Nautilus

Chapter 6- Departed

Author's Note: The hard about this fic is I'm working with writer's block here and I'm not feeling the drive to write this as easily as I have in the first chapters. Some ideas I'm going to come back to (sea life in last fic). It's hard not only because of the w/b, but because I don't want to let some plot points come too soon and make the story look rushed. It has to be the way it is until Chapter 10 where the whole thing does a 180 turn. I've given some minor hints, but it's hard to try and work in secret. That's what makes it.:)


Oh, and "words" mean normal speech and 'words' indicates inner thought.
*********

There existed an island where, for one man, one life ended and another began. To understand how fate works with anyone is a great mystery. Reasons are questions and answers implausible to normal minds. Something happens and not understood, rather believed to be fate or a work of God, cannot be proven with certainty. For Selene, it was no different. The minute she made it, on this island, fate laughed at her.

*********

Immediately, questions formed in her mind on how she landed here, among all the other islands in the Caribbean, she came to this one. Wide eyes darted around and hair whipping wildly around her, Selene stood on the shore. One boot on land and the other in the water, she hesitated moving any further. It was too strange, too consequential for her to end up here. Whose sort of sick, twisted game is this?
One part of her itched to explore the land, but the more cautious side warned her of the island and its secrets. But, would it be good to venture onwards? After seeing it firsthand, was she permitted upon these same shores? Those decades ago this beach and the waters that surrounded it swirled crimson, from his blood?
Curiosity stirred and overwhelmed the cautious side of her. She wished to see firsthand the island that had made him the sea devil. Her other foot made it to the sand and she started off at a steady pace and headed along the shore.
She combed the beach for a bit and spotted the hole. ‘This was where he buried it.’ Leaning down into the hole, she found an open chest with several items strewn about: several unopened letters and blank parchment. When she stifled through the entire contents, she found dried blood at the bottom and the urge to turn her head away came forward. She resisted the urge and touched the blackened substance. ‘This is where it rested.’ She closed her eyes as if the emotions the man had felt in the last moments of his mortal life transferred. Her fingertips tingled and she drew back her hand.
It was a new feeling. She gave one more caress to the chest and moved on to the letters. These were his letters and not opened. This meant she had not read them and that he never gave them to her. She remembered when he had written them, the love and devotion that he put in every phrase, word and stroke of the pen. He meant everything that he had promised her, but it had not been enough.
She regretted sifting through his personal belongings, and for the moment, her curiosity vanished and she left the letters alone. It was satisfying, being here, touching what he had previously touched, but to open the letters obviously meant for someone else? That was dishonest and the idea of going against her nature disgusted her.
She placed the letters back into the chest when one letter slipped from her hand and fell to the sand. Letters back inside, she picked the fallen letter up. It was different from the others. Still sealed, yet unlike the others, it had lettering on the outside it.
There was only one word marked in his scripted handwriting. “Angel”.
‘When had he written this?’ Conscience or not, this was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. She broke the wax seal and opened the letter.

“I should not be writing this, but I feel I must do so. I am torn. The woman reappeared to me last night during a dream. Who is this creature vexing me so? I have a beloved whom I love with all my heart and I am content. I thought I desired no more. She created a stirring in me and makes my blood sing through me veins. I am torn between the two; one that only exists in my mind and dreams and the other physically real. If only I had the chance to meet her, my choice would be much easier to make. What am I thinking? I believe I love Calypso, and I trust my judgment, but why does this continue? I am concerned for my love only, yet, I am drawn to her as a moth to a flame. I want to see her and hear her voice more so than just teasing whisper in my ear. Calypso has me for an eternity, the siren has promised to have me forever. One has my heart and the other has my soul.”

