"You are not what you were born, but what you have it in yourself to be."
Godfrey of Ibelin; Kingdom of Heaven
Demon Called Deception
Chapter Nineteen: Giving In
She had called for him. Tristan had overheard Compton, his father's first mate, telling Skinner that Emory wanted to see him. His heart began to pound as he remembered the piercing scream that had woken him in the middle of the night. It had scared him, jolting him out of a restless sleep. His body had hurt for hours afterward, every muscle ached, every bone felt as if it would break if he moved.
And he knew. The aches and pains had stopped hours later, as had the feeling of utter helplessness. Only moments before had the pain come back and he then actually realized it was hers. It was Emory's pain and heartache.
A pounding on his door startled him, causing him to jump. He cursed softly to himself for allowing someone to startle him. The door flew open before he could answer, his father standing in the doorway, leering at him.
"Why bother knocking if you weren't going to wait for an answer?"
Skinner smirked at him. "I was lettin' my presence be known, boy. Yer comin' with me."
Tristan stared at him, disdain and hatred dripping from his gaze. "And where are we going?"
"Ta visit Cap'n Wyatt. Apparently she's 'ad a change o' 'eart."
Tristan looked down. He had no desire to see a woman with such a strong will give up. But then he realized that he had no desire to have Emory alone with his father either. Despite the fact that Skinner was about to get exactly what he wanted, there was no telling what he would do to her afterwards.
"Well, boy?"
"I'm coming," Tristan replied. He didn't like the grin that crossed his father's face as he turned around.
He had a feeling he was not going to like what was going to happen.
"Why are we going there Jack? There's nothing there but water." Will said, his finger lying lightly on the map on Jack's desk.
"So it seems. But years ago Lor showed me the map on 'er back. She showed me the location of the island an' the treasure."
"You must remember, Mr. Turner," Conway broke in, "that the island is kept hidden from the normal world. The Elders wanted to protect the treasure. They wanted no one else to find and abuse it."
"But how could it not have been found?" James asked. "After all these years, how could it have stayed hidden?"
Conway shrugged. "Don't know the full story. I believe that the Gods grew angry and cursed the island. The Gods were the ones who gave the Lost People the gift; obviously it was easy for them to take it away."
"Why is this treasure so important?" Michel wanted to know.
Conway opened his mouth and then shut it. He looked over at Jack, his eyebrows raised. Jack nodded his acquisance. "The treasure," Conway began, "is the ultimate gift, the ultimate ability."
"The only thing is," Jack interrupted, "is that the treasure is protected."
"Protected?" Will queried. "You don't mean cursed? What are we going to be dealing with?"
"There is only one protecting it. Emory is the Key to enter the caves and to find the island. There will be a test of sorts."
"A test?" Michel repeated.
Conway nodded. "Aye. But not one we have to pass. That is for the Guardian."
"How do you know all of this?" Alex asked.
Conway took a deep breath. "I am part of this. I am a descendant of one of the Elders of the Insula Peritorum. My family, or so our family history goes, was ordered by the God Chronos to keep watch of the Guardians. We do not interfere unless absolutely necessary. I have deemed it so now."
"Why?" Michel interjected.
"When we were in the cave I sensed an evil, malicious presence-"
"And when he searched the cavern," Jack broke in, "he saw the bastard who started this whole blasted mess."
"We all saw Skinner Jack," Will stated.
Conway laughed quietly. "Skinner is nothing more than a means to an end. The man that is here, the man that has somehow been resurrected is named Titus. Thousands of years ago he controlled the Gift, killing hundreds and bringing Chaos to earth. The first Guardian, Prisis, was the one who killed him. She was the one who brought Peace back to the land."
"What I don't understand," James replied, "is why this Gift is so important. What is it?"
Conway's eyes flickered for a moment, gazing solemnly into each man's eyes. Finally, he spoke: "Time."
"What is 'e doin' 'ere?" Emory whispered, her voice cracking.
Skinner laughed. "I guess you could consider 'im insurance. You don't give me what I want," he paused for effect. "I'll kill 'im."
"You wouldn't kill yer own son," Emory replied, her eyes glancing over at Tristan, a knife held tightly against his throat. "Not when you know 'ow important 'e is."
Skinner laughed again. "'E's not that important, love. 'E's yer Protector; 'e's not a Guardian like you. Fact is, I kill 'im, makes it's easier ta get ta you."
"You son of a bitch!" Tristan growled. "You're getting what you want! Stop taunting her!"
