Chapter 20
*This chapter may have some fighting scenes that are graphic for younger readers. Merry Christmas.*
The first shot rang out and left an eerie silence in its wake. The next two jarred the mind, making hot blood run cold.
No. The blood was still hot. Very hot. It seemed to get hotter with every heartbeat.
Jonas looked down at his shirt, where a red bloom formed on the elegant ruffles. The bullet had gone clean through, tearing through the fabric.
As Jonas stared down at his abdomen, growing with blood, he heard the shrieks of 17 women, Cordelia included. His head snapped down to see Cordelia collapsed, screaming as she clutched her thigh. She couldn't sift through the many layers and ruffles of the petticoat fast enough, so she just clutched the whole mess of it with her leg somewhere inside. Blood quickly stained the gown, the petticoat like useless tissue paper at soaking it up.
Jonas didn't know why his body didn't move. Shock maybe? That hadn't happened in decades. For some reason, his eyes scanned everywhere for the face of a gaunt trickster. Jonas's heart beat faster and faster, adrenaline coursing through his system and bloodlust for both Daemon and the soldiers rising.
Then, out of nowhere, Jonas was moving. He drew his sword, staring down the soldiers who were loading their rifles once again. He heard running behind him, and from the corner of his eye he saw the women retreat to the ship, and his crew members charging forward. Three men instinctively grabbed Cordelia from the ground and whisked her away towards the Jewel, leaving a bloodstained captain on the front line. Jonas let out a feral warcry and sprinted towards the line of soldiers, his men several paces behind him. He was unfearing, just pissed off. The first soldier to meet the end of his blade was downed quickly, the cold steel slashing through the decorative uniform. The next charged at Jonas while his back was turned towards the first, only to meet his end as Jonas turned and plunged his cutlass through his gut and pulled up until he felt the bone of his ribcage on the metal. When his ears picked up the sound of his men meeting the front lines, the clashing of metal on metal rang out predominantly.
Another man came at Jonas from the side, and Jonas got him in the neck. Blood spurted from his carotid artery and hit Jonas in the face. He quickly wiped it from his eyes and brow, taking care to not get blinded in the middle of a fight.
While he wiped his eyes, however, a blade caught Jonas in the waist. It slashed rather than stabbed, and Jonas felt the bite of the steel. He sucked in a breath of air but kept his wits about him. Turning quickly and dragging his weapon through the man's stomach. The poor soldier was disemboweled, his guts spilling onto the dock as he fell to the ground. Jonas turned to watch his back for the next attack but noticed many avoiding confrontations with him.
He was sure he was quite a sight. Two wounds, blood in his eyes, and he'd just taken down four men. The fight continued with his pirates behind him. He spotted deep in the grouping of men, the Captain was barking orders. He was conveniently behind a defensive line of bayonets. The governor was nowhere in sight, probably running for his life back to the estate. Jonas met the captain's eyes and spat on the ground.
What a coward.
Jonas walked with purpose to the defensive line, their rifles aimed at his chest. Images of Cordelia screaming in pain flashed through his mind. Not in the 15 years they'd been together had he ever allowed her to get hurt like that. She was capable in battle, but he never allowed her to ever be put in true danger like that.
He'd been cocky. Turned his back to the enemy. That was a mistake he wouldn't make again.
The sounds of gunfire from multiple weapons rang out and Jonas felt the kick of being shot. He had no idea how many bullets had just hit him, and he gasped for breath. He stumbled back but caught himself with the tip of his blade on the ground behind him. He righted himself, waited for the breath to come back. Only a moment later he was able to suck in a raspy breath. He took three more steps. The men didn't have time to reload, so they brandished the spiked points of their bayonets. Jonas saw the fear in these young soldiers' eyes. They were fighting something supernatural. There was no winning. A low growl escaped Jonas's throat and he met their bayonets. He stood at their points, extended his own sword between the necks of two young men. It was a clear threat to part the line.
"Stab him you imbeciles!" The French captain shrieked in fury.
Unfortunately, these poor gunmen had very little choice. If they stood their ground against Jonas, they would undoubtedly die. If they lowered their weapons and allowed the pirate to pass and murder their commanding officer, they'd be tried and hanged for desertion for not following his orders.
The poor soul on Jonas's left with brilliant green eyes and bead-like sweat dripping down his face pressed his lips into a hard line. Jonas knew what was coming and braced himself. The soldier dug his bayonet into Jonas's chest, burying it somewhere between his ribs. Again, Jonas felt the breathlessness, as the man had likely punctured a lung, but he stood firm. The one on the right, a brown-eyed, baby-faced boy did the same, his eyes shining in fear. His bayonet dug in just below Jonas's clavicle, scraping bone as it slid in roughly.