As she finished reading the last word, the paper engulfed in flames and its ashes scattered on the sand. That was the reason she was here. That was because of everything. Wide-eyed, she fell backwards and onto the sand. There was not one emotion she could name that could describe it. The heart inside her burned and she placed one hand over it and squeezed. Pain rushed through her veins as she dug deeper and she ripped through the shirt. Red blood oozed through the half-moon marks of her fingernails and she let out a sob. ‘How could this happen?’ She knew the answer, but had not the courage to say it.
Lost in her own misery, she had missed The Flying Dutchman’s entrance not too far offshore. The crew had assembled to come on land with orders to drag the woman back onto the ship. They had made land when her cries rang out across the island.
She down before them and half tripped, half fallen, onto the sand. She had ripped half of her shirt off and only a shred amount covered her chest. Under the moonlight, she looked wild, hair half covered her face and her eyes held a deadly glow as silver tears had run down her face. Blood covered her left side and some had poured onto the sand, turning it an ebony color. It appeared she had ripped herself open in an attempt to remove the mortal heart inside.
Most crewmembers had backed away and some feared for their undead lives. The fear on their faces had struck something with her for she moved within a heartbeat and was no longer on the beach.


*********

He had turned a curious eye to the beach to watch the seen, but this was far from expected. His crew had backed off, fearing her and at the same moment; he felt a twinge of anxiousness.
The spyglass lowered, he felt a drop of liquid hit him. There was not a rain cloud in sight. When he looked upwards, for the first time he pictured a hurricane was more predictable than this wench. She came and went like the wind.
She stood on the mast, wings closed and blood streamed down her left side and onto the mast. It flowed down onto the deck.
In the blink of an eye, she came upon him, silver eyes glowed with menace. She walked with more weight put into her injured side and stopped with only an arm’s length that separated them. “It all happened because of you, all of it.”
He shot her a confused look, bottom lip pouted outwards. Her stance had not fazed him, but her words though . . . ‘It is all my fault?’ When he peered more closely on her self-inflicted wound, where claw marks ripped through both skin and flesh, it touched him. She realized something on that island, and he was taken aback at the ferocity of the wound. He softened, even if only momentarily, and switched the spyglass to his clawed hand. He lifted his other hand and reached towards her and brushed a hesitant hand over the injury. Red, now turned black blood, sizzled on his hand and he jerked it back.
As if she picked up something from him he could not, her anger melted away and replaced by a helpless and sad stare.
Tears dripped from her face as she brushed past him to go below. The prison door slammed behind her.

**********

She leaned against her cage, wings cocooned around her body. More blood had pooled around her feet and her white shirt held a burgundy color. The injury had not started to heal, but she cared neither for it nor anything. ‘Why would I? It all made sense now. Why someone had tossed me aside, like nothing more than a gutted fish, why ‘that’ man found me. Why I gained a mortal heart. I lost my sense of self and my punishment is to become what I sought. The fault is my own.’
Bootstrap had heard the commotion on deck, followed by the young woman who rushed back to the same spot as earlier. He looked her over and saw the blood that pooled underneath her, leaving behind burn marks as it stretched out and covered the prison floor. It was a sad site as he saw such a beautiful and unique creature in such pain, and he knew it was the Captain who caused it.
“What is your name?” Bill’s voice rasped.
Selene leaned her weight onto one hand and pulled the wings away from her face. That gave her a clear view of her companion. “Your name, what are you called?”
Bill smiled. He got her interested, at least. “You can call me Bill.”
“Bill, then.” She whispered back.
He reached a hand onto the bars as the woman moved again and leaned heavily against the bars. This concerned him. ‘How can an angel have blood?’ He needed to direct her attention away from whatever had caused her grief. His knowledge of her kind was limited, since he was a pirate, however no outcome looked bright for immortal or mortal when her body stressed its limits.
“What is yours, if I may ask?” He tried again and prodded for her name.
She hesitated at first. By giving herself a name, she no longer held onto her position and her faith. She would lose everything. Anything that tied her to Heaven above would be broken. ‘I will have nothing left, but my deeds cannot be fixed now.’ It was far too late for mercy. “My name is Selene.”


******************

It all goes downhill from here *evil grin*