Chapter 9: The Other Ghost


Puzzled and bewildered, I slowly followed Capitán Salazar out the cabin door, and onto the upper deck.

He gestured again to me. "Come and see."

Hesitant, I stepped closer, still holding my iron bar.

On the deck below, on his knees, Scarfield was being held at swordpoint. And around him, also on their knees, I recognised what was left of the crew of the Proserpine. They appeared to have been brought out from wherever they'd been imprisoned, just to give Capitán Salazar an audience. Even Eleni was there, sternly guarded by Lieutenant Lesaro, her face furious in the moonlight as she glared up at me.

Our escape had utterly failed. And now everyone's life hung in the balance.

"So tell me," Capitán Salazar said conversationally, "If a man wants to die, is it better for it to happen quickly, or slowly?"

I gripped my bar in my hands, ignoring the cold shiver that fanned up my back.

"Because the way your precious Lieutenant has acted," he continued, "Tells me he is eager to die. Tonight."

For one wild moment, I thought about striking the Capitán with the bar.

I thought about making one last attempt at escape.

But then I saw Lieutenant Scarfield's face. He was shaking his head, ever so slightly at me - his pleading eyes telling me plainly he'd given up all hope for himself - but silently begging me, with all he had, not to endanger myself any further by trying to fight the Capitán. I'd failed him.

"But what choice did we have," I whispered hopelessly.

"I'm sorry?" He leaned in closer as though he couldn't hear me. "Does the lady wish to speak?"

I bridled at his tone, and met his condescending gaze.

"I said, what choice did we have?" I twisted the rusted bar in my hands. "Better to die trying to escape, than be murdered in a cage."

His lips twisted into a smirk, as though I'd said something amusing. "So the lady chooses death freely, like a hero?"

"No!" I faltered, "I don't think I'm - I'm not -"

"Ah," he tilted his head, "So it was just desperation, then? Because you thought I might - murder you?"

"I wasn't going to wait around to find out!"

"I think," his eyes flared with dark mirth, "You must be in love with death, eh? Every time we speak, I am forced to choose whether to kill you or not."

In spite of his words, he looked so amused, so strangely relaxed to be trading words with me, that I intuitively asked, "Why?"

"Why?" He stared. "You're asking why?"

"Yes," I resisted crumbling under the weight of that stare. "Why do you need to kill us? Why kill anyone?"

His expression changed from disbelief to rage in an instant, and he was in my face, black lips spitting violently, "Your Lieutenant, who you care for so much, deceives me, kills one of my men, tries to destroy my ship, and then nearly escapes - and you ask why I kill?"

My heart was beating uncontrollably, but there was nothing to lose.

"And when does it stop?" I tried to keep my voice calm and even, "If – if you want other people to treat you fairly, it's not exactly... clever of you, to go around killing everyone!"

He drew his lips back in a dangerous smile. "You don't know how men act when they are afraid to die, Señorita, but I do. They do what I want if they think it'll save them. They give up everything to me, just to draw another pathetic breath into their lungs!"

I knew I was going to die. Everything about his mood told me my life was already forfeit. His eyes glowed with an inner hellfire, his black smile promised bloodshed, but – I had to argue. There really was nothing left for me to lose, and so I refused to let what he was saying go without a challenge. Especially if I was about to die.

"But sooner or later, they're going fight back." I thought of Barbossa, swinging his sword with a mad laugh; Scarfield coming after Salazar, clutching at his bloodied side. "Fear doesn't motivate people forever."

"It motivated your maid!" He chuckled, before lowering his voice so only I could hear, "Or should I say, Lady Stanhope's maid? Because she couldn't offer her assistance fast enough!"

I frowned. "What - assistance?"

"She promised to break our curse with her magic in three days," he watched me closely, "In exchange for... certain conditions. One of them, was that I let her leave. With your Lieutenant."

So that was what Eleni had been arguing with them about, while we were locked in the brig. I wondered what else she'd asked for, in exchange for her help.

"Her gift for magic doesn't surprise you." Salazar surmised. "But don't you care that she wishes to save him before you?"

"It's what I would've expected," I deflected. "And I hope she does save him!"

"¿Verdad?" He looks with interest at Eleni. "You want her to leave you behind?"

"No, it's because if she fails, you'll kill him, won't you?"

"Do you think I care if he lives or dies?" he hissed, enraged again. "He knew my terms! He knew I would not, I will not stop, until our curse is broken! He agreed to those terms –" he looked down at Scarfield, still kneeling on the deck below, "Or pretended to agree. He promised the very next ship I encountered would have a witch who would help me."

He looked back at me.

"So, Athena, what wisdom do you offer," he sneered, "If someone violates the terms of an agreement, knowing the consequences when they do - isn't their punishment simply justice?"

"Justice still allows room for some mercy!" I argued.

"No, it doesn't," Capitán Salazar growled. "Mercy is only at the expense of justice!"

He struck the deck once with his sword. One of the ghosts, who I recognised as the very same one Capitán Salazar had commanded to kill Scarfield right before I fell unconscious, was behind Scarfield. At the sound of his Capitán's sword, he pulled Scarfield's head back by his hair, and pressed a dagger to his neck; waiting now only for the command to kill.

