Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
They shared a smile, and Reynolds said, “We wouldn’t miss it.”
Moments later, I stood in my cabin and stared at the tiny scroll on the desk.
“That’s not the surprise.” Leaning against the wall beside Jobah, Priest rubbed his whiskered jaw. “Go ahead. Every man in this room has already peeked at it.”
I glanced at Jobah, Reynolds, and Ashley, their blank expressions giving nothing away.
“I had my reasons for not telling you about the map,” I said to them. “It was my most safely guarded secret. I presume Priest told you its history.”
Reynolds glanced down at his boots and nodded. “While we sailed from Harbor Island to the island of the birds to get you back, he told the crew everything.”
The moment I’d made the map known to Madwulf and his pirates, it was no longer a secret. Priest had done the right thing.
“Good.” I drew in a breath and snatched the scroll from the desk.
The room fell silent as I unrolled the strip of parchment that was no wider than my thumb. Squinting, my eyes swept over the tiny image of a map at the top.
The island of oaks? Christ, the print was so small I would need a magnifying glass to read it. “I can’t—”
“Oak Island. It’s near the Sholes of Acadia,” Jobah said. “I already plotted the course, Captain.”
“Acadia? Isn’t that north of the Great Western Ocean?”
“Far north. Between New England and Newfound-land.”
“What the hell was my father doing all the way up there?” I scanned the rest of the parchment, finding detailed descriptions of the treasure’s hidden location on the island. “Have any of you ever been this far north?”
A chorus of No’s resounded.
“Well, then we’re in for an adventure.” With a thrill in my blood, I gestured at the gold hoops in Reynold’s ear. “If we succeed, you won’t be needing those.”
Like most pirates, he wore the ornaments as a means to pay for a respectable burial at sea when he died.
“You’ll have gold on your fingers and dangling about your neck,” I said.
“Aye.” He flashed me his barracuda smile.
“When do we sail?” I looked directly at Ashley.
He glared back, and I knew he wouldn’t consent to join us. Not easily. Before we departed, he would learn to never say No to the fury of a woman.
“We’ll sail when you’re ready, Captain.” Priest clasped my hand and led me out of the cabin. “First, we have something to give you.”
I followed him through the lower decks, down hatchways, and deeper still, until we arrived at the bilge.
My stomach hardened. The last time I stood here, Priest was down below, clapped in irons, his hands blistered, because I’d cruelly exposed him to oranges.
“Is it my turn?” I laughed, a strained, humorless sound, and met his eyes. “Are you going to shackle me down there and stroke yourself while I watch?”
“Jesus.” Reynolds coughed into his fist.
Jobah chuckled, and Ashley arched a brow.
“As much as I love that idea…” Priest brought my hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. “Your present is of a very different nature.”
He glanced at the brace of knives around my waist, confusing me. Then he opened the hatch and led me into the bilge.
At the bottom of the ladder, I didn’t know what I expected to find. But as I turned and lost my breath, it wasn’t this.
Madwulf was chained to the wall.
Alive.
My heart luffed, turned about, and plowed into a vicious storm. I drew the cutlass from the brace around my hips, my wounded arm trembling beneath the weight of steel, as I growled at the monster before me.
“Easy, Goldilocks.” Ashley stood at my back, close enough to breathe against my ear. “Ipswich didn’t keep him alive for two months for you to strike him down in one swing.” His voice dipped, deliciously dark. “Savor it.”
Madwulf hung from chains, nude, mutilated, and glaring out of pained, bloodshot eyes. His mouth gaped and drooled as he screamed garbled nonsense. No tongue. His ears were gone. As were his fingers, toes, and one entire arm.
The missing extremities had been treated to thwart infection. Ipswich was a master at that. Many men on my crew hobbled around just fine with wooden limbs after Ipswich’s care.
The rest of Madwulf appeared intact. Covered in bruises, old and fresh, his filthy skin crusted with blood. Someone had shaved his head and face, depriving him of that which he cherished.
“All this time…” I heaved through a smothering fog of black memories. “I thought he was dead.”
“We let you think that.” Priest leaned against the far wall and crossed his arms. “We didn’t want his survival to tax or distract you while you worked so hard to heal.”
“You brought me severed feet and other body parts that he clearly still retains.” I rubbed my head, trying to remember. “Did I imagine that?”