The Huntress ✓

29. Discovering Judas

Pain reverberated through Lucien's body again and again like persistent waves continually clawing their way to shore and then rescinding their purchase. His head was muddled; every breath hurt. He tried to gather his wits about him. Breakers pounded in time with his poor skull, making it difficult to keep a thread of thought going. Combined with the steady sway of the ship, the sound told him they were at sail, but not far from land. He made a physical assessment of his condition, wincing as he touched the broken ribs. He grimaced as he touched his tender scalp. I won't be going anywhere soon. He swallowed, trying to push the pain to the back of his mind.

Rather than dwelling on it, he concentrated instead on piecing together what had brought him to this ornate, elaborately overdone cabin.

He'd followed Captain Bartholomew and a suspicious stranger into a tavern. He'd kept quietly in a corner, staying out of sight. The dark captain was almost giddy, and Lucien strained to hear why the man was so excited. What he'd heard caused his heart to quicken, and he fought to keep a calm demeanor so as not to draw attention. Every part of him screamed to run toward his ship and weigh anchor. The stranger (without a doubt Bronte's spy) told Capt. Bartholomew everything he'd overheard in the churchyard. The hunter knew where to find the Huntress. And he knew about Bronte.

Lucien panicked. Bronte had said even if someone knew the location of the isle, they couldn't sail into her hidden cove without wrecking; it was crammed with hidden reefs and shoals. The way in was singular and all but impossible to navigate without guidance. Still, her assertions did little to alleviate Lucien's concern. If she were caught, she'd be hanged. He could not let that happen.

As quickly as he could without raising suspicion, Lucien finished his meal, paid, and made his way back to the Falcon. Along the way, he passed word to crewmen ashore: They were sailing out immediately. He asked Johnson to catch the next ship back to Bermuda with the captain and refused to answer questions about the hasty retreat, only saying was a matter of life or death.

He didn't give the crew a heading until they passed into open sea. Then he gave the course to the little island. It wasn't far, and they should have arrived long before Bart's slower ship, with plenty of time to warn the Huntress away.

A lamp guttered in the unfamiliar cabin. Lucien let his eyes wander over the dark cherry furniture that filled the room and then up to the canopy of plush maroon velvet that topped the four-poster bed he was in. A four-poster? Where was he? A familiar pervasive odor clung to the room.

He closed his eyes. Memories of the ill-fated journey flowed more easily now, like it was all happening again.

The winds had shifted and a storm was visible on the horizon, but they were nearly there. The island was in sight and he thought he could make out the lines of Huntress in the distance.

They'd made good time.

As Lucien stood on the maindeck looking though a spyglass, he'd felt a presence behind him.

The memory of what happened next caused Lucien to grimace and raise a hand to his bandaged head.

He'd lowered the glass and turned. A cutlass was halfway through its swing before Lucien realized the man holding it meant to decapitate him. Lucien ducked, but not quickly enough, and the blade ripped through the side of his head. The pain nearly caused him to blackout. Warm blood covered his ear and neck. His knees buckled and as Lucien fell, he met the assassin's gaze with the question in his eyes. A bolt of lightning flashed behind Lucien, illuminated the sneer on the attackers deranged face as he raised his cutlass for a killing blow. A deafening crack echoed as lightning hit the Falcon.

The killer paused before he struck. "I can't 'ave you warning Sanders—it would spoil all my plans!" Before he dropped the blade, he focused on something behind Lucien.