starting to become more intelligible. She clutched the bed, her fists knotted in the blankets, her body still wracked. "You're... you're both just... If I told you anything, you'd... you'd figure it all out. You're both... smarter than me. I can't... I knew I couldn't out-think you. Not both. I couldn't... I can't... so I had to say nothing. I thought it would be good! I didn't know it was going to hurt him so much! When he came back I... I couldn't tell him... I had to just... let him hate me. I didn't-"

"You aren't making any sense," Bella said softly.

"Good!" Jack looked up. Her eyes were raw and red-rimmed. "You weren't ever supposed to know! I didn't come here for any of this!"

"Alright. Why did you come here?" Bella asked.

"To ask you how to apologize to him," Jack squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know how!"

"I'm not sure you can. Not without some kind of explanation," Bella shook her head.

Jack's chest shook. "All a waste of time then. Fine." She stood up and started wiping away her eyes.

Bella felt drained. She'd just woken up and wanted to go back to sleep. She took a deep breath. "I believe you."

Jack stopped, blinked her stinging eyes and watched Bella for a moment. "Thank you."

"So it's not a waste of time," Bella said with a small shrug. "I still don't understand, but maybe I don't have to."

A small smile twitched on Jack's lips, then was gone again. "It's a start."

Bella nodded. "Can you at least tell me why you can't tell me anything?"

Jack shook her head. "No. I'm sorry."

"This must be really important," Bella said with a half smile of sympathy on her face.

"It's the most important thing I'll ever do," Jack said.

"I hope it was worth it," Bella said, hoping she sounded sympathetic.

"It was. It still is." Jack turned.

"Just talk to him," Bella said, catching her before she could leave.

"I don't know if I can." Jack shook her head. "You can accept the things you don't understand. He can't. He'll dog me about it until I either break down and tell him, or he has enough bits and pieces to figure it out for himself."

"Would that be so bad?" Bella asked.

"It's a risk I just can't take," Jack said.

"Is it really life or death?" Bella couldn't fathom what would possibly make Jack make these choices.

"Maybe. Probably," Jack shrugged. "I'm not willing to bet what I can't afford to lose."

"I'll talk to him for you." Bella wanted to... do something. Now that the walls were down between them, the space between was filling up with years of unresolved emotions. Now wasn't the time. They were both too raw.

"Thank you," Jack quietly. Then she was gone. The door opened letting in the blinding midday sun. Bella shielded her eyes and heard the door shut. Then she was alone in the dark.

She flopped back onto the bed, her arms wide. "What the hell was that?" she muttered.

___________________________

"Is all the cloak and dagger bullshit really necessary?" Caine asked.

Behind him, Prelate Alexandra sat, facing the opposite direction. They were back to back in what passed for a park at the edge of the cliffside wall, near the market. It was really just a small garden kept by a local herbalist which someone had put a few stone tables and chairs near. Now, it was a place where old men played board games in the afternoon sun, and passersby stopped to take in the view. Prelate Alexandra was dressed in sensible, plain clothes, a parasol shielding her from the sun. It was currently aimed at the crowds behind them, hiding her face.

"Well I can't exactly walk into that wretched place you call home these days, can I?" the Prelate asked.

"You might be surprised. For the most part, they're good people there. Very accepting, and they take care of each other," Caine said.

"I am not here to argue about the moral complexities of your whore house," Alexandra said primly.

"How about you get to the point then?" Caine took a drink off his ever-present tankard.

"I am in a precarious position. Fort Deliverance is functionally operational, but not yet complete. The bulk of my resources are tied up finishing the construction. I cannot openly take a stance against the Kidd family yet," Prelate Alexandra explained.

"You know where I stand on all that," Caine said.

"Oh, you've made your position quite clear, yes," Alexandra sighed.

"So why are you here?" Caine asked flatly.

"I need a favor," Alexandra replied.

Caine stood up, about to leave.

"Sit," Alexandra said in a tone that reached straight down into Caine's mind and threatened to usurp it completely. Three nearby people, who could not possibly have heard the Prelate over the noise of the crowd, all sat down directly in the dirt and looked confused. One of them got back up and looked around. Caine stopped moving, but did not sit.

"I should break your damn jaw. It'd be a public service," Caine growled.

Alexandra sighed. "Your threats are unbecoming."

"You're so used to everyone doing what you say that the moment you get any pushback you jump right to compulsion," Caine still didn't sit.

"Will you please listen?" Alexandra asked, turning around to look up at him. Her parasol continued to carefully block anyone from getting a good look at her.

"You have ten seconds," Caine said, cold anger still held in his eyes.

"I need you to protect Jane Castilian." the Prelate said simply.

Caine stood a moment longer, then sat down. "Sterling's assistant? You could have just led with that."

"I need to be sure you understand what is at stake here," Alexandra said, a bit exasperated. Perhaps he was right about how much she'd become used to simply being obeyed.

