The Devil's Hand

--Prologue--



Port Royal, Jamaica

1690



    Pirates loved pillaging and plundering. And raping. This lot wasn't as focused on the latter. Destruction was more their objective, and they were good at it.

    Screaming people ran to and fro, chasing by cackling pirates. Buildings were rocked by explosions, both from a pirate armed with explosives, and the cannon balls fired from the menacing ship wreathed in fog in the harbour.

    An old woman sat in her small home, above the jewelry shop that she and her son ran. She was huddled at a table at which a single candle burned, seemingly oblivious to the disorder outside. In her withered, spotted hands, the skin dry and papery, she held something gold and glittery.

    As her gnarled fingers turned it over, holding it above the tiny flame of the candle, her lips moved soundlessly. Her dark eyes were alert in her lined face, fixed on the pendant. Shaped like a bird, wings outstretched, head to one side, it clutched in its feet a large, perfect black pearl, the size of the woman's thumbnail. The firelight made it glow red, though it was, in fact, more of a blue-green hue. A ruby glittered in the eye of the bird, insignificant next to the pearl.

    Outside, flames shot into the sky from a nearby explosion, lighting the room in a blood-hued glow. The old woman smiled, and sat back, her stiff, bony fingers closing around the necklace.

    She rose from the table, her joints protesting, and slowly shuffled down the stairs and opened the door onto the street. She inhaled deeply, stepped outside, and screamed at a passing pirate.

    The startled pirate turned on her, spotted the necklace in her hand, and reached for it. The old woman threw the necklace at him and rushed inside, slamming the door shut and locking it.

    Then she smiled.

 

----------

--Chapter One--



Port Royal, Jamaica

1691



    The Honourable William Turner--blacksmith and future son-in-law of the governor of Jamaica--was not having a good day. And it was only fifteen past ten in the morning.

    One of his best customers had reneged on an outstanding bill, leaving Will with a now-useless ornamental sword; the Black Pearl was in port, with white sails and an assumed name; and his dear, sweet, fiancée of four months and seven days had just informed him that she had been thinking, and didn't know if she quite wanted to wait until their wedding night.

    He wasn't sure how he would have reacted to this announcement under normal circumstances . . . meaning if she hadn't burst into his workship and loudly announced the fact . . . in the presence of one Captain Jack Sparrow, dread pirate. Or maybe just pirate.

    Will paused mid-sentence, blinked, and then flushed a deep, bright red, gaping awkwardly at Elizabeth. He glanced at Jack, who was grinning.

    "Not a eunuch, then," was all the pirate said.

    Elizabeth stopped, her face slowly turning crimson. "Um. Hello, Jack. How are you?"

    "As well as can be expected with the British trying to capture me." Jack bowed, doffing his leather tricorn. "Felicitations on your betrothal, Miss Swann. And Mr. Turner, of course," he added, as an obvious afterthought.

    Will rolled his eyes. "Get out of here, you old pirate."

    Jack straightened with mock offense. At least, Will thought it was false. Hard to tell with Jack. "Who are you calling old?" he demanded. "Well, since I can see I'm clearly not welcome . . ."

    He stalked in a huff towards the doors, stopped just short, and turned. "I just remembered why I'm here," he said.

    "You couldn't remember?" Elizabeth asked, surprised, her brown eyes wide with disbelief and a touch of scorn.

    "I was distracted by your winsome beauty, Miss Swann. And it wasn't related to gold, not important," Jack said reasonably. Then he frowned. "Or maybe it is."

    "Important?" Will guessed.

    "Related to gold," Jack replied. "Of course it was important, don't be stupid. Do you honestly think I'd go to all the trouble to change the Pearl's sails so that I could actually come into port on a whim?"

    He stopped and thought about that for a moment. "Actually, I might. But not this time."

    Will idly picked up a large sword, testing the blade on a piece of leather. It sliced through. Jack got the point and quickly hurried on.

    "Here's the thing," he said. "I need a favour."

    "What could I possibly do for you?" Will asked slowly. "You've got your ship back, Barbossa's dead."

    "Not from you, really. From Elizabeth's father. And her . . . erstwhile former fiancé?"

    They just looked at him like he was crazy. Which, come to think of it, he was. But just a little. Depending on who you asked.

    "I know, I know, I'm a pirate. And my sworn enemy would be the British government. However . . ." Jack paused. "I'm not the only shark in the water, shall we say? And as much as I hate to admit it . . . this other shark is not only bigger, with requisite bigger teeth . . . but not as nice."

    The pirate sighed. "There's a new ship. Been here about two months. It's made three raids on Tortuga in that time. And some of the outlier colonies not under the protection of Fort Charles and the bonny Commodore Norrington. That would include Hispaniola, and Nassau, in the Bahamas. I've had word from some attacks in the colonies. The Spanish ones in Florida."

