Nancy Wheeler was familiar with numbness. Only that afternoon, Nancy discovered first-hand how compression around one's abdomen restricted not only one's lung capacity but also the blood's ability to travel to the extremities. When the lungs fail to expand, fail to take in enough necessary air, the body responds with an overall weakening. A fleeting grasp of reality as the fingertips tingle and stop feeling, the eyes grow fuzzy and then black, the legs lose strength and collapse. Consciousness winks out like a spent candlewick. A physical surrender to sensation altogether.
A lack of food can make one have a similar reaction – a certain humid haze in the mind, an unawareness of one's surroundings. Nancy never liked it. She preferred her wits about her, precisely where they belonged. But she understood that dull feeling all the same. A fire dwindling to embers before extinguishing completely.
But this numbness that met her now in her bedroom, now that she was alone, in her nightgown, illuminated by a single dull flame from the lamp at the vanity where she sat… it was unsettling.
Nancy lifted a hand as if in a dream and reached for the lamp. Its warmth met the pads of her fingers idly. An acknowledgment of yes, you are, in fact, here occupying this space with me, Nancy Wheeler.
So physically, she could feel. Nerves sparked under her skin when stimulated, as designed. The numbness seemed to reside in her spirit, instead. And there had been plenty of stimuli to excite her throughout the day. Her fainting spell, Steve's proposal…
She knew that she should feel… something. Dismay at the uncontrolled weak performance of her body. Flattered by Steve's desire for her hand. Delight at the prospect of a fitting match and extravagant wedding. But none of those were happening. She couldn't even summon appropriate bewilderment at their absence.
There was just nothing. A disinterested hum as she gazed at her reflection in the vanity's mirror. Deep brown hair hardly visible in the dim room fell loosely about her shoulders. Pale skin bathed in equal parts shadow and the lamp's dull orange glow. The night cut stark lines into her cheeks so that she appeared gaunt and hungry.
This had to be death, this unnatural not-feeling. But why would that be? She'd lost consciousness, but she hardly toed the line between this plane of existence and the next. Not like Steve had.
God, that sickly pallor in his skin in front of the fort as she left the ceremony... Water still clung to him then, dragging down his hair and clothes, as if the ocean still hadn't relinquished her undying grip. As if it still yearned and pulled at him even now. And that burning way he looked at her, the way he always looked at her…
Nothing. Maybe this is what happened when one was overwhelmed. Or when one preferred not to think of anything. The soul acquiesced to that desire automatically. Dismissing all emotions and sentiments while the subconscious bundled reality into something digestible.
Or maybe Nancy's mind was preoccupied. Still in that hazy state, Nancy opened a drawer in her vanity and uncovered a false bottom to reveal a gold medallion. A pirate medallion. Jonathan's medallion.
As if viewing a painting at some distance, Nancy watched her hands lift the medallion, cool from its hiding spot in her drawer, and drape the cord around her neck. In the mirror, she stared at the round gold piece at her chest, harsh and ghastly against the plain white fabric of her nightgown.
She touched the engraving lightly, tracing the blunt X beside the dreadful skull. And the memory of Jonathan giving it to her brought a smile to her wan cheeks.
Nancy knew she was an unconventional woman. She eagerly chased knowledge of the unsightly corners of the world. The blood's pathways within the veins. The hunting patterns of fearsome sea creatures. And pirates. Their motivations, their customs, their values. They were criminals, of course. Blights on civil society who wouldn't blink at inflicting pain and death on an innocent bystander. But what brought a person to walk such a violent life?
Nancy knew to keep these interests to herself in polite company. Even Steve, whose lifestyle entangled him with pirates, worked to steer conversations to more pleasant, airy topics.
But Jonathan listened. He engaged. He encouraged. She wasn't an idle decorative trophy with him. She was just Nancy. Someone with unique insights worth paying attention to. And as her smile broadened with that thought, her spirit stirred with a satisfying purr.
