"Curiosity didn't kill the cat-hesitation did."
Jonathan LaPaglia; Seven Days
Demon Called Deception
Chapter Thirteen: Closer
Skinner's eyes shot open, a pulsing fire burning throughout his body. A smile crossed his lips as he recognized the emotion flitting underneath his skin. Since she had been born he had been able to sense, to feel, all of her emotions. All of her pain, her anger, her joy, and, yes, even her lust.
And this was what he felt now.
Oh yes, his plan was working out perfectly.
"Do you remember this place Jack?" she asked, her thin form looking so small and frail in the vast cavern they stood in.
Dread filled his stomach as he recognized their surroundings. "Aye," he answered weakly, "I do."
"When I saw you standing here, seemingly all alone, my heart leapt. I was so happy," she paused, her gold eyes catching hold of his. "I mean, I knew you were here, I had felt it. But some part of me still tried to tell me that you weren't.
"But then I saw you . . ." she trailed off, a sad smile crossing her face.
"Lor," he whispered closing the distance between them and kissing her gently.
Lor pushed him away after a moment, shaking her head. Her short, red hair waved slightly. "He'll do worse to her, Jack. He hasn't . . . he won't . . . there's nothing he can do to Rebecca; she doesn't know anything of value. But to Emory . . . to Emory he could do far worse. And he will. I know he will.
"That's why you've got to stop him. You've got to stop him here. That's all I can . . . I can't . . . you need to wake up. You've got to plan. You've got to figure this out. Go. Now."
Lor pushed against his chest with both hands, shaving him backward. Jack lost his balance, his feet tripping over a broken stalagmite. His back hit the ground as the world around him turned to darkness.
"Cap'n? Cap'n are ya alright?"
Jack's eyes shot open, his trembling hand grabbing hold of the hand that was shaking his shoulder. "Lor?" he muttered.
"No Cap'n," the voice said soothingly, softly.
Jack turned his gaze to see AnaMaria standing above him, a worried look on her normally calm face. "Ya alright?"
He sat up slowly, running a hand over his face. "I'll be fine." He answered.
"You were dreamin'. I could hear ya moanin'," she paused. "Was it about Lor?"
Jack nodded, his eyes focusing on the cluttered shelves across from him. "Aye," he whispered. "An' I know where we have ta go."
Emory rolled over slowly, burying her head into the warm mound next to her. She sighed slightly, feeling content and rested. No nightmares had plagued her dreams while she slept; no visions of things that she did not understand. It had been the first peaceful night's sleep she had had in a very long time.
Something shifted underneath her cheek, causing Emory to open her eyes. A tanned chest stared back at her. A tanned chest with a black crow tattooed on it. Emory's eyes trailed slowly up from the tattoo, past the broad shoulders and elegant neck and finally stopped on the sleeping face of Tristan.
His eyes were closed in peaceful slumber, his breath escaping in short puffs through slightly parted lips. To her, he looked beautiful. And that frightened her.
For two years she had hated him. For two years she had despised what he was. Or had she? Every time she had thought about him, her heart had pounded, it's true. She was not denying that. But she had always thought that it had pounded out of anger or hatred. Perhaps, instead, it had pounded from something different?
Something that she did not care to thing about.
"What are you thinking about?" a soft voice whispered.
Emory's eyes flicked up to meet his tired gaze. "Nothing." She muttered.
Tristan sighed. "I told you that you would hate this. Just remember that I was the voice of reason in this."
"No. It's not . . . I don't . . . I just . . ." Emory stopped, sighing with frustration.
Tristan laughed quietly. "Why Captain, I believe that is the first time I have ever seen you speechless."
"Shut up," she replied.
"I'm just stating a-"
Tristan broke off as Emory pressed up against him, catching his lips with hers in a hungry kiss that stole his breath. She rolled them over, flattening her chest against his. Tristan's fingers dug into her hips as he returned her kiss with just as much passion. Her hands played across his chest, tracing small circles over his bare skin.
Minutes later she broke away, propping herself up on her hands. "I should go," she panted.
Tristan's hands did not let her go, if anything, they held her tighter. "You don't have to," he replied, brushing his lips against her jaw.
Emory sighed. "Yes, I do. Conway's gonna kill me as it is."
Tristan smirked. "He doesn't like me."
She snorted. "Would ya blame 'im? You did try ta kill me after all." She answered flatly, sitting up and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Emory leaned down, reaching for her discarded pants from the night before.
Tristan's face turned somber at her words. He sat up quickly and grabbed hold of her arm, turning her roughly around to face him. Emory blinked at his actions, her eyes finding his own grey gaze.