"I heard the gist of it. One of the Kidd boys took her hostage while Will and that lady captain were running the blockade," Caine shrugged.

"Miss Castilian defied the Kidds in public, and is connected to Will Sterling, who aided in the escape of their quarry. I expect they will want to make an example out of her," Prelate Alexandra said.

"Yeah, that's a good guess. So you want to keep her safe, but you can't be seen moving against the Kidds in public yet. So you came to me," Caine filled in the blanks.

"Correct," Prelate Alexandra said.

"Two conditions," Caine said. "One, she knows the whole story and gets to make her own choices. No manipulation, no magic, no messing with her head or lying to her at all."

"Fine. Next?" Alexandra asked.

"I get paid," Caine said.

"You? Paid? You've been refusing a salary from the whoremongers for more than five years," the Prelate scoffed.

"I don't want their money,' Caine said. "I do want yours. It isn't going to be cheap either. I want you to look at the numbers and wince."

"So it isn't actually about the money," Alexandra rolled her eyes.

"You're a master diviner. You tell me," Caine said getting up again.

"What are you doing?" Alexandra asked, rapidly growing tired of this frustrating man.

"I'm going to the lighthouse. You're going to write me up a contract and drop it off at Mary's. In person. I want you to see how the other half lives," Caine said as he walked away.

Prealate Alexandra watched him leave. She pinched the bridge of her nose right between her eyes, trying to ignore all the flashes of prophecy and omen that swirled about him like shredded ghosts and dying echoes. She brought the parasol around to block out everything she was seeing. Meetings with Greyson Caine always gave her a headache.

______________________

"It's about fucking time! Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass you're causing me?" a bitter, lightly accented woman's voice called from somewhere above.

Jack raised her hand to the brim of her hat and squinted. After being in the near dark of the Captain's cabin the midday sun was uncomfortable. As her eyes adjusted to the light, a graceful, dusky-skinned shape moved through the rigging and dropped to the deck a short distance away and started walking towards her.

"Now isn't a good time," Jack said firmly.

"I don't give a damn what time you think it is. What the hell are you thinking? The ship can barely sail like this." The woman moved like she was half-snake, barefoot, swaying to compensate for the rolling ship, but her top half stayed centered.

One of Jack's brows rose, "Excuse me?" The edge in the question was unmistakable.

"Excuse you is right," the graceful woman scoffed. "Take a good look around. Does this seem right to you?"

Jack tilted her head to the side and glanced around the ship. It looked like a ship to her. Whatever this loon was raving about, she wasn't seeing it. "Who are you?" Jack asked instead of answering.

"I'm Lace Webber, your Master Rigger on this little trip. I'm the one who has to make the ship still work while you fuck everything up." She was gesturing wildly now, all across the ropes and sails and smaller ships.

Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously. Something wasn't right, but she was in no mood to try to work it out with calm words. "Go on..." she said.

"The Kestrel isn't the right ship for whatever you're trying to pull," Lace glared.

The corners of Jack's mouth began to curl upward, and not from amusement. She had a feeling she knew what was going on. Maybe another time she would have tried to explain it, but Miss Webber's attitude had made Jack feel less than helpful. "You're going to want to stop now."

"Like hell I am!" Lace snapped, taking a step closer. "You're putting the whole ship at risk with your amateur hour cockups!"

"I think I've had just about enough of you," Jack smiled. "Quinn."

"Good! Now how about we dump you overboard with your extra ships and let you row back to- hurk!"

A thick green arm dragged Lace backwards by her thick belt and lifted until she was on her tiptoes, struggling in vain. The woman leading the noble's expedition stepped in front of her and pushed the hat on her head back with one finger until Lace met her dark eyes.

Jack shook her head at Lace. "If you ever get in my face like that I gain, I won't be the one going overboard."

"Fuck you!" Lace snapped, her hand whipping back to the sheath of her knife. She found it empty. The green musclebound cretin giving her the worst wedgie of her life dropped her blade to the deck. "You don't get to rearrange the whole ship for no fucking reason!"

"You're really going to feel like an idiot in a few minutes." She nodded to Quinn, who let Lace go. Lace rocked back to the soles of her feet unexpectedly, but didn't fall. Instead she knelt and picked up her cane knife. Jack hooked her thumbs into her belt and waited, stone faced. The deck was quiet. Lace glanced up to the sterncastle. The Captain was standing there, watching. The new swab from earlier was next to her. Something about all this didn't feel right. What the hell was a new swab doing on the command deck?

"What the hell is the point of all this, anyway?" Lace yelled at Jack. "The whole ship's cocked up now, and my riggers are having to work double! This is your fucking fault!"

"Even if that were true, I wouldn't care." Jack still hadn't moved.

"It is true! Look around! You think a ship is supposed to look like this!?" Lace barked.