"What a day, Miss Wheeler. You must be exhausted."
Nancy's smile faded, but the numbness didn't return. Instead, irritation prickled at the interruption from Barbara Holland. Her attendant always burst into her bedroom after an appropriate time for her to change into her nightclothes. It was her duty to turn down Nancy's blankets and ensure her room was warm and comfortable. And normally, Nancy appreciated the girl's candor. But this was no ordinary evening.
"I am," Nancy replied stiffly.
"I'm glad to see you so well after your scare," Barbara said easily. Recapping their days was a typical part of this bedtime routine. They'd done so since the Wheelers' arrival in Hawkins: Nancy fresh to the Caribbean air, and Barbara newly employed as a maid in a grand house. Nancy often enjoyed their talks, but now, she was more than ready for solitude.
Barbara continued, unaware of Nancy's tension. "But how Commodore Harrington saved your life? That's one for the romance stories, isn't it? Especially coming hand in hand with a proposal! If you don't mind me saying so, he'd make a handsome match for you."
"He would," Nancy admitted. Because it was true. The governor's pretty daughter and the heroic commodore. It made all the sense in the world.
There was a pause, and Nancy's eyes found Barbara's frown in the mirror.
"Please tell me you're not thinking about who I think you're thinking about," Barbara said drily. "That Byers boy is no good for you. Maybe he's got some visual appeal, but what are his prospects? You're the governor's daughter, Nancy, you can and will do so much better than a blacksmith's apprentice."
Smoldering indignation roared to a blaze in Nancy's chest. "That is too bold, Barbara."
It was a tone Nancy recognized, but not coming from her own mouth. She sounded every bit the elite, haughty lady that the women of her class tended to be around "the help."
Though Barbara served her, Nancy never thought of her as beneath her. And with one sentence, she'd shattered the illusion of equal footing they'd fostered for years. She watched the blow land plainly in Barbara's shattered expression and wished she could snatch back the cold words. But verbal language couldn't be erased like pencil marks.
"Barb, I—"
"If that will be all, Miss Wheeler," Barbara said tightly. And with a stiff curtsy, she fled the room.
Nancy buried her face in her arms. Where had that numbness gone now? She was left with roiling, acidic guilt. Nancy could ring her bell and call Barbara back to her room to try to salvage their camaraderie. But forcing Barbara's presence was just another way for Nancy to exert power over her.
Maybe true friendship never existed for them in the first place. Not with the imbalance looming over their heads like the blade of a guillotine.
She didn't have much time to wallow before a thunderous boom echoed from outside. It followed with a mighty crash and splintering wood. Nancy had never heard such noise, but with a sinking feeling, she guessed the source.
She made her way to her window which faced the harbor. An unfamiliar black ship had breached the waters. She watched a bright flash come from the boat's hull before a tree not far from the edge of the Wheeler estate smashed into smithereens with the impact of a cannonball.
Hawkins was under attack. She couldn't make out the flag atop the mast, but from the rowdy, raucous voices, swearing and cackling up a storm and coming from close — too close — Nancy guessed these assailants were pirates.
The intrigue that sparked in her chest when Nancy usually thought of pirates was gone. Instead, cold fear trickled down her spine at the sight of a gang of men, torches and pistols in hand, stomping out of the trees lining the edge of the property and toward the house.
They must barricade the doors, Nancy realized. She ran out of her bedroom toward the staircase, mind whirring about the furniture she could move herself or with help if she found it. But halfway through her descent, there came a pounding at the front door. She was in sight of it, but she was too late.
And Benjamin, their muscled, warm-hearted butler was squaring up to greet their guests.
"No, Benny, don't—!"
But her choked warning came too late as well. Benjamin had pulled the door open only partway when there was a loud bang. The butler's legs gave out, and he fell to the floor, limp and pouring blood from where a bullet lodged into his skull. Nancy slammed her palm over her own mouth to stifle the scream she could feel in her throat. Someone snickered in the doorway, and Nancy scrambled back up the stairs before she could see the pirates make their way easily into the foyer.