"I would never do that again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would never betray you again. You know that, don't you?"
Emory stared at him. His eyes were narrowed slightly, a worried look glazing the surface. Emory felt her heart leap slightly in surprise. Never, in the two years she had known (and hated) him, had she ever seen him look so vulnerable, so . . . scared.
"I-" she began, finding herself lost for words. After a moment of simply staring into his eyes, she broke away, pulling on her breeches and then leaned down to retrieve her shirt.
Emory threw her shirt on and jumped to her feet, finding herself unable to make eye contact with him any longer. When she reached the door, she paused, turning to look at him from the corner of her eye.
"I just don't know," she finished and then left, leaving Tristan staring at the closed door.
"Yer not gonna start in on me." Emory stated, tugging the black stomacher tighter around her waist.
Destiny shrugged, picking at her nails with a small throwing knife. "Didn't say a word."
Emory sighed. "You don't have ta. Yer as bad as Conway; I can read it in her eyes."
Destiny looked up then, her brown eyes finding Emory's. She watched her captain for a moment, watching as Emory finished tying the laces on the stomacher and then sat down on the edge of her bed and began to pull on her black boots.
"Yer choice Cap'n," she replied. "Doesn't mean I have ta like it," she paused, a small glimmer of laughter shining in her eyes. "'Sides, it's 'bout time ya got some. Yer such a bitch otherwise."
Emory did not bother looking up. "I try ta be."
"'E's not that bad lookin', Cap'n, don't get me wrong. But 'e's a bit shady."
"So're we," Emory responded. "We're pirates."
Destiny sighed, knowing that she was fighting a losing battle. Before she could respond, a knock sounded on the double doors leading into Emory's cabin.
"Come in," Emory called without hesitation.
One door opened to reveal a brown-skinned woman, her ebony hair flowing around her shoulders. Her left hand rested lightly on a sword hanging from her weapons belt. "Cap'n Wyatt."
Emory nodded at her slightly as she walked over to her mahogany desk. "C'n I help you?"
The woman stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "My name's AnaMaria. Cap'n Sparrow sends a message."
Emory looked up at her as she unrolled a large map. "And?"
The woman gave a wry smile. "Cap'n Sparrow says to turn starboard ten degrees an' head west."
"That's back the way we came." Destiny said.
"He knows that. But he also knows where we have ta go. It's a good week's journey, but it's where we need ta be."
Emory looked down at the map on her desk, her dirt covered fingers tracing a line on it. "There's nothin' there."
"It's uncharted," AnaMaria replied. "I've been there before, Cap'n. That's where it all began."
Emory's gaze shot up to her. "Where they fought Skinner?"
"Who?" Destiny asked.
"Aye," the woman replied, nodding.
"Who?" Destiny prodded again.
"The man who killed her mother," AnaMaria replied.
Destiny's black eyebrows rose, "Huh."
Emory was silent for a moment, her discolored eyes tracing the woman's young features. The woman appeared young, and yet the air around her seemed to be so much older. Just like it did with Jack . . .
"How long've you sailed wit' Cap'n Sparrow?"
AnaMaria was not fazed in the least. "Near on twenty-six years."
"Then you knew Lor Adams?"
"Yer mum? Aye, I knew 'er. I was there when she gave birth ta you an' yer sister. Wasn't a good day, especially fer Jack," she paused. "She was a good woman. Went through a lot; lot o' pain an' heartache."
Emory nodded, lowering her eyes slightly. "I see."
"Yer mum was a good woman, Cap'n, an' a great pirate." AnaMaria smiled softly. "Wish ya coulda known 'er. Ye remind me a lot o' 'er actually; same fire in yer eyes."
Emory cleared her throat, finally looking AnaMaria in her eyes. "Right then. Tell Cap'n Sparrow I'll change course accordingly."
AnaMaria nodded. "Aye, Cap'n. Good day ta ya."
Emory inclined her head in reply, watching as AnaMaria quickly left the cabin, shutting the thick door behind her.
"An uncharted island, Cap'n? Sounds tricky ta me."
Emory nodded absently. "We'll see where it goes. Give the course change ta Conway," she replied, dismissing Destiny with her words.
Destiny stood up straight, pushing herself away from the wall she had been leaning on. "Aye, Cap'n."
Emory watched her leave, her fingers once again going to the simple gold ring around her neck.
Tristan stood silently in the Crow's Nest, his eyes following the slight movement from the Black Pearl in front of him, watching as she turned slightly and began to sail in a different direction. Minutes later he could feel the ship below him begin to shift course as well, turning to follow the Pearl
He looked down to see Emory emerge from her cabin. She shouted something up at Conway standing at the helm. Conway yelled back at her, jerking his chin up. Emory turned around, lifting her chin to look up. She squinted her eyes against the glaring sun to gaze up at him, raising her right hand to shade her eyes.