"Justice is payment for a wrong," Salazar's hard stare was making my hands sweat. "Take a good look, because you are about to see what real justice is!"

A line of red was showing at Scarfield's neck where the dagger was cutting into his skin.

"It's not a fair punishment!" I said desperately, already seeing a dark drop of blood running down Scarfield's exposed neck. "You can have justice without death!"

"Perhaps. But who will pay for his crimes, if he doesn't?" he asked, sword tapping the deck once more.

I saw the crewman pull the blade suddenly away and hold it high, ready to plunge it down through the back of his neck, Scarfield's pale face anguished in the moonlight.

"Me!" I burst out. "If you're going to kill someone, you should kill me!"

"You would take the justice meant for him?" Salazar swiftly stepped in close to me, blocking my view of Scarfield. "Why?"

I could hear muted whispers on the deck, but I could not look away from the Capitán.

"Because I let him out," I confessed. "I'm the one to blame for his escape – not him."

He leant back, a long drawn-out rasping breath now the only sound on the deck.

"But why would you," he wondered out loud, "Help him escape? Why not just try to save yourself?"

"He's injured!"

He shook his head. "No, no, no, no. You did it because you are in love with him, eh?"

I looked at him incredulously. "What?"

"Oh, no need to pretend!" He half-turned towards everyone else, an almost cheerful smile on his face, as though including them in a good joke, "A woman in love is an unstoppable force!"

I saw Eleni stiffen at the Capitán's words, as though he'd shot that remark specifically towards her.

But then he turned back to me, his face suddenly humourless. "But you are right. I should kill you for that."

I took in a deep breath, and nodded. "Then do it," I told him. "Kill me, but let these people live!"

Without warning, he reached his hand up. I kept myself absolutely still, perplexed at the strangeness of the action. He almost touched my face, his fingers hovering a mere inch from my cheek, before drawing back. And then he broke into a sudden laugh.

"I think I named you too soon," he said softly. "Perhaps I should've called you Bella Muerte, you are so eager to die!"

I stared at him, not understanding the turn of his mood.

"But I won't kill you," he nodded. "I think, I will keep you."

My heart sank at his words. Did this mean he was going to kill the others?

"Why won't you kill me?"

He laughed again, before leaning in, his lips almost brushing against my ear, to say so quietly that no one else but me could hear.

"I see it, plain as day! That man you care for so much, your precious fiancé –"

"You're mistaken, he's not –" I began.

He pressed a finger against my lips. A tremor of heat burned through me at his light touch, and he drew in a pained breath.

"He is yours, whether you are his or not. So if you wish to save him from facing punishment, you will tell me everything, my beautiful Lady Death. Your name, where you are from, all of it." His eyes flare orange as he smiles at me. "Or your 'fiancé' will know real suffering. And you will watch."

I couldn't stop my pounding heart from leaping into my throat at his smiling threat. I couldn't tell him where I was from. It would change the future irrevocably. But if I didn't, he was going to torture Scarfield... and I didn't doubt for a second that he'd force me to watch while he did.

"Do you agree to tell me everything?"

There was nothing else to do.

"I do," I said in a small voice, not able to look at him.

I had no hope of ever going back now. Not to the future as I'd known it.

He rested his hand lightly on the iron bar I still held. I looked up at him, thinking he wanted to take it.

"Keep it," he told me provokingly. "Perhaps you may yet have the courage to use it."

He turned back towards the kneeling prisoners.

"I am in a generous mood," he announced. "Tonight you all shall live."

The ghosts of the Silent Mary instantly dropped their weapons.

"Chain the men securely below." Salazar commanded. "I am sure this lady can entertain me enough tonight."

Scarfield turned towards me, eyes wide with fear and despair, but I quickly looked away.

Salazar wanted Scarfield to imagine the worst. And I was not about to feed any more into the Capitán's cruel triumph by reacting.

"But," the Capitán continued, "There is still the matter of our curse." He stared hard at Eleni. "Bring her here, Lesaro. I will speak with the maid privately about the rest of her... proposition."


Before the remaining crew of the Proserpine were even hauled to their feet, one of the others, Officer Santos, who I remembered from his interruption of Salazar's questioning earlier in the brig, was escorting me back into the Capitán's cabin.

He held the door open for me to walk through, before exiting without a word, closing the door behind him. He didn't even bother to lock the cabin door. Which told me more than if he had. It told me there was absolutely no chance of escape. I stared at the cabin door, wondering if I had the courage to go back out there, challenge the Capitán with my iron bar, and somehow free all the prisoners in a wild fantastical series of events that somehow ended up with the sword of Triton landing in my grasp, when I was interrupted by a person clearing their throat very loudly and annoyingly behind me.

"You tryin' to open it with yer mind, or what?" said the annoying person.

I turned.

A strangely dressed man with way too many beads in his hair, and way too much eye make-up on, rocked back in one of the chairs at the dining table, smirking at me.

"Who're you?"

He winked. "Well, I'm a ghost too, ain't I?"

"Uh huh," I didn't believe him in the slightest.

"No, really, I am!" He pouted.

