WEREWOLF PIRATES! Page 2

  “Fire the ship,” the captain bellowed.

  His beasts lit torches from the shipboard lanterns and hurled them through the night air. They landed everywhere on the Windsprinter, and flames spread on the deck, licking up the masts, spreading along the ropes and lines to outline them in the dark. When the ship was blazing, the Captain nodded, and I heard the guttural sound of wheels running over decking. The side of the ship bristled with cannon. I covered my ears with my hands, and Fianna did the same, looking at me instead of the Windsprinter. It dawned on me suddenly that this was not a dream, and there was no hope of escape. The roar was deafening, passing my hands as if they were not there, and left my ears ringing. The side of the Windsprinter burst into splinters, the whole vessel lurching as the broadside took her. When the smoke clear, sinking to cling to the surface like fog, I saw our burning ship guttering and steaming as she took on water.

  My ears stopped ringing in time for the second broadside to rock the deck under my feet and fill the world with fire and acrid, foul smoke. The Windsprinter was sinking in earnest now, water extinguishing the flames as it bubbled up through the hatches and swallowed the bow.

  “Captain! Pretties!”

  My captor turned to see two of his… men carrying a chest. My chest. They set it down, bashed the lock loose with the head of one of their boarding axes, and began rifling through my things, dragging my spare dress out, and uncovering my journals and books.

  “Throw the gown overboard. Take the rest to my quarters.”

  The creatures, dressed absurdly in the garish costume of buccaneers, nodded and did as they were bid. I watched my dress flutter into the night like a discarded skin.

  “What would you have me wear?” I said, defiant.

  He turned back to me. Did his eyes glow in the night, or was it my imagination?

  “Whatever pleases me. Or nothing, if that pleases me more. With me. Now.”

  He seized my arm and dragged me with him. It was all Fianna could do to hold on to my hand as more of these beasts surrounded us, slavering and staring.

  “Look at you,” one of them said, stepping towards Fianna. “I wonder if your cunny is red as your head?”

  She clung to me, saying nothing.

  My captor almost ripped the hatch off the hinges as he shoved us into the aft of the vessel. I was shocked by how large it was; any navy in the world would be proud to have her. I was even more shocked when he pulled us into his quarters, ducking under the top of the door, and closed it behind us. My chest had already been dragged in. The captain’s quarters were large and richly appointed. Thick carpets were soft under my feet, and everywhere was gilding and finery. A long table was set to one side, a captain’s desk covered with charts, and the walls were fitted with bookcases, their contents held in place by ropes tied in front of the spines. Off to one side was a four poster bed, piled high with mattresses and pillows. Tucked away in the far corner, in front of the enormous windows, was a crate and what looked to be a painting, covered in a burlap cloth.

  “Well,” I said, trying to ignore the wavering I heard in my own voice. “Now you have us.”

  “Aye, now I do.” I was not sure if it was my imagination or the wolfish nature of his features, but I could swear he was smiling faintly. He strode to the table and sat down.

  “Sit.”

  I remained standing. Fianna started forward and I squeezed her hand.

  “I said sit!”

  Unhurriedly, I moved to the far end of the table and sat down. Fianna sat at my side, glancing from me to the beast holding us prisoner, chewing her lip. I took her hand and squeezed it in mind.

  “What I told you is true,” I said. “My father is a man of means,” that was technically a lie, but delivered smoothly, “as is my fiancee.”

  “You don’t have a fiancee,” he growled, resting one huge fist on the table. “You’re mine, now. If this other meant to keep you, he should have protected you.”

  “How barbaric,” I said.

  “I’ll show you barbarism,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll entertain myself by chaining you to the main mast and let the boys have a turn.”

  “I don’t think you will,” I said. My voice was distant, as if someone else spoke, even as my body twisted in circles. Fianna had gone pale as a ghost, even for her.

  “Why not?”

  “If you meant to let them have us, you had plenty of opportunity. What was it you said?”

  “I claimed you for myself. The crew can have the loot for themselves. I have enough rum.”