She needed another way out of the house. Perhaps the servants' passages? There was a stairwell toward the east wing, and Nancy ran, bare feet pounding on the floorboards in that direction. A door yanked open in the corridor, and Nancy bit back another scream before she recognized Barbara spilling out into the hall with her. The redhead's eyes were wide and bewildered.
"What's—"
"Pirates. In the house." Nancy panted an explanation. She grabbed Barbara's forearm and pulled her along in the direction of the hidden stairs. All ill feelings from their argument had evaporated. This was just Barb, her friend who needed to get to safety.
"What? But why are they here? Why wouldn't they—oh."
Barbara stopped abruptly, and Nancy stumbled when Barbara's arm became an iron resistance more solid than concrete. "You're the governor's daughter. It's you they want. They'll take you captive. Ransom you. And in that time, they could—"
"Enough," Nancy snapped, and Barbara fell silent, though her bottom lip quivered. "That won't happen because we're leaving."
"Your mother, Holly, Mike…" Barbara allowed herself to be dragged again, but she seemed barely aware of her movement. As if she operated in that numb haze Nancy had been contemplating less than an hour earlier. Nancy didn't envy that sensation now, not when her heart raced, shooting sharp clarity through her veins.
"I know," Nancy said. Mike's quarters were on the opposite side of the building, but they neared Holly's nursery now. Nancy could collect her, and her mother was likely there as well. She could get them all out. Her gaze was zeroed in on the door now. They were only a few paces away.
But then a door at the far end of the hall blew open with a bang. A man in a filthy jacket and dark, scruffy hair emerged from the servant's stairwell. Their intended escape route. Nancy's thoughts evaporated along with her plans. The man – the pirate – was smiling now with blackened teeth. And staring Nancy in the eye.
"Come on," Nancy urged Barbara, tugging her hand to dash back the way they came. Barbara whimpered and followed easily. Rather than find her baby sister, she needed to get this pirate as far from her as possible.
She knew time wasn't favoring them tonight, and sure enough, heavy footfall was close, far too close. Just as she felt grubby hands reaching for the back of her neck, Nancy careened into the nearest room. Barbara stumbled across the threshold after her, and Nancy turned quickly to slam the door shut. But a hard palm smacked the wood before she could and held the door ajar.
The pirate stepped fully around the doorframe, grinning at Nancy and Barbara both. Nancy's eyes darted around the room – a sparsely furnished guest room, unfortunately – and fumbled for anything that could be a weapon. An iron fire stoker leaned against a wall, and Nancy twisted to grab it.
As she rounded toward the pirate, there was a high scream, and she found Barbara enclosed in the man's harsh grip. One arm looped around her waist to hold her close against his chest, and his other hand moved to cover Barbara's mouth, smothering her shrieking.
Barbara slumped in the man's arms, sobs racking her body and coming out muffled behind his palm. The pirate rolled his eyes, easily maintaining his hold on the maid.
"They always scream," he said. "Irritates the ears, it does. Now, you seem like a smart broad. I'm lookin' for summat in particular. You help me out, I don't hurt you. Or her. That clear?"
Nancy still held the stoker high in her hand, but she couldn't help meeting Barbara's panicked eyes. That chilled fear licked down the back of her neck. She couldn't let anything happen to Barbara. So Nancy nodded tightly.
"Good," the pirate grunted. "What I need is — oh." The pirate's eyes narrowed and focused on Nancy's chest. She flushed, remembering she was uncovered, just clad in her thin nightclothes. And the pirate's head tilted with interest. "That was easier than I thought — yowch!"
The pirate yanked his hand from Barbara's mouth, recoiling in pain. Barbara winced as if she tasted something foul. And if she bit his filthy hand, she surely did. His grip at her waist loosened enough for her to wriggle free, and Barbara gulped at the fresh air and took several shaking steps toward Nancy.
