Hook Bewitched

by Pirate-Girl1017

Book One of the Hook Enchanted series. The magic of Neverland gives strength to all those who find themselves there. When two witches mistakenly land in the Never Sea, how will their magic be affected and how will the heart of James Hook be changed by what he finds in the arms of the sorceresses? Hook x OFCs / OFC x OFC

12. Home is where the Hook is

Author's Note: Hello dear readers! Hope you're enjoying the story, things are going to get very interesting very soon.

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CHAPTER 12:

Mr. Starkey was woken from a sound sleep to plot a course for the isle of St. Erasmus, they were to sail at dawn. Rose was not allowed out of bed, despite the swift healing of her wound. Every time she tried to leave the haven of scarlet silk one of her lovers would swiftly ease her back into the feather mattress. Sometimes greater persuasion was necessary. The tension seeped away between James and Abigail. In no time they were singing at the harpsichord and reading aloud from the prized First Folio. Outside their cabin the crew was ecstatic to be free of Neverland. When their orders were shouted out a cheer rose from the bowels of the ship to the crow's nest. When the island sank into the horizon a few of the men broke out instruments in celebration. It would take a little more than a week to reach their destination, until then there was enough in the way of blissful domestic chores to keep the witches busy.

"Tell us about this place, dear," Abigail asked Hook. She was studying a book of Greek dramas, unsurprisingly it was open to Antigone.

"Tis a crescent shaped island, with lighthouses at either point. Though they are flanked by a veritable reef of wrecks," he answered, his eyes never leaving the page of his own book. "Its proper name, Saint Erasmus, always brings out a good laugh from those of us who grew up in the Holy Mother Church." Abigail snorted, Rose just raised a brow. "But for the rest of the rabble it is known as Smuggler's Cove."

"How ominous," Rose crooned as she folded a shirt from her mountain of pillows. "Do other captains live there?"

"Indeed, five besides myself. I have not taken up my house in some time, the moment my colours come into sight there is sure to be quite the commotion among them. Each has their own manor which overlooks the town, protected by a small range of mountains."

"Are there places to pillage in the Never Sea?" the younger woman asked.

"There are many such places, each of the captains takes full advantage of them. I just...have been otherwise occupied...to go pirating. But we all have our own businesses on St. Erasmus, all connected to the other worlds and their trade."

"You have a business, a legitimate business?" the elder lady perked up. "In what?"

"Each of the wealthiest captains, those who wrestled control from the chaotic town, took a monopoly on a certain trade. Sometimes the business is chosen for personal preference, sometimes necessity. Carpentry, money lending and the pleasure trade are just naming a few. I have the artisans, all the fine craftsmen and jewelers." Abigail looked to the ornate mantle piece clock, which never ticked, that stood on a heavy shelf by the books.

"Like clock making?"

James glared at her...then nodded. She barely stopped herself from bursting out laughing, settling herself for a sarcastic, one-word answer.

"Perfect."

He returned to his book.

Rose looked over the pile of laundry before her. It had tripled over the last few weeks, to no one's surprise. She and Abigail had no clothes of their own, besides the dresses they arrived in and by now those had taken quite the beating. Sharing one man's wardrobe between himself and two women was not exactly working out well. Not to mention the sheer amount of mending being done lately. Poor Mr. Smee, the only other person on board besides the witches with a sense of which end of the needle to use, was becoming overwhelmed. James had a tendency to get caught up in the heat of the moment and clothing had turned into collateral damage.

"We need new clothes."

From across the room the captain looked up from his tome of English history. She had a theory that his sudden interest in the topic stemmed from wanting to be reminded of something older than him.

"You barely wear any as it is."

Abigail snorted her tea.

"And whose fault is that?" the younger witch sputtered. James grinned lecherously.

"Do you expect regret on my part?"

She threw a sugar cube at him.

"Anyway, before we begin a food fight," Rose picked up King James as she walked towards her lovers. "Abigail and I are in desperate need of our own wardrobes. We cannot keep pilfering yours."

"I find you rather fetching in my clothes," he casually flipped a page.

"Well unless you want us to turn your pretty silk sheets into chitons you might want to consider a shopping trip," Abigail looked pointedly to the bed. "Good thing we both look so fetching in scarlet." James turned a little pale, they smirked.

"I know just the place."

"Bonjour, Monsieur Beaulieu. J'espère que vous êtes de l'esprit pour faire fortune aujourd'hui."

Hook swept into the elegant store, barely acknowledging the valets who opened the heavy double doors and took his hat. One either side of him Rose and Abigail stood, looking around with curiosity at the shelves bursting with fabrics, trims, buttons and other innumerable products. While the footmen bowed and scraped at the sight of the Hook, their powered faces all but sneered at the sight of the women in their borrowed clothes. They kept a wide berth.

In the center of the spacious room stood a man ordering the scrambling workers like a conductor with his orchestra. His white wig was dressed in perfect curls, his chartreuse suit shone with what must have been yards of silver embroidery. When he turned, a pale face accented in rouge lit up like a beacon.

"Capitaine Crochet!" The man jangled as he moved, his waistcoat laden with delicate golden tailor's tools hung from tiny chains. "Quel superbe tour de ma journée, il a été trop long!" His voice was heavy with an antique French accent. He was tall and long of limb, but graceful as a swan as he made an elaborate bow complete with waving lace handkerchief. "Comment puis-je vous servir, mon plus favorisé des clients?"

"A change to the common tongue will be a good beginning," the captain nodded in assent. All through this the witches stood, watched and listened. Though neither of had a mastery of French, it was easy to ascertain the gist of what was happening.

"But of course, Capitaine," he finally noticed that his customer had not arrived alone. Whereas his employees had regarded them with disdain, the Frenchman hid any true first impressions behind a practiced mask of cordiality. "In all your years of patronage to my humble establishment never have you brought une femme. And now you bring two! The town will be beside itself in gossip."

"Which will only be expounded upon by my request to you, old friend." The Frenchman's eye's lit up like fireworks. Hook was playing upon his obvious love of wagging tongues.

"Oh do tell me how. Soul of discretion that I am, your secret is safe with me." From a pocket in his coat he produced a painted fan and fluttered it.

"Do allow me to introduce to you to my ladies," he motioned to them with hand and hook. "Miss Abigail Ó Rinn-Sheehy and Miss Rose Belchiere," they each did their best to curtsy in breeches and still retain some semblance of decorum.

"Your ladies? My, my, such a tale that must be!" The fan fluttered faster.

"My darlings, may I present the finest tailor outside of Paris itself, Monsieur Guilbert Emile Ives Beaulieu."

"Enchanté mademoiselles." He kissed each of their hands, leaving behind a red impression of his lips but they said nothing of it.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Abigail said graciously.

"We have heard much of you," Rose smiled pleasantly.

"Oh I do hope it was all bad," he chuckled. "I cannot have my reputation going far and wide or else I would be overwhelmed with such labor to appease everyone." Beaulieu waved a hand to one of his fops who readied a table in the far back corner of the room, setting it with four champagne flutes and a decanter of golden bubbly. "Please, make yourselves comfortable," their host lead them all to take a seat on plush chairs. "And now you owe me some little explanation why you have arrived out of the clear blue sky with such lovely company in tow. Not to mention how that relates to my making a fortune today, as you put it."

"I mean to take up Black Barony for a time," Hook stated as the servant poured the champagne. "The other Lords are at home as well, I intend to introduce my ladies to them at O'Malley's yearly gathering. But life on a ship isn't the most luxurious of states and my dear ones are without the proper wardrobes for life at the manor." If Rose and Abigail had to put a modern term to the look on the tailor's face, he had to be seeing only dollar signs in place of his guests right now.

"And what are the lovely ladies in need of?"

"Oh, everything."

"Mon dieu."

