The Curse [Legend of Blackbeard's Chalice Book 1] Read online

  No, she couldn't really explain things. Well, maybe to Vicki. She would understand, but not her mother. Maybe she could tell her mother she was going away for a while and that she wouldn't be able to reach her. Maybe she should have Vicki check in on her from time to time.

  No. Don't go.

  She jumped up and searched the night around her, but saw nothing—no one. Was that her thought? Or his? Was she telling herself not to go? Or was Jack trying to communicate with her?

  For several minutes she stared out over the ocean and watched the twinkling diamond peaks of the waves.

  I can't risk going back. Going back might mean that I could never return to Jack. I don't think I could live with that. I need Jack. I can't risk it.

  But I need more.

  What about Jack? What would it do to him if I left? Even if he's still hanging onto Hannah. I want to be with him. I can't leave him.

  It would kill him.

  It would kill me.

  She rose and turned her back on the stone. With two steps forward the humming began again and she felt the heat behind her. Slowly turning, she saw its near-blinding radiance. The stone was sizzling now, even though she was nowhere near it, and throbbing as its glow alternated between a fiery yellow-orange and neon red. She turned toward it fully. The hum began low, but built to a deafening crescendo as its intensity grew greater.

  Dropping to her knees, she stifled a scream and clasped her hands over her ears. The humming grew even more extreme; the wind kicked up and blew stinging sand pellets about her. She thought the vibrations would burst her eardrums.

  As she huddled close to the sand, she had to fight the compulsion to go to the stone and step directly in the center of it. In fact, she felt so drawn to the stone's magic it was as though she was sliding along the sand toward it. Frightened, she squeezed her eyes shut tight, forcing back the tears that wanted to spill over onto her cheeks.

  When she thought she could stand it no more, everything stopped.

  The sudden silence was overpowering. She lay on the sand for several seconds without moving. There was no humming; she couldn't even hear the ocean. And right before she opened her eyes, she had the sensation that when she opened them, she wouldn't be in the same place.

  But she was. And as she rose she knew she had to go to it. Taking a few steps closer to the stone, she saw that it looked no different than any other time she'd seen it during the day. It lay cold and gray and lifeless against the brown sand.

  So she thought it wouldn't matter, that the magic was gone for the night. Jack hadn't told her about what she'd witnessed. Had the same thing happened to him? It was almost as if the stone was calling to her, that it wanted her to step on it. That some force was causing her to be drawn to it. Why hadn't Jack told her about that?

  She stood before it, and for some reason she could not explain, lifted her right foot and placed it in the air just over the center of the stone. As it hovered there for several seconds, a myriad of thoughts raced through her brain.

  Could she do this?

  Her heart ripped as her thoughts turned to never seeing Jack again. And as her foot lingered there, barely a few inches of air separating the ball of her foot and the stone, she felt the heat again. Looking to the stone once more, she saw the sparks and the curls of steam and the throbbing red. Her foot was suddenly engulfed in quicksand and she jerked it to the ground and flung herself backward, landing on her rear in the sand.

  "You tricked me!” She shouted at the stone. “Why did you trick me?"

  It lay lifeless. She stilled her heavy breathing and sat for a moment quieting her heart. She got up again. This time she knew exactly what she was getting into.

  Walking determinedly to the stone, she hesitated only a fraction of a second and lifted her foot over it once more. Breathing deeply, she shuddered as a cloud passed before the moon and plunged both her and the stone into total darkness. Uttering up a silent prayer, she closed her eyes and lowered her foot. This is it, she told herself. I have two choices here. I can either muster up the courage to step on the damn thing and take my risks or turn my back on it and never think about it again.

  The tension she felt between foot and stone was magnetic. Then just at the point of greatest stress, she opened her eyes and caught the faint red glow once more.

  Her heart pounded. The blood rushed through her body. The humming screamed again in her ears. Each breath she took drew the ocean's night mist deeper and deeper into her lungs and she was reminded of the first night she saw Jack as she stood on her cottage porch.

  Jack.

  Just thinking of him sent shivers down her spine. She couldn't leave him. Not now. She couldn't.

  Carefully and quickly, she removed her foot and turned her back on the stone, hurriedly stumbling away into the dark night. She collapsed to her knees in the sand and buried her face in her hands, her salty tears silently slipping through her fingers. A cloud passed away from the moon then, spreading a golden glow over the sands, and when she looked up through her blurry eyes, she saw the ghostly image that stood before her.

  Jack.

  Jack!

  He looked just as he did those nights at the cottage. Her heart burst at the sight of him.

  Her gaze held his for several seconds as she searched his face. What was he thinking? Then she rose and walked to him, the questions in his eyes drawing her nearer. They were damp. Misty, just like the air hanging above the ocean. Then she shuddered, but not from the breeze. Instead, she shuddered from the sudden realization that she had nearly thrown it all away. A risk. A chance. She'd almost thought she could leave him, even for the briefest period of time. But now, she knew that was impossible.

  You are a part of me. I'm a part of you.

  The words echoed inside her brain as she locked into his gaze, not quite certain if she simply remembered those words or if he was saying them to her now.

  Her temples throbbed.

