Isabelle packed a trunk and had it taken to the docks. On her way across the foyer she glanced in the mirror and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. She didn't like what she saw in the glass. She looked tired and worn and pale. She remembered a time when her skin had reflected the warmth of the golden Indian sun and her eyes had sparkled like the tops of the waves of the sea on a windy day. Now her eyes were dull and filled with sadness and she could see no way of pulling herself from the depths of despair she now found herself in; especially having to spend the next few weeks with Mr. Mercer. She shuddered as she thought of the dark thoughts that rushed through the man's mind. Violet brought her coat down and Isabelle shrugged into it. Isabelle didn't care if it wasn't in fashion. She was about to spend the next few weeks in the company of strange men, probably getting no sleep aboard ship, looking for a woman that exhibited a perceived threat to Cutler, a perceived threat that she'd released into the wider world. As much as she disliked Cutler's tactics, he was all the family she had left in the world, and pleasing him meant everything to her. The coat would be much easier to maneuver in on ship and through crowded cities. The heavy gray wool was soft to the touch and the cut of it was similar to the wasp-waisted coats that had been favored by Cutler's father. It was feminine though, with tassled drawstrings to tie up the hood and black trimmings and frogs. The sleeves were belled slightly from the elbow, but not so much so as to hamper any dexterity she might need. She patted the pocket flaps down and smoothed the coat down over her dress. She could at least look neat if she were forced to go out and do Cutler's bidding. Satisfied with how she looked, she went out to the wide drive and was handed up into the coach. The sky was beginning to darken with clouds that matched her coat and Isabelle dreaded the thought of sailing out into a storm. She hoped their voyage could be delayed until the storm had passed but somehow she knew that it would be impossible.
The coach rolled up to the docks and Mr. Mercer came forward to open the door for her.
"Miss Beckett."
"Mr. Mercer." She said by way of greeting and followed behind him up the gangway onto the commandeered ship and into the cabin that had been set aside for her use. It was sparse and cramped, but it would do for the brief time they were to spend at sea.
"So, do you have any idea where she might have gone?" Mr. Mercer asked. He was standing in the door directly behind her, blocking her escape. He was an intimidating character.
"I'd like to go down to talk to the dock master. I won't be able to say for sure until then."
"But you're sure she's not here?"
"Well obviously. A rat couldn't hide in here." Isabelle said picking at a pill of lint clinging to the thin blanket on the hard bed.
"That's not what I meant, Miss Beckett."
"I know that Mr. Mercer, it was meant to be a joke." Isabelle stood still as Mr. Mercer stepped farther into the room and towered over her. "I'd appreciate it if you'd step back, sir."
"And I'd appreciate it if you would not impede my investigation, madam." Isabelle glared at him. "Lord Beckett authorized me to use any means necessary to make sure you did your duty. Don't get me wrong miss, I will use any means necessary to carry out mine. Am I understood?"
"Perfectly." Isabelle said. Mr. Mercer was very good at one thing, disguising his true feelings. Isabelle caught little from him, but knew that the stony resolve was a very dangerous threat. "Shall we go talk to the dock master then?"
Mr. Mercer took a step back and extended his arm, allowing her to precede him back to the dock.
Isabelle stood on the deck and listened as the bell clanged for the watch to change. She'd been brought out of her sleep by a terrible nightmare that she'd picked up on from one of the men on board. The moon rode high in the sky and was marred by only a few clouds. They'd been at sea for a few days and Isabelle had gained very little while at sea. Really she was only there to talk to people to be sure they weren't lying to Mr. Mercer. The dock master at Port Royal was an unscrupulous man who cared more about money than anything else. He had not seen a girl on the docks at all and would not have if he were at home counting his money. Isabelle had looked out at the mouth of the harbor where just the day before a few ships had bobbed. Now the horizon was clear.
"What of the ships that were there. Where would they have made for?" She had asked. The man had looked out at the mouth of the harbor and shrugged.
"Some of them were laid pretty heavy with goods. They'd probably make for one of the few free ports left."
"We need a list of those ports. She's probably aboard one of them." Isabelle stalked away from the dock master and went back to the ship while Mr. Mercer got the list of ports.