"Price is no object either, as well you know," Hook nonchalantly sipped his drink as his women gaped at him.

"Jean-Claude!" Beaulieu cried out and a young man in a sky blue suit appeared at his side. "Fetch the sample books for ladies garments, everything from chemises to pelisses. Go!" He pushed a four tiered tray stacked high with pastries towards them and snapped his fingers. Another youth dressed in lavender brought a writing desk already prepared with paper, quill and ink. "Now tell me, ma chere mademoiselles, what colours do you prefer?"

A fine carriage had been ordered to take the captain and his lovely company to his house. It was a somewhat long drive, the manor house was situated high above the town as were the other five mansions. Their towers and peaked roofs could be seen above the copse of trees that separated the well to do homes from the rest of the population. James had sent word to his head housekeeper the day before they had arrived at port via means of carrier bird. A small army of servants had kept the house in order during the master's long absence, but there would be much work to be done to make the hollow halls a home again. As they descended the gangplank many of the crew sported excited grins and told raunchy jokes in anticipation of their time ashore.

"I couldn't help but hear a few of the men repeatedly mention something as we left the ship," Rose said, looking out of the carriage at the buildings as they passed. King James II was curled up in a blanket lined basket next to her, the witches had refused to leave the ship without him.

"And what was that, my dear?"

"They were wondering if you were still going to visit 'Sword and Sheath' now that Abigail and I were around."

James turned white at first and then a little green.

"Something wrong?" Abigail cocked her head to the side. She sat next to him in the carriage, gallantly insisting that the cat be given a place of honour at Rose's side.

"The Sword and Sheath is an...establishment...which I have been known to patronize." His words were clipped and chosen carefully.

"And what sort of establishment is this?" Rose asked cautiously.

"None that ladies need be bothered with."

Abigail opened her mouth to say something but only a little scream came out as the carriage jerked hard and tilted off to the side. "What the hell was that?" They could hear scrambling on the roof as the footmen moved about. The door was opened and the coachman peeped in looking rather frazzled.

"Beg your pardon, sir," he apologized to the captain. "The wheel has slipped and needs to be resituated. If you would please disembark we have men already rushing to fix it."

"How in blazes did it break?" Hook demanded as he hopped out. He offered his hand to Rose, assisting her down to the street, careful not to let her touch any filth scattered there. A young man, a stranger, leapt forward to take Abigail's arm to help her down as she cradled the basket with King James II in her arms. He was tall and lean, blue eyes sparkling up at her from under a messy mop of blond hair. She hesitantly squinted at the young man who grinned up at her through the slight smears of grime on his face, but she permitted him to help her down. Abigail held the kitten basket in her arms, drawing the blankets over the feline so he couldn't see the big world around him.

"Loose cobblestone it would seem, Captain." The blond man spoke with a lilting Irish accent and Abigail looked at him from the corner of her eyes, his accent familiar to the Irishwoman.

"And who are you?" James asked harshly, noticing the blond man and the way he so comfortably stood close by Abigail's side.

"Strand, sir," the Irishman said, holding out his hand, "Chase Strand."

Hook narrowed his eyes at the brash youth and ignored the hand.

"Move along, Mister Strand. You have offered your opinion and your help to my lady, you can move along now."
"I could also help reset the wheel, Captain," the Irishman flashed a cheeky grin, "I think you'll find that I am rather good with my hands."

James closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"Come, my dears, we can await on the side of the street until this fiasco is dealt with." They had barely made it to the shade of the awnings over the thoroughfare when their lover's face again turned a sickening shade.

"Are you feeling alright?" Rose touched her hand to his cheek, trying to check for fever. Abigail noticed his pale eyes were trained ahead of them, to the walkway across from where their carriage was being repaired. He quickly looked anywhere else but she was already turning to investigate.

"Well," she smirked. Her girlfriend leaned over to look questioningly at her. Hook was silent. "I think we have our answer about the Sword and Sheath." She pointed across the street, Rose followed her accusing finger and felt her jaw drop open.

"Is that…?" hazel eyes widened.

"A brothel," the blond Chase supplied helpfully where he was toiling with the rest of the men to fix the carriage wheel.

"Dearest James," blue eyes narrowed and sparked with ice. "You weren't thinking of visiting that place were you?"

"In Lucifer's name no!"

A magnificent building in the Italian Renaissance style took up half a block along the street. Near the large double doors of the main entry hung a sign bearing a rapier half buried in its scabbard. Two stories tall, the ground floor was lined with a gallery of Roman arches where ladies of the night were leaning against them, beckoning men out of the sun and into the shade of the gallery and the comfort of their arms. The rosy walls of the brothel contrasted with the dark wood of the open shutters, women leaning out of them with perfumed handkerchiefs and ample bosoms. Flower boxes decorated the windows, painted vines wrapped around the arches, and colourful mosaic tiles around the doors graced the elegant facade. And those mosaics, the painted figures entwined in the vines, and the women themselves all displayed the joys to be found within in graphic detail. Several of the working ladies, all sinfully gorgeous and dressed in lovely, if not extremely revealing gowns, noticed them. More appropriate, they noticed Hook.

"You have quite the collection of admirers," Rose's voice turned steely and yet brittle.

"All in the past," he said quickly, trying to ignore the coos and blown kisses from the bevy of beautiful women.

"They don't seem to know that," Abigail watched as more than a few of the courtesans actually turned away customers at the sight of the captain.

"Is that damned wheel fixed yet?" he bellowed to the footmen. There was a chorus of negative answers and the men doubled their speed at his answering glare.

"Nervous that we know about your old haunt?" Abigail slipped a hand into the blankets of the cat's basket to keep King James nestled within when he tried to escape.

"Like I said, it is not a place for ladies to pay mind to."

A slight commotion pulled their attention to the heavy cherry wood doors of the building. The scent of incense and perfume caught the breeze as the portal opened and a tall woman swept out. She was a striking figure, resplendent in a low cut gown of white satin and gold lace. Thick, wavy hair of red-gold streaked with silver was piled atop her head in the style of the Belle Epoque. A choker and necklace of pearls and yellow topaz hung on her slender white throat. Red lips, dark eyes and a mocking smirk gave her heart shaped face a mischievous hint to her over riding grandeur. Abigail watched in curious silence as she boldly crossed the street. Rose wrapped her arms around herself and patiently awaited her arrival. James somehow managed to look blessedly relieved yet distinctly cautious at the same time.

The woman finally reached them across the avenue and stood before him, her hands on her hips. Her dark eyes roved over the captain's body, not with the heat of lust but with cool analysis.

"You've lost a hand."

Abigail and Rose gaped at the brazen way she acknowledged his hook. They were even more surprised when the captain responded with a low laugh.

"Henrietta," he said with a wry smile, "and here I had been praying you had lost your sight."

"You've been gone a while, James Eliott," the woman gave her own smokey laugh, her smooth contralto voice matching her handsome face. "But not so long as that."

They stood, looking at each other for a long moment, then matching smiles spread across their faces. He took her hand, bowing over it and kissing the skin which barely showed the signs of age. She faked a coquettish titter and leaned in to kiss his cheeks. Abigail and Rose were completely nonplussed. The Madame glanced to the side where the Captain's men were toiling at the broken carriage.

"So now it takes a broken carriage wheel to bring you to my door? Shame on you, James Hook, treating your friends so ill!" Her voice was enticing even as she was scolding him. "First you lose a hand, then a wheel. Careful you don't lose anything else." Her dark eyes passed meaningfully over to the sorceresses standing together and they gaped at the brazen way this woman spoke to him. "And who do we have here?"

"Do forgive my poor manners," James put a hand or hook behind his ladies' back and pressed them forward a step. "Dear ones, this is Henrietta Topaz, an old friend of mine. Hattie, allow me to introduce Abigail Ó Rinn-Sheehy and Rose Belchiere," he looked fondly down upon each of them, "my ladies." Henrietta raised an elegant brow as she appraised the three of them.

