Hidden Island Chapter 46, part 3 of 4

Hidden Island
Chapter 46, part 3 of 4

Victoria pointed to the entryway. "He's held the advantage over us since we walked through the door and never really tried to take advantage of it."

Mercy pointed angrily towards the blood on the floor where Hector's skull had been split. "What do you call that?"

Victoria stopped and tapped her temple to emphasize what she was trying to explain. "I call it a missed opportunity. That's what confuses me more than anything else."

Mercy's eyes widened in shock. "What!?"

"Think from his perspective. He had plenty of reasons to want us out of the way. We put him and his charges in danger. He has bad blood with the church. We are a threat to his goals. The more I think about it, the stranger the whole situation becomes. He was looking for a fight. He went out of his way to torment us but then went out of his way not to hurt any of us in a way that would last. Why did he show so much restraint? It makes no sense."

"He nearly killed Hector," Mercy reminded her partner angrily. "Twice"

"But he didn't," Victoria insisted. "He knew that Hector could survive and that you could heal him. He even let you when the smart thing to do would have been to take us both down while Hector was unconscious."

Sister Mercy balked at the implication. "You think he could have taken us both on at once?"

"We were completely unprepared," Victoria insisted.

Mercy shook her head in firm disagreement. "It's possible he could have taken on all three of us simultaneously, but certainly not a guarantee; he couldn't have known that he could defeat us. It seems he was careful not to put himself in that position."

Victoria looked at her partner with deadly conviction. "From the moment we walked in, he had us sized up. We were boxed into a tight space. No cover. No room to maneuver. It's a round room with no easy ways out. It might as well be a gladiatorial pit. We couldn't have picked a worse place to fight in, and we didn't even think about it because we came in thinking we had the upper hand. We thought he was a drunk! As far as possible ambushes go, we couldn't have been in a worse position."

Sister Mercy's brows furrowed, not wanting her partner to be correct. "He wasn't looking to ambush us."

"But why!?" Victoria demanded. "That's what doesn't make sense to me. His goal was to get Miss Castilian and the apprentice away from here. The best, smartest thing he could have done would have been to disable us, take our clothes, and leave. In his place, that's what we would have done."

Mercy's eyes went wide. "You're right."

"He and his charges could have walked right out the front door," Victoria reasoned. "We brought him the best disguises he could have ever asked for."

"They could have headed straight to the docks and commandeered a ship!" Mercy said with wide eyes.

"Exactly," Victoria said, baffled. "So why didn't he?"

Sister Mercy looked at where Caine had been guarding the door hours ago. "I... have no idea. He chose not to.

Without knowing more about him, it is impossible to deduce his motivations."

"This is where I think our emotions are getting the better of us. If we accept that he is an agent of the church, his motivations are very straightforward," Victoria reasoned. "He is our ally, even if only a begrudging one."

"Very begrudging." Mercy clenched her eyes shut in frustration. "I see your point, though. If he's an ally, we should treat him as one, not try to work out contingency plans for what he might do."

"Right. It also means we should trust his dealings with the apprentice," Victoria concluded. "Do our duty, but from a position that assumes good faith and intent."

Mercy shook her head. "Unless she tricked him. Or performed dark magic unknowingly."

"Miss Castilian seems trained enough that if dark magic were being worked near her, she would sense it," Victoria said. "The more subtle varieties, perhaps not."

"All the more reason for us to investigate thoroughly," Mercy riposted.

"Determining the clarity of unknown magics is a lower priority than our mission," Victoria said, starting to pace again.

"We can't simply take her to the Fort and pass her off for an Inquest like we normally would," Mercy continued, worrying at her holy symbol while she watched her partner think.

"If the spell itself is dark, it will be obvious when you read its aura," Victoria reasoned.

"Of course," Mercy assured her.

"But, determining the clarity of the source would take time, and we do not currently have resources," Victoria continued.

"Yes," Mercy agreed, not entirely sure where her partner's reasoning was going.

Victoria stopped and turned to Mercy. "So we check her aura. We know she isn't a direct threat if it isn't dark.

We can't determine the source's clarity right now, so we ask her if she is willing to remand herself in our custody. And that's all. The rest can wait."

Mercy's brows furrowed, and then she laughed. "Of course. We are headed out of Magistrate territory in pursuit of Mister Sterling. She would have to travel with us until we return here. If she agrees to accompany us willingly, we take it as a sign of good faith. We keep an eye on her, but there would be no reason for shackles or confinement."

Sister Victoria smiled like a schoolgirl about to get away with something. "Sounds like another reason Miss Castilian would want to help us find Mister Sterling. The sooner our mission is completed, the sooner we can help the apprentice."