"Oh, fuck this," the pirate muttered. With practiced ease, he withdrew a pistol from his belt, aimed it at Barbara, and fired. A scream tore from Nancy's throat as Barbara's scared face flashed with surprise and blood sprayed out of her forehead, splattering the right side of Nancy's body. Then Barbara thudded to the floor and moved no more.
Nancy didn't think twice before sprinting out of the room. She dashed into the hallway, only to find someone else there. The sandy-haired governess froze and gaped at Nancy's scarlet-dappled gown.
"Miss Wheeler?" she said weakly.
"This way," Nancy said quickly. She snatched this girl's arm, thinner and lankier than Barbara's. And she yanked her toward the next closest door.
This time, Nancy slammed the double doors shut successfully. She belatedly realized the fire stoker was still clutched in her fist, so she rammed it between the dual handles. In the nick of time too, because there was a hard yank and a clang as the iron poker met the gold-rimmed handles, unyielding to their pursuer's strength trying to tear down the door.
At last, a successful barricade, Nancy nodded to herself. But that left her weaponless again as well as trapped in – Nancy spun to take in the space – a drawing room. The spare — not the good, well-stocked one on the first floor.
"Blood," came a sort of squawking voice. Robin – the governess's name was Robin, Nancy remembered. In Nancy's defense, Robin had been at the estate for only a few weeks. And if Mrs. Wheeler's ranting about the girl's incompetence were to be believed, she wouldn't be there for much longer. Robin was blinking with horror at Nancy's ruined nightgown.
"It's not mine," Nancy told her abruptly. She shook her head. She didn't think she could explain that Barbara was…
"Did you kill someone?" Robin asked with wide eyes. They were a deep blue color, like the harbor at dusk. "One of those… are they pirates? What is even happening right now?"
Nancy just paced, not bothering to respond. There was another fire poker in this room, so she took that in hand quickly. Then she looked at the long, elegant table that took up the center of the room.
"Help me with this," Nancy demanded. She shoved chairs out of the way, and Robin moved to slowly do the same.
When there was enough space, Nancy tipped the heavy table on its side and groaned as she pushed it toward the door. As the doors gave another ominous rattle from the force of someone's shove on the other side, Nancy figured they could use a second layer to their barricade.
"Are they gonna kill us? What do they even want?" Robin rambled.
And Nancy stopped. That pirate had all but said it, hadn't he? He wasn't staring at her nearly visible breasts. She placed a shaking hand on her chest and felt the rough surface of the medallion. All of this for a trinket that Jonathan had tucked in some corner of his apartment for years? Why this? Why now?
"Uh, Nancy, shouldn't we—"
Robin's tremulous voice cut off with a loud splintering sound. The pirate's boot smashed through the center of one of the doors. A dirty hand reached around to slide the poker out of the way. And the table was still in the center of the room, useless.
There was no alternative exit route. She couldn't match a pistol with her metal rod. Nancy had seconds to think about every fact she'd ever read about pirates.
The pirate pushed open the double doors. His eerie smile was long gone and replaced with an aggrieved scowl. The pistol was cocked and ready in his hand.
"Parley!" Nancy exclaimed.
The pirate froze in place and blinked. And Nancy pressed on, explaining eagerly. "I invoke the right of parley. According to the Pirate Code, you must take me to your captain. You can do an adversary no harm until the parley is complete."
She rammed her elbow into Robin's side, and she yelped. But she caught on quickly. "Parley, yes, me too. Parley."
"Par-bloody-ley," the pirate muttered to himself. "If it's an audience with the captain you want, it's an audience with the captain you'll get then. And who may I ask wants to meet our captain so badly?"
"Nancy, uh, Byers," Nancy said.
The pirate hummed with interest but did not comment. They both looked expectantly at Robin, whose last name Nancy didn't actually know. But Nancy hoped the girl had a good enough sense to lie. Nancy ignored the flush that threatened her cheeks about the first surname that had popped into her own head.
