Chapter 38: The World Grows Weirder
If it had been anyone else watching they wouldn't have noticed the weak shaking his body was doing at the slightest effort. He hid it well, but she'd been observing people for near 300 years and he wasn't fooling her.
It was going to take a great effort to get him off this perch.
….
He hadn't liked the way she'd said 'pirate,' like some kind of insinuation. "He'd gone privateer," it said. The CIA might disagree with that: rogue agent. But when had the opinion of the rest of the world started to matter?
With amazing effort he lifted himself into a sitting position and patted the branch beside him. He felt Annamaria wriggle up next to him and settle on the branch. From a distance they might have looked like two children in a climbing tree.
"Chide me if you like," he said with his Cheshire grin in place. "But it's often incredibly useful to have an ignorant ally. Almost as useful as a smart one, in fact. And often less of a risk. I've been able to do some delightfully interesting things in the last decade because of it. The stimulation has been wonderful after such a long time." He tapped his temple.
"Yeah, and it's really paid off, hasn't it?" she asked critically.
….
She paused as she realized something. "Jesus." She muttered, "I've been doing the same damned thing." She'd been addicted to war for a century, moving from one revolution to the next. None of it had been for the causes, it had been for the battles, the adrenaline. She didn't know how else to live anymore.
He stared at her with his phantom eyes. "We need a vacation."
"Well, if we ever get out of this tree, I know just the place."
Annamaria grabbed the rope, shuffled over to land and tied it around the base of the tree that their branch belonged to. Now he could sit on the rope and scoot over to the land, which would be a hell of a lot easier than hanging free, and a lot safer than doing a blind balance beam act. When he was almost there, she felt a presence behind her. The hair on the back of her neck prickled up and she turned to meet golden eyes.
Calypso brushed by her and took his wrist from where his hand clung to the wide branch. He stared at her, his mouth open. "You!" he breathed. Annamaria saw Sands in the look of bewilderment that crossed his face, but in only a moment it was replaced by Jack's smirk, slowly curling up the side of his face. "Long time no see."
"You can see her?"
"Of course 'im can see me," Calypso crooned. "You know bet'er dan to limit me to da mortal senses." She then lifted him up and sat him on the earth with little effort. When she released him, his body shifted in the attempt to stay upright.
"You 'aven't avoided trouble on land, Jack," she continued. "I am not so fond of your new name. Why don cha come 'ome?" Her fingers traced up his face, her weird smile broadening.
"That was the plan," Annamaria said as if to remind the woman shaped being she was there too, feeling the temptation to step between the two of them. He was in no condition to be facing such a force. Even as Calypso's hand slid away form him, his face slackened to expose the exhaustion he'd been so adamant in covering up for the last day.
The goddess finally looked at her.
"And why'd you toss us in a pit if you're so damned happy to see us?"
That aggravating, knowing grin stayed on her face. "I only wanted to see if ya were who you looked ta be."
This made Annamaria pause.
"Time isa strange t'ing. I did not know if you were still mine, or if the land 'ad claimed ye. Da world 'as grown weirder in da realm of da 'uman." Her face fell. "So many 'ave forgotten I was their mu'der fer a time…."
"Give yourself some credit. You aren't such an easy supernatural entity to get over," he said from her shoulder. Her smile grew back as she returned her attention to him.
"Bu' wha 'ave they done to you?"
"What has he done to himself," Annamaria grumbled to herself.
Calypso's hands, dark against his pale face, reached up and placed her palms very lightly over his wounds. His trembling stopped after a moment. She closed her eyes, grit her teeth and applied a soft pressure. Liquid began to drip from under her palms and trickled between her fingers. His mouth opened in acute pain, pleasure, or both. The liquid, which started out as a yellow/brown color, changed to a blood-tinted pink, then to clear. When her hands finally left him, he sank to his knees on the muddy sand of the island, gasping from release. He coughed up some water.
Annamaria knelt beside him, almost expecting him to look at her with his eyes again… but they were not there. The sockets no longer looked painful and irritated, but the orbs were still absent. Disappointed, and angry for it, she looked up at the goddess. "what did you do?"
"They will no longer 'urt 'im," she replied. "And, one day, 'im will 'ave eyes again."
"They'll… grow back?"
"No," she smiled faintly. "Be patient. Give your fellow 'umans time. Your powers are greater than you know. As I said: Da world grows weirder.
Annamaria stood back up. "So you can't do anything? You send us storms and throw us in pits so you can… can give his sockets a sterile rinse!
She could see Calypso's eyes literally glow with anger. "Da t'is not al I can do." For a second Annamaria felt fear pierce her, but she stood her ground. If there was one thing the goddess respected, it was a will as strong as her own.
Then Jack came to her aid.
"Anna," they heard him say from the ground. Annamaria nearly jumped when she heard her 'nickname' come out of him. "Please don't antagonize the nice witch." He rose, apparently recovered from whatever pain he'd been in. He turned to face her as if looking her straight in the eye.
"Do you feel it, Jack?"
"What does she mean?"
He turned to face Calypso, leaning in with that particular sway of his. "Acutely," he answered her softly, both grinning in their secretive, feline fashion.
"Good."