"You mean mistresses." Hook's face went stone blank, his eyes narrowed and a tight scowl marred his handsome face. He might have used the term himself, but always in an affectionate manner...and certainly not with the same implication Henrietta used.

"Madame, I would ask you not assume such things," his words were clipped and precise. Abigail and Rose shared a befuddled look.

"Oh look at this," the redhead chuckled and poked him square in the chest with a perfectly manicured nail. "You know well that I was but teasing you and all the sudden you're full of offense. You've gone and turned into quite the jealous Romeo, it's a sight rarer than a unicorn; Jas. Hook acting the romantic hero. What did you two do to the poor man?"

"Enchanted him," Abigail answered.

James looked at her with no small amount of shock.

"And now he's utterly besotted," Rose added.

"The Hook bewitched," Henrietta said musingly, casting a glance at the Captain before she turned to take Rose's hands in hers, "And by such lovely creatures, too. Well done, dear ladies, I applaud you. Which one are you, dear?"

"Rose, my lady," Rose said with a curtsy. The woman laughed.

"So polite! Let me look at you." Henrietta examined the auburn witch, using her grip on her hands to guide Rose into a slow pirouette. "Yes, you are the French one. I can see it in your bearing. There is something delicate about you, dainty and proper but with steel underneath. Like a bouquet of steel-sculpted roses." She pressed a kiss to Rose's cheek and turned away, leaving Rose flustered and pink.

"And you," Henrietta took Abigail's chin in her hand, "the Irish beauty. Yes, the wildness of your curls matches the wildness of your spirit. Fair of face you are and with a powerful presence, too. People look at you, love. And yet…" she gripped Abigail's chin harder and peered closer into her pale eyes. "There is something about you...a spark of something inhuman deep in your soul. You…"

She reached to draw something from her pocket, an iron nail, and Abigail instinctively flinched away. Henrietta took her hand and Rose's hand, bending over them to look at the lines there. The witches looked at each other. They knew what the lines on palms could tell. And when Henrietta looked up at them, they knew that the Madame could see more about them than they liked.

A smile lit her face, "Streghe."

The Madame poured the rosehip tea from her china teapot, not ten minutes from their conversation in the avenue, and passed it across the table to Abigail and Rose. James sat in an armchair in the corner of the Madame's private rooms, still prickly from the way Henrietta had addressed his women and at the attention the prostitutes had given him as the Madame had ushered them into the brothel and up to her private chambers.

"It is much better to pass time with a friend while your carriage is being repaired than stand in the avenue alone." She stirred sugar into her own tea and smiled warmly at the women sitting across from her.

"How long have you known each other?" Rose asked as she took a cautious sip.

"An eternity," Henrietta laughed. "Though the amputation is new to me," she turned her dark eyes to the seething man in the corner. "How did that come about?" Abigail and Rose both wore a worried look.

"If I told you it would be the end of my reputation and a ceaseless source of amusement for you," he said in a disturbingly polite tone. "So do forgive me if I deign to keep it to myself."

"He used to fight with a hook, you know," the Madame continued. "A rapier in one hand, a wicked double edged scythe in the other. Hence the moniker, well earned if you ask anyone on the island. I would wager most everyone knows the Hook has returned and a fair share are quaking in their boots even now. Have either of you experienced a battle yet?" James gripped the arm of his chair, Rose touched her shoulder but stared ahead as though she knew not what she was doing.

"One," Abigail said. "We did not lose any on our side, thank goodness."

"On your side," the Madame looked over her teacup to the dark-haired woman.

Abigail shrugged, "I am not above shedding blood."

"I see why he likes you," Henriette smiled warmly. "And why you have captivated him, dear Rose. One would be blind if they did not see how smitten he is with you. I can almost guarantee you make his life an adventure. And that's even without your powers as witches."

"Yes, about that," Rose set her teacup down. "If you don't mind my asking, how did you know we were witches?"

"Dear child," the older woman said, refilling her own cup, "My mother was a strega. She was poor, yes, a peasant, yes, but still a strega. She knew all the magical herbs and how to use them, she knew how to tie the wind into knots and keep it for her use, she knew how to read the cards, she knew all sorts of things. I was surrounded by magic all of my girlhood and, while I do not have the talent for it that my mother did or that you two ladies do, I know enough to protect my girls and do some simple charms now and again. I have my girls put silver coins in their shoes to attract more money, I make tea from roses to encourage romance-" At this, the two witches very slowly and politely set their cups down. The Madame continued, "I read the cards under each full moon to foretell how the next month will be for business. And I keep this," She pulled a strand of knots from her pocket, "to send favourable winds to my sailor friends."

"You never told me any of this," James said accusingly. She waved him away.

"A woman is entitled to her secrets," she said haughtily. Returning her attention to the women sitting across from her, she smiled warmly at them. "You two are something special, for far more than your heaven-sent beauty. Was it magic that trapped James in the end?" Both of the younger women began to take offense, lips parted to refute such a base allegation but just as quickly they froze. The Madame was teasing again.

"That would have made things far too easy," the dark haired witch smiled and the auburn one nodded sagely.

"Am I not to be given credit for seducing either of you?" Hook questioned.

"The good captain does have a point," Hattie said slyly as she took a biscuit from the crystal tray. "He has quite the reputation with the fairer sex. Not once can I recall a visit where he chose the same girl two nights in a row. Did you not notice as we toured the building?" Oh had they noticed. Noticed and called upon every ounce of their self control not to throttle the next harlot who didn't know how to keep her hands, or bosom, to herself. It would be bad form to cause damage to Henrietta's business on the first day of their acquaintance. Silent decision between the lovers was that should it happen again, they were entitled to defend their honor.

"Actually we haven't had much time to talk about James' life on the Never Sea since we arrived," Rose primly folded her hands in her lap. "I'm a historian myself, being a witch doesn't exactly pay the bills back home, and I happen to know a lot about him from his days on the Mainland Do tell us what he was like before we arrived."

"Was he a regular Casanova?" Abigail leaned forward, chin resting on her palm.

"Not at first," Hattie grinned at her old friend. James pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Must you tell this sorry story? I find I don't like stories much anymore."

"The very first night he came to my humble establishment," the witches looked around at the fine china and original 16th century wall hangings, "I would wager that Captain Hook had not allowed himself the comfort of a woman for some time."

"When one is outrunning His Majesty's Royal Navy there is not much time for leisure," he growled. Henrietta ignored him.

"But it wasn't the act itself that he utterly mucked up," she took a sip of tea with a sinister smile. "At least as far as I know he didn't. It was the flirting which scared him as rightly as a sinner in church. One lascivious word from the girl and he'd spilled his drink right down the front of her peony pink dress. The stain never did come out."

"Hattie, you make it sound as though I was a blundering novice!"

"I never said that."

"You do not have to! The implication was clear!"

"Not on that occasion! Now the incident with the rope and the closet-"

The door swung open, a man in a scarlet and gold uniform walked in.

"Sir, the carriage is ready at your discretion."

James stood instantly.

"Come my darlings, it's high time we were off. No need to waste anymore of Madame Topaz's valuable time."

The Madame got to her feet and kissed each of the women of their cheeks, whispering, "Come visit me anytime, dear ones. I am quite delighted to have such powerful streghe in town." She winked at them and they laughed as they followed James out of the brothel.

Whatever the rope and closet incident might have been, Hook would not permit the topic of his past patronage to the Sword and Sheath to be brought up again. As they left, his ladies could not help but notice the glares of the women who worked there. Beauties from every corner of the globe, bedecked in gowns and jewels worth more than the house Rose and Abigail used to rent. And each and every one of them looked ready to scratch their eyes out. The witches reveled in it. Abigail even blew one a kiss.

