Disclaimer: Actually, I own everything in this chapter except the allusions to Jack Sparrow & Co. Samuel Sangre is a product of my own twisted imagination, and the Sirens I believe are part of the fair-use laws. :P
A/N: This is rather short, but it's important to the plot. Freak and Proud, I promise there will be many more family spats, and also a few containing other potc chars as well! Enjoy!
Samuel Sangre stood at the stern of his vessel, his eyes unhealthy yellow slits in his weather-beaten face. He stood like a severely twisted figurehead, his body straight and immovable, but strangely spoiled, dead. His clothing was ragged, his once-brown skin was tinged with grey, and the whites of his eyes were a putrid yellow. Sangre was on the knife-edge between life and death, truly belonging in neither world. He breathed in the clear night air, one single obsession driving him forward.
I scent them, scent their blood. They are close. The thin lips stretched into a parody of a grin.
I will have them soon. His nose told him that all of them were in one place, ripe for plucking...and juicing to the bones. His deck would run red with the zest of their torn veins, and at last he would be free. Free of the voices that plagued him, night and day.
"Ssssweeeeet Ssssaaaangre, come to us! Touch us, Samuel, feed us!"
The voices were maddeningly complemented by ghostly caresses along his jaw, icy fingers down his back. Cold breath puffed against his ear...but he could never see the ones who did these things. They were invisible to him, sounds and textures only. Some days they tortured him with longing, others they offered only pain. Twenty years he'd dwelt in this hell; he was ready to be done with it.
And I'll take the bloody scoundrels to hell wi' me. They'll know what they've done, and they'll ruddy share in the suffering! He couldn't wait. He couldn't wait to wrap his hands about the Sparrow's neck, feel the bones crack beneath his hands. Then to slit his throat and watch the fear in his eyes as he drifted from this world to the next...Ahh. Yes. How sweet.
Sangre took another deep breath, scenting his kill, then directed his ship into a safe harbor, lowered a boat and rowed to shore. For once, the Sirens were silent. Perhaps they knew what was coming, and chose to watch rather than torment.
I'll need your help, ladies, he whispered in his mind. You can have some fun...
Hysterical giggling followed his proclamation, confirming the Sirens' assent. Sangre grinned. At last.