Without hesitation, as the second bayonet entered his body, Jonas took his sword and cleanly slashed the throat of the two men. At least he could offer them a quick death.
Their bodies fell to the ground, choking on their own blood. They never removed the blades so as they dropped their guns from their grasp, the sharp edges pulled at Jonas's body, inflicting more pain. He removed the two weapons from his chest and dropped them to the side, and in the same fluid motion, he glided forward to plunge his own blade into the captain's torso.
Time seemed to slow as Jonas charged at him, the adrenaline making everything around him crystal clear. He barely felt any pain from his injuries, and the pain he did feel was dwindling by the second as his body healed itself. He plunged the tip of his cutlass into the navel of the captain. He pointed his sword up, the other end of it emerging through the back of his ornate officer's uniform just behind where his heart was. The metal of his sword scraped along the captain's spine and ribs, no doubt dulling the blade.
As he wrenched the weapon from the man's body and dropped him to the ground, Jonas turned around at appraised the battle scene behind him. Several soldiers of that defensive line, stood still, unsure of what to do now that their commanding officer had been killed. The wise ones backed up, making it clear they weren't going to strike, but the first one to drop his weapon to the ground in clear surrender was a sea-worn old man. Jonas was even curious as to why an older gentleman was still just a gunman, and not someone of status in the ranks of the navy. Clearly, the man had seen many battles and knew when he was beaten. The other soldiers followed suit, their weapons clattering to the ground. The men who were ahead, fighting the pirates with swords, one by one, turned to see the clear surrender and dropped their weapons in suit. Jonas stood taller. As he passed a younger gunman, he dragged the face of his blade along his uniform, cleaning the blood from it, and returned it to his scabbard.
Jonas did not smile at his own intimidation tactics, which usually brought him some satisfaction. His boots hit the wood of the docks with rhythmic thunks as he returned to his ship. Each of his own men that he passed, turned to follow him on his heel. He scanned the ground looking for his own but thankfully saw none. Not to say there weren't injuries. Several men he gazed into the eyes of as he approached had lacerations, and no doubt adrenaline was keeping them moving.
He gave them the courtesy of a worried thought, but his mind did not linger there. Images of a bloody Cordelia flashed through his mind, and his pace quickened. He met the gangway's edge and as he boarded, gave out a vague order. "Get us the hell out of here."
The deck was in chaos. Everyone was either doing their job to get the ship in motion, was running to retrieve things for their superiors, or were standing around uselessly and in the way. Constance was one of the latter, and her eyes frantically searched for something to do. The entire crew was awake, not just one shift of crew members. Constance considered herself lucky. Her fears of traveling and pirates had severely diminished in the time she'd been a 'guest' of Captain Jonas. However, her survival instincts and her fight or flight response were always in full swing.
Over the cacophony of sound, Constance heard a small whimper.
Most of the women of the Jewel of Hades were pushed up against the port bow railing, trying to take up as little space as possible while the crewmen ran about. A select few couldn't bear to stand off to the side, namely Lara, Robin, and Charlie.
Again, a small whimper carried on the sea air.
Constance looked around, unsure of where the sound came from. All the women were standing with strong faces, watching the commotion around them. Nobody seemed to be downed around the ship, so Constance furrowed her brows in confusion.
No. Constance noticed behind her, Brett's makeup was smeared and melting. The Caribbean air was enough to make anyone sweat but she was drenched. Her face was pinched but resolute.
"Brett?" Constance asked quietly.
Brett made eye contact, her mouth in a thin pained line. Her sweat-drenched face was pale even through the powdery makeup. "Brett." Constance saw how she swayed too much even for a rocking ship.
In what felt like forever, with Constance's legs and arms frozen in place, Brett's eyes rolled back in her head, and her legs gave out from under her.
Luckily, Umakoti and Nell were on either side of her and managed to catch her enough to keep her from hitting her head on the floor.
The group descended onto the fallen woman. Constance did not. She saw as the women fanned Brett's face and tried to rouse her with no success. On Brett's pink and red gown bodice, Constance noticed an inconsistency in the pattern, redder on her abdomen where there should be pink.
Constance put an arm out and grabbed the nearest running pirate and pulled him in.
"She's bleeding," she said, sounding emotionless. Her heartbeat was accelerating in sympathy for Brett's wound. In sympathy for Brett's resilience. It was something Constance would do herself.
Before her eyes, pirates were shooing away the herd of ladies and lifting Brett gingerly. They carried her down the main stairway of the ship. Nobody moved, nobody followed them.