Skinner looked at Tristan for a moment, a sneer growing on his lips. "Is it botherin' you boy? Are ya worried 'bout yer precious lover?" His fingers trailed up Emory's chest, skimming over the injured skin showing through her tattered shirt. Skinner's eyes never left Tristan's. He was enjoying watching fear flicker in Tristan's eyes; enjoyed watching as anger clouded his face.
Skinner grabbed Emory's chin with one hand, turning her face to his. "I can see yer anger lass. I can see yer will ready to break. You know that if you try ta screw me over like yer mother did, I won't hesitate to kill 'im. 'E means nothin' ta me," he whispered.
"'E's yer son," Emory stated again.
Skinner's left eye twitched. "So? It won't stop me. I would only be riddin' the world of 'im. One less ruthless bastard ta deal with."
Emory did not respond to his taunt.
"'E's more like me that ya think. Do you know what 'e did when 'e was fifteen?"
Tristan struggled against the men holding him; struggled against the knife at his neck. "Stop."
"Did you know," Skinner started again, leaning closer to Emory, "that 'e killed 'is own mother?"
Emory's eyes flicked to Tristan's, attempting to read any emotion in them. "Put a bullet right between 'er eyes fer no reason." Skinner continued.
"Stop telling her lies!" Tristan shouted. "You sick bastard!"
Emory held her weary gaze steady, silently taking in everything that was being said.
"So yer denyin' killin' yer mum?"
Tristan was silent, his eyes boring into Emory's. He seemed almost worried about what she would think; what she would feel.
"No," he finally stated. "I'm not denying it. You're just not telling the truth. You know why I killed my mother; you know exactly why I'm the way that I am."
A grin lit Skinner's face. Finally the boy would admit to being as ruthless and sadistic as his father.
"You know my mother was abusive. After you raped her and left her she had no compassion for me. She had no love for the bastard son of a pirate. It was self defense when I shot her." He stopped and took a deep breath. This was not how he wanted this to be. "But I don't regret doing it. I don't feel bad about killing her. My life was better once she was gone."
Emory smiled slightly. "I remember that night," she stated softly. "I remember seeing them taking out her body. And I remember seeing you. You looked angry, so . . . lost."
Tristan stared over at her, shock registering in his eyes. "You knew?"
"I knew you had killed a woman, but I never knew who she was." She turned to Skinner. "You can't tell me anythin' I didn't already know."
Skinner's grin slipped for a moment and then widened. He liked this girl so much more than her mother. She was so . . . so devious. She even seemed heartless at times, unlike her bleeding hearted mother. "It's still on yer back then," he stated.
Emory leaned over slightly, her chained arms wrapped around her chest. "Aye."
Carefully, tentatively, Skinner moved behind her and crouched down. He felt her body stiffen as he lifted her shirt, the intricate designs and letters revealing themselves as the cloth was removed. Skinner let out a small hiss of pleasure as his eyes drank in the map. "Show it to me," he whispered.
Emory's eyes gazed up into Tristan's, an odd look flitting through them. He tried to read the look, tried to decipher what she was silently trying to tell him, but she closed her eyes before he could.
A calm look crossed her face as she began to concentrate. Suddenly her eyes flew open, an eerie light shining through them. Skinner's eyes widened as he watched her back. The glow that shone through her eyes filtered through her skin, causing her back to light up. The images shifted on her skin, the letters, once undecipherable gibberish, moved to form words that he could now read.
Emory gasped as the glow in her skin receded; the map having finally been revealed. A gust of wind blew through the brig, rustling their clothing and hair. The two superstitious pirates that held Tristan shifted on their feet; their eyes glancing around nervously. A voice seemed to drift in on the wind, carrying a word that all of them knew.
"Sparrow," it whispered.
"Sparrow," Emory repeated, her eyes glowing for a moment more.
Miles away on another ship sailing in a different direction, a pair of eyes begin to glow. Her back grows rigid, causing her to sit bolt upright.
"Sparrow."
Skinner jerked back as Emory spoke. He wrapped his hand around her chin, yanking her head back. "Why do you people keep saying his name? What's made him so important?" he whispered furiously.
Emory smirked weakly. "A Sparrow will hold the key."
"So?"
"I'm a Sparrow. He isn't important. Not like I am," she lied.
Skinner stared down at her for a moment and then, satisfied with her answer, let go of her chin. Instead his gaze returned to her back, his eyes drinking in the designs and words.
"'He who searched for the gift of Time shall find the curse of she who protects it.'" He read, his rough fingers skimming the skin of her back. He laughed. "What are you going to do? I've already died once, ya can't scare me wit' a simple curse!"