  "I couldn't do it,” she whispered. “I could no sooner leave you than I could cut out my heart."

  His eyes closed and his chest heaved as he finally took a long-awaited breath. Then he reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, crushing her against him.

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  Chapter Twelve

  An uncanny silence surrounded them. Jack's arms tightened around her so firmly that Claire's ribs ached at the thought of taking a full breath. She heard the rasp of his breathing as he held her. Then, too quickly, he released her, and she felt cold. Abandoned. He stepped back and she saw the pain etched in his face. Yes, pain. She had hurt him. Deeply.

  "Jack...” Fear jumped into her throat.

  He turned and walked away, his shoulders back and his head high. She watched until he disappeared into the dark night, tears stinging her eyelids.

  She took a step forward, then stopped and glanced back to the stone. No. It was only trouble. She had other things to deal with right now.

  When she reached Jack's side, he noticeably flinched when she called his name and touched his elbow.

  He kept walking.

  So did she.

  They walked for several minutes before either of them spoke again. Give him space, she thought. Plenty of space.

  They tramped through the wooded area until they neared their home. She watched Jack take the last few steps toward the cabin, then he turned, his black eyes a diamond glint in the moonlight. Still. Silent. She could sense every movement about them; the lap of the water in the sound behind the cabin, a crickets chirp and the bellow of a cow somewhere not too far away, and the beating of his heart.

  The beating of her own heart.

  "You lied to me,” he bit out.

  "No, I didn't."

  He shifted his weight. “You said you wouldn't go."

  "I didn't go, Jack. I couldn't."

  "But you were there. You tried to. Why did you do that?"

  Risking a few steps closer, she tried desperately to keep their gazes connected, but he glan
ced away. Was he disgusted with her?

  "Jack, you have to trust me. I was not going to go. I couldn't. I told you that."

  He started to turn away, then twisted back. “I can't bear to lose you again, Hannah ... Claire."

  "Jack, I don't want—"

  He put up his hand. “Listen to me Hannah Claire. Listen to me now. If you are going to go ... If you ever think you will want to go, go now. Now! Do you hear me?"

  His voice rose with so much anger that she jumped.

  With two long strides he faced her fully and cupped her chin in his hand. “Go now, Hannah. I don't want to live the rest of my life not knowing whether I will wake up with you beside me, or not. If you ever think you are going to do it. Do it now. Or be quiet about it for the rest of our days."

  No, this was not a choice she could make now. He surely didn't mean that. “I didn't mean to hurt you,” she whispered softly. “Truly, Jack. I didn't mean to hurt you."

  She knew he was confused and his emotions were riding high. She could see it in his eyes that he wanted desperately to believe her.

  He broke away, his gaze searing a path toward hers. “It's your choice. Stay. Go. But you decide tonight. Because tomorrow, I don't want to have to go through this again. Ever."

  And with that, he turned and stalked toward the cabin, slamming the door hard behind him.

  The night hung still about her. Even the cricket had stopped its serenade. And she felt oh, so lonely. But she walked a few more feet until she found an old log several yards away from the cabin, near the crudely fenced area where Jack kept his horse. She sat.

  What would she do now?

  The thing that frightened her so much was that he was right. There would come a time when she would have to make a choice. One century or the other. She couldn't century hop. It would be impossible. Jack was forcing her into the choice now. Unfairly, yes. But in his mind, necessary. For him.

  Perhaps she shouldn't prolong the inevitable. Jack would be impossible to live with either way, and now that he knew she's figured out the magic, he'd wonder every month whether or not she would leave.

  I've got to go ahead and do it, if for no other reason than to prove to Jack that I will come back. I'll go and come back, proving that I love him and want to be with him. Certainly then he'll be convinced.

  But what if the leaving tears him apart? So much so that he wouldn't forgive her when she did come back? What happened then?

  She studied the stars above. The night was cooler and brisk, the sky sharp with a multitude of stars. As she stared at the moon shining overhead, she was reminded of the time portal.

  How incredible that I'm here, nearly three hundred years before my time, and looking up at a moon that I've seen a million times in my own century. It looks just the same.

  She had to wonder if it was indeed the same moon as that shining down on her friends, relatives and acquaintances in her own time.

  Abruptly, she stood. There was no doubt she would have to go back to her time, but tonight, settling a little problem with an eighteenth century sulking male was at the top of the agenda. She had to make him understand that she couldn't be trapped here in his century without even making an attempt to get back her own. The decision to stay had to be hers alone, and not forced. She had to know if this time travel thing was a fluke or if it was for real.

  At some point, she had to test her theory, and Jack was simply going to have to bear with her. He has to understand that she would come back.

  It all boiled down to one thing: Trust.

  Blindly turning back to face the cabin, she took two steps before bumping into solid male. Thinking Jack had returned for her, she gasped and called his name. But when fumbling fingers forcibly grabbed and tightened themselves about her upper arms, and she smelled the stench of the man holding her, she stilled her body enough to focus her eyes on his face.

