"Man's loneliness is only his fear of life."

Grim; The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

Demon Called Deception

Chapter Seventeen: Reunions

"Mother, what is it?"

"I . . . I don't know. Something just seems off. I can feel it in my heart."

Emily stared at her mother, taking in her pale face and worried eyes. She had never seen her mother look this worried in her life. "You do not think something happened, do you?"

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "No. I don't think so. It's something else." She sighed. "I just wish I knew what it was. It's an ache; a fear. I'm not sure why I should feel afraid."

Emily grasped Elizabeth's hand, squeezing it gently for reassurance. She was not sure why her mother was feeling this way. Nothing had happened in the last few days. The nights had been unusually dark; no moon had shone from behind thick clouds.

Something bad was happening. Something was going on somewhere and she did not know if she wanted to find out what it was.

It was a stalemate. Both of them refused to look away. Emory's eyes had hardened; her gold eye almost mirroring her black one. The man merely smiled down at her, his dark eyes emitting a devilish glow.

"Are you happy to see me?" he asked.

"Unlock these chains Titus and I'll show you just how happy to see you I am," she seethed.

"You always were a fighter," he mused. "That fire always burned deep inside of you. That is what I always admired about you. You were beautiful, to be sure, but you were so strong-willed, so . . . feisty." Titus knelt down, grabbing her chin with one hand, tilting her head to face him. He leaned in slightly, his lips nearly brushing hers. "I have always found your spirit rather . . . arousing," he whispered.

Tristan, having had enough of the games Titus was playing, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled back roughly. Titus flew back from the force of the throw, his back slamming into the cell bars.

Tristan was on him a moment later, his left arm pushing into Titus' throat. "Leave her alone."

Titus gave a bark of laughter. "You don't want to be in this, boy," he seethed.

"Too late," Tristan replied, pushing harder. "Or did you forget that I'm already involved?"

"You are a part of it boy, but you don't know everything."

Tristan's grey eyes hardened. "Then explain it to me."

Titus laughed again. With a sudden movement, he slammed his right palm into Tristan's chest, throwing him backwards to land at Emory's chained feet.

"Tristan," Emory whispered, her chained arms clutching his shoulders.

"You can't beat me boy. You have no hope of ever beating me. I could destroy you with a thought." A wicked grin crossed his face. "But I won't for now. It will be so much more fun to kill you when your lover cannot stop me."

Titus laughed again, turning around slowly to leave the cell. He shut the gated door, turning the key in the lock. "I will leave you here for now, boy," he growled. His eyes turned almost lustful as he finished, "but I will be back to claim you, Prisis. I have not waited all this time to lose you again. The Gift and you will be mine."

Before they could reply, Titus melted into the shadows, nothing but a pair of glowing eyes marking where he had only moments before stood.

"That bastard!" Emory seethed, her eyes flaring. "I'll kill him." A hand touched her cheek, causing her to look down. A flash of memory echoed through her mind at the gesture.

Tristan moved his hand to the back of her neck, entangling his fingers in her already mussed up hair. He pulled her face down to meet his, catching her lips with his. Emory resisted at first; she struggled to pull away from him, but he held onto her neck tighter. After a moment she gave in to the kiss, putting all her anger into it.

Minutes later Tristan broke away, panting. "We need to get you out of here."

"Why?" she asked, her chained hands clutching his face. She brushed her lips against his, nibbling on his lower lip. "Would you rather have me somewhere else?" she whispered.

Tristan closed his eyes against the feelings she was waking in his body. There were more important things right now. He had to get her out before his father could get the map. "Em-"

"Shh."

Tristan pushed himself up, tearing himself away from her hands and turning to face her. "No, listen to me. My father and that bastard Titus will torture you until you give them the map. You know that."

Emory raised her chin slightly as if you show him defiance. "I know what they plan, Tristan, and I'm not worried. I can take care of myself."

Tristan reached out, cupping her cheek in his palm. "I don't want to see you get hurt," he whispered.

Emory's cold eyes met his, unblinking and unwavering. "You already hurt me."

Tristan dropped his hand and scooted back quickly. "Em-"

"You're sorry?" she finished. "So ye've told me."

"Emory you know-"

"Innit this sweet?"

Emory's head jerked up at the voice. Tristan turned on his knees, his hands searching for his missing sword. His eyes narrowed. "Father."

Skinner smirked. "'Ello son. You remind me of yer mother when ya look at me like that."

Tristan fought back the flinch that rose at Skinner's words. Even though he had not liked his mother, it did not mean he would stand idly by while someone talked about her. "Are you growing a conscience, father?"

Skinner gave a bark of laughter. "Highly unlikely, lad," he replied, opening the gate and walking through. Tristan stood up quickly, placing himself between Skinner and Emory. Skinner laughed again. "So you think you can protect her? I find that rather funny."