  “You don’t mean to ransom us, then?”

  “I don’t wager I’d get much for that one,” he said, looking at Fianna. “Who was your father, girl? A smith?”

  “A farmer,” Fianna squeaked.

  “I’m sure arrangements could be made-“

  “You don’t know where you are, do you? This is the Fang, and the Fang takes no prisoners, and demands no ransoms.”

  “Yet here we are,” I said, folding my arms. “Unless you mean to call us your guests.”

  “Have no fear of that. You are my prisoners, both. Pets might be a better name. How you are treated depends on how useful you are. What can you do?”

  “Do?” I blinked.

  “Skills, woman. What use are you?”

  I looked at Fianna. “I can sing, and perform needlework-“

  “Do I look like I need an embroiderer?”

  “I can do my sums,” I said, “I kept the ledgers for some of my father’s interests.”

  “So you’ll be good for scrubbing the decks and mending sails,” he said. “Though I can think of a few other uses.”

  I didn’t like the look he was giving us, almost hungry.

  “Don’t look on me with such disgust, woman. I’m all that stands between you and them.”

  “My name is Catherine.”

  “And mine is Gregor.” He rose. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Catherine.”

  He strode to the bed, and sat down.

  “See to my boots.”

  He stuck his legs out, and waited. His eyes narrowed as I remained still. Fianna started to rise, but I caught her arm and held her in the seat, and rose up in her place. I went and knelt beside him, and took hold of the worn leather. A tug and it started to slide free of his leg. He was totally covered in lustrous, silvery fur, it seemed. I had a strange urge to touch it, but refrained. Like his fingers, his toes were clawed, and flexed when I freed them from the boot. The second took some effort to pull free, and I could see from the way he moved his feet that they caused him some pain. I felt a sudden pang of guilt for feeling any kind of empathy for this thing that commanded the slaughter of the Windsprinter’s crew and how held me prisoner, with no hope of rescue.

  I froze when his huge hand rested on my head. My throat bobbed as I swallowed. His hand was huge, and the fur soft, though his palm was smoother, almost hairless. His touch passed down the back of my head. I had no time to gather up my hair during the attack, and it hung loose around my shoulders. He gathered it and pressed it over one shoulder, so he could touch my neck. No, caress. I could feel the crushing power of his hand when he touched me, and when his claws grazed my skin, they were cold and sharp. Suddenly he hooked one claw in the laces of my dress and snapped his hand, and there was a sudden release of pressure as they gave way. I wrapped my arms around myself and hugged the bodice to my chest.

  “Please,” I whispered. “Please, no.”

  He tugged on the laces, loosening them further.

  “Please, I’m innocent.”

  “Innocent of what?” he said, so low I feared Fianna might not hear.

  “I’m a v-virgin. I beg you sir, please.”

  He drew back from me suddenly, sharply, and stood. “My coat.”

  Swallowing hard against a dry throat, I rose. I felt the cloth shift against my body as he leaned back and I tugged his sleeves down and freed him from his finery. The coat was fine, expensive, chased with cloth of gold and gilt buttons, and stitched by a fine hand. I wondered who had made it for him. The rest of his attire was rougher, a waistcoat and blouse. When he was striped to the waist I saw he was covered in the same silvery fur all over, thicker on his back and sparser on his chest, but still heavier than any man would be, I assumed. He turned and lay on the bed, so huge he had to bend his knees to fit. I clutched my gown to keep it from sliding any further down.

  He picked up one of his cushions and tossed it on the floor.

  “You, and the other one, sleep there.”

  “Her name is Fianna,” I said.

  “I don’t care,” he growled, and rolled over.

