-Demon's Kiss-
Disclaimer: I own only the monsters of my creation and this plot. PotC is the product of Disney as it was originally a ride. Jack Sparrow is not mine (unfortunately) and so on…
A/N- Ok…this is the sequel to Breaking Loose, if you haven't read that you need to, so you understand everything about Starr, and The Red Roiben, and The Rogue. Demora Sparrow is my newest monster, and possibly my most heartless as of yet- well, I take that back, Raven Turner is my most evil, well not really. So yeah, here we are with Demon's Kiss, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter One: Demora.
The sea was as treacherous as she had ever seen it. The violent waters tossing The Traveler around as if it was nothing but driftwood. Demora had been through worse.
Right now, the petite woman stood tall at the ship's wheel, her short, dark hair, matted to her face, wind and rain and waves of water, knocking into her, trying to pummel her into nothing. Demora wouldn't have that, she was almost, if not more, stubborn than the storm, and just as relentless.
"Captain!" Demora turned, wind stinging her face, her hat flying off into the clouds, her grip slipping on the wheel; her first mate, Riley, was trying to keep his grip on the now slick deck. He was a tall dark man with pale, nervous eyes and long brown hair, his voice was barely audible: "Captain! This is madness, going inta a storm like such. We need ta turn her 'round, no gold's worth this!" he was still yowling hopelessly over the wind.
"I'm not gonna lose the tailwind we've got, 'tis a good wind, no matter the weather, and no matter the consequences we're going to find the island!" she yelled back, her lungs filling with saltwater as a wave drenched over her. Riley went to protest Demora's sanity and was knocked over by a harsh wall of water.
Demora fled the wheel and grabbed Riley's hand, the wheel spinning wildly out of control without a steadying hand on it. The Traveler began to turn, her portside dipping dangerously low into the sea .
For a split second, and not a hairsbreadth longer, Demora thought she'd loose both Riley and The Traveler, but if that thought had kept, she wouldn't be Captain Demora Sparrow, scourge of the seas.
Getting a better grip on Riley's hand, Demora pulled him slowly towards her, and at the same time took her other hand and pulled on the wheel, navigating it in the opposite direction.
Traveler gave a mighty groan, before falling full berth down, into the water.
Riley was back on deck, shock and panic clearly traced upon his face. Demora grinned devilishly at him as a flash of lightning creased the sky. She took her hand from his and slapped him with bruising force on the back, "C'mon," she called out over the dying winds, "Didja really think I'd let my best man go to Davey Jones?" she helped pick him off the deck and moved slowly toward the stairs leading to the gully, "I'm ashamed of you, Riley, I wouldn't let you die," the dark man took in a shaky breath of relief- that was soon broken by Demora's jovial claim of: "I need you to help with docking and hoarding, what else would I need you for?" Riley panicked again before seeing the gleam in his captain's eye.
"Captain," he murmured breathlessly, " you truly are the devil."
Demora's response was a chortle of throaty laughter as she disappeared into her cabins, leaving Riley to a flask of whiskey and bouts of the rowdy company that seemed to be the entirety of Demora's crew.
Demora dropped her sopping jacket onto the floor of her cabin. A hand going to the top of her head to feel gingerly where a prized article once sat.
She had lost her hat.
That insensitivity was fully to blame on the storm, as only a storm could be as insensitive as to steal a well earned hat. A chattering on the floor caused her to look down. Desmond, the slyest ferret a pirate could ever want, stared beadily at her, waiting patiently for a morsel of food, "Sorry, mate, no tidbits yet." he chattered angrily at her in reply.
She caught sight of herself in the cracked mirror above the basin. She looked like hell. Short, black curls were plastered to her scalp. Her dark green bandana was tossed askew, allowing a few tendrils of wet hair to peak out like horns- giving Demora once again the look of a demon. Painful welts streaked her face from where rain had pelted her, leaving her bronzed skin a cherry red, dual-colored eyes, met their duplicate in the mirror with something akin to triumph echoing in them; one a vivacious turquoise, and the other black as sin. Her clothing was soaked through to the marrow of her bones- if she didn't change soon…
She shook her head and sank leisurely to her bed, she could always change later, when her life wasn't at severe risk for pneumonia and she wasn't already numb with cold.