The carriage, it's wheel mended, stood ready outside the brothel and who was there to open the door with a flourish, but Chase Strand. He bowed cheekily to the ladies as he helped them up. Hook brushed past him without a word, pulling the door sharply shut behind him. Unbeknownst to the ladies and the pirate, the blond Irishman swung up behind the carriage, perched on top of the trunk strapped down at the rear. Pulling a piece of wood from his pocket, he continued whittling himself a flute.

As they rode to the estate, James told them about his house which he had dubbed Black Barony.

"I think I like Hook's Nook better," Abigail said and Rose nodded.

"Yes, that has a much nicer ring to it."

"I am not renaming my manor because you two like a silly rhyme."

"Spoilsport."

The tree line artfully hid the the way to the homes of the elite from prying eyes. It crossed the width of the island and was guarded very quarter mile by a pair of watchman armed to the teeth. Behind the tall cyprus was a much finer, paved road which lead up to a gated entrance of heavy, intricate, wrought iron.

James refused to allow them to hang out of the carriage to see the house; he claimed it would be unseemly of his ladies and surely the other captains had spies watching. They sat petulantly, waiting. Finally, the carriage rolled to a stop and James descended, offering his hand to his ladies to help them from the carriage. Rose stepped down first, then Abigail, and they gaped at the magnificent manor house that stood before them. Three storeys of grey stone rose into the blue sky, framed with mountains and trees. The panes of glass in the tall windows caught the sun and flashed with light. The gravel gave way to green grass of the lawn leading up to the front double doors of the house, flanked by nymphs carved from marble. Two square towers stood at the front corners of the house and the women knew enough about classic manor architecture to know that it was likely two more square towers stood at the back corners as well.

"The gardens are around to the right," James said, "Though I doubt they are in any fit condition for strolling."

Now that they looked, there was clear evidence of decay and disrepair. The ivy clung haphazardly to the stone, the windows were grimy, and the paint on the door was chipped. The nymph statues were fuzzy with moss and discoloration. While sound and sturdy, the manor had not been lived in for some time. The front doors suddenly burst open and a line of people rushed out, all were dressed in the garb of servants. All looked nervous as they lined up before the main entrance, men on the right and women on the left. As one they bowed or curtsied when Hook began walking up the path.

"A little more punctuality next time," he scolded them. To their credit, none of the staff looked or insinuated that they were thinking of their employer's missing hand. "I may have been gone for a venture which took overly long but that is no excuse for tardiness." Rose and Abigail were still taking in the overwhelming sight when he turned before the grand double doors.

"Welcome, my ladies," he said, "To my home. And now yours."

Work to refurbish the manor began immediately. Amidst all the rush to clean, paint, scrub and dust every square inch, the witches settled into their new house. The first deliveries from Beaulieu came two days later in late morning. Silk shifts and stockings, satin shoes, and coquettish hats all arrived in bright pastel boxes. Soft parcels wrapped in delicate tissue revealed day dresses, jackets, gloves and petticoats of every color imaginable. Abigail and Rose tore into their presents like children at Yuletide. There was no need to wonder which garments belonged to who, the tailor had taken their personal tastes into great consideration. Hook had already hired a bevy of young maids to attend his ladies, they were put to work quickly as both women were eager to try on each and every article in their new wardrobes. He left them to their joy, meeting with his steward over the businesses he had too long neglected. After choosing a dress of rich indigo for the day, Abigail went off to further investigate the wine cellar as she had been itching to do since first setting eyes upon the massive collection.

Rose walked through the garden, one hand holding high her emerald damask skirt, the other trailing through the dead hedges. No one had tended the grounds in years, that much was obvious. While the living chambers of the house was kept clean and tidy at the least, all the furnishings were still covered with white sheets when they had arrived, the grounds were an entirely different story. James admitted to not hiring a gardener since first he took up residence. He knew nothing of plants and their care, his eyes were forever turned towards the horizon and the sapphire waves that called to him like a siren's song. Her new shoes, delicate green vines embroidered upon cream satin, crunched on the old gravel paths. High stone walls encased the garden, even taller trees kept the sun from beating down on the flower beds. But nothing grew here anymore, the skeletal branches and black stalks were a testament to the years of neglect. She could see in her mind how the land must have looked under a more caring hand, in its heyday.

Deep past the tall hedges, which were recognized as half a maze now that she studied the paths they followed, she came to a wide circle.

"Center of the Labyrinth," she smiled a little. The universe must have felt in a jesting mood, because at the middle of the grass and gravel stood a fountain shaped like a castle. Though true to the form of its owner, the great statue was comprised of reefs and waves, a castle fit for the bottom of the sea. Spires of coral jutted into the air, creating towers from which dozens of fish swam in and out. Leaping dolphins carried conch shell bearing nymphs. Tritons with their thrice pronged spears rose from the marble in a parade worthy of Poseidon. It was magnificent and sad. She sat on the edge, looking down into the dry basin. Only withered leaves filled it now. Remnants of water lilies peaked through the debris, their thorny stalks giving them away. The wind pulled at her hair, a few stray locks escaping the elegant up-do her maid had styled for her. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the warm breeze, she loved the wind.

As she sat there, surrounded by the ravages of time, she listened to her old friend as a zephyr blew leaves up around her. She wished the grass were green and soft so that she might run barefoot through the grounds.

The wind let loose a stronger gust, she braced herself with one hand on the marble lest she tumble into the fountain. Her hazel eyes opened, slowly she regained her bearings. Falling over while still in her stays and full skirts would not be so pleasant. And that was when she noticed it, the first speck of color.

Carefully, she stood, hands bunched in her petticoats. The few steps brought her to a scrap of what must have once been a flower bed. Weeds long dead and the remnants of many a year of fallen leaves covered the stone border. Rose set down on her knees, uncaring how the dank and dirty ground would stain her expensive dress, she could wash it later. Gently she pried away the refuse, her white hands became dotted with little drops of scarlet blood from the thorns. And then she found it, a flat stalk of bright green, a tiny bud of purple at the top.

"Hello, little iris," she grinned. "Hardy aren't you?" Bit by bit she cleaned the ground surrounding the solitary plant. Just beneath the dull surface of dirt she found rich, black soil. Her hands grew dark as she worked, the cuts stinging only slightly.

The wind began to pick up. Rose noticed but did not slow her work. Something was riding in the air, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. It felt strong, running through her veins and swirling around her. When the iris was freed from the tangle of thorns and choking weeds, she sat back to admire the sight.

"I shall have to come back with water for you," she looked regretfully at the dry fountain. As she reached out to touch the impossibly soft petals, a breeze blew at her back, down her arm until the iris shuddered with it. The moment her fingers touched the bud, she was circled in the leaves she only just removed, she covered her eyes to protect them but through her fingers she caught a glimpse of her magic sparking red. As soon at the small tornado began, it ceased. Rose looked down at the flowerbed in shock.

Where there had been a short stalk and bud now stood a tall plant with a full blossom. She could smell the sweet scent it gave off, so strong and healthy.

"What on earth?" she touched the draping violet petals. Rose thought she might have been losing her mind, because she could have sworn that the flower actually leaned into her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something. Around the circle which contained the castle fountain were beds exactly like this one, all overgrown and dismal. But again she saw a flash of color, where there had been none before. She cautiously approached it. This time instead of a purple iris, she found a yellow tulip.

"Where…? How…?" she knelt again and carefully examined the budding flower. Just as before, the single plant was being strangled in weeds that bit at her hands and forearms as she ripped them up. But this time she watched as her blood mixed with the soil, shining with a single spark of her magic. She placed her left hand palm down on the ground and simply felt. There was life under the surface, dormant and barely clinging to its meager existence, but it was there. Startled that she could even tell this, she pulled her hand back and stared in shock at the flower before her. What should she do? Try the same as the last plant? She looked down at her arms, bared by her three quarter sleeves, and the tiny dots of drying blood. All magic had a price, was this what was needed to bring the garden back to life? It was a small price to pay, a few drops of blood. Slowly she reached out to touch the tulip and watched in awe as it grew to full height and bloomed.