Jack shook her head in exasperation. "You really don't catch on quick, do you?" She turned and looked up at Will. He met her gaze and the corner of his mouth twitched. She sighed and turned back to Lace. "You got played."

"What?" Lace asked.

Jack made a small gesture toward the deck. "Played. Set up. Tricked. You're mad at the wrong person."

Lace was building up her anger again. "You're the new Navigator! Who the hell else should I be mad at?"

"No." Jack cut her off. "He's the new navigator." She jerked her thumb towards the sterncastle, towards Will.

Lace's gaze climbed to Will, who was leaning against the railing next to the captain, just watching. He gave her a small cheeky wave. Her eyes narrowed and she could hear her blood pounding in her ears. "You motherfucker," she snarled. He gave her a small shrug.

She took a deep breath and brought her attention back to Jack. "Thanks."

"Apologize." Quinn said firmly.

"Like hell. I was tricked. I still don't know who the fuck she is." Lace sneered.

"She is the expedition leader," came the Captain's voice from behind her. Lace turned and looked up at the Sterncastle. Captain Vex was looking down on the situation, not looking happy. "You just picked a fight with the woman who hired us."

"Fuck," Lace muttered. "I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought you were..."

"All hands on deck," the Captain said flatly.

"All hands on deck!" Missus North bellowed. Her bosun's whistle pierced the ocean tranquility and the ship began to bustle like a kicked anthill.

_____________________

Bella traced the buzzing stone phallus across her sensitive nipples and held her breath for a moment as the shiver ran through her. Her blouse was pushed up beneath her arms and her other hand was lightly stroking her bare mons, just teasing and petting. Warming up.

She was feeling slightly queasy from the constant rolling of the ship, but the captain's cabin was the most stable place she could possibly be. The rolling was gentle. It could have been a lot worse. She was trying not to let the slightly sick feeling break her concentration.

A simple arcane sigil was drawn on her sternum in white. A pentagram inside a binding circle. One of the most well known symbols of magical binding in the world. It had become somewhat ubiquitous as a symbol for witchcraft in general. There was some truth to that, but not for the reasons most people thought. As a tool, it was easy, reliable, and versatile. It showed up in many disciplines, including some of the worst, which didn't help public opinion. It was hard to explain to ignorant zealots that just because a killer used a hammer that it didn't mean all blacksmiths were in league with killers. Because of that it was a symbol she only ever used in private rituals.

Her fingers traced along her labia, enjoying the flush and the feel of her nerves waking up. Her hands switched places. She dragged Rocky downward and lifted and squeezed her left breast with the hand that she'd been stroking herself with. The low hum of the toy sent shivers through her. Her thighs clenched and her breath quickened.

Jack's crying face rose unbidden into her mind. Her fingers stopped for a moment. Her lips pursed in momentary frustration and she pushed the invading thought away. Instead she focused on the lighthouse the night before. That had been amazing. The four of them in the cool night air. The rush of danger. The intensity. The joy of helping Janie discover new passions.

Someone was shouting. A shrill whistle sounded from outside. Her brows clenched further. The distractions were starting to make her angry.

Rocky found her entrance and teased. She bit her lip. The pentagram began to glow very faintly.

Janie. On the docks with a gun to her head, watching them drift away.

The light of the pentagram faded. Bella's brows furrowed. She focused on something else. Mary's. The divination ritual. Will taking her on the table in front of a peeking audience. Tonya whispering in her ear and biting her neck.

The ship lurched a bit, sending a brief wave of discomfort through her. She took a breath and waited for it to pass.

Rocky slid into her slowly. She rolled her hips and breathed deep. The light of the pentagram returned. She focused on the sensations. The wet warmth and the vibrations that seemed to sooth and gather tension at the same time. Her fingers rolled her nipple and squeezed just enough to make her toes start to curl.

Blood all over the floor. Cerise helping Caine move an unconscious man into the only empty space. Her alcove. Chance yelling at her, thinking that the reason Will had showed up had been to see her. Running through the streets.

"No," she muttered to herself. She refocused, thinking of the things that always got her in the right headspace. The contortionists in the circus when she was just coming of age, their long, lythe forms bending impossibly. Watching the dancers at Mary's. Jack's beckoning lips. Jack. "Damnit," she swore.

The door opened suddenly. Bella pulled a blanket over herself, startled. "The captain wants everyone on deck," Will's voice said.

"Alright, I'll be right there," Bella sighed. Rocky thumped into the blankets next to her and the buzzing died.

"She's going to tell the crew what we're doing. Part of that is going to be about you and I. Just wanted to warn you," Will said, leaning in the doorway.

"Fine," she said, throwing off her blanket. Will shut the door.

She lay there in the dark, frustrated. Her morning rituals were important. It had been nearly ten years since anything had interrupted her focus enough to keep her from getting through them. She felt like an apprentice again. Too much had happened. She needed to clear her head.