Caine yanked the door open. His foe's sword lodged into the wood instead of into him. Caine hooked a hand around the pirate's neck and cracked his head into the door. The pirate's eyes went glassy. He didn't even see the kick that launched him into the wall or feel the bricks against the back of his head. He just slumped slowly to the ground right as three more men burst through the swinging doors on the other side of the kitchen. They bunched together as they stopped in shock at the scene before them.

The kitchen looked like a battlefield. A dozen men lay groaning in pain, cradling bloody slashes and broken bones, draped across counters and blocking floor paths. Flames were slowly spreading from the grease fire splattered across one aisle. Kitchen knives were lodged in limbs and walls and, in a few cases, both at once.

One of the newcomers angrily drew down, but Caine ducked out the door and pulled it shut as the pistol ball lodged in the frame. The stuck sword kept the door from shutting all the way. Caine cursed, opened it again just enough to yank the sword free, and slammed it closed again as a second bullet scattered wood shards into his arm.

"That was too close," the Angel said tersely.

Caine jammed his stolen sword into the crack between the door and the jam, wedged the hilt against the ground, then gave it a solid kick, wedging it tight to keep the door from opening easily. "Two fewer bullets coming at us later," he muttered.

He whirled around and took two quick steps down the back patio walkway but skidded to a halt when he saw a group of men standing in front of the stairs leading down to the Teach family's private docks.

In the dim light of pre-dawn, he could see their silhouettes as they leveled pistols and long guns at him.

Hammers clicked back. His angelically enhanced perceptions made time seem slower. He stepped off his front foot, throwing himself to the side as the first shot rang. The bullet hit the flagstones as Caine rolled behind a patio table, upending it as he came to his knees. Two pistol rounds lodged into it. A long gunball punched right through, missing Caine by inches.

"HOLD!" a strained voice bellowed. "Hold your fire!" The speaker sounded muffled and warped, as if speaking was a struggle.

Caine faintly saw three men quickly reloading their weapons through the hole in the table while the others kept theirs in his direction.

"Caine!" the man with the strained voice called. "You have 'un chance t' live thru' tonight! You tell me where that bitch who stabbed me is, you can walk."

"We do not have time for a negotiation," the Angel in his head said.

Caine looked back at the hastily barricaded door, then squinted through the bullet hole in the table. "Yeah. That won't hold long. Can you get close to them?

The Angel within him felt worried. "Perhaps separating in our current state will be much harder than usual. I have little energy left to fight our Binding, and while we are apart-"

"-I'll feel everything," Caine finished.

"And the vertigo will be worse," the Angel reminded him. "This will not be pleasant."

"Caine!" the pirate snapped. "Stayin' quiet won't save you! Where's the bitch?!"

Behind Caine, the kitchen door rattled.

"We won't need long," Caine muttered. "Let's try out this new toy."

The Angel's emotions went from worry and fatigue to excitement. With effort, he stepped fully out of Caine's body and started moving towards the group of pirates, taking the flaming spectral saber with him. Along the blade's physical twin, runes flickered green.

Caine's vision lurched as his mind tried to simultaneously adjust to seeing the world from two perspectives.

Usually, he could tune out the Angel's perceptions. It felt like trying to read a book too close to his face. After a bit of double vision, one eye naturally became dominant. In his current state, that didn't happen.

Pain bloomed throughout his body. The Angel had done his best to ensure all his organs were working right, and the worst of the wounds had been knitted and scabbed over, but he hadn't had the energy to fix much else.

Suddenly, he was aware of just how badly he was hurt. He was covered in scrapes, burns, bruises, lumps, and at least two bullet holes. He felt like he'd spent a few days inside a rock tumbler. Combined with his swimming vision, his stomach lurched. Thankful that the Angel had already burned out all the wine he'd had to drink, he closed his eyes and steadied himself with one hand on the ground.

Even with his eyes shut, he could still see through the Angel's eyes. In the Ways, the pirates looked like faint lights in the fog. To his golden twin, their souls were like lanterns.

"You hear me, Caine! Tell me where she is; I'll leave that migrant girl 'lone," the garbled pirate said with sing-song sweetness.

"Is that Jakob Teach?" Caine called out, masking his pain with forced amusement and disdain.

"You know damn well it's me," Jakob called back.

"Sorry, it's hard to hear you through all those bandages," Caine retorted. "You still haven't figured out who fed you your knife?"

"Say the name, and this all ends," the strained voice called back.

The kitchen door thumped as the men behind it began trying to batter it down, but the wedged sword held.

Caine opened his eyes, trying to ease into the awful double-vision sensation. Ignoring the pain in his arms, he pulled a pair of butcher's knives stolen from the kitchen out of his pocket.

"Why didn't you just ask in the first place," Caine roared. "You got stabbed by Belita Vex."

A murmur passed through the group of pirates. Disbelief. Amusement. Annoyance.