The wind picked up again, warm and almost embracing her.

So she set to work.

Over and over she delved into the earth, finding life emerging from death. It felt euphoric in a way, acting in tandem with the natural cycle of birth and rebirth. The wind guided her, pulling her from one bed to the next. Her hair fell from its pins, flying around her like a cape and dotted with leaves. When the fountain circle was complete, the place was bright with color. Near the edge, directly across from the entrance, stood the lever which lead to the fountain. Rose knelt next to it, both hands placed flat on the ground. She searched, deep within the soil, her red magic leaching through until she felt the pipe far below her. It was choked with dead roots. Her forehead was slick with perspiration, her knuckles white with strain. She felt the roots begin to move, slithering like great snakes. Her whole body was shaking by the time they burst from the ground, spraying her with soil and drawing blood from her cheeks where they scratched her. Once out of the ground they shriveled and turned to dust at her touch, returned to the earth from whence they came. Her feet were unsteady and she kicked off her pretty shoes, unfastened her garters and tossed aside her silk stockings.

When her hand grasped the lever she felt giddy. With a determined grip she threw it, a rumbling sound came from below. It began as a sputter, a splash of brown water from a conch shell. But then the flow began in earnest, clear rivers flowing from coral towers and dolphin's beaks, filling the moat around the castle. She laughed with glee and ran forward, dipping her hand into the cool water. White lilies burst from the waves.

Rose ran through the rest of the garden. Her fingers trailed behind her in the hedges which burst into bright green leaves behind her. She had never felt so exhilarated, so strong. The light of her magic lit the pathways like fireworks, she danced and laughed as it fell around her, as the nature around her was exploding to life. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined such power, such beauty. Her laughter rang like bells in the wind, she was so happy as she danced and played with the fresh petals flying through the air. She wanted to sing but couldn't think of a song that fit the spectacle so she simply thought of one she loved, one that spoke of running away and letting go.

"Sing me a song of a lass that is gone, Say, could that lass be I? Merry of soul she sailed on a day, Over the sea to Skye," the trees began to flower as she passed. "Mull was astem, Rum on the port, Eigg on the starboard bow: Glory of youth glowed in her soul: Where is that glory now?" She blew a breeze that carried the pale pink petals to the house. "Sing me a song of the lass that is gone, Say, could that lass be I? Merry of soul she sailed on a day, Over the sea to Skye."

Statues once overgrown were gleaming white in the sun, the ivy returning to its arbors.

"Give me again all that was there, Give me the sun that shone, Give me the eyes, give me the soul, Give me the lass that's gone. Sing me a song of the lass that is gone, Say, could that lass be I? Merry of soul she sailed on a day, Over the sea to Skye."

More fountains, smaller ones of pretty maids with fishes tails or gaping faces with beards of seaweed were flowing like waterfalls. "Billow and breeze, islands and seas, Mountains of rain and sun, All that was good, all that was fair, All that was me is gone."

She had run through the whole of the garden, the gates back to the house were once again in sight. At her feet new grass sprouted forth, the edges of the path home turning bright with asters and daisies as she lifted her arms as though conducting them. "Sing me a song of the lass that is gone, Say, could that lass be I? Merry of soul she sailed on a day, Over the sea to Skye…."

"What in blazes happened to you, darling?" James stood from his seat where he was reading a pile of newly arrived letters, his dual cigar holder still smoking as it clattered to the table. Rose entered the Gold Drawing Room covered in dirt and blood, her long hair filled with leaves and twigs and her shoes were missing.

"I ran through the garden," her face was bright with a smile though her breathing was labored. Abigail left her place at the window, setting aside her book and hurrying to her lover's side in a flash of blue silk.

"You're hurt!" she gently held out her arms to examine the many tiny cuts that still seeped dots of scarlet.

"It only stings a little," she reassured her. "Really, I'm fine. But I have something to show you both."

"In the garden?" he asked cautiously once he came to her side.

Rose nodded and lead them quickly to the veranda. The sun blinded them for but a moment before they could see clearly again. James' face was one of pure shock, Abigail's a growing look of pride.

"Did you do this?" Abigail's soft hands entwined with hers and again Rose nodded. "It's so beautiful. How did you do it?"

"The plants and the wind, they almost spoke to me. Told me what they needed."

"And they needed your blood did they?" The captain had taken a quick glance to the vibrant foliage but quickly turned his attention to the many cuts still dripping blood down her arms. "These need to be cleaned, love, you know better than to let such things go." But nothing seemed able to bring down her mood, and she only shrugged with a grin.

"I wanted to tell you first, really they're nothing I cannot handle." A few drops of scarlet hit the patio between them. Abigail raised a brow and took an appraising look at her wounds.

"Your work is marvelous, sweetheart, but you've gone and neglected yourself in the process. Let's get you cleaned up and bandaged, then we can take a stroll in your garden."

Wakefulness came slowly, her consciousness somewhere between dreams and the dawn. Suddenly a warmth spread through her, jolting up her body once, twice, drawing a breathy sigh from her. At first she knew only the warm silk of the sheets against her skin. The familiar weight of arms around her, about her waist, winding round her hips, tightened. The heat came again, this time a low moan passed her lips. Hands, three of them, ran over her body. Her eyes had barely begun to open, the early morning light blinding her, when she felt her thighs pulled even further apart. She had only just noticed her legs had been spread at all when a spike of pleasure sent her spine arching.

"Good morning, my flower," a sultry voice whispered in her ear. Abigail was lying at her side, gently nipping at her throat.

Rose whimpered in response, still pulling herself from the grip of sleep. Another little bite and she was shivering in her arms. One of the hands at her waist trailed up her belly, drawing idylly across her skin until cupping her breast. She pressed closer, eager for her touch and Abigail chuckled.

"So needy, isn't she?"

A long, lingering stroke of the tongue between her legs brought her fully into the waking world. Her cry was equal parts joy and surprise, one hand clutching tight to the haphazardly strewn blankets, the other reaching down to thread through a head of tangled curls.

"Even in her sleep, it would seem," the voice was rough, laced with barely restrained passion that sent shivers down her spine.

She looked down, only to be caught by eyes blue as forget-me-nots and become lost to his gaze almost instantly. James pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, oh so gently, before sinking his teeth into her tender flesh. Her sounds of delight brought a savage grin to both her lover's faces. It then that she realized they had her pinned to the bed, as well as between them, keeping her well and truly trapped. She quivered in their embrace, growing hot all over again though this time with anticipation.

"What do you plan to do about that?" she finally found her words. The gleam in their icy eyes was enough to curl her toes. Ah, so this had been planned ahead of time, the conspiratorial look they shared said as much.

"You know we can't just tell you," Abigail pinched her nipple in reprimand. Rose hissed and bit her lip.

"Evil things," she wriggled, testing how securely they held her. It was not lightly, almost as soon as she began to move, their grip tightened. She was held fast, there would be no escape any time soon, not that escape was even on her mind.

"A sound observation," James murmured against her hip. "But that does nothing to alter your situation." Despite his hook and harness not gracing his arm, he was still far stronger than she. Rose licked her lips.

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Good girl," the look he gave her was positively sinful.

"Am I really?" Leaning into Abigail's kiss, parting her thighs for him, Rose laid herself open to them. It was one of her very favorite games, to be caught between her lovers, to play to their dominant streaks.