Skinner snapped his fingers and moments later three men entered the cell. One withdrew a sword, holding it to Tristan's throat. The other two men grabbed his arms, pulling him roughly to his father's side.

Skinner turned to him, his black eyes laughing. "Now you can watch, lad, as I break your lover's spirit," he whispered, pulling out a long, slender blade. "The map and the treasure will belong to me. I will break her spirit and make her mine."

Tristan struggled against the two men until the sword was pressed deeper into his throat. He could do nothing but watch as Skinner knelt in front of Emory, the grin on his face widening.

"Have ya decided to give me what I want lass?"

Emory's eyes narrowed at him and then she spit; the spittle landing in his eye. Skinner closed his eyes, one shaking hand rising to wipe his eye clean. "Such manners, lass," he muttered, flicking his hand, flinging the spit away. "Yer mum was the same way. Good thing I know how to deal with obstinate bitches like you."

Skinner flipped the dagger in his hand easily and slammed it down, burying the blade into her leg to the hilt. Pain leaked into Emory's eyes as she breathed in sharply. She would not scream; she would not give him the satisfaction.

She would not let him win.

Jack stepped up onto the deck, humming to himself. The sun was just rising on the horizon, the rays glowing in the blue water. He stopped as his eyes caught sight of a lone woman standing at the bow, her chocolate brown hair flowing in the slight wind. He stood still for a moment, deciding if he should bother her. The last time they had talked she had not been very receptive to what he had to tell her.

He sighed, deciding the poor girl probably needed someone to talk to. "Mornin' love." He said as he stepped up to her.

Rebecca jumped at his voice, having not heard his footsteps as he walked up to her. "Good morning Captain."

Jack smiled as he stepped up next to her, leaning his arms against the railing. He was expecting a reaction like this. "Did ya sleep well?"

"I could not sleep. I have too much on my mind."

"Ah."

"Did you love her?" she asked suddenly.

Jack blinked. "Who?"

"Lor Adams. My . . . mother."

Jack was silent for a moment, his eyes staring unseeingly at the ocean. "Aye."

"And did you love us? Before you gave us away, that is."

Jack drew back at the harshness of her words. "Ya know there were extenuating circumstances regarding me lettin' you guys go."

"Yes, but-"

"I kept a promise, one that didn't work out the way it was supposed to. Skinner wasn't supposed to come back. Both of you stayed safe fer twenty years," he paused. "Although yer sister protected herself. An' there's still somethin' about that Conway . . ."

"Since I do not have the map and my sister does, what do I have to do with any of this?"

"Haven't quite figured that out yet. I'm figurin' it has ta do wit' yer blood. Yer of the same bloodline as Lor which means yer tied ta the bloody treasure as well."

Rebecca nodded silently. "You mentioned something about a prophecy."

Jack smiled down at her. "Aye, that I did. 'Two children born, of blood divide. One born to bear witness, to the rising of the Past. One born to bear the Key, hidden in the blood of old, and unseen eyes.' I believe you are only spoken of twice in the Prophecy. You bore witness to Skinner. Later the Prophecy spoke of a line being broken and an equal taken. I think yer the equal."

Rebecca nodded slowly. "Emory is my twin and Skinner kidnapped me."

"Aye," Jack replied again.

"So all I'm supposed to do is watch? All I am here for is to witness the past?"

"There's more I'm sure. Once we get to the island-"

"What island?" she asked, interrupting him.

Jack looked at her as if she were insane. "The island with the treasure. Where else would we go?"

"I don't know." Rebecca sighed. "I just want to go home," she whispered.

Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gestured to the sea with his other hand. "In a way ya already are."

Tristan wiped a trail of blood from Emory's cheek. His father and his men had left a few minutes before; leaving Emory slumped over in a painful huddle. Her eyes were dazed, the pain dulling them. Blood soaked her breeches and shirt, some even puddled beneath her on the dark wooden floor boards.

"Emory, are you all right?"

"As w'll . . . as c'n be exp'cted," she muttered, her words slurring together.

Tristan had already tied a tourniquet around her leg, stopping the wound there from bleeding. The rest of the wounds, the deep gashes and burns, he could nothing with. There was nothing he could do for her pain.

A trembling hand caught hold of his, startling him from his reverie. "Em?"

"St'y wi' me?" she asked, her eyes closing slowly.

Tristan nodded even though he knew she did not see him and propped himself up against the brig wall, laying her bruised body against his chest. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her forehead resting against the crook of his neck. He tilted his head slightly, pressing his lips against her forehead.

They would get through this. He could find a way to get them through this.

AN: Normally I would give a review to the reviewers, but I am about to run late for work, so today I must forgo that. But I would like to say thank you to all who reviewed! I hope you enjoyed!