"If Damon were here…" her thoughts started.
"He's not," she snapped, "so get used to it, we don't need him anyways."
"We don't, but you do, the chaotic half always needs it's stable half." her conscious was mocking her! "Whose to say I'm not the stable one? I could be the stable twin."
"Do you really believe that?" it asked softly, "Look what almost happened to The Traveler, your crew, you can't keep on like this," and then Demora knew what was coming next: "You should have listened to your mother."
"Oh yes!" she cried, "Brilliant idea! Let's listen to the woman that keeps a pack of murderers as pets! I'd rather be out here any day than sit in that repugnant court of hers and watch little boys play with knives!" she shook with anger, "Damon chose her path, I chose my own- so what if Dad didn't even like my choice, it was his first," she smiled slowly, "you could say I'm following in his footsteps, Damon in Mother's."
"You're also arguing with yourself on a matter entirely brought up by you because you can't let up with scolding yourself, and you just might have a touch of fever."
"Great, just bloody gre-" and Demora fell into herself, arguing dreamlessly with the voice of her conscious that sounded annoyingly like her brother Damon.
A/N- How am I doing so far? This'll be a longer chapter because the reviews for Breaking Loose were so great, and those of you that couldn't wait for the is story deserve it. Yeah, Demora is a bit chaotic, but in a good way, I promise.
Zane Barbossa sat before a large fire, mesmerized by it's heat. Just a few days more and he was sure that he'd die on this godforsaken rock…he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything, drank anything.
Marooned. He had been marooned on a spec of rock daring to call itself an island because he was worthless, he was nothing, he was perfectly expendable. He was no pirate, he was a businessman if anything, a lawyer, what did he know about riggings and ships? His mother had sent him off hoping he could find word of his miserable excuse of a father…Zane needed him almost as much as he needed a good kick in the ass.
"What are you doing Barbossa? Why in God's green earth did you willingly get onto that decrepit hulk of wood? You should have stayed home, you should have married Susanna, that would have been an adventure." Zane sank into his thoughts. He'd been on this stinking rock for three weeks, that had been fine while he still had dried goods in his satchel and a few swallows of clean water in his flask…but they had withered up at least a week ago.
"Damn my father, and damn me too for trying this little journey, I should have stayed in England with my firm…" a cramp raked through his stomach and he doubled over, falling listlessly to the ground.
"If I live through to tomorrow," he quipped through the rumblings of his belly, "I'm never leaving home again."
Zane lay his throbbing head on the ground. Any day now, hour even, and he'd be gone, and he would never have to be this hungry or this hurt ever again; the doors to Heaven would open and he'd be greeted by mountains of food and rivers of sweet plum wine. Were there virgins at the pearly gates like his Arab friend Hakim thought? If there were, Zane was going to court at least three, was courting necessary in Heaven?- his thoughts were interrupted by a solid crash on the rocks below, the rocks in the gulf…it was a ship! He was saved!
He dashed from his lair as fast as his malnourished, dehydrated body could take him. A ship was good, and if the people on said ship were merciful, they would spare a poor man a few bites to eat and a deep, deep barrel of water.
Then Zane's heart stopped with fear.
More pirates, not the charitable kind, Zane was sure, judging by the looks of them, they were the murderous sort, the pirate that seemed to be their leader, a short man with thin limbs and short hair- all Zane could make out in the dark, motioned towards the east, and the barrage of pirates followed his point, disappearing into the black of the forest. The leader followed slowly, whistling some inane tune, a small shape darted after him and scrambled with ease up his leg.
"Well," Zane sighed, falling to his knees, "either they help, or they don't, I'm not going to stay here and see how long it takes nature to kill me, I'd much rather be shot than wait out this." with that he got shakily to his feet and followed the parade of brigands ultimately to his doom.
A/N- Barbossa had a son? I was going to make it something else, but my friend told me to do this, I still don't know what he'll look like so I need ideas on such, he is a lawyer and proper Englishman, remember that- just a little lost and marooned…wow, I need to stop fanficting, anyone agree? Review please, I need the moral support.