    He straightened and walked over to the donkey, patting the beast's head. "I-"

    The door opened and one Mr. Brown, owner of the shop, came shuffling in. The man blinked fuzzily at the shop's current occupants.

    "I'd be happy to commission that for you, Mr. Smith," Will said quickly. "But it could take some time."

    "Certainly, Mr. Turner." Jack nodded. "I'm in no rush at the moment, so we could, perhaps, meet another time to discuss it?"

    "I'd be delighted." Will smiled.

    Jack left the shop, attempting to look more grand than he really was. The attempt fell dreadfully short, but Brown was too drunk to notice.

    Will turned to his employer, silently wondering why the man wasn't dead yet. "I am going to escort Elizabeth home. We are due to dine with the governor. I will return after that."

    Mr. Brown nodded listlessly. He slumped into his chair and began his daily routine of drinking and sleeping, not even noting when Will and Elizabeth took their leave.

 

-----

 

    In the captain's cabin aboard the Black Pearl, Jack leaned back in his chair and propped his boots on the desk. The table, now covered with a dark red tablecloth, had been shoved to one side, to allow room for daily business. One of the crew had brought a chair for Elizabeth to sit on. Will stood behind it, hands braced on the back.

    "Where was I?" Jack pondered aloud.

    "Hispaniola, Spanish colonies," Elizabeth prompted.

    "Ah, yes." Jack sat forward, his feet hitting the floor. "The ship is called L'Orage de Sang."

    "The Blood Storm," Elizabeth translated, mostly for Will since he didn't speak French.

    "And a well-deserved name. I've seen it. The Blood Storm doesn't sail with white sails, or black sails. Its sails are literally stained with blood. Sick man, the captain is. I've heard that he has rotting corpses stored in the hold, but never having been aboard, I can't confirm that."

    Elizabeth shuddered.

    "And that's not the least of it," the pirate continued. "I've heard tell of some of the things he and his crew have done. Evil, mindless things. Or perhaps too much of a mind behind them. Worse than anything Barbossa ever did."

    "How so?" Will asked quietly, his voice even and hard.

    Jack glanced at Elizabeth, who was looking a little sick to her stomach. "I'd rather not go into it, for her sake. Still a bit too well-mannered there, aye, Lizzie?"

    Will nodded, understanding. Apparently, so did Elizabeth. She stood quickly. "I, uh, believe I shall . . . leave you to discuss this?"

    Will turned to Jack. "I'll take her home, then return."

    The pirate inclined his head. "I'll be here."

    Jack stood, and moved around the desk, passing the table. There was a sudden flurry of movement, and Jack jerked backwards, a knife suddenly at his throat.

    "Don't move," a female voice said.

    Jack obediently froze, rather liking his head where it was.

    Will pulled his sword, which he always carried at his side. "Release him!"

    No one could see much of Jack's assailant. From what they could tell, she had jumped from beneath the table, grabbed Jack's trailing dark hair, and pulled his head down.

    The knife held to his throat was nasty-looking, curved in a design Will had never seen. In a moment of surprising clarity, he saw that twisting designs were carved into the bright metal. He couldn't see much of the handle, held as it was in the woman's right hand, but what he could see was elaborately carved, the pommel in the shape of curving vines. Funny, the things one noticed in times like these.

    The woman's muffled voice came from behind the pirate. "Drop the sword and I'll let him go."

    "Let him go and I'll drop the sword," Will countered.

    Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "How about this? You both let go on the count of three?"

    "Fine," Will said, his teeth gritted.

    "Agreed," the hidden woman said.

    Elizabeth shook her head. "One . . . two . . . three . . ."

    Will's sword hit the floor and the knife disappeared from its resting spot just under Jack's chin. The pirate spun around, grabbing the woman's wrist.

    "What have we 'ere, I wonder?" he asked, eyes sweeping over a rather short woman dressed in a worn, wrinkled, and utterly-out-of-place brown, floral embroidered dress. Her hair was long and dark gold, edging a bit into new-polished bronze. She barely reached Jack's chin in the battered, servicable shoes she wore.

    "Pretty wench," Jack judged.

    Her free hand moved lightning fast and there was a crack as it connected with Jack's cheek. He let her go and stumbled back.

    Pointing the blade at him, she demanded, "I know you're a pirate. Tell me where I can find the son of Bootstrap Bill Turner."

    Jack blinked.

    "Why," he asked, "does it always have t'be someone lookin' for Bill's kid?"

    "That would be me," Will said, his foot moving slightly towards his sword.

    The woman glanced over at Will, then her sea-blue eyes went wide. "Will!" she exclaimed, and threw herself at him.

    Confused, Will caught the small woman as she slammed into him. Fortunately, she'd dropped the dagger, and Jack bent to retrieve it.

