Chapter Twenty-Eight: Finally!
"Hey! She's waking up!" someone said as she shifted uncomfortably on the hard surface she laid on.
"Get back to work!" she mumbled sleepily, wondering why her head seemed to be surrounded by haze. The inside of her mouth tasted positively ghastly, far worse than it ever had even the morning after she had drank nearly a gallon of rum. She tried to get up and get one of her mint sticks, but fast discovered that her wrists and ankles were bound and that her body hurt. What the devil had happened?
"Ah, good, the potion has not quite worn off yet," said a slightly familiar voice to her left.
"Who are you?" she asked, unable to see him clearly for the fog enshrouding her vision.
"You don't recognize me?" he asked mockingly. "Why, I killed your beloved father!"
Images came sluggishly to mind of a bed drenched with blood, black hair spilled across it...Da! a voice in her mind screamed, and she would have screamed herself but for the potion slowing her reactions. Her mind kept working at the memory, trying to unlock the door that seemed to hold it just beyond her reach as her body squirmed weakly.
"You never said you were going to drug her," another familiar voice said, sounding disapproving.
"What business is it of yours, you wretched bounty hunter?" asked the first familiar voice. "Your work is done, the only reason you're still hanging about is because he wanted to give you an extra reward."
"Drugging her is beneath you," the second voice said, vibrating with rage and hatred.
That's odd, she thought, how do I know what he's feeling? The moment the question passed through her mind, she felt a flood of emotions battering her on both sides, one of disgust from the man that claimed to have killed her father, and many conflicting emotions coming from the other man, the man that she knew she should know...
"Devon?" she whispered, barely aware of the name that passed through her lips. She felt him stiffen, and a wave of concern from him flooded her. With that emotion came memory, and if she had been able to move she would have leapt upon him and dealt him many an injury. But she would have waited until after she killed the man that had called himself Richard when he had murdered her father.
Yet, if Devon had betrayed her, then why was he feeling concern for her? Or perhaps it was only concern for himself, she was still slightly fogged.
"It's wearing off," Devon said, his voice devoid of emotion even if the stiffness with which he said it betrayed him--to her at least.
The other man cursed, then whispered to the man whose voice she hadn't recognized: "Go and tell him that the potion is wearing off, ask him what we should do with her."
"You mean...you can't figure that out...for yourself?" she said, a bit of her wit returning to her.
Devon laughed.
A stinging blow fell across her cheek, stunning her momentarily.
A surge of anger came from Devon, but he held himself in check, asking through gritted teeth, "Was that necessary?"
"The problem with you, bounty hunter," came a completely new voice, "is that you don't put women in their place. As much as I applaud your brilliant plan of worming your way into her trust, you should have taken over the ship from her. No woman can possibly captain a ship competently, no matter how independent she thinks she is."
Reanna wished with all her might that she could see who this newcomer was. She remembered well enough what Richard had looked like, and Devon as well, but though she lifted her head she couldn't see more than a blur of color. She dropped her head back to the stone table she laid on, regretting it as pain lashed through her head. She seemed to remember being hit with something, had it made her bleed?
Damn, this was worse than her hangover, she thought as she moaned in pain.
"There, you see?" the new voice said again, cutting through her pain. "She is weak. I want her brought to me in a little while, dressed in suitable clothing for a woman. See that she is sufficiently subservient."
"Yes," said the murderer. The man left, then, she felt it in the stir of air through the room and the way everyone seemed to let out their breath.
"You heard him, bounty hunter," he said. "Dress her in suitable clothing for a woman."
She felt Devon's rage build again, but it was distant. Everything was becoming dim, and she felt as though she were being sucked back into a long, black tunnel.
Her wrists and ankles were unlocked, but she didn't feel it, for she was already gone.
**
He sat in a parlor, grinning madly. She was finally his. The daughter of that wretch Jack Sparrow--if she was even truly his, the girl's mother was a slut that didn't deserve to live--was in his grasp. He would keep her as a plaything, torturing her and breaking her spirit as he would have liked to break her mother's and thought he had her grandmother's. The girl's mother had killed his son, who had had the right idea all along, truthfully. He had known well how to keep women in their place, but he had failed because he had overstepped his bounds.
He had let one get away.
Well now, the father wouldn't be making the same mistake. He wouldn't let a mere woman get the best of him again. No, not again.
Women are nothing but childbearers, they have no right to think for themselves. That Elizabeth is a bad influence, I should have had her killed.
His thoughts nattered on as only a madman's could, and he giggled insanely in his large and comfortable chair.
Finally, he would have his revenge on them all! Jack Sparrow was dead, alas, and so he couldn't fully appreciate his daughter's torture, but the girl's mother! This would be a pleasure! The girl's grandmother--traitorous bitch that she was--would get quite the kick out of all this! Finally, they would pay for thinking to rise above themselves.
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Yay, another chapter! I think I might be getting back into the swing of things, now that my burnout appears to be finished. I'll do my best to write every other day, but if I fail, I apologize from the bottom of my heart. You guys'll just have to live with my evil cliffhangers! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!