Chapter 30: Darkness and Fire

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The Curse comes to fight, and then to tempt, Athena

Special Thanks to EllaPacifica (on Ao3) and Blukoffee for beta-ing this chapter - much appreciated!

If there was one thing Capitán Salazar had taught me about fear, it was that distraction was a powerful shield against it.

I almost wished I could thank Capitán Salazar for his 'lessons'. Because it was his insistence on touching me as much as possible that had brought me to realise I had more control over my fear than I'd ever thought before.

His touch had brought me to a state of overwhelming panic, again and again – but, in doing so, he'd also taught me how to manage that panic. I realised now that he'd even deliberately talked me through my panic. More than once.

Times when my panic had been at its most acute because of him, somehow had still been manageable - because of him. There'd been times when I'd been so distracted that I'd forgotten to be anxious about him touching me at all. Times when his touch had become almost...

Welcome? Pleasant? Enjoyable? My inner voice listed off, with a suspiciously innocent air. Maybe even... desirable?

I huffed, and started to take out an apple from my cloak pocket, unwilling to engage. Of course, I could admit now that there had been clear moments of him touching me that I'd never forget… but.

If it hadn't been for the trial by literal fire he'd put me through by our mutually heated touch, I'd never have had the courage to slap Magda's hand away just now. Before, even a simple touch like that to my face would have had me frozen into uselessness. Now, I was not only able to think and act through the panic of someone touching me, but I was even able to assert myself.

I smiled as I held up an apple to my lips. The thought that Capitán Salazar had taught me a little self-esteem was funny to me, and I wondered what he'd say to that if he knew. I wondered if he'd be pleased by it, or proud of himself. Or merely self-satisfied, saying, "Bien, of course, I did!"

Maybe a combination of all three, I thought to myself, as I took my first bite.

It was soft and a little bit squishy, and although all the apples had smelt absolutely delicious when Bracero had been offering them to me, the initial taste of this one was surprisingly bitter.

I stopped and tried to take a bite from a different side, thinking maybe I'd just eaten a bruised part of the apple without knowing it, but the bitter taste was still there. Some of the juice ran, unwanted, down my throat, and I felt a distinct burning sensation, like I'd just had a shot of strong alcohol.

"Ugh." I stopped chewing altogether and spat my mouthful out. There was something really wrong with these apples.

I couldn't see them clearly in the dark, but though they'd seemed fine before, now there was a distinctly 'off' smell lingering on them now. I checked all of the apples - even gingerly taking another bite of each - and they were all the same: strange tasting and inedible. I could feel that one of them even seemed to have had its core partly removed, and then jammed back in - and that one tasted the foulest. As if whatever that pirate had washed them in, had got right inside it. I sighed. So much for my plan to eat them and fall asleep. I was hungry, but not hungry enough to eat bitter apples. And without food, I wasn't really ready for sleep. Not yet, anyway.

Tch tch tch tch tch tch, La María creaked around me, sounding plaintive.

"What's wrong?" I said automatically; but the creaks echoed away into silence.

I remembered Bracero telling me she wanted me to eat the apples.

"Sorry," I told her. "They kinda taste pretty bad."

She responded with another long creak that sounded - almost like she was.. cajoling me. To eat the apples.

I sighed again.

"Look, if I get hungry enough," I told her. "I might. But, really, there's something wrong with them. I think that pirate might have tried to wash them in rum or something, they just taste - like something bad is in them."

Another plaintive response, wheedling - as if she was trying to tell me, to please try again. Just one. Just a bite of one.

I could almost smile at how she sounded, like a mother trying to get their obstinate child to eat a mouthful of brussel sprouts.

"I had a bite." I said, to make her happy. "I didn't swallow it, but - I'm sure enough of its juice got down my throat to give me some... nutrition." I made a face, and added, "But just so you know, it was super gross."

She didn't answer, as if what I'd said had satisfied her; but though she was quiet, I had an odd sense she hadn't left. I definitely felt like I was being watched.

As the minutes ticked by, I became aware of the sound of the waves crashing against La María's sides, high above where I was imprisoned, and the distant howl of the winds outside. She had started to pitch a little, from side to side, and for the weather to be moving La María at all, I knew it had to be getting worse.