And so they had sailed around and visited one port already, but Elizabeth was not there. Standing in the cool moonlight, Isabelle closed her eyes and cast her thoughts outward. She did not want to see Elizabeth captured, but she didn't want to spend any more time with Mercer either. She was uncomfortable enough around the man. The other reason was that if she knew where Elizabeth had gone, she might be able to delay Mercer in arriving there. She was still casting her thoughts around when she saw flaming letters spelling out the word "Tortuga." She took a step back but the letters seemed to follow her. Suddenly the letters were no longer on fire, but there was a sword in front of her that was consumed in flame. It was cast about and suddenly in the light of the flame illuminated the dark features of William Turner. Monsters stepped out of the darkness, half man and half sea creature and surrounded him. Even with her eyes open she could still see Mr. Turner fighting against the creatures that were attacking him. It was as if she were looking through a telescope at the scene from afar. She continued to watch for some time but couldn't understand what was happening until a large man who had a claw for right hand, a peg leg, and what looked like tentacles for a beard stomped onto the decks of the broken down ship where Mr. Turner now knelt beside other men. She gasped as the strange creature closed the distance and suddenly appeared right in front of her. From this vantage she could see that the man's head was that of an octopus and that he was almost completely made of things from the sea, and yet, he seemed human.
The word Tortuga flashed in her mind again and now she knew that both Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow were bound for the island Pirate Haven. As the vision cleared from her mind she saw Mr. Mercer standing to her left.
"You saw something."
"I needed fresh air." She lied, and continued to stare at the place where the moon's luminescent light darted across the waves.
"Come now, Miss. You think Lord Beckett didn't tell me about you and your visions?" When Isabelle didn't answer he stepped closer. "Oh, he did. A witch like you shouldn't have been permitted to live, but since you would seem to have made yourself indispensable to Lord Beckett, I'll tolerate your presence. But only in so much that you are going to help make my job easier."
"And why would I want to make your job easier, Mr. Mercer?" Isabelle said narrowing her eyes and stepping away from the rail. "Why is that of any interest to me?"
"Because if you make my job easier, you get to live." Mercer closed the distance between them and stroked her cheek with a black gloved hand. "And if you do it quickly, you'll do it without any horrific scars to mar this pretty face of yours." Isabelle glared up at the man threatening her and jerked her head away from his hand. She momentarily thought about telling him a lie, but something deep within her convinced her otherwise.
"They're bound for Tortuga." She said looking away. "She'll be there hoping to find information on her fiancée."
"There now. Was that so hard?" Mr. Mercer cracked what might have been a smile and stalked away to tell the captain to alter course.
It took quite a few days to get to Tortuga and they waited within site of the city but did not enter port until after night fell. Isabelle stood on deck with Mr. Mercer as the men lowered the long boats into the water to prepare to row to land.
"Come along Miss Beckett."
"Me?" Isabelle looked up at Mr. Mercer and then towards the city.
"Yes, you don't expect me to go wandering from pub to pub to alley to search for that girl, do you?" When Isabelle didn't answer he went on. "Oh you did? Well, allow me to convince you otherwise Miss Beckett. I would like to return to Port Royal as quickly as possible and you and your un-godly talent are going to see to that."
"Very well Mr. Mercer." Isabelle said as she stalked past him and to the rail where a sailor helped her down into the bobbing long boat.
The streets were loud and crowded in Tortuga. Isabelle heard gun shots being fired in town and could smell smoke from a burning building and several small fires built on the street corners--if the open avenues between the houses could be considered streets. Music from the taverns poured out into the night creating a cacophonous base melody to the din of the city. Isabelle pulled her coat closer to her body and fastened the clasps down its front. She didn't like this city at all. Evil held court in Tortuga, and hate and fear were its consorts. She followed behind Mr. Mercer and tried to avoid the deep mud that filled the streets and that threatened to consume anyone who dared step into it. They entered a brightly lit square and were nearly run over by a careening wagon. A keg of rum tipped off the out of control vehicle and crashed to the cobbles. The barrel split apart spilling the alcohol into the gutters. A torch, which was guttering dully burst into flame and the entire pool of alcohol ignited as well. Isabelle stepped back, trying to avoid the flames and knocked in to one of the men in her group.