"Oh no, not at all," Abigail smiled, she looked like a wolf with a feast laid out before her. "You are anything but good. Just look at you, spread out so wantonly…"

"She is a brazen little thing," Hook slowly crawled up her body, ever the predator. She watched as he stalked above her, how the muscles in his strong arms moved when he was braced over her. With his dark curls and bright eyes, he looked like a great cat on the prowl. And she was the prey.

"I am many things," she said cheekily, "but little is not one of them." Provoking them was never very wise, but if a little prodding brought the animal in them to the surface, then she would do so gladly.

"Are you belittling yourself in front of us?" Her lady looked down at her, the hand that had been gently palming her breast suddenly squeezing harshly.

"Merely stating a fact," she gasped. Pain and pleasure were one and the same in their bed, all three of them reveled in the delicious dichotomy.

"You did not answer the question," their captain ran his long, calloused fingers across her throat, his hand closing ever so slightly around it.

"Maybe I did, a little."

"Never do that again," Abigail scolded. Two pairs of blue eyes stared down at her, two pairs of azure fire that set her own body a flame in desire. Oh, how she wanted them.

"She shouldn't be rewarded for insulting our treasure," James turned to their lover. "It would only encourage her ill behaviour more."

"I fully agree!"

Rose watched with dismay as they left her bereft and wanting. Their hands left her body, their bodies moved far from her and her skin chilled in their absence. Instead they turned their attention to each other, James pulling Abigail roughly to him, their lips meeting in hungry, almost ferocious, kisses. Her eyes followed the path pale hands took down his bare torso, nails leaving bright red trails in their wake. Abigail's head fell back, her dark curls tumbling down her back, he had a harsh grip on the luscious locks and forced her pale throat to be bared to his roving mouth. The little cries that fell from Abigail's lips sent jolts of electricity directly between Rose's legs. It just wasn't fair...leaving her like this. But no matter how she tried to regain their attention, she was ignored. And so she could only lay back and watch as they fought for dominance, biting and pulling, scratching and moaning. Neither gave the other any quarter, and she could only grow more aroused with every passing moment.

"Well it seems I should leave you two alone then," she shrugged and slide off the bed. "I can see when I'm not wanted." She had hardly made it to the post of the grand canopy bed when two arms wrapped around her waist. One belonged to Abigail, the other to James, catching her between them.

"We do not fool so easily, love," her captain hissed in her ear, his hot breath tickling her neck. "You mean to provoke us."

"As though you do not enjoy chasing me," one hand reached up to caress his arm, the other reaching for Abigail to do the same.

"This is true," her girlfriend loosened her grip as did their captain until she could freely step away. "Though there is not much room to run here. You'll just have to make do."

They chased her. Around the bed and across the room, knocking over whatever lay in their path. Rose leaped over a foot stool, ducking as hands tried to snatch her back. Circling tables and behind dressing screens they followed her, she ever twisting out of their reach. She could hear the blood running in her veins, her heart pounding with the thrill of the chase.

"Think you can escape?" She rounded a table as her pirate tried to pounce upon her.

"I can try, captain." A quick spin and she put the armchairs and coffee-table between her lovers and herself.

"You have nowhere to run, unless you want the servants to see your naked body." Hook came at her from the left, Abigail from the right. Their eyes were dark with lust, raking over her nude form like ravenous wolves eyeing their next meal. She shivered, relishing how they looked upon her.

"Would that upset you?" She taunted, seeing a route of escape near the wall where Abigail stood. "Having the rabble see me completely bare?" His eyes grew dark at that and she had to contain her victorious laughter. "Greedy eyes roving over my body, hands just itching to reach out and touch me." He lunged to grab her in his jealousy, she quickly skirted him and rushed past as he and Abigail collided. Sprinting to the opposite end of the room, she took a moment to enjoy her victory. But it was not to last long. Icy eyes, two pairs of them that made her weak in the knees, turned their cold fury on her.

"That was a mistake, pretty one," the witch hissed.

Rose felt the arousal building between her legs, hot and wet. She wanted them desperate for her, mouths watering for a taste of her.

"Come get me, then."

This time the chase did not last so long. They were after her in moments, coming close enough to leave scratches on her limbs and waist when they reached to grasp at her. It was Hook who caught her, his long stride easily catching up with her. His strong arm shot out, calloused hand finding purchase at her upper arm and dragging her back to crash against his chest. He barked out a laugh that sent shivers down her spine, holding her at the waist with an arm that might as well have been a band of steel. Musical laughter joined him as soft hands ran up her torso to cup her heaving breasts.

"Well done," Abigail congratulated their lover. "She is so pretty when we have her helpless." Cool fingers pinched her nipples, a wicked smile growing on the witch's red lips at the sounds she made.

"What shall we do with her?" He leaned in, nipping at her throat and chuckling devilishly at how she shivered.

"She is our prey, our beautiful trophy," there was a spark of azure magic as Abigail became increasingly aroused. It sought out her own, and Rose's body began to throb as though a hundred hands were already toying with her. She wanted them, she wanted them fierce and fiery eyed and eager. Her thighs were already slick with her need, and from the way Abigail's smirk grew she must have noticed.

"Oh my, what have we here?" Her fingers were so cold, Rose whimpered as Abigail dipped her fingers through her russet curls, spreading her lips and pressing at her entrance. "Our little chase has left our prey wet and wanting."

Rose watched with half lidded eyes as Abigail lifted her fingers, glistening with Rose's juices, to James' lips. He licked each of them clean. Rose's breath came in a shuddering rasp, her grip on his arm tightening as she watch the blatant enjoyment he got from tasting her. Abigail slowly pulled her hand from his lips, curling around his neck to draw him in for a long kiss. Rose felt their grip on her weaken ever so slightly. If they meant to tease her it was working, she did so love to watch them together. But though the sight of her lovers was intoxicating, she wanted their attention to herself. So she slipped from their embrace, scratching them both as she put distance between them. James turned first, snarling at her, Abigail still half enthralled in the aftermath of their kiss. She had just made her way back to the posts of the bed when she crashed into something cold.

Looking up, cool blue eyes twinkled with lust and mischief. Slender hands pulled her tightly to a womanly form, breasts pressing together, smirking lips descending on hers. Abigail had moved with supernatural speed to apprehend her, catching her once more and harshly reprimanding her for trying to escape. There was a light in her eyes that caught Rose's gaze, holding her as though enraptured by a spell. She barely felt when their captain closed in at her back, clutching her hair and biting down hard on the tender flesh where her throat and shoulder met. A small sigh fell from her lips, her neck arching only slightly. Glimmering sparks lit her lover's eyes, and she was drawn in like a moth to the flame. Abigail laughed darkly.

"So sweet, so eager to serve. "

Rose shivered, keeping her hands at her sides with great difficulty. She knew that one wrong move, again, and they very well could leave her to fall upon each other, forbidding her to ease her lust herself.

"Shall we take our prize to her cage?"

He gestured to their bed, particularly the restraints hanging from the posts which she had not noticed before. Abigail's eyes turned ever darker.

"Lay yourself on the bed, pet, so that we can look upon our prize."

Rose obeyed, gracefully circling the posts and curtains of the canopy. She could feel their eyes on her, roaming over the sway of her hips as she walked, curving her spine and pushing her arse up as she laid out on the tousled sheets. She gloried in the appreciative hum as she gently twisted onto her back, stretching her arms high above her, jutting out her full breasts.

"Truly exquisite, a fine catch." James strode closer to appraise her, his gait strong and determined. His fingers trailed up her body, from supple thigh to the pale column of her throat, she arched into him like a purring cat. He pulled his hand away to grab his hook and harness, shrugging into it and strapping it across his chest as his eyes raked across the woman displaying herself on the bed.

"True," the witch toyed with the restraints. "But for all her loveliness, she is in need of discipline." She toyed with the restraints at the footboard. "I have a proposition."

"Do tell," he came up behind Abigail, burying his face into her shoulder and pressing hot kisses to her throat.