My stomach started to feel queasy; both at the movement of the ship, and the fact that I hadn't eaten a proper meal, so I decided it was time to distract myself again. I found a place to keep the apples, in a square of grating by the door: I figured even if I didn't eat them, they'd be a useful marker in the dark, so I could remember where the door was.

I then started feeling my way around my new prison.

In the dark, I counted the number of bars on each side. I felt the size and depth of the metal grating under my boots. Once my eyes had adjusted a little more to the dark, I put myself at one end of the long cage, and started careful steps forward. I counted each step, keeping my hands out in front of me, and it wasn't until the eighth step that I touched the bars at the opposite end. From side to side was far less: just three and a half steps wide before I ran into bars.

Eight by three and a half, I memorised.

The height of the cage was far beyond what I could reach, even on my toes; but I supposed it was something, knowing I wouldn't accidentally hit my head on the ceiling.

On the long side, opposite the cage door, I could feel the wooden timbers of the hull, flush up against the bars.

I let my hands rest flat against the wood, and sighed.

Tch, tch, tchhh, the ship said, very softly.

Ah, La María, I thought ruefully. Don't worry. There's no way I'm getting out of this one.

And then, from out of nowhere, I started to smell something burning.

At first it was just a wisp, like the striking of a single match. I turned my head, thinking I might see a light. But there was nothing.

I shifted into the middle of the cage as the smell grew.

I strained my eyes in the dark, looking all around the hold, certain that there really was a fire. But there was no tell-tale flicker of light, no red glow that told me there was a fire that had started somewhere on this deck. And yet the smell was growing stronger and stronger all the time, as if there was a fire burning right in front of me.

And then I heard it.

Ssstupid bitchhh…

The sound of those two words, scraping down the inside of my skull, made me shiver in revulsion.

I knew then what it was.

It was the Curse of the Devil's Triangle.

It was here, with me. It was here in the hold.

I covered my mouth with one hand as the smell thickened the air around me, filling my cage: a stench of burning oak and gunpowder, mingled with bitter blood.

I crouched down quickly, still covering my mouth with one hand and instinctively pushing my other hand between the cage bars to flatten my palm against La Maria's cool, damp hull. The feel of her instantly reassured me, and I knew that whether I was conscious or not, whether this was another nightmare or not, at least she felt real.

Bright ripples of red suddenly unfolded right in front of me, curling outwards in mid-air. Something like thick, black smoke condensed at the heart of the ripples, before slowly coalescing to form a tall, shadowy figure, shot through with veins of maroon. But the parts of the figure that were dark weren't just mere shadow. It wasn't like the simple darkness of the hold. It was truly dark. Like looking into the expanse of a starless void.

Whatever else this Curse was, it was real. It was sentient. And it was alien. I didn't think it was even from this dimension, let alone this world.

Sweat spread quickly up my back and across my forehead. Nothing I'd ever seen of demons or monsters or aliens in movies prepared me for the harsh terror of actually seeing a real - whatever it was.

I was too afraid to even speak.

Why, the Curse loomed over me, don't you diiiiiie…

My breathing started to come out in short, rapid bursts.

No one wants you… it hissed.

The smell of burning intensified.

No one caresss about you… he didn't want you…

The Curse conjured up a memory I wished I could forget, and slammed it into my mind.

He didn't want you, he wanted her…

I was forced to relive it. I couldn't shut my eyes against it, and I couldn't look away. I had no choice but to see it all again. See the same man who'd told me he was in love with me, the same man I'd been so stupidly in love with. See him exactly as I'd seen him that night I'd blundered naively into his house, thinking to surprise him. Only to stop in shock, and stare. At him. Standing naked between the legs of another woman. See him kissing another woman's neck with a passion worthy of the cover of a romance novel. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, her long dark hair swaying as she tilted her head back. His hand squeezing her bare shoulder, her smooth skin turning pink under his fingers.

He wanted a real woman, not a grubby little girl like you...

"Big deal, he cheated." I managed a credibly disdainful tone. "Do you think I still care about that?"

The Curse hissed in displeasure, and the scene changed to a different one: Capitán Salazar, furious, his wild hair whipping around his face as he stalked away from me.

Do you think it will be any different with him? He doesn't want you either. He called you a spoiled princess.

It showed him again, saying those words to me, but this time his expression was colder than I remembered, the words nastier.

He hates you.