"Careful Miss." The man moved around her and into the square following Mercer who was ignoring the activity in the square. Isabelle followed as fast as she could. She glanced at some of the people as she followed Mr. Mercer.
There was a man lying drunk in a gutter who had lost his wife in child birth. He had gone to sea and had managed to get to Tortuga. He wanted to die.
Another man shrugging into the shadows followed the well dressed group with his eyes. He averted his gaze when Isabelle's touched his. He was suspicious of them, but wasn't going to get too near them. He had committed some crime or another and thought that the legal authorities had finally caught up to him.
There was a woman standing beneath the twisted tree in the center of the square. Her eyes were lined with kohl and her pale blonde hair was tousled and greasy. Her corset was cinched tight and cut low, accentuating a pale, firm bust line. Isabelle watched as the girl boldly walked up to a man and grasped his arm and touched his chest. Her laugh rang out over the other noise in the square and the man's dopey grin answered the girl's bright smile. Isabelle focused on her thoughts and saw a dirty room in a run down tenement. It was cold outside and a young girl sat in the closet playing with a doll with a scratched china face. The man and woman in the next room were making a great deal of noise and Isabelle blushed at the realization of what was going on. This was a memory of the blonde woman. Her mother had been a prostitute, and now she was one as well.
Isabelle broke free from the blonde woman's thoughts and turned to keep up with the rest of her group.
But they were no where in sight.
Isabelle looked around frantically but could not see Mercer and his men.
"Fine bit of skirt that one is…"
"Lost little lamb in the pasture."
"What I'd give for a poke at that one."
"Fresh Fish"
Isabelle looked around frantically and saw several men leering at her. Even some of the whores were looking at her with stares waiting to see what would happen. Isabelle moved quickly back across the square and down the street. She found a recessed door way and breathed deeply gathering her thoughts and trying to think about what she should do.
Suddenly, she realized that she was, for the first time in a long time, free. She was no longer in Cutler's control.
Slowly she cast her thoughts out and searched for Jack. She could at least warn him about Mercer and, she hoped, that she'd be able to find Elizabeth with him. She knew, deep in her heart that Jack was here in the city.
She'd actually come to a conclusion long ago and strongly believed in it. It was after the jail break in India when she had first realized it. Kapil had done much to strengthen her mind and to give her the ability to block out thoughts and channel the ones she wished to. But after the night of the jail break, she felt as if she were being pulled by Cutler. A second, but less strong consciousness also tugged at her mind, and when she concentrated on it, most often when she was beside the river at the old stone bench, she realized it was Jack, sailing the open seas quite happily. Jack and Cutler—she had known Cutler far longer than she had Jack. Cutler was nobility, Jack, though low born, was a King of the Sea. But one thing connected the two men to Isabelle closer than anything else; she had their blood on her hands. She'd bandaged Jack's arm after Cutler branded him, and she'd staunched the flow of blood from Cutler's wounds after Jack had cut him. She was now irreversibly connected to the two men. Every intense emotion that either felt, she felt. She could also cast her thoughts out at any time and find them. She might not be a blood hound, but if anyone wanted to know where Jack or Cutler were, all they had to do was ask her. She'd been very careful to keep this information from Cutler's father and, when Cutler had taken control of the company, she'd kept it from Cutler. Now, for once, her gift was actually useful to her and she locked on to Jack. He was in a pub and staring at a compass. He was lost.
Isabelle withdrew her thoughts from his and knew that if Jack Sparrow were in port, he'd have gotten there by ship. If he were lost, he'd be looking for the next port of call and for what he was looking for. She grinned in the darkness of the recessed doorway. Captain Jack Sparrow always seemed lost and chasing after something. She shook her head and remembered the gold toothed grin and dark eyes staring down at her. She wondered if Jack had changed much, but in her heart, she knew he hadn't.
Shouting up the street pulled her from her musings and she quickly stepped back out onto the thoroughfare to make her way to the water front. She only hoped Jack's ship were as easy to find as he was.