"Um, Robin… Wheeler." Robin said eventually. She winced right after, and Nancy had to make a conscious effort not to smack her palm to her forehead. Her surname, that of the Governor's, was the worst moniker she could have provided.
The pirate huffed a laugh. "A Byers offspring and the governor's daughter requesting to come quietly to the ship of their own accord. I thought lady luck lost sight of me long ago, but what a fortunate evening we have in store. Oy, Chase! Grab one of these, will you? Parley, they says. See, we've got what we need now anyway. Let's move out."
A second and third pirate poked their heads in the room and surveyed Nancy and Robin with grins spreading like mold across their faces. Their beady eyes lingered on the gold medallion sitting around Nancy's neck. And as they surged forward to grab Nancy and Robin by the arms and steer them out of the room, out of the house, out of the town, Nancy wondered if this had been one of the worst ideas she'd ever had.
The pirates jeered and guffawed at one another as they dragged Robin and Nancy through the dark. Nancy's bare feet met many a sharp stick and rock, but she didn't complain. The men called out to other pirates they encountered who were busy looting the village. And Nancy surveyed with a heavy heart that various shop windows were engulfed in flames.
Despite the late hour, there were townspeople and military men in the street, trying to fight off the pirates. Who knew how many people had lost their homes, their livelihoods, their lives? And how many more still would before the night was out? When would this terror end?
Nancy's reeling thoughts and body came to a stop when her eyes met Jonathan Byer's. He was in the thick of the fight with one of his swords in hand – probably snatched from his workshop as soon as he heard the commotion. Her heart sank. Why must he be a hero now of all times? Maybe he could handle the swords he crafted, but these pirates didn't play by the rules.
She watched Jonathan's eyes flood with horror at the sight of her. His lips moved, tracing the shape of her name. Chase the Pirate shoved her shoulder to get her walking again toward a waiting pinnace that would shepherd them to that eerie, mighty black pirate ship.
She couldn't look away though, as Jonathan sprang into motion, dodging townsfolk and pirates alike to get to her.
"No!" she shouted. What could this boy, this beautiful, careful boy, do? She'd have to watch bullets splice through him like she did Benny and Barb. Nancy couldn't do it. "NO!" Her voice came out shrilly, nearly inhuman.
But Jonathan was nowhere near her yet when he passed a pirate whose arms were laden with jugs of liquor. The pirate frowned in disapproval at Jonathan's sprinting form. Then with perfect timing, he drew back one arm, winding up, and let his arm and the massive glass jug in his hand swing. It collided with a resounding thud into Jonathan's skull. He fell backward onto the cobblestone road and did not rise.
Nancy fought the urge to wail as she was unceremoniously guided aboard the light boat. Robin shuffled close to her, and they sat silently, shoulders touching, as the boat ferried them to that gruesome ship.
As they were led aboard, Nancy saw the ship's shadowy appearance wasn't just a trick of the night. The planks of the deck were black, as if the ship were a figment of the night itself. And blearily, she realized more pinnacles were heading their way. The pirates were retreating back to their base. Their mission was accomplished.
Yet the cannon fire didn't stop. Blast after blast racked and wrecked Hawkins. She didn't think they'd cease until the entire port was flattened.
The two pirates kept their holds on Nancy and Robin as they waited. Within a few minutes, a tall figure in a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat descended from the upper deck. As he drew near, Nancy could see he had light, curly hair and dark eyelashes that many women Nancy kept company with would murder for. When he smiled at them, he had straight, even teeth that weren't yellow like most of his brethren. But he had a dangerous flash in his eyes and a sureness in his step that led the other pirates on deck to take a deferent step back. This was the captain.
Nancy swallowed and stuck her chin out defiantly. "I should like to—"
A harsh palm slapped her across the face, and Nancy yelped. Her cheek felt hot and stung so that tears prickled humiliatingly behind her eyes. She'd never been struck before. The shock more than the impact silenced her tongue.
