Ship of the Dead: The Templar Series

  Ship of the Dead

  A Templar Series Short Story

  Debra Dunbar

  Copyright © 2017 by Debra Dunbar

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  About the Author

  Also by Debra Dunbar

  Chapter 1

  Saint Domingue – 1701

  “He’s dead, Lidè.” Soeh’s voice shook. “This is the third one since yesterday.”

  Adeyemi leaned over the body. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen corpses before. Life as a maroon meant death walked close enough to brush your shoulder with his own. Runaway slaves were punished, repeat offenders mutilated or killed, but rebels in the mountains, if caught, would wish for death. Especially him. The plantation owners would love to make an example out of the rebel lidè, the man who led the mawonag raids on the plantations, killed anyone in his way, and created a mountain fortress that was a safe haven for so many maroons and Tainos.

  “An animal attack?” He asked. All three had bites on their necks that certainly looked like a large animal had taken them by the throat, but beyond the one set of tooth-marks, they hadn’t been mauled. Was it one of the plantation dogs, trained to kill with a single bite? But the scouts would have raised the alarm had the owners been hunting so close to the settlement, and from what he’d witnessed over the years, even well-trained dogs did more than this clean bite on the neck.

  It looked like Goue hadn’t even struggled. It was as if he’d held still and let some animal bite him, let the blood drain from him. But according to Soeh, there hadn’t been pools of blood where any of the dead had been found. Had the animal lapped it all up? If so, then why had it not eaten Goue’s flesh as well?

  “What would have done this, Soeh? A gigantic hutia?” He was joking. The rodents hadn’t been known to attack people, and even the largest hutia wouldn’t have been able to do more than nibble on someone’s leg.

  Soeh shook her head. “It looks more like the bite of a fruit bat – a huge fruit bat.”

  It did look similar, but fruit bats mostly ate mango and drank their nectar. He doubted Goue’s flesh or blood was comparable in taste or sweetness.

  “Perhaps the bats are crazy, possessed by a devil?” Soeh continued. “Boukman says JanJak has the same bites, that they are a devil’s mark.”

  Boukman was the crazy one, but Adeyemi couldn’t discount that man, not when his magic and work with the spirit world led to results. But this…

  “Send JanJak over so I can talk with him about this giant crazy fruit bat who bit him, Goue and two others. Maybe we can hunt it. Or maybe we can all start wrapping cloth around our necks.”

  When JanJak arrived he looked like he’d been caught stealing bread crusts. His expression changed to horror as he saw Goue’s body.

  “What…what happened? This makes three, doesn’t it, Lidè? Three in two nights.”

  Adeyemi pointed to the dead man’s neck. “Poison? We don’t know. These bites look like they could be from a tarantula or a bat, but neither of those are venomous. I’ve seen a man killed from a centipede bite, but these aren’t the marks of a centipede. And the dead are pale, bloodless, yet there was no blood near their bodies, or any at the bite marks on their necks.”

  JanJak’s hand crept up to his own neck. “Witchcraft? Were they cursed? Shot with poisoned darts?”

  “Possibly. I called you here because I’ve been told you have similar marks.”

  The other man averted his eyes. “Insect bites. See? Just small ones. And I’m obviously not dead.”

  Adeyemi looked closely at JanJak’s neck. The spacing was the same. The size of the puncture was the same. Goue’s marks had no dried blood around them. The only difference was that JanJak wasn’t dead.

  But he was hiding something. The moment Adeyemi had found they had a price on their heads, he’d refused to tolerate secrets. Nothing could be hidden when the lives of dozens were at stake. JanJak knew something. And Adeyemi was determined to find out what that was.

  He shrugged and went back to look once more at Goue’s neck. “Tell all the others to be aware when on watch or on a raid for fruit bats, tarantulas, or poisoned darts. I don’t want any more of us to die. Have them wrap cloth around their necks just in case.”

  Then he watched JanJak leave. The man had gone into town every night this week for information and to trade with merchants who were sympathetic to their cause. Tonight, he wouldn’t be going alone.

  Madeline hated this island. Things were bad in France, and it had been obvious that they weren’t going to get better, but why had Albin packed them up and taken them to this forsaken place where the nights were hotter than a kitchen in summer, where the insects were as big as her palm, where it was far more difficult to get a meal than it had been in Paris?

  At least they were off the boat. She’d never known such fear as during the months of their voyage. They had all been locked down below, wondering if they’d drown in a storm, or be killed in their sleep. Add to that the fact that they’d not accounted for the length of the journey when considering an adequate food supply. When the ship had sailed into port, she’d thought it was a miracle they’d survived the voyage, but now she wondered if they were only delaying the inevitable.

  She was starving, and she wasn’t the only one. Nearly everyone on this island was a malnourished slave. The French all lived a rich life, but they were only one in ten to the slaves, and in spite of Albin’s credentials, the French weren’t welcoming them with open arms.

  So it had come to this. Each one of them heading out on their own, desperate to find a meal. She was too young for this. Her family should still be providing for her, helping her to hunt on her own, yet in these desperate times, it was everyone for themselves.

  Something hit her shoulder hard enough that she staggered off-balance to the side. When Madeline looked over, she saw an old woman, hunched and walking with a cane.

  “Stay out of my way. Stay off my island,” the woman snarled.

  Madeline took a step back. This was silly. She could snap this woman’s neck with two fingers. She could crush the woman’s face with her fist. But this was an old woman, probably crazy, probably angry at the French who’d taken over the island from the Spanish. Although she didn’t look Spanish. She looked more like one of those Tainos who’d lived on the island before the Spanish had arrived.

  “Sorry. Please excuse me.” Madeline had no idea what she was apologizing for, but a lifetime of manners didn’t just vanish in two years. She had been taught to be polite to her elders, to always be gracious and avoid argument. Besides, for all she knew, she’d accidently run into this woman, lost in thought, her mind blurred with hunger.