  Fianna rose and moved to my side. She sank to the deck beside me, and reached around to re-lace my gown, but in truth what she wanted was my embrace. I smoothed her hair and rested my chin on her head, and lowered her to rest on the cushion we’d been given. It smelled strangely like lilacs, and was surely better than sleeping on the hard floor. How this Gregor could sleep I had no idea. The blazing wreck of the Windsprinter was to the aft of the ship, casting an eerie light through the cabin, and outside I heard snarling and strange cries, and the booming sounds of the Lord knew what going on about the deck. Fianna huddled close, and together we listened to the long, ragged sounds of our captor breathing on his bed as he lay facing away from us. In time, Fianna drifted off to sleep herself, breathing lightly against my neck.

  I could not. My mind refused to accept what was happening. A crew of monsters had overrun my ship and now we were in their clutches, and the meaning of our captivity had been made plain. I feared nothing more than creature touching me… yet my mind was heavy with strange thoughts, like what it might be like to run my fingers though that lustrous coat, like a living blanket, to feel that strangely gentle touch again. My heart pounded in my chest. I cursed it for a traitor, for it had never beaten so at the thought of Quincy, my husband to be. For him I held only fear and a slight contempt.

  Sleep took me in time, only to be broken too soon by the tolling of bells, though it was still the middle of the night. Fianna woke as well, holding me tightly and shivering. We soothed each other, and I drifted back to sleep.

  II.

  “Get up.”

  For emphasis, he nudged me with his foot. I sat up, bleary-eyed and dazed by my surroundings. In my sleep, my wounded mind must have convinced itself all that passed the night before was a nightmare, but this was no vision. Gregor loomed over us both, and sat down on his bed.

  “Boots,” he grunted.

  I stood up and fetched them from where I’d set them aside the night before and held them as he slid his feet into each in turn, wincing and growling slightly as he wiggled his foot in the worn leather.

  “Why do you wear them, if they pain you so?”

  “Shut up,” he snapped, rising. “My vest and coat.”

  I aided him in dressing in silence, smoothing his coat over his back, drawing my hands away as suddenly as from a hot stove when I realized what I was doing. I took a step back, and kept my eyes to the floor. If I was to play the role of servant, I would play it. Better that than draw his wrath. I had Fianna on my conscience, not just myself, and her fate was in my hands as much as my own. She cu fled up on the floor and watched, without watching. When he was satisfied with his attire, Gregor turned.

  “Off with those dresses.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. “What?”

  “Are you deaf?” he barked, leaning over me. “I’ll not have my new pets tripping over their silly skirts on my ship. Off with them.”

  ‘You can’t mean for us to go naked!”

  He was grinning now, I was sure of it. “You will, if I wish it. For now, there-“ he pointed to the trunk in the corner. “Those things should fit you both.”

  I helped Fianna to her feet and moved to the heavy trunk in question, and lifted the lid. Inside were what I took to be men’s clothes, until I lifted a pair of trousers and saw they were shaped for the curves of a woman’s body. Too well shaped, it seemed.

  “This is lewd,” I said. “I cannot wear this.”

  “You will, or nothing at all. You’ll take off those dresses, or I’ll tear them off. I’d like to,” he moved closer.

  Fianna pressed against me. “Very well. At least allow us some privacy.”

  “No,” he said, sitting in his oversized chair, beside his desk. “What good is it to make you change if I’m deprived of the sight?”

  I looked at Fianna. She looked at me. I looked at Gregor, and remembered the night before. I was tempted to test him, but I feared for Fianna. Whatever had stayed his hand when I told him of my virtue might not spare her, and in truth I was sure she was not innocent as I was, nor would she have the will to resist him. I turned my back to her.

  “Get it over with, please,” I said, as calmly as if we were still in our cabin on the Windsprinter.

  Fianna’s hands fumbled at the laces, but they came free and I shrugged out of my gown. As it pooled around my feet, I was down to my slip, and was thankful for its loose but sheer drape, obscuring the shape of my body. I turned to the trunk.

  “You’ll find it hard to wear that under your trousers,” Gregor rumbled. “Take it off.”

