Sorry for the wait. To be short, first summer job ever, then starting school again. All my stories were on hold.
Enjoy
Chapter 14: The witch
Will walked out of the main town of Tortuga, feeling strangely content with what he had achieved at the Twelve Daggers. It really had been lucky to stumble on Jack, and to do so just when the pirate was so drunk he didn't even manage to be aware of his surroundings. Truly, the pirate had a gift with alcohol, that it did seem he couldn't be bothered with the bad effects of drinking, and only suffered the pleasant side of getting drunk. But this time, even the Great Jack Sparrow had been under the table, figuratively speaking, of course. A sight to behold.
This sight William wasn't going to forget anytime soon.
Now that he didn't have any other gift to bestow upon those who had helped him in one way or another, the former captain of the Flying Dutchman had only one thing left to do on his important-list-for-the-future: to go and see Tia Dalma.
If anything, the goddess-turned-witch could tell him more about his situation.
Or, at least, Will hoped she would be able to. If she didn't know, after all, who would?
Anyway, this meant he had to find a ship to get him to Cuba. Still, this would wait for tomorrow, because he wasn't keen on the idea of staying in town for the night. Besides, he had other things to do, things that hadn't made it to his important-list-for-the-future, but that would nonetheless benefit him if he managed to do them right.
The man whistled a bit as he walked up a hill, heading for the small group of houses on top. He felt happy enough, lately, even if it happened that his mind would wander back to Port Royal, to his younger self, especially.
It was strange, he had to admit, but the few weeks he had spent with the boy had made him feel more like a big brother than he was supposed to feel. Then again, who else could pretend at having a relationship with their younger selves? Not many people, if any. Will was under the impression you weren't supposed to care about yourself, at least, not in that way, with you having two selves, one of them being displaced in time. So the blacksmith simply guessed it had to be the way it was meant to be, for him to feel so much like an older brother for his other self, because, well... There was no precedent to learn from.
Ah, William the second and young Elizabeth, and the commodore-who-wasn't-yet,-but-who-cares-anyway?... He would miss them, he could already be sure of that. Hell, he was already starting to miss them.
But he had things to do, peope to deal with, if Will wanted for both his selves to live happily from now on. Frankly, if he listened to himself, the man would go right to England, and twist Beckett's neck before the bastard managed to snatch the shadow of a wraith of personal power. Sadly, he wouldn't do that, because bastardly as his future could become, Beckett had yet to do anything evil or underhanded, to Will's knowledge at least, and the blacksmith didn't want to be a cold-blooded murderer. For now, Cutler Beckett was safe... But it wouldn't last if the bastard tried anything and Will knew of it.
Will walked into the small village, and his eyes immediately darted to the largest house around.
He made to walk in, but stopped. He hadn't considered that maybe, Marian wasn't living here yet. When was it that the witch had come to Tortuga, already? Ah, the old woman had ranted and ranted about it after she had ended up, drowned, on his ship, having been pushed down a cliff by someone who, unsurprisingly, didn't like witches, and surprisingly, had not been frightened enough to just leave and never come back to Tortuga.
Not that Marian was particularly powerful for a witch, but still. She was a witch. And no one liked to look at her supposedly dead eyes, which she kept under a blindfold most of the time. And what wasn't the same as them usually frightened people...
Marian had learnt how to deal with any small-timer going after her as she had learnt magic. She would be no match for someone like Tia Dalma, even stuck in human form, but she had enough power, and, more to the point, she had shown the folks around here what she could do with her magic. They usually left her alone, and Will hoped that in this altered timeline, she would be left alone until the end. The witch wasn't a bad person.
Marian Latour. Supposedly a blind witch, the villagers and the people from the harbor said, but Will knew better. He had seen it first hand, in his time. One of the two rumors was wrong.
Well, he'd have to hope Marian already lived on Tortuga, and if possible, not on the other side of the island. Will certainly wasn't going to knock at every single door asking for the resident witch until he found her. He didn't fancy being burnt to the stake.
Finally he stood before the door of the house. His eyes fell on the dead snake pinned on the door, and he smiled a bit. Unless the house had had another witch occupying it before Marian, the woman he was looking for already lived here. For once, he was granted what he wanted right away.
William knocked. Two passersby were watching him, one curiously, the other suspiciously, but well, this was Tortuga. Most people were suspicious, if only by their presence on the pirate haven island. It was to be expected to be eyed distrustfully.
"Come in."
The voice was young, much younger than he remembered, but that wasn't surprising. Marian Latour had been seventy years old when they had met, and it had happened a few decades after his assuming the captaincy of the Dutchman. If Will didn't completely suck at calcul, right now, she had to be barely twenty years old, or maybe even just under that age.