  Hunger. But she’d get nothing from this ancient woman. Besides, the old woman smelled odd. Really, really odd.

  “Get off my island.”

  The woman waved her cane at Madeline who jumped back, wide-eyed at the attempted assault. Still she didn’t retaliate. There was no honor in harming an old woman. So instead, Madeline retreated into the shadows of a doorway and watched the woman march down the street.

  There weren’t many out tonight beyond that crazy old lady. The daytime was so hot that people should be using the evenings to do their shopping and socializing, but on this island, few shopped or socialized outside
of their giant plantation houses. The slaves weren’t free to wander far, and would hardly be shopping. That left the townspeople themselves – French, a few remaining Spaniards, and the mulattos. Still, she had to be careful. Word spread quickly, and she didn’t want to get a reputation in the town. Which is why she found it hard to resist her one persistent admirer.

  Madeline assumed he was one of the freed mulattos with his lighter skin and more European features, but it was hard for her to tell. Either way, the man was clearly not starving to death. He had muscles that came from regular meals, and he had looked at her with his adoring dark eyes. She felt a rush of need just thinking about him. He’d sought her out twice now. She shouldn’t. She should find someone else. But this man…it was so easy with him. And she liked him. Liked him a lot.

  The evening was slipping away, and she was hungry, so Madeline slipped into a dry goods store, looking at the merchandise as she waited for the shop keeper to finish with his customer.

  Which one? She could follow the customer out and hopefully get him alone in a dark alley, or she could chat up the man who ran the store. The men in her family had it so much easier. Leonora had it so much easier. She could walk up to any man or woman and have them in her arms before the clock struck midnight. Madeline wasn’t so confident, nor was she blessed with the face and figure that made men want to sneak off into the dark with her. And two years of practice hadn’t made her any better at this.

  The customer left and Madeline smiled at the shopkeeper before turning to a barrel of flour. She had no money to buy this stuff, and if even if she did, she had no need for flour. She must have put on a convincing show because the man came over to her, wiping his hands on his apron and asking if there was something he could help her with.

  There was. And if luck was on her side she would not go hungry tonight.

  Madeline had a skip in her step as she left the dry goods store and headed down the street. She was still hungry, but this was a new home for them. If she overindulged, she’d put them all at risk. It was better to be hungry than have the whole island trying to hunt them down.

  There was a difference between hungry and starving, though, and when she saw a familiar figure slip into an old burned-out building, she smiled. It was her admirer, come to their usual meeting place. She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. But she liked him and it felt so good to have someone devoted to her, someone who would protect her if she needed it. Someone she could protect once she felt more secure about her place on the island. Someone who would reminder her that not too long ago she’d once been human.

  Careful to make sure no one saw her, Madeline walked around the back of the building and edged inside an open doorway. She’d already had a meal. She’d hold back. Just a little bit to strengthen this growing bond between them. Just enough to make sure he’d leave wanting more.

  It had been ridiculously easy to follow JanJak down the mountain pass and into the harbor town. Adeyemi couldn’t believe the man’s foolishness. At least it was nighttime, and JanJak did take care to stay to the shadows, avoiding the more populated areas where he might be recognized. The man entered an old shipwright shop that had burned last year, and a faint golden light came on from inside.

  The light made it easy to look through the broken window and see what JanJak was up to. The man stood in the center of the room, twisting his hands together in front of him. A woman approached, setting the lamp on a nearby box and holding out her hands.

  She was well dressed. White. What was she doing in this shell of a building, and why was JanJak meeting with her?

  Oh. He watched the two come together, the woman reaching down to cup JanJak’s face as she kissed him passionately. She was taller than the mulatto, and his arm wrapped awkwardly around her waist. Pulling away, she lifted her hands and began to unlace her bodice, exposing her breasts.

  Idiot. What was JanJak thinking? They’d all had these fantasies of stealing more than the plantation owner’s crops, livestock, and weapons, but this would not end well. Even if the woman were the seducer, it would be the man who paid with his life. As much as the French enjoyed their slave women, they didn’t want their own women to perform the same deed. No wonder JanJak hadn’t wanted to admit what he was doing in town. It was the man’s business if he wanted to risk his life for such an affair, but Adeyemi wouldn’t jeopardize the lives of their whole group just to rescue a scout that couldn’t resist shaking the sheets with one of the French.

  He should have turned around and left JanJak to his dalliance, but something made him stay and watch. The woman was tall and slim, with a pale oval of a face and silky straight hair that was wound into a twisted knot high on her head. She stroked JanJak’s neck with a long finger and bent her head to kiss him there. The man’s fingers curled tight in the fabric of her dress, his head thrown back, eyes closed. Then suddenly he pushed her away, shaking his head. There was a disagreement. The woman looked as if she were pleading. He put a hand on his neck, shaking his head, then she gestured down at his manhood. JanJak’s eyes grew wide. The woman laughed, reaching for his waistband, then slowly she eased his pants downward.

  Adeyemi was sure his own expression mirrored the frightened one on the other man’s face as the woman knelt and took JanJak into her mouth.

  What was she doing? Would she bite him like the monster witches of the stories? How could this possibly be enjoyable? But JanJak appeared to be enjoying it mightily. The man put his hand against the wall to steady himself, his moans of pleasure audible clear though the broken window. The woman’s head moved in rhythm, then she pulled free, her hand taking the place of her mouth as she kissed the flesh of JanJak’s upper thigh.

  Then she bit. Adeyemi gasped to see a spurt of blood before the woman’s mouth covered the wound, sucking eagerly. Far from appearing in pain, JanJak cried out, jerking himself frantically into her