"She craves our touch, she's wet and wanting for it. She cannot have it," Rose looked up indignantly and went to sit up. "No," she stilled. Slowly Abigail took the nearest manacle and none too gently wrapped it around her ankle. This was repeated for its mate, Abigail stood back to admire her work. "Are you desperate for release?" Rose nodded, not even bothering with words when she knew that only needy moan would fall from her lips.

"What will you demand of her?" Hook asked, his hand roaming up Abigail's body to cup her breast. A low hiss was his reward, her spine arching into his palm as her nipple hardened at his touch.

"I want to her whimper and cry out for us," she reached up to wind her fingers through his long curls. "I want her touching herself and imagining it was our fingers pumping deep inside her. Only when she falls over the precipice will we give her what she wants." Rose looked up at them with pleading eyes. "Oh no, none of that. The sooner you please yourself, the sooner we can play with you. Consider this your punishment for denying us and insulting our treasure."

"Best do as she says, my beauty, or else you'll be bound to that bed all alone all morning."

Rose slowly laid back, though she kept her gaze locked on her lovers. Her slender hands drifted across her breasts, pinching her nipples until they turned pert and red. Down her body they drifted, sliding over her curves and spreading her legs wantonly. Abigail leaned back into Hook's embrace, breathing deep the scent of Rose's arousal.

"Have you ever seen such an intoxicating sight?" she asked him.

"Every day, love."

Rose whimpered as one finger slid between her folds. Hook bit the delicate flesh at Abigail's throat, and his women moaned together. He thrived off the sound. His claw cleaved into the footboard, encircling his dark haired lady and bringing them closer to the auburn haired temptation on his bed. As Abigail leaned to bear more of her pale throat, a lock of curling hair caught on her ear. For a moment he thought he could see a pointed tip, but it was gone as soon as he blinked. His attention was quickly turned to Rose who whimpered and sighed as she pumped one, then two fingers deep within herself.

"Yes," Abigail hissed, her long nails digging into his arm. "Faster now, I want you to fuck yourself harder."

Their lover did as she was bid. Her hips jerked against her hand, her back arching with every jutting motion of her probing fingers.

"Taste yourself," the witch commanded. Rose licked her fingers clean, her free hand returning between her legs. Drawing them one by one between her lips, she sucked them tenderly and he grew harder at the sight. He would not suffer alone. Abigail too let loose an exquisite sound as he cupped her breast and rolled her nipple between his calloused fingertips. Her writhing body pressed to his cock and he pinned her to the footboard with a thrust of his hips. She tried to push back, opening her legs to let his cock slide between her dripping lips, but he would not enter her yet. Oh no, the tension had not yet risen enough for that.

"Patience," his hook traced a line up her body, circled her full breasts and rested at the tender column of her throat. "If our precious Rose must wait for me, so must you." Abigail gripped one hand on his good arm, the other on the board, if possible she became even more wet. But her gaze remained on the bed, pupils wide and dark with arousal, full lips parted.

"Rub your clit, Rose, now."

She did and her back left with the mattress as she cried out.

"Look at us."

Hook dropped his good hand between his woman's legs, mimicking every stroke their lover made upon herself. Her eyes half closed, her face flush and breathing more of a desperate pant, Rose obeyed. She watched as the pirate toyed with her dark haired lover, how her bright eyes were dark and sparkling with magic induced lust. The Hook drew a drop of blood at her neck and Abigail's eyes rolled back in delight. They were intoxicating. The heat building between her legs intensified as she watched them. Her thighs began to tremble, her climax was so close. In her free hand she gripped the silk sheets, toes curling, her moans growing ever louder and more needy. She wanted them, she craved their touch, the feel of their possessive hands and claiming lips on her, leaving her marked and wanton in their arms.

"Come for us," Abigail spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. Rose looked up at her, her lady who smiled a dangerous and mouth watering smile. Azure magic surrounded her, only amplified in her arousal. She was carnality and temptation incarnate, and she wanted Rose to give into her pleasure. As she screamed her orgasm, she could hear the delighted, sordid laughter of her lovers as they reveled in her compliance.

"Very good," James cooed as he kissed Abigail's seeking lips. "Shall we reward our pet now?"

"Oh yes," the dark haired witch breathed low against his lips. "How shall we do it, my captain? What prize do you deem worthy of such a performance?"

"I rather like the picture of her tied up...it's quite fetching," his eyes raked her body. Rose laid back upon the silk sheet, gently pulling at the restraints. She knew their game, knew that if she played along she could gain the touch she craved.

"If that is what pleases you, my love," she cooed. Her lovers admired her and she actually felt a blush creeping up her cheek.

"Quite lovely," Abigail leaned into Hook's embrace.

"What would you have of me?" the bound woman asked, trailing idle patterns on her bare skin. But the pale eyed witch shook her head at that, with a snap of her fingers Rose's hands were bound as well, spreading her helpless across the bed.

"None of that." She gasped at the sudden use of magic and pulled at the leather to test the strength of the bonds. "Ah, ah, ah. You know how strong my power is. Bound as you are, you cannot break free. Now you are well and truly at our mercy." A wicked gleam lit her lovers' eyes as they shared a menacing laugh. Rose shivered and looked up through half lidded eyes, already feeling the arousal dripping between her legs again.

"And what is your mercy?"

"Not very merciful at all, I'm afraid." Abigail smiled coldly, her dark hair turning blue at the tips. James did not seem notice, but Rose did and her lust filled eyes widened.

"I never was very good at mercy, my pet." James trailed his hook carefully across her flushed skin. The bound woman leaned into the caress of the cold steel even as her girlfriend's eyes darkened, locked on her tantalizing form, then to their devilish captain.

"Oh, then I am fortunate, I wouldn't want this to end too soon."

"End? My dear, we haven't even begun." The pirate grinned cruelly, to which Rose leaned up as far as the restraints will allow.

"Do your worst, loves. Make me scream."

"And have the whole house hear your torture? I do not think so." Another snap of the witch's fingers brought a gag to her mouth and Abigail's teeth seemed a little more pointed when she smiled. Rose's breathing became more labored, not from the gag but from excitement. Her thighs pressed tightly together, a poor attempt to satiate the building desire. But the restraints around her ankles tightened, pulling her legs apart again. "No. Be good. Naughty girls don't get their reward." Slowly, Rose closed her eyes, lay her head down upon a pillow and nodded. His arm sneaked around Abigail's waist and he leaned in to whisper to her.

"I have an idea, dear one." Abigail smirked.

"We're having the same idea." Another snap and a blindfold covered their lady's eyes. Seeking hands gripped the sheets tightly as her vision went dark. She could hear every whisper, every step either of them made, she could smell her own arousal, heady and wanting. She could see nothing, say nothing, and barely move at all, and it thrilled her. Two low chuckles resounded on either side of her prone form, one masculine and rough, one feminine and cold.

"So lovely...so helpless..."

She pulled at her bonds, though they give no slack. A whimper escaped her, but her voice was muffled by the gag. Desperate for touch, left panting and shivering. A pair of fingers rubbed against her clit but there was no way to tell whose they are. She moaned, or tried to. Still, her hips tilted and pressed into the hand, her whole body quivering at that first touch. Then another pair of fingers pinched her nipple harshly. That sent her back arching, pressing her breast into the palm, breathing hitching at the pleasurable pain. His laugh rang low in her ear, his lips closing on her other nipple.

Rose cried out against the gag, shuddering and shaking. The loss of one sense amplified the others. Hips pressed harder into the hand between her legs, desperate for more. A finger slipped inside her and sharp teeth sank into her neck. The sweet pain pulled a muffled shriek from her covered lips, her body writhing between the two of them and she grew more desperate. The finger curled inside her, finding that special spot among that sent her keening and shuddering. Both tormentors laughed. Her hips bucked and rode the plunging fingers, her grip on the restraints white knuckled. Another finger slipped inside her, this one cold as ice, and another cold hand wrapped around her arching neck. Rose panted desperately, her body nearly lifting from the mattress, the hand at her throat exciting her ever more.