And I don't know what took my breath in that moment more – the power of this being, to conjure up memories from my own head on a whim, to show me these scenes that were so real, so tangible – or the unexpected hurt I felt when I saw Capitán Salazar looking back at me with hatred. When it told me, 'he hates you'.

You're just a thing to him, the Curse suddenly became lascivious, scenting blood. You're just a thing that he will use, and then discard…

At its words, sharp pain lanced my chest, and I sucked in a breath.

You care for him, don't you? It sounded almost sympathetic. You care for him, but you don't want to… because you know he doesn't care about you.

To my horror, I felt the back of my eyes growing hot, and tears threatened to spill.

And you don't want to be hurt anymore, do you… you know what it's like, to want love, and never to have it.

The image of Capitán Salazar dissolved into the image of a darkened basement.

You think no one is ever going to love you.

The image of my hands, my child-hands, reaching out for the man I thought was my father, and then the breath-taking pain as I was pushed down and away, falling back onto a hard concrete floor, as soft footsteps faded, as a basement door shut on my harsh sobbing.

The pain in my chest twisted. Tears leaked out of my eyes.

You don't know why it has always been like this for you, do you? You don't know what you did. But you reached out for love, again and again, and each time you were pushed away. Each time, they didn't want you.

The basement became the tiles of my kitchen floor.

And now you don't want to reach out. Not anymore.

In my hands was the gun.

After you caught that man with another lover, you wanted to die. Remember? You took a gun in your hands, and you wanted to die. Not because you didn't want to live – but because you didn't want to live with the pain.

Red ripples enveloped me, caressed me.

The pain of being unwanted. The pain of being unloved.

Another flash of Capitán Salazar's cold, furious face.

And you've had so much of it. So, so much of it.

I sucked in another sharp breath as the pain in my chest became an unbearable weight, a plumbline pulling me irresistibly down, until I was on my stomach, my face barely an inch from the floor.

I can take away your pain.

I managed to lift my head. I could see more red ripples, curling and stretching out towards me; blossoming out of a blade of glowing red light, lengthening itself to connect to the pain in my chest.

I can make it so you don't care anymore.

Everything now felt heavy, as if I'd been swaddled in thick blankets, and my vision started to blur, as if all I could see was murky water.

Don't you want that?

And I... did. I did want that.

I can release you. All that worry, that burden you carry, of caring so much for everyone and everything… I can take it all away … and you wouldn't have to care about anything anymore. All you'd feel would be bliss…

The temptation in that one word, was almost more than I could resist. It would be so nice, I thought vaguely, to rest. To just have a little rest, just for once... to not care.

Tch tch tch tch tch!

Suddenly, La Maria came alive around us, bursting into a muffled but strongly protesting creak, like someone throwing off a gag to speak.

The Curse hissed in fury, but not before I had the direct image of Officer Miguel Magda shoved into my brain like ice-cold water, his disdainful glare and his voice haughty as he said, "It is easy to find someone willing to give up and die, and nearly impossible to find anyone willing to endure the pain of living with patience!"

I blinked.

Where had that come from?

And then another, even clearer than the first, and more tactile - but of Capitán Salazar this time: his hair floating gently around his face, the feel of his thumb stroking down my cheek, the soft shape of his mouth... and the most breathtaking look in his eyes. A look I'd seen him give me before, but which I felt I'd never really understood before now.

An earnest look.

A look of... yearning.

I was only vaguely aware of my lips parting as the vision of Capitán Salazar came closer, opening his own lips to speak to me, and it dawned on me that not only did I - have real feelings for him. But ... he did. He really did, too.

"Oh..." I mumbled.

The Curse screamed unintelligibly, the vision was flung away, and La María was silenced again, but not before I heard the repeat of Capitán Salazar's pained whisper: "I nearly lost you..."

La María had sent me a message. She'd sent me her memories of conversations she knew I'd had – especially her memories of my conversation with Capitán Salazar – and it had worked.

I lifted my head up to face the Curse.

It sent out more soothing ripples of red, trying to draw me in, but I wouldn't let it.

"Get out," I shifted back from the connections it was trying to make with the weight on my chest. "Leave."

I slid back when it ignored me, using the bars at my back to haul myself awkwardly to my feet.

"I said. Get. Out."

It hissed, long and low; the ripples became blades, their movements no longer gentle caresses, but sharp slashes through the air between us.

"Get out!" I shouted at it.