He pushed the door open, earning a slow "creeeaaaak..." for the effort.
Inside, the house was well-furnished, but eerie. Only the witch lived here, and it showed; when the place was fit for a full family with three kids and a dog, it was barely lived in. There was no dust, no mess, but the place didn't feel very lively. It didn't look lived in, if anything.
In fact, just as Will thought these words, a young woman with brown hair and a purple blindfold eating half her face appeared from a small door in the shadows. For one moment, the blacksmith though she was a ghost, for she looked really fragile and otherworldly.
But, of course, past professional occupation oblige, Will had seen his fair share of ghosts, and they didn't look like that. Usually, they were a bit more... transparent, if possible grey or green, and they had horrendous reminders of their untimely death. Such as, gapping wounds, or visible rotting flesh, or water rolling out of their mouth, or...
The point was, ghosts really weren't pleasant to look at. The rare times he had encountered wandering ghosts, the former captain of the Dutchman had done his best to force them to pass on. His powers allowed that, but if they were rooted to earth by a curse or something like that, it happened he couldn't do a thing.
The woman, whom, as he had guessed, could not be more than twenty years old, tilted her head at him, as if observing him, as if she could see through that blindfold. Which would mean said blindfold wasn't very efficient. It actually meant said blindfold wasn't efficient at all, let's be honest, because Marian could totally see the handsome young man standing in the entrance of her house.
She had a reason for wearing that piece of clothes and hiding her face, and it wasn't blindness.
Of course, she wasn't in any hurry to let the neighbors know. The purple fabric made them feel uncomfortable, and it was something she could appreciate. One needed to work on their image, when they were acknowledged witches. A blind woman who can still see you as if by looking at your soul was a very good image.
"I do not know you."
The young man smiled at her, and Marian tilted her head a bit more to the left. There was something quite not right with this man, but... Ah, no matter, she really couldn't pinpoint what it was.
It just felt... wrong, though not evil. And powerful, yes, that too.
"Indeed you don't. But I do know of you, Miss Latour, and I was wondering if you'd accept a deal."
The witch raised both eyebrows, though Will couldn't see that, blindfold taken into account.
"Of what nature, Mister...?"
"Wilhem Carter. What I wish to talk about is more of a convenient understanding than a deal, actually, but it could benefit us both, if we stick to our end of that understanding. I need a place to stay during my various passages on Tortuga, and a place where I could leave some of my things without fearing them to be stolen. I have money, if that's what you want as a compensation, but I could deal with a few other kinds of demands, as long as they are feasible."
Marian frowned at the man, if only because he had the guts to make her an offer, at her discretion. People usually feared her, even if she hadn't done much to justify the fear, or at least they were wary of her and kept clear. People didn't come to her to make a deal with a smile, and they certainly didn't ask for a place to stay at her house.
Not that she enjoyed being feared. Left alone, yes, feared, not so much. But well.
It was just strange, that's all. Unexpected.
"A particular reason why you're asking me, and not someone else, with less of a... reputation?"
The man smiled a bit, but it wasn't mocking, nor uneasy. He simply seemed amused... Just a bit.
"You have a lot of free rooms, Miss Latour. And your reputation should keep the thieves away, if anything. I have no reason not to trust you, moreover, and you don't appear to me like someone who would go back on their word. I only ask for a room, after all."
Marian blinked under her blindfold, and winced a bit when her damaged skin tensed around the eyes. This stranger had literally said he trusted her. No only did he not know her, but he had surely heard of her witchery...?
No one, in all the years she had spent on Tortuga, had ever simply ignored her occult activities. Even the rare people who liked her and didn't see her as a threat didn't trust her. Which wasn't surprising, considering what some witches did with their powers, and what the Church always advised to do with possible devil-worshippers.
Funny how no one on Tortuga cared about the seven deadly sins they were transgressing by the hour, and still they eyed witchcraft as if it was the greatest hint of evilness.
"I... suppose we could at least try this arrangement, until next time you come to the island."
The young man gave her a blinding smile, and put on the nearest table a handful of gold coins.
"Perfect, Miss Latour, just perfect. If there is anything I could get you on my travels, be it ingredients or items, say, ask away and I'll see what I can do; my first journey will be to Cuba."
"You wouldn't happen to drop by Tia Dalma's place, would you?"
Will chuckled a bit, and decided that, maybe, it would be better, more honest, if anything, to tell one thing or two about who he was to the woman who had agreed to be his landlord. He wasn't going to outright tell her he was a former captain of a ghost ship from the future, because that'd need him to explain, and he wasn't keen on explaining that to anyone, any time soon. But he could show her he wasn't a normal person, just like she wasn't a normal human.
"I have some..."