"Ya ne'er know," she mumbled, her eyelids drooping. Her wounds still bled. Her body still hurt from the abuse it had been given. Emory's muscles screamed in protest at having to stay chained. She longed to move; longed to fight back. She wished she could have stayed strong and not given in to Skinner's demands.
A fist slamming into her lower back caused her eyes to fly open as a gasp escaped her lips. "I know the rules bitch," Skinner's voice said in her ear. "'The chosen's blood must be spilt'. Which means I can't kill ya," a lewd grin crossed his face, "but I can play."
Titus' eyes opened slowly. It was almost time. He could sense it; he could feel it. The treasure was calling just as it had all those centuries ago. Excitement surged through his body. He couldn't wait. He couldn't wait for it to be his again.
And this time he would succeed.
Rebecca woke to find half a dozen people standing over her. Her head pounded; her eyes burned.
"Rebecca?"
Rebecca tilted her head slightly, her eyes taking in the impassive look on Jack's face. "Captain Sparrow?" She saw the slight flinch that crossed his face but pretended not to notice. Rebecca knew that she should at least try to accept who he was, who she was, but it was difficult. She had grown up believing she was somebody she wasn't.
"Are ya alright?" he asked, masking the hurt that flashed in his eyes. "Michel said ya collapsed after sayin' my name."
"I-" she started and then paused, her eyes narrowing. "I don't remember."
"What do you remember?"
"I was sitting with Michel, talking about home. And then I felt a gust of wind, which I found odd because we were sitting in my cabin, and then a voice whispered your name. I remember seeing images of a cave, treasure surrounding me, but nothing more."
"Nothin' else?" he questioned.
Rebecca shook her head slowly, careful not to anger the headache that was threatening her. "No, nothing."
Jack was silent, his dark eyes gazing into hers. His gaze was unsettling; never wavering nor blinking. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft whisper in the lamplight.
"So she's shown 'im," he turned to Will standing next to him. "It's begun. We 'ave ta beat 'im there. Everythin' is ridin' on us makin' it there first."
Will gave a nod of understanding. "I'll let AnaMaria know. I'm sure we can gather some more speed in the sails," he answered and then turned from them and hurried from the room.
Jack turned back to Rebecca, his eyes once again gazing into hers. "I'll need ya ta rest up love. It's when we get ta the island that we'll really need ya."
Rebecca nodded even though she did not quite understand. What did he have planned?
Titus stared down at the still bleeding form of Emory. More wounds had been inflicted on her; her left eye was almost completely swelled shut, her nose was bleeding and a deep gash in her side refused to close. He knew she would live. There would have been no point in killing her before they reached the island.
Titus almost wished that Skinner had merely taken the map from her, doing whatever was necessary to do so. He would have liked to hold the map in his own hands; would have liked to feel it between his fingers. But he knew doing so could possibly alter the map. Titus really did not want to see whether or not Emory could control it from a distance.
Something akin to laughter bubbled up in his throat and he almost released it but stopped as he realized he did not want to wake the sleeping captain. Titus knelt down next to her and bent at the waist. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, allowing it to linger for awhile.
He could taste her blood, could taste her very soul. It had not broken. He drew back, frowning. Her will had not cracked. She was planning something but for the life of him he could not figure out what. She would not give the location away so easily, he knew that, but yet . . .
Titus paused. Perhaps he should wake her. A cruel smirk crossed his face. Perhaps he should make her talk; make her tell him what she was planning. Yes. That sounded wonderful. What a brilliant idea.
His fingers trailed down to the newest wound in her side, his thumb digging in unmercifully. Titus watched as her eyes shot open; watched as a scream tore from her beautiful mouth.
Oh yes, this would be fun.
AN: Yay! A new chapter! Sorry it took so long guys. I was engrossed in reading the new Harry Potter book. Simply wonderful. But here it is, nevertheless. I hope you all enjoy!
The DuTchess of Doom: I'm glad you liked it! I'm not sure how intense this chapter was, but I hope you still liked it! I was noticing when I was writing the other day that it's become considerably darker as it goes on. Not quite sure why, but it has!
Smithy: Yeah, I felt kinda sorry for him when I wrote that. Twenty years later and he could still feel the fear that he felt when he was a child.
PineAppleLintThank you! I'm glad that you liked it. Titus is a terrible person, so the chapter had to reflect that. And yes, it's wonderful to think of Jack in prime condition. It's a wonderful vision.
Dawnie-7: It gave you the creeps? Really? Wow. I don't think anyone has every told me that before. It makes me feel kinda proud actually. I hope you liked this one too!