"Very fuckin' funny," Jakob snarled gutturally. "What'd she do after that? Yank you off? Teach classes to your whores?"

The kitchen door thumped again, rattling hard in its frame.

"Don't know what she did," Caine answered loudly. "I was too busy keeping you from bleeding out on the floor. I saved your pathetic life."

The invisible Angel was concentrating hard as he approached the group of men. Being separated like this was always tricky, but with as little energy as he had left, the magics that Bound them together were extremely difficult to resist. The ethereal golden chains that normally swirled around Caine's spirit were stretched between them, disappearing into the Angel's back. He could feel them like a vice around his core, tightening with each step.

"I'm not in the mood for your stories, asshole. You can tell me the truth now, or you can tell me after I start twisting a knife in your gut!" Jakob snapped.

"Give it a shot," Caine laughed. "I'll see if I can even up your new smile." As the Angel got further away, their connection felt weaker. That meant his vision was clearing up, but his pain kept getting worse. Two bottles of wine hadn't been nearly enough.

The kitchen door crashed a third time, but the wedged sword still held tight.

"We have you cornered, asshole! This isn't your warehouse," Jakob Teach said through his clenched and bandaged jaw.

"Really?" Caine asked. "You sure? Tonight, it seems like your whole family's been just begging to get fucked."

Another bullet lodged into the table, and Jakob swore at his companions. The decorative window set into the kitchen door shattered. A hand came through and reached for the outside handle. Caine whipped his arm out in a sidelong throw. One butcher's knife sailed through the broken window amid a chorus of surprised yelps, but the other sunk deep into the intruding forearm. With a cry of surprise and pain, the arm retracted. The lodged knife momentarily caught on the windowpane, eliciting another scream before disappearing. Angry muttering came from the group of pirates near the stairs.

"Should it, all you," Jakob snapped to his crew. "Don't let them rile you."

Caine was flooded with sharp new pain as his bruised and battered arm reacted to the throw. He winced and sucked in air through his teeth.

"You have been inside yet?" he asked loudly, hoping Jakob couldn't hear the strain in his voice. "A boatload of your boys will be out of commission for weeks. How are you going to explain that to your uncles? They'll keel haul you for breaking the Old Man's Peace."

"From what I hear, you just murdered him," Jakob snapped. "You dug your grave with that. He was the only thing protecting you."

"Ready," the Angel's distant voice whispered in his mind.

"You got that backward, kid," Caine said with a low, menacing chuckle. "He was protecting all of you from me."

Next to Jakob, his crew began screaming in pain and bewilderment. Flashes of green flickered in the heavy mist as deep slashes and stabs appeared out of nowhere, bringing down pirates left and right. Wounds opened on arms and legs, dropping guns to the ground and men to their knees. In mere seconds, Jakob stood alone amid his bleeding, terrified allies.

An invisible force slammed down on his trembling pistol, sending a painful shock through his hand and stripping the weapon from his grasp. Before he could fully register what had just happened, Caine stood up from behind the table and walked towards him. He was covered in blood and grime. Walking was a struggle, but he held Jakob's gaze like a Questioning inquisitor. One of Jakob's great-grandfather's prized sabers was held loosely in his hand.

"In a goddamn lifetime of stupid decisions, taking that girl hostage was the stupidest," Caine growled as he approached. "The Magistrate left your family alone for three generations, and you fucked that up in a matter of weeks."

Jakob gaped at his hand. His fallen crew was starting to gather their wits as they cradled bleeding limbs. Caine shambled unhurriedly across the patio, looking like nightmare-made flesh. Faint flickers of green licked along his sword. Jakob squinted, wondering if he was seeing things.

"Worse yet," Caine said, condescension dripping from his bloody lips. "You managed to get me involved."

"What th' hell," Jakob stammered.

"I hate getting involved," Caine said bitterly. "I have been avoiding this situation longer than you've been alive. I wanted to stay in my bar and ignore your family, the Magistrate, and everything else, but you just had to drag me into it. So here I am. Congratulations"

One of the wounded pirates tried to pull a pistol on Caine, but a fierce glare from the blood-soaked man preceded another instant of green fire. Two fingers joined the gun as it scattered to the ground. The man wailed in pain and tried to scramble backward, cradling his injured hand.

"No more of that," Caine said sternly to the wounded pirates as he stopped directly before Jakob.

"What the hell are you?" Jakob hissed.

"All done being nice," Caine growled.

Jakob didn't even see the fist that crashed into the bandages that covered the hole in his face, but the pain that bloomed through his head was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He didn't feel himself collapse to the ground or curl into a fetal ball. His whole world was agony. It wasn't until fresh blood had flooded his mouth so much that he started choking that he realized what had happened.

By then, Caine was long gone.




To be continued