Except for Constance. She didn't know why she felt the need to follow, why she felt the need to stand out for the first time on this ship.
She descended the stairs behind Brett. They stopped on the second level and went through the cafeteria and kitchens. Exposed to the kitchen in the stern of the ship was a makeshift clinic. They laid Brett on a cot, one of many in this small corner of the ship. A brilliantly red-haired man in a leather apron paced from bed to bed. He had a pair of cracked spectacles over the bridge of his nose. He saw the group approach and hurried over to Brett.
"What's wrang wi' thes a body?" He said, his accent thick and animated.
The pirates who brought her down shrugged, and one-by-one left her there to resume their duties. He took a pair of scissors to Brett's bodice and began slicing it down.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Constance stepped forward, holding her hand out to stop the man from exposing her friend.
"Ah hae tae gie a swatch at 'er woond. Fa ur ye?"
Constance stared blindly at the man, trying to decipher his odd speech pattern.
"He's Scottish. He said he has to look at her wound," a familiar voice carried across the small space. Constance leaned to the left to look behind him.
"Cordelia?" She was lying on a cot, her leg elevated with a thick bandage around her thigh. Her gown and petticoat were gone, and she laid there in a corset and shift. It was lifted up to expose her bandages but low enough to provide modesty. She was staring at the wooden planks of the ceiling, angrily boring holes in them with her eyes.
"Oh, and he asked who you are."
Constance turned her attention back to the Scot, who was no longer paying attention to her. He had resumed his care of Brett and was cutting down the gown.
He revealed the wound, a bullet wound in her back. "Th' bullit is still inside, dammit," he said under his breath.
He began to call at a few other pirates who were wandering and organizing the kitchen's pantry.
"I'm Connie."
He didn't look up at her.
"And I can help you, so let me help you," she said.
He sighed gruffly, frustrated. "Dae ye ken hoo tae practice medicine?"
Again, Constance stood there trying to decipher his accent. After a moment of repeating it in her head, she replied. "No."
"T'en ye cannae-"
"But I know some people that do know how to practice medicine."
Before he could respond she was running back upstairs to the decks.
Stella leaned over to Maia, her eyes tracking multiple pirates at once. Her eyes flew to the three in particular who were still wearing fancy garb. They stayed on the deck, which Stella was sure was frustrating to Robin who seemed to have an affinity for working with heights. The ship had finally made some movement and was starting to set sail. Several more pirates emerged from the depths of the ship where the gangway emerged from. These men were sweaty, bloody, and a few had minor cuts and lacerations.
Stella began to step forward to try and stop these men so she could fix them, but Jonas emerged finally, stopping her in her tracks. He was covered in blood from head to toe. His suit was torn to shreds revealing perfect flesh, and his walk was slow. His steps were small as though he were exhausted but his shoulders were back and his brow was low as he looked around at the crew.
Crewmen began running up to him, asking for orders. Asking questions she was sure they would usually ask Cordelia, but Stella was reminded of how they whisked Cordelia away when they initially returned to the ship.
"Where are we making way to?"
"The stern mast is beginning to wear, I'm advising that we acquire a new one."
"Captain, we need a destination."
"Are you wanting to fire upon the island? Our canons are at the ready if you order it."
"Captain I'm going to head south if I don't receive a destination."
They came at him with one request after another, but he looked dulled, lost in his mind. He began waving them off, his anger rising clearly on his face.
"No, no, no, no…"
One more crewman after another approached him only to be shoved away as his eyes searched the faces around him.
"No, no, no," he continued to mutter to himself. "Where is she?"
Maia leaned back towards Stella. "Keep your distance. I don't think he's… stable, right now."
Stella nodded, "They should know not to get in the way between a man and his woman."
They watched as he paced in circles, shoving his crewmen if they got too close. Several men began to notice his erratic behavior and began trying to corral him into a circle of arms.
"Captain, I think you should just calm down."
"I can't calm down. Where is she?"
"Please, sir-"
"Shut the hell up. Take me to Cordelia."
"Sir-"
Jonas sprung at the last man to talk, grabbed him by the collar and shouted at him. "Take me to my sister or I will throw you overboard myself!"
I know I'm a day late for my Christmas update. I was busy.
I was also lazy.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and tell me what you think of this new turn of events regarding Cordelia and Jonas. I love reviews, they fluff my ego so please review (I swear I'm not begging, but I'm begging). Also, do you think Brett's going to make it? Also, give me face claims for this sexy Scottish doctor because I don't have any yet but I'm already fantasizing about him.
Thanks for reading!