"You'll speak when spoken to, bitch," a blond, square-jawed pirate sneered. He raised his hand in a clear message. He had no qualms about hitting her again.
"Carver," the captain said. Everyone fell still and silent. "These two ladies have invoked parley. No one lays a hand on them until we see it through."
The captain glared at Carver until the blond man nodded. "Aye, Captain Hargrove."
Hargrove turned to Nancy once more with a winning smile. "Apologies, darling. You were saying?"
"Captain Hargrove," Nancy said, trying to keep the shake out of her voice. She stared down the pirate determinedly. "I should like to negotiate terms for a cease-fire. For you to still your guns and all other methods of attack, leave Hawkins now, and never return."
Hargrove chuckled and strode toward her until he was only an inch away. Nancy anticipated the stench of an ill-kempt man at sea. But instead, she was bombarded by a cloud of appealing perfume. "Why should I do a thing like that?"
"Because," Nancy stated. She stepped away and toward the railing of the ship. She yanked the cord over her head and held the medallion over the open water. There was a collective gasp among the pirates whose eyes were all fixed on the dangling gold.
"You want this," Nancy continued. "And I'll drop it now, surrendering it to the mercy of the sea, if you do not agree to these conditions. Leave. Now. Forever. Do we have an accord?"
The entire deck ceased to breathe, and Hargrove's smile was gone. His jaw tightened. "Do you even know what you've got in your hand, girl?"
"I know it's something you need," Nancy said.
Hargrove gave a noncommittal hum. "A family heirloom then, is it?"
Nancy scowled. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're implying."
"Not at all," Hargrove said easily. He took careful steps, sidling up to her. He leaned his hip against the railing an arm's length away from her. "You hand that over now and you've got yourself a deal."
"You'll never return to Hawkins," Nancy clarified.
"Aye, and you best deliver that bit of gold to me now lest I forget my manners. Trust that you don't want to see the way I ask without them."
Nancy studied him. This man was menacing, malevolent. But there was the Pirate Code he had to consider. A deal was a deal. And she placed her only bargaining chip into Hargrove's waiting hand. His fingers closed over it fast, and he tugged it to his chest, something wild and desperate ghosting across his face.
Nancy swallowed. "Well?"
Hargrove's smile returned. But it wasn't pleasant. He called over his shoulder. "Cease fire. Weigh anchor. You know where we're headed, boys."
The crew scuttled to still the cannons and adjust the sails to steer the ship away from the harbor.
Robin made a strangled sound. "Um."
Hargrove's eyebrows rose in her direction. His eyes raked over her body, nose wrinkling as if he didn't approve of what he saw there. "If you think you've got terms of your own to settle, sweetheart, forget it. Your representative here saw this parley to its end."
"So the ship's leaving, right?" Robin observed. "That's all well and good. But… we're still here."
Nancy's heart sank. She spun and faced the captain, speaking swiftly. "You must return us to shore. According to the Code—"
"First of all, your return to shore was not part of our agreement. I cannot take action outside of the terms you so artfully presented." Hargrove had rounded on her with a snarl, face crowding hers, so that Nancy's lower back collided with the railing.
But Hargrove wasn't done. "Secondly, neither of you are pirates, so the Code does not apply to you. I played along with this little game out of the generosity of my heart. You'd do well to remember this kindness. And lastly, the Code is not legally binding. It's more… a guideline. A series of recommendations, if you will."
Hargrove's flash of anger melted into a sickly smile. "Miss Byers, isn't it?" Nancy didn't answer, too unsettled by the changing moods of this dangerous man. The captain flicked his gaze to Robin, who looked like she might vomit. "And Miss Wheeler. Welcome aboard the Hellfire. Carver and Andy, make them comfortable in my quarters."
Nancy flinched but otherwise resigned herself to the violent blond manhandling her toward the captain's cabin in the center of the ship – the Hellfire, apparently. A fitting name for such a demonic vessel.