    "And who is this?" Elizabeth asked, her voice icy.

    Will, still completely astonished, pushed the blonde woman away from him and looked at her. "Nicola?!"

    "I didn't think I'd be able to find you. I didn't know if you were still alive, or if I'd be stuck here completely by myself. Which actually would have been preferable to what I went through before, but still, it's nice to see you again, and I'm so relieved to have found you!" she was babbling.

    The younger of the two men she'd assailed was looking at her with huge brown eyes. "Elizabeth," he said. "This is my cousin, Nicola."

    His fiancée relaxed immediately, but still looked at the shorter woman with wary interest. "She's not still armed, is she?"

    "Not since she dropped this, I think," Jack said, holding up the dagger.

    Will pulled Elizabeth forward. "Nicola, this is my betrothed, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is my cousin, Miss Nicola Holyfield. I'm assuming just come from England."

    "Yes, I've just arrived this morning, on the Jolly Genesis. Of course, I wasn't listed on the passenger registry, since I sort of stowed away. I say sort of because it's my father's ship, and they didn't question my presence, since I'd reused the letter from France, but by the time Captain Marchant gets back to England, he's going to figure it out. And I would imagine Father is fairly put out that I've run off . . ."

    She trailed off, seeing that everyone was staring at her. She hadn't realised she'd been babbling until then.

    "What the bloody hell kind of a name is Jolly Genesis?" Jack demanded.

    Nicola straightened with indignation. "Genesis happens to be my mother's name, I'll have you know! Of course, Grandfather also named his other children Exodus and Leviticus. And Mary Katherine. That would be Will's mother."

    She studied Jack, eyes narrowed. "And who the blazes are you?" she demanded, looking him up and down.

    "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow," he said, with his usual aplomb. "And this is me ship, the Black Pearl. Surely you've heard of me?"

    She gazed at him levelly for several contemplative seconds, then said, "No. Can't say I have."

    Jack nearly fell over. "What?!"

    "I've never heard of you," she repeated. "Should I have?"

    The pirate pointed at her. "The bloody captain of that bloody ship did not properly educate you, Miss Holyfield! I am Captain Jack Sparrow, the greatest pirate threat in the Caribbean!"

    Nicola raised an eyebrow. "I thought I heard you telling Will that there was a bigger, scarier shark in the waters these days," she said sweetly.

    "Nicola," Will said, still feeling as though he'd been hit over the head. "What are you doing here?"

    "On the ship? Well, I had to go somewhere, and, well, I thought maybe, since I saw a woman on this ship, perhaps they'd take me on, too, if I couldn't find you." Nicola looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

    "No, I meant in Jamaica. What are you doing in Jamaica? Shouldn't Uncle Leslie have married you off by now?"

    She shrugged. With maddening calm, she said, "Well, the options were marrying the local garrison commander, who is, quite frankly, old enough to be our grandfather, burning at the stake, or coming here. I think it should be obvious why I chose the Caribbean over that."

    "Burning at the stake?!" Elizabeth was appalled. "Why?!"

    "Because they thought I'm a witch," Nicola said, as if the answer were perfectly obvious.

    She looked brightly around the group, unaware that even the daft captain was thinking she was crazy. "Personally, I think the entire partriarchal society of England is highly overrated, and while Jamaica may be run by said British government, there are also pirates here, and as much as those white sails may have fooled the redcoats, it didn't fool me. Only a pirate would sail this ship. Which isn't to impugne your ship, sir," she said quickly. "I am merely saying that it is obviously not a merchant or Navy ship. For one, it's not painted a horrid yellow."

    She smiled brilliantly. "Now, you don't mind if I show myself around, do you? I just love ships. Though I'm afraid I'm no good with the rigging."

    The trio watched as Nicola walked off, somehow regal in her threadbare dress, her braided hair a golden, frizzy line down her back.

    Then Jack remarked, "I can see why they wanted to burn her."

    Will ran a hand over his dark head and sighed. "She's insane. I do not recall her being this . . . odd."

    "When was the last time you saw her?" Elizabeth inquired.

    Will did some quick mental calculations. "Before I left England," he admitted. "Nine or ten years ago."

    Jack was still looking in the direction the young woman had gone. There was a speculative gleam in his eye.

    "Will," he announced suddenly, "I'm in love with your cousin."

    Will frowned. "You've known her five minutes and she tried to kill you."

    The pirate grinned. "Yeah, I know. Perfect, isn't she? I must have her."

    The younger man glowered. "You so much as lay a finger on Nicola, I'll remove your hands."

    "But she's such a pretty wen- lady," Jack hastily amended at the dark look on his friend's face, hands up to ward Will off.

    "And she hit you!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

    "She's not the first," Jack pointed out.

    Will shook his head. "Elizabeth, stay here with Jack. I need to find Nicola."