  Something shiny glinted in the moonlight from his mouth and before she realized what was happening, she screamed very loud and very long. A hand clasped firmly over her mouth from behind, stuffing a sweat-laden rag into it. Her arms were jerked to her back, her wrists quickly bound. Before she had time to struggle further, she was hoisted into the air, and carried away by two dirty, smelly men into the dark night.

  * * * *

  Jack pulled himself into a sitting position in the sand just beyond his porch steps. He shook his head to clear his brain as he struggled to kneel on all fours. His hair hung down on either side of his face, blood dripped from his nose, saliva from his mouth. There had been too many of them. Usually he could hold his own one on one, even two on one, but there had been at least three, maybe more, and he'd been bested quickly enough, left to lie in his own blood in front of his cabin.

  He reveled in the physical pain he felt, the smashed jaw, the aching nose, and the ribs that had been kicked repeatedly after he fell.

  That pain was minute compared to the pain in his heart, in his soul. He was sure if he looked down at his chest, he would see that it had been ripped wide open, the pumping organ that kept him alive spewing blood, spurt after spurt, spilling to the ground until he existed no more. The pain of losing Hannah once again was nearly unbearable.

  With effort he rose, dragging himself across the sand toward the wooded area, progressing only a few feet. He tripped and fell, again and again, as he called out for her. His raspy voice raked through the still night, his hands clawed at the ground to give him leverage, propelling him toward his Hannah Claire. Toward the place from which he had heard her terrified scream, followed by the awful silence.

  He stumbled again until he fell at last against a gnarled and weathered stump, exhausted, out of breath, his face scrunched into the sand.

  Oh, Lord. They've taken her. The bastard's taken her again.

  * * * *

  I'm coming for you, Hannah Claire.

  Claire rolled over onto her right side, clutched her abdomen, and moaned. The voice whispered deep in her subconscious, calling to her.

  "Jack?” she whispered against something dingy and smelly beneath her head. “Jack, is that you?'

  But she heard the voice no more, and as she fought through the haze, she struggled to open her eyes. Then her entire body pitched to the right and she rolled until her body landed roughly against rotted wood, and then back she was rolling again to the left. Her stomach lurched.

  Had she really heard Jack? Had he called out to her subconscious? Or was she just wishing it to be so?

  Clasping one hand over her mouth, the other clutching her stomach, she tried to rise, but hit her head on a beam stretching overhead. As she tried to sit again, the ship pitched once more to the left and her entire body was thrown forward until she sprawled across the floor in a heap.

  "Ooh...” A moan escaped her lips. “I think my insides are coming out.” Then her stomach lurched once again, as it had done a dozen times or more throughout the night. Her gaze darted from right to left in front of her until she spied the bucket, scrambled to it, stuck her head into its opening and retched until she was so weak she couldn't hold her head up a moment longer. Then she promptly passed out cold on the hard wooden floor.

  Sometime later, she struggled to raise her head off the planks and focus, but found the task extremely difficult. Was someone talking to her? Was it the person who stood over her now, creating an even blacker shadow within the room?

  She blinked and tried to take in her current situation. The floor swayed back and forth, her right cheek rested near the soles of the man's shoes.

  Suddenly a mental image flashed through her mind of lying at someone's feet, her face smashed into the floor, eyes closed and mouth open, with a tiny string of drool hanging down out of one corner.

  Why in the hell is the floor moving? Where in the hell am I?

  And why did she feel like she had last night's mashed potatoes stuck to the insides of her mouth?

  Her stomach rumbled in protest. The bitter taste of bile rose in her throat. She squeezed at her ab
domen as if to stop the spasms that way, and tried to draw her knees up under her so she could make it to a toilet somewhere.

  No, she couldn't make it. She raised her head enough to lift her mouth over the man's shoe, and threw up.

  His kick struck her in the chest forcibly enough to fling her onto her back. “You bloody stinking wench!” She scrambled up until she sat with her back against the wall, suddenly more alert and definitely more aware of the situation. She swiped the back of one shaking hand across her mouth and looked up at the man in the dimly lit room. She watched as he shook his foot of the smelly fluid and roared another blasphemous curse that damned her soul to hell and back. She blinked.

  Ah...

  Holy shit.

  A freakin’ pirate?

  She brought her knees up close to her chest and rubbed at the place she'd just been struck.

  Kidnapped. She had been kidnapped. How long ago was that?

  "Get up ye bloody whore!” Fear lanced her heart as the man kicked at her again. She rose quickly, mentally trying to will her stomach into calm. It wasn't working. He shoved at her then, pushing her toward the cabin's portal and a short flight of stairs. Tripping up the four steps to the deck of the ship, she squinted at the shaft of morning light streaming down on top of her.

  Then just as she reached the top step, the man below her kindly help her upward by placing one of his hands between her legs and shoving upward a little too intimately for her taste. As he laughed in sadistic amusement, she summoned up enough strength to brace herself with her hands against the steps and kick backward, catching her captor cleanly in the jaw.

  Caught off guard, he stumbled backward. She scrambled onto the deck, knowing full well that enraging the pirate was a stupid thing to do, and that there would be no salvation waiting on deck—no escape. As she rose and looked around her, gasping for a breath of fresh air and flipping her hair back out of her eyes, she realized how true that last thought was.