  Fianna looked at me in alarm, but I steeled myself, took hold, and pulled it over my head. It was like diving into freezing water, but it had to be done. I moved hurriedly, knowing he could see every curve of my body, every inch of exposed skin. I turned my back to him as I pulled up the trousers, and he permitted me this at least, and Fianna sprang into action and pulled a loose shirt from the trunk, allowing me to cover my bosom with my arms before she slipped it over my head. Only then did she look at me, trembling, realizing she would do the same. I undid her laces, shielding her with my body as best I could, and helped draw her slip over her head. She was a slender whip of a woman, but with shapely hips and a fuller chest than my own, and her pale skin seemed to glow. As hurriedly as she’d dressed me, I dressed her.

  “My hair,” I said, turning my back to her.

  “Leave it down,” Gregor growled. “I like it better that way.”

  I was surprised to hear that. No one had ever professed any preference for my hair at all. A mousy, dull brown, it was nothing beside Fianna’s bright red.

  “Now that you’ve had your look, are you satisfied?” I snapped.

  Gregor looked at me.

  Then he launched to his feet with shocking speed and crossed the cabin in long strides, and took me by the hair. I seized his wrist, for fear he would tear it right out of my scalp. He dragged me back towards the bed, and bent to bring his face close to mine. His breath was hot and harsh, and his mouth had peeled back, revealing canine fangs. His growl was low and guttural, and his voice came from somewhere in his throat.

  “You spoke out of turn.”

  “I”m sorry,” I said, hurriedly. “I won’t-“

  “See that you don’t,” he said, releasing me. He stepped away. “I won’t have it.”

  Scooping them from his desk, he threw a pair of ribbons at me. “Tie that round your throat. Both of you.”

  I handed one off to Fianna. “What is it?”

  “It’ll remind the crew that you’re mine and mine alone,” he said.

  “The c-crew?” said Fianna.

  “Are you deaf, or just stupid? The crew. Did you think I’d have you in here all day, under my feet? There’s work to be done.”

  He gestured to the door. “This way.”

  I took Fianna’s hand to steady her as we followed. It was morning now, and seeing these creatures moving about the ship in daylight was stranger and no less unnerving than seeming them move by moonlight. If I had thought that whatever cursed them to their monstrous, half-human forms would give them the mercy of returning to the form of men by day, I was wrong. This was no children’s tale. These monsters were as they were, neither men nor beasts but something worse, and for all his regal carriage their master was no better. He led us to the deck, where he barked an order for one of his minions to drop a bucket and brush in front of Fianna.

  “You,” he snarled, “Swab the deck.”

  Fianna dropped to her knees without argument, dunked the brush into the foamy water, and began scrubbing the wood smooth. I began to lower myself, only for the captain to seize my arm in his huge hand.

  “Not you.”

  Fianna looked up. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, looking around.

  We were far from alone on deck. Some of the wolf men were scrubbing the wood themselves, others were scurrying about on whatever tasks needed doing, others scrambled through the rigging like great hairy spiders in their garishly colored finery. Half of them had rings or jewels embedded in their ears, and one flashed a tooth grin at me, revealing golden fangs. I found myself instinctively moving closer to Gregor, seeking his protection, and I could almost sense him stiffen.

  “You’ll not be touched by the likes o’ them. Now shut up,” he snapped.

  Fianna whimpered but did not protest, and returned to her work. The wolf men eyed her, but kept their distance. Gregor began dragging me back, down a narrow, steep wooden stair into the bowels of the ship. Down here it smelled of blood and meat and rum, and gunpowder and sweat and wet hair. He pushed me along, towards the aft section of the ship, and through a low hatch. Inside there was a desk, and seated there was one of the wolf men. He was older than the others, not silver but gray, as from age, and the fur around his jaws drooped like mustaches under the magnifying lenses perched on his nose. Gregor shoved me down into a stool beside him.

  “What’s this?” the old wolf rasped.

  “This one will help you with your sums,” said Gregor.

  Then he just left, leaving her behind. I felt a cold stab of fear twist in my chest. I was alone, surrounded by these beasts without the one who’d promised me his protection. I hugged myself and shied away as the old wolf looked at me, golden eyes rheumy and milky over his lenses.