Marian started. The man wasn't anywhere in sight, but she hadn't seen him move. He had... disappeared. Just like that.
A movement to her right made her jump a bit.
"...informations I need to make sense of, if you get my meaning."
Wilhem Carter was right here, standing next to her, five feets from where he had been standing before that. Marian suddenly understood why he had felt so different, so... wrong, when she had first looked at him, and the witch's expression became guarded.
This person didn't seem to wish her ill, but the young woman knew better than to assume. He had shown her some of his own powers, but certainly not all of it. And from what she knew of witchcraft, and obviously, she knew quite a bit, this wasn't magic. No witch, no magician could do something like that. Enchanted objects, hexes and wards, that they could do. Teleporting, not.
And if the man wasn't an user of magic, but had powers...
"What are you?"
Will smiled a bit, and took a step back from the witch. He wasn't really surprised by the question.
"Passing by, nothing more. But if you were asking about what kind of being I am... Well, that's one of the reasons I need to see Tia Dalma, to ask about it. I wasn't exactly told how things would go on, after I ended up... like that."
Or, more accurately, after he had ended up in this time. Calypso had stopped by the Flying Dutchman a few times over the years, and they had talked a bit. He knew, more or less, what his being the ferryman of the dead at sea entailled.
But he wasn't that anymore, and his heart was unaccounted for. It was even possible it didn't even exist, except for Will the second's. So, how did it work, now? Was he truly immortal? Or, and he felt ill at the thought, would he die if his younger self died? If it was the case, and someone, possibly an enemy he would have made, heard of it... Was his very existence in this time a danger to William?
The truth was, he didn't want to know. It didn't change the fact that he needed to know.
"Theoretically, I am undead, but I am not a ghost nor a revenant. I suppose I simply kept living after my death, due to some... circumstances. But I don't know what kind of being, besides 'undead', I classify as."
Marian Latour seemed to think about it for a moment. Then she nodded, but Will could see a little hesitation in the set of her jaw.
"Tia Dalma certainly is the best to consult about that, especially in these waters."
The witch had seemed to relax a bit, but the blacksmith could tell she wasn't trusting him for all that. Funny, how quickly the roles had reversed.
Then again, witches weren't exactly at their best against unknown supernatural beings. Those tended to have powers which could rival their magic, Will could testify, and since she didn't even know what his powers were... Let's say he would have been surprised if she hadn't been a little tense.
Marian moved over to a piece of furniture, where a collection of blades were on display.
Just in case the stranger tried anything.
Supposing it would even do something to him. She really wasn't sure about that. The undead tended not to care about wounds, or even to be able to phase through the weapons...
"To be clear, you don't eat newborns or sacrifice virgin during the full moon, do you?"
William arched an eyebrow, his eyes smiling the smile his mouth didn't show.
"Ain't that what they say of you witches?"
"Just making sure, because I don't agree with such practices. But I get your point."
"Now that you are certain I am neither a ghoul nor a necromancer, do we seal this contract in blood, or would our word suffice?"
The witch squinted at him, and Will only gave her a smirk. She had been the one to start with the superstitions and the barbaric practices. Why couldn't he continue?
After a moment of silence, Marian Latour walked to him, and searched for a handshake. The blacksmith complied. Her grip was firm, and energetic. His was powerful and confident. If one tried to fool the other, they would not appreciate what would come afterwards. They both knew it.
"Third room on the left. And if you do actually see Tia, ask her for the serpent skins she promised me twelve years ago."
William looked the young woman up and down. She definitely wasn't twenty years old. Eighteen. Maybe nineteen.
"Weren't you a bit too young back then to know about witchcraft?"
The woman sneered, bit it wasn't malevolent. He guessed it had more to do with how her fellow witches saw and treated her, and the sneering had become an habit. After all, she was a proefficient witch, despite her youth.
Unless she looked younger than she was? You never knew with those witches...
"Tia took me in when I was six. My parents had died, and well..."
"So you are her student."
Surprising. The Marian from his time hadn't told anything about being the former student of the sea goddess. Then again, it wasn't something easy to bring into the conversation, even for someone currently speaking with the ferryman of the dead at sea on a ship to the afterlife. Will himself didn't present himself as an undead man first thing in the conversation. It would not end well if he did.
Marian shrugged.
"In some ways, I guess. I didn't stick around the usual ten years, so... But she did teach me a few things. And I'm still waiting for those serpent skins, twelve years after the promise."
Will excused himself, and went to look for the said third room on the left. For now, he had nothing to leave behind, but he could do with a few hours of sleep. He didn't need that, as always, but it really was more comfortable, to live and sleep. It made him feel less like a freak, and he was almost certain his brain worked better when he took some time off, like a normal person.
He still had much to do, before he could start living again, but he had years to do it.