She had massively miscalculated. Wasn't she just thinking to herself that Jonathan ought not to tangle with pirates? That they didn't play by any known rules – not even the ones they established for themselves?
Nancy counted her blessings when the pirates merely threw the two of them into the room and locked them inside. But how long until they returned and had their way with them? They needed a way off of the ship. But with the crew working tirelessly to get them into open water, they couldn't sneak around the deck, even they could find a way out of the cabin. And the longer they waited to make their escape, the less likely it would be that they'd ever make it back to Hawkins.
"Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God," Robin muttered to herself. She sat down promptly in a corner and hugged her knees to her chest. Nancy tried to ignore her, but the girl did not stop talking. "I just wanted a job before I could go to school. Now we've been kidnapped by pirates. What are we gonna do? What are they gonna do? We're gonna die. Oh, we're so walking the plank in shark-infested waters. And that's if we're lucky."
"Shut up!" Nancy hissed. But even if Robin was capable of quieting her nervous rambling, Nancy's brain fizzed with ceaseless frustration. She didn't have answers to the admittedly crucial questions Robin spouted. And the girl's fears weren't far from the mark.
Maybe that small death of numbness in the soul would be a mercy now. But Nancy found, even in her helplessness, that she was here. Present and awake and feeling it all.
The ship rolled with the waves under her bare feet, which stung idly after her stumble through the lawn and town and docks. The stuffy air of the cabin, illuminated only by moonlight, came in and out of her lungs with ease. Robin's incessant blathering buzzed a grating tone in her ears. But she couldn't summon irritation at that. The girl was tethering her, igniting that spark that Nancy recognized as self.
And she needed that. Especially when despair, grief, and horror washed over her like an endless cycle of crashing waves. Visceral, vile, all-consuming. And... good. Her heart raced, and her brain ticked enthusiastically. Life as she knew it was eviscerated, but something new beat steady and fresh and ready and alluring inside her all the same.
... ... ...
Steve had been awake and on his feet for hours when the first grey suggestion of dawn touched Hawkins's shores. That black horror that blighted the harbor and her swarm of pirates had only been gone for one of those hours. Steve's heart still raced from the attack. Most of his troops were making their way through the veins of the village, assessing the damage, both corporal and material.
He'd been Commodore for less than a day, and half of the port was destroyed. Tommy had muttered something about a less than auspicious start to his term, but Steve remained focused. The town needed him, and he'd let them down. He wouldn't do so again.
But even if Steve had anticipated the pirates' ambush, their guns at the fort were no match for that ship with her cannons that wrecked the town at such a distance, out of range of any of their own weapons. Half of their fleet had sunk in their own harbor.
But Steve wouldn't act rashly. He would take stock of the night's losses, scavenge what remained, rebuild the port's defenses, and then – only then – outline a plan to find their attackers and bring them to justice. It wouldn't do to chase these pirates down and leave his town vulnerable.
This was his initial mindset, of course. Until the daybreak brought with it a steward who stammered a terse report in the reluctant tone of someone who wished literally anyone else could deliver news of this magnitude to this particular officer.
Rationality vanished, leaving Steve's brain utterly empty. He existed as just a raging pulse that thudded her name: Nancy, Nancy, Nancy. And each beat conjured a more determined purpose.
He swallowed, clenched his fists, and forced himself to listen to the details of the situation. Nancy had been abducted by the pirates along with the Wheelers' governess. She was gone. In the hands of ruthless scoundrels who could be anywhere now. Could do anything to this woman he adored.
With resolve, he dismissed the steward and marched toward the jail. The guard there, a different one from the previous night, showed no surprise at Steve's arrival and did not comment as Steve stormed down the stairs.
The dungeon was darker now with the dawn only blearily making itself known at this hour. But Steve still ignored the waiting torch as he thundered through the corridor. The first cell was empty. A gaping hole in the wall told a tale of fortunate escape for the thieves.