It ballooned out, filling the cage, a black void of red-veined power.

La María pitched suddenly sideways; the apples jumped out of their place by the door, and rolled haphazardly across the grating of the floor.

The red ripples paused in their movements, before whipping out again in the tiny space; only this time they snapped towards the apples, pricking over their bruised skins.

Eat, it said coldly.

I didn't move.

It burst wild red ripples out towards my face, as if it was lifting up an arm and pointing at me.

Eat, it said again. Eat them all.

La María strained out a stifled creak, a frightened warning, but she didn't have to tell me what I already knew. Eating all three apples was a sure fire way to make me very sick. Or worse.

Eat every single one, or I will bring him here, and I will make him suffer in front of you.

And I knew who it meant. It meant Capitán Salazar. It was threatening Capitán Salazar. And it had just made a big mistake doing that.

"Go fuck yourself," I said hoarsely. "You've got no power to make me do anything!"

The Curse suddenly jerked me up off my feet and pinned me high against the bars, knocking all the air out of me and hitting my head hard enough to make my vision blur. It slammed an apple against my mouth, trying to force me to eat it. So I did the only thing I could.

I took a bite of the apple.

The Curse hissed out a rasping sound, a triumphant laugh, its hold on me relaxing a little as soon as it had seen me take a bite.

And then I spat the piece of apple out into what I hoped was its face.

It threw me to the floor, screeching with a volume that seemed to shake the entire cage.

Uselessss bitch! Came its irate hatred, straight into my mind.

That same sudden heaviness of being unwanted fell on me. It poured out everything it could: feelings of being a burden, of being undesirable and useless and helpless, harder than ever before. My back bowed, my legs buckled, my chest was being crushed by an ever-tightening iron band. A searing agony tore through me when I tried to draw in a ragged breath. I fell forward onto my hands and knees. Hissing in pain, I stared at the metal grating beneath my fingers. And that was when I started to feel something else. Something more than the feelings it was trying to bury me with. Something that was - me. All me. My own increasingly familiar fury, an anger that had been building ever since I'd arrived here, that had nothing to do with the Curse or the way it tried to drain me of all will to live, but had everything to do with my own need to exist.

It was irate - but it had nothing on the intense rage bubbling up inside me.

I was angry at being afraid. I was angry at being threatened. I was angry at always feeling helpless, angry at always having to fight for my right to be here. I might not have been in my real body, but I had a right to exist. I had a right to live.

My rage fueled me, and I used it: I used it to push back at the thick choking pressure of the Curse surrounding me.

My shoulders shook with the effort, and my fingers squeezed so hard around the metal grate they bled. A guttural cry slid out of my throat and with every ounce of my rage, I pushed back at the Curse –

And then the Curse was shoved back, right outside the cage and several yards into the hold.

If it had had a real face, I knew it would have been shocked.

And then I heard it hiss again, a barely distinct hiss, which I could only understand three words of: soon and him and instead…

La María creaked to life as the Curse dissipated from the hold, her timbers rippled around me in agitation, as if trying to reach out to me.

But the fight with the Curse had drained me utterly; and all I was conscious of, in the last seconds before passing out was the cold metal grating pressing against my cheek as I collapsed face down on the floor.

So many mysteries so far in Bella Muerte - and I promise, the answers are coming!

But finally, poor Athena has slipped into the land of unconsciousness, just as she wanted (though not quite how she wanted)... and now, perhaps she will finally be able to find Capitán Salazar in his Nightmare, and save him... or will she?

Next chapter coming soon!

PERSONAL AUTHOR'S NOTE: Contrary to what some might suppose, I firmly believe the Curse did not inflame Capitán Salazar's wrath. No, quite the opposite. I think it was his wrath that sustained him, and kept him going. One of the reasons why I think this, is because of the condition of the men. They are pale-skinned, grey, flaking, dissipating. I think the Curse uses them to feed off of - and will continue to feed off of them, until they literally dissolve into nothing. I do not think they would survive immortally under the Devil's Triangle Curse. So, in some ways, Salazar's anger is a good thing.
Anger helps you fight injustice. It can help motivate you. It can give you impetus to make changes. Fight back against things that are wrong. What makes anger 'bad', however, is *how* we let it drive us - as Capitán Salazar was taught as a boy (though he forgot it by the time he was a man), 'In your anger, do not sin.'