Tristan grinned slightly and waved. Emory frowned in response, turning quickly away, making her way to the helm. He watched her for a moment longer and then turned back around, his eyes once again following the Black Pearl's movements.
Perhaps they had finally figured it out.
Skinner stared across the table at Rebecca as she sat primly in her high-backed chair. The lunch in front of her was slowly growing colder, the food untouched. He frowned, his eyes flicking down to the cold food.
"Ye should eat, wench."
Rebecca jumped as he unexpectedly broke the silence. "I'm not hungry," she replied.
"Don't care if ya are or not. You'll eat when I tell ya to," he answered coldly.
Rebecca stared over at him, her brown eyes red and puffy. "I said that I am not hungry."
Skinner glared over at her, one eye twitching. "If ye want ta live, ye'll do as I say."
"Then why don't you just kill me?" she cried, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.
Skinner laughed at her tears. He stood up slowly and walked around the table to stand in back of her. Rebecca tensed up when his hands touched her trembling shoulders. He leaned into her slightly, his hot breath brushing her ear. "Nothing," he whispered, "would give me more pleasure than to kill you and put ya out o' my misery. But right now you are too useful to me. You are much too important."
Rebecca flinched as his hands moved up, his fingers trailing over her neck and stopping at her cheeks. Skinner's grip tightened on her face, tipping her face back so that he could look into her tired, but frightened, eyes.
"Until I see fit ta get rid o' ya, you belong to me."
Rebecca's eyes widened slightly at his words. "You do not frighten me," she whispered, attempting to regain some of her composure.
"Like hell I don't," he answered, his dark eyes staring down into hers. "Yer a terrible liar. I can see it in yer eyes. You fear me. You always have.
"You tremble when you see me; yer heart pounds whenever you hear my voice," he said and then placed one of his hands on her chest, right above her breasts. "Just as it is now. And you tell me I don't frighten you?"
Skinner released her quickly, pushing her forward. "Do not try to lie to me, bitch, I can see right through you."
"Then why do you not let me go?" she whispered, hiding her face in her hands. "If you can see through me then why do you not believe me that I know nothing?"
Skinner smirked again, settling down once again in his seat. "I've told ya before, wench, that I need ya fer only one thing," he paused, watching as she lifted her face from her hands, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "And that is bait."
The week had gone by quickly, the wind graciously pushing them onward. As the sun set on the ninth (AN: yes I mean ninth!) day, the island came into view. A flame flickered on and off from the Pearl's deck, signaling to Emory.
She jerked her head up and then turned from her spot in the Nest. "Bring 'er up alongside the Pearl Mr. Conway!"
"Aye Cap'n!" Conway shouted back and then began to yell orders at her crew.
Emory deftly climbed down from the Nest, jumping the last few feet to the deck. In the distance, she could hear the splash of an anchor hitting water. She knew immediately that Sparrow had dropped anchor, stopping himself in the water. She watched as black sails were lowered, the setting sun glowing around them.
"Lower anchor!" she yelled, running up the steps to the helm. "Drop the sails! Conway, make it gentle."
"As always." Conway smiled, watching as the anchor was dropped. Emory's crew ran around the deck, following orders with practiced ease.
"Is that it Cap'n? Is that the island?" he asked.
"Don't know," she replied. "I guess we'll find out."
The ship shuddered under their feet as the anchor caught, pulling them to a slow stop alongside the Pearl, the bow of the Whisper stopping by the aft of the Pearl.
Emory jumped down the stairs, making her way quickly to the bow of her ship to meet up with Jack.
Jack smiled over at her, his face in growing shadow. The sunlight flickered across the gold on his teeth. "Take a small crew, Cap'n Wyatt; we can't get any closer 'n' this."
Emory frowned, unsure, once again, as to what Jack had up his sleeve.
AN: Okay, I'm going to say this now before I forget. There are three people in this story who aren't who they say they are. Three people who are all hiding something. If you can guess who they are, and what they are hiding, I'll give you a cookie. A yummy Jack shaped cookie.
Anyway, on to the answers to the reviews:
Dawnie-7: Wise woman. Wise, wise woman.
The DuTchess of Doom: Thank you! You'll find out more about Tristan soon. I don't think that you'll be in the dark for too much longer.
Obsetress: I'm glad that you liked the chapter; it was a bear to write! It took me forever to write it! This one wasn't too bad, although I'm not sure that I like it.