"Right. You don't look like one."

The pout immediately dropped, he stretched his hands back behind his head, and grinned again.

"Correction: I ain't the kind that looks like Spanish and his lot, no. But I most assuredly am one, love. A ghost, that is."

He flickered a little as he rocked on the back legs of the chair, fading in and out, like a badly made old movie. I stared. His voice, his accent, sounded distinctly like the one I'd heard in the brig.

"Were you... the one from before?"

"What an interesting metaphysical question," he looked at the ceiling, considering it. "Because you're assuming there was a before. And of course, you would be absolutely correct. There was a before. But which before are you meaning, love? A lady should be always be clear on what she means, because I've known a lot of young ladies who've fallen into sticky situations simply because they weren't exactly clear on their terms, if you know what I mean..."

"What the hell-"

"For instance: you, love, should define whether you mean the immediate before, as in when I was still alive, or the before before, meaning before I was born, or the before before before, meaning before all things - "

"You were the one in the brig, weren't you?" I clarified, cutting his irritating soliloquy short. "The one who was watching me."

He shrugged and pretended to look sheepish.

"Can't blame me love," he said. "I mean, you were takin' yer petticoat off, I thought if I hung around yer might take somethin' more off –"

"Who are you?" I interrupted. "You're nothing like the others at all! How come you're here?"

"You mean, how'd a nice fella like me end up in a place like this?" He raked his gaze up and down my figure. "You'll have to try a better line than that, love, if you want me to spill all my secrets t'yer."

Wow. This ghost was really annoying.

"Yeah," I said. "Right. Well, if you're not here to tell me anything, how about you toss off somewhere else."

"Toss… off?" He looked at me with even more interest. "That's not something you hear every day…"

I turned away. If I was going to be in Capitán Salazar's cabin, I might as well try and keep looking to see if the sword of Triton was hidden somewhere I hadn't discovered yet. I laid my broken bar down on top of the desk, and began to go through the drawers again.

"And that's an unusual accent you got there, love," he called out as I gave up on the drawers, and looked under the desk. "Not really like any that people here speak with… where're you from, exactly?"

I chose to ignore him.

"Hey, come on, you can tell me! It's not like I'm gonna tell anyone…"

I looked in the gap between the desk and the wall, continuing to ignore him.

"Hey!"

He'd glided closer, clearly offended that I was ignoring him.

"Don't be like Spanish! He ignores me all the time now, he's not as fun as he used to be! I hafta mess around in here just to get a reaction -"

I sighed. I could see he wasn't actually going to leave me alone any time soon.

"Fine." I turned to him. "How about you tell me something worthwhile, something useful, to help me, and maybe I'll think about telling you where I'm from. Nothing else though," I hurriedly added.

"A parley?" he grinned. "I like it."

It took me a second to absorb the word, before I figured out what he meant.

"Yeah, I guess. Although it's more a quid pro quo, Clarice," I said dryly, before remembering that Hannibal Lecter was three centuries away from even being thought of.

"You really aren't from around here, are yer?" he glided even closer. "I knew it. Knew it soon as I saw yer. Yer the one."

"What?"

"The one what's gonna help break the Curse. The one what's gonna free me."

"Uh..." I shook my head. "I don't think so. Don't you need - don't you need magic to break this Curse?"

"Nope," he said firmly. "Magic, bollocks. I did try to tell 'em, but they don't wanna hear it from me. The Curse can be broken, but don't need magic to do it."

"What do you mean?"

The strange ghost opened his mouth to answer me, when the cabin door swung open.

"Sparrow!" Capitán Salazar hissed. "Te he dicho mil veces, ¡Vete a la mierda!"

"Didn't understand half o' that." The other ghost shrugged, grinning.

Salazar pulled his sword out, and strode towards him, teeth bared in a snarl.

"Wait, wait, wait!" I stood between them. "He just said he knew how to break your Curse!"

But Salazar was so enraged it took all my physical strength to stop him, both my hands pushing hard against the charred longcoat he wore.

"Can't you at least hear him out?" I pleaded, thinking of the crew of the Proserpine, being imprisoned below decks waiting for their deaths if Eleni failed. "Please?"

"You - ?" Salazar slowly turned his rage away to focus on me. "You can see him... you can see the Sparrow?"

"Of course," I answered, frowning.

"Humans... do not see him." He said slowly, "Only we do... or did. Until now."

"And that's my cue to leave," the ghost called Sparrow winked at me, "Back later, love!"


SPANISH TRANSLATIONS:

¿Verdad? True?

Te he dicho mil veces, ¡Vete a la mierda! - I've told you a thousand times, f**k off!


PERSONAL NOTE: Special Thanks to Thorns-and-rosewings, Piratesangel and Blukoffee on Tumblr for proofing parts of both chapters 8 and 9, and for their suggested edits!

AUTHOR'S NOTES:'...young ladies who've fallen into sticky situations simply because they weren't exactly clear on the terms...'

It's hard to say *who* Jack might've been thinking about when he says this, but there was one lady in particular, a certain Miss Swann, who fell into trouble because she hadn't been precisely clear on her original conditions of parley with a certain Captain Barbossa...