More diabolical laughing and the mattress shifted as someone crawled between her spread legs and the fingers slipped out of her cunt. Rose went still...panting and waiting...thighs still quivering as she bemoaned the loss of the heated touch.

The head of his cock pressed against her entrance and he trailed the tip of his hook between her heaving breasts. She tried to lift her hips to meet him, whimpering behind the gag. He only laughed, the hook digging slightly into her smooth skin, and pressed into her tight heat. What could be his name escaped her, the clawing grip on the restraints went slack, her head craned back into the pillows. Cold fingers pressed against her lips just at the edge of the gag, wiping something that smelled like feminine arousal against her lips as he filled her over and over. Rose whimpered, wishing she could lick Abigail's fingers clean, but she could not even beg.

Suddenly the gag vanished and her lover was straddling her face, pressing her cunt against her mouth as James reached out to take Abigail's throat, pressing a rough kiss to her mouth. Rose happily tasted her, tongue delving between her soaked lips at first, then swirling around her clit. She sucked, hard. Rose was rewarded with the sweet sound of Abigail's cold voice gasping and moaning. Hook pulled out and roughly thrust deep inside her again. Rose hummed against the tender flesh, trailing hot kisses along her inner thigh before biting down, eager to leave her mark.

"Ah ah ah, behave, little pet," Abigail's voice cracked out sharp as a whip. "Remember what I said about naughty girls not getting rewards." Rose kissed the bite.

"Forgive my hastiness, my love." Long moans of ecstasy followed as she shuddered at the feel of him pounding into her. Her legs fought against the restrains, wanting to wrap round his waist but she was held fast. She returned to tasting her lover's cunt, playing with her clit fast, then slow and swift again. His rough hand gripped Rose's breast firmly and his hook pulled Abigail in for another kiss as the dark haired witch moaned against his mouth. The cries of the blindfolded woman began to grow more erratic as the heat between her legs built, hotter and hotter. The pleasure filled moans of her tormentors rang in her ears; his harsh breathing, her hums of delight. Without her sight she could not behold them but her hyper sensitive skin was set afire by their roaming hands. Abigail rocked her hips against her, riding her face as he drove himself deep within her Rose. They grinned at each other at how their pet's desperate need only grew.

The restraints cut into her flesh as she began to pull hard at them. As she licked and sucked at Abigail's clit, her own legs began to tremble. Tied as she was, she bucked and met him stroke for stroke as best she could.

"Harder, love. She's going to come soon." Abigail egged him on with a cold smile. He looked up at her and stumbled for a second at the magic sparking in her pale eyes, cold and beautiful as ice crystals.

Rose whimpered at Abigail's command to him, her muscles growing tight around James as her orgasm drew closer. The hum of magic was almost enough to make her climax from that alone, and she panted and moaned desperately against her lover's warm flesh as she quivered beneath them both.

Abigail's ears were pointed, he could see that now, a strange shimmer under her pale skin, but her dazzling eyes held him captive and he slammed harder into Rose.

"Oh gods!" their captive screamed. Magic floated around the trio, and it felt as though a hundred hands caressed their writhing bodies. A low hum met Rose's ministrations and the slightest tremor shook Abigail's legs. But James refused to let up, driving himself deeper and deeper inside Rose, angled to hit that sweet spot deep inside her. Nearly brought to tears from the ecstasy, she pressed her mouth hard to Abigail's cunt, determined that they climax as closely together as they could.

But the blue-eyed witch had different plans and pulled away, reaching down to massage Rose's clit as he fucked her steadily closer to her orgasm. Their pet licked her lips, relishing her lover's taste. But she could not keep quiet for long, their combined touches pulling near screams of pleasure from her red lips. And the crest of orgasm started to flood over her squirming body. Hook stilled inside her, groaning at the feeling of her tighten and quiver around his cock. Then he withdrew, leaving Rose to quiver on her own and cry out at the loss.

"Why?" she whimpered.

"Shh, pet, let us watch you." Abigail smirked, shifting down to straddle her hips, watching her pretty, flushed face. James took his cock, still wet from his first woman, and slid it into the other's cunt just as she ripped away the blindfold so Rose could look into her lust-filled face. The sight that greeted her drew an appreciative moan from her lips, feeling her lust build anew watching her captain fuck their lover.

"Unbind me, please, let me touch you too?"

"No. You're still being punished for running away from us and for insulting yourself." Pale eyes flashed coldly down at her. "You get to watch. You already came twice, don't be greedy." Hook fucked her hard and fast from behind, grinning down at Rose through his riotous curls. Rose looked into his eyes, already starting to show a hint of red, and pleaded with him sans words. But he paid her request no mind, and Rose moaned her want, pulling at her bonds in a futile attempt to reach either of her lovers.

The Hook reached down to press against Rose's pale throat.

"None of that, pet. You're already being punished for one transgression, you do not wish to add another. I hope you aren't ungrateful for the kindness we offered you without even seeking our own pleasure, hmm?"

She obeyed, transfixed, as Hook's hand twisted into Abigail's thick hair, pulling her head back. His hips slammed against her again and again and her cries increased in volume and pitch as his cock rubbed against her secret spot. Her body trembled, her core tightening as her pleasure built. His hook clawed at her shoulder, drawing blood as he pulled her back to press against his chest, his rough fingers turning her face so that Rose could watch her girlfriend's lovely features contort in ecstasy. James drove deep into her, her body trembled as she tightened. Another deep thrust and his teeth sank into her neck with a growl, spilling his seed within her.

His fingers dropped to caress her clit and her core tightened even more, her body cold in his arms despite the heat of their passion. When her eyes opened, they were even more bright and lustrous, her skin shimmering and pale. Something was building inside her and with every stroke of his fingers against her sensitive nub, that something was growing and she was going to lose control of it at any moment.

She screamed with her climax, her eyes wide and unnaturally bright. The great mirror splintered, frost creeping over her body, ice and shadow exploding out of her as her orgasm tore through her.

When she was able to catch her breath and return to herself, she looked around at the master bedroom. It looked as though winter had struck, frost coated everything, furniture was knocked askew at the force of the blast, shadows hung like cobwebs, glittering with ice crystals. It was beautiful but in a terrible way. And it was still, so still. The only sound was her breathing. She pulled away from James to look up at him. His eyes were half closed, unseeing, and he did not move. Rose beneath her was also frozen in place and Abigail's fingers shook as she reached out. She could not bring herself to touch Rose's still body.

She nearly fell off the bed in her haste to get away. Absently, she noticed that she should feel cold. She reached for her blue dressing gown anyway, wrapping it around her and hugging herself. She glanced to the cracked mirror and gasped at what she saw. She took in the sight of herself, unnaturally pale, dark hair showing more blue than brown, and pointed ears. Her distress only grew and she shook, not knowing what was happening. She backed towards a corner, watching as Rose and James slowly began to move again, to look around at the sudden chill and see what she had done. The restraints, brittle in the cold, cracked and freed Rose, who sat up, looking around for Abigail.

"Abigail?"

James turned as well to where Rose was looking to see Abigail, clutching her dressing down about herself with eyes wide with fear.

"Abigail?" Rose started to stand up, "Did you do this?"

Tears glimmered in Abigail's eyes, "I...I don't know what happened...I-I don't know what's going on. I'm sorry."

And she fled, leaving Rose and James to stare bewildered at each other.

Translations:

Good afternoon, Mister Beaulieu. I hope you are of the mind to make a fortune today.

What a superb turn to my day, it has been too long!

How may I serve you, my most favored of clients?