Swashbuckling on the Edge

Chapter Six

The curiosity broiling inside of Duncan was a close second to the fear that curdled his guts. The feeling froze his feet to the floor, paralyzed his tongue. Death stared at him where he stood, his eyes hard and cold. Long empty of humanity.

For a moment, his natural morbid curiosity got the best of him. What a character he was; the perfect personification of Death. It was his secret nickname for him.

His preferred name—his false name—was equally apt in its description. It meant "ashes", for it was all he left behind him.

Duncan's eyes flickered over the man observing him with sharp, emotionless eyes. He was both Duncan's captor and saviour. And he had many names.

"You're looking better with each passing day." He spoke, and cold shiver ran up Duncan's spine.

Death wasn't concerned with his welfare, he knew. He wanted information. But the way he asked for it...Duncan couldn't help but be drawn in by that low, charismatic voice. What a character he would make. How fascinating he was.

"Yes, captain," Duncan agreed. "Thanks to your hospitality."

Death straightened. His height was nothing imposing, but his presence was that of a giant. Everywhere he looked, a dark veil seemed to smother all little sparks of color. When he spoke, lesser men cowered.

When he turned those cool eyes on Duncan, he felt alive with fear, and he leaned in towards that cruel voice.

His host was just as Grimm had been. He was a dark angel of vengeance, come to Duncan's aid.

"You have my hospitality as long as you are useful to me," Death stated bluntly.

Duncan nodded, distracted by his captivation with the man. "Yes, of course. You want to know what happened that night."

Death crossed the room with slow steps. Duncan heard the twinkling of glass as he poured a drink and raised it to his lips.

"Am I to understand," he continued, as if Duncan hadn't spoken, "that you were one of his?"

"I had an agreement with Captain Grimm," Duncan explained.

Death turned to face him, draining his crystal glass. "One you shall uphold with me."

His accent was difficult to place, but Duncan thought that fitting. Death had no country; he was everywhere.

"Yes, captain."

"What has befallen Captain Grimm?" he asked next, setting the glass down. "Tell me what happened."

Duncan sat up straighter, eager to spin the night of the storm into a tale worthy of his skills. He recounted as much as he knew, with a few added bits of drama. He didn't speak until Duncan had finished with his version of the encounter with Captain Byrne.

He inhaled through his nose, surveying Duncan without expression. "And Captain Grimm?"

"I heard only whispers as I made my escape," Duncan admitted. "It was Byrne's first mate, I heard."

Death sighed. Duncan shifted uneasily. He had the distinct impression that his rescuer was disappointed.

"Captain Byrne possesses something of mine. Something I am very keen to retrieve," Death murmured, almost to himself. His sharp eyes suddenly flicked to Duncan. "He has something of yours, as well, does he not?"

Duncan stiffened. "Yes," he said curtly.

Death actually laughed. Duncan frowned. "Then perhaps we can be of some use to each, after all, Mr. O'Brian."