But Eddie Munson was precisely where Steve left him the night before.
The pirate stood tensely at the sound of Steve's approach, but when he recognized him, a series of emotions flashed across his pale face. His shoulders relaxed, and he tilted his head, drawing close to the cast-iron bars that separated them. His lips parted, but Steve cut in harshly before Eddie could form a word.
"Did you know." Steve's icy query was delivered as a command.
Eddie's eyes hardened at the tone, and his response came out petulantly. "Know what?"
"Did you know those pirates were coming to Hawkins."
Steve didn't flinch under Eddie's scrutinizing glance. At last, Eddie admitted with a scowl, "No."
Steve strode nearer so that his nose about grazed the metal bars, so that his eyes bore into Eddie's with only an inch and iron between them. "So tell me what you do know."
Eddie ignored the demand and scanned Steve's body from the crisp hat over his powdered wig to his shiny, military-issued boots. "You're unharmed. Were you… robbed?"
There was some hidden meaning behind the question that Steve couldn't decipher, and Steve's eyes narrowed. "Two women have been abducted, and most of Hawkins is destroyed. So I suppose you could say that."
Eddie hummed noncommittally.
"You knew these pirates," Steve pressed. "Where are they headed?"
"If I knew them, do you think I'd still be here?" Eddie scoffed.
"Yes," Steve said simply. "I think a pirate would gladly help one of their own find their freedom if they had the opportunity. Unless he knew him and deemed him unworthy of the effort. Then he'd let the man rot. These pirates had ample opportunity. And here you rot. Now where is that ghastly ship making birth?"
"Ghastly?" Eddie parroted. "That's the legendary Hellfire, I'll have you know. Sleek phantom of the seven seas. Ghastly. I never."
"Munson, I've no patience for this," Steve growled. "These women are in danger. It's in your interest to share all you know about this ship. Which by the way, is not the Hellfire. That ship is a myth. She doesn't exist."
Eddie sniffed and examined his fingernails idly. "My interests, eh? Not bloody likely."
"One of the hostages is the daughter of the Governor of Hawkins. He'd look favorably upon any who assisted in her safe return. You're in a position where the gratitude of an authority who can pardon crimes against the crown would be of significant interest."
Eddie's eyes met Steve's sharply. "And you'd put that bug in the Governor's ear that I was the one who assisted, would you? You would skip whatever bounty he'd otherwise bestow on yourself?"
"Of course, I would," Steve answered easily.
Eddie didn't look away. After a moment, he swallowed, the click of it loud in the quiet dungeon, and said, "The answer's no, Harrington."
It was Steve's turn to scowl. "Innocent lives are in danger, Munson."
"And how many lives aboard that ship would you end to rescue those two?" Eddie snapped.
If Steve found that ship full of pirates, all of them would face the King's justice. All of them would be condemned to death. And it would be Steve signing that warrant.
"As many as I need to," Steve said grimly.
Eddie stared at him. "Of course, you would," he said darkly. Then he heaved a sigh. "If you've got damsels you intend to save, you better hop to it. It's such a narrow window to squeeze through if you want to do so successfully. At least in my experience with rescuing distressed damsels."
Steve ignored Eddie's pointed smirk. "Will they hurt them?" Steve asked softly.
Eddie's face grew grave. "I don't know." They were still staring at one another, close enough despite the significant barrier that Steve could smell stale sea brine clinging to Eddie's hair. Finally, Eddie swallowed again, and Steve zeroed in on the movement of his throat.
"Get out of here, Harrington."
Eddie's rough voice didn't exactly break the spell that had Steve transfixed upon this man. But the logic of leaving seeped through the haze in Steve's mind. His job. His adversaries. Nancy. He had work to do. And a stubborn pirate wasn't going to stand in his way.
Steve left abruptly, ignoring that now familiar, insistent inkling that assured him – no matter how irrational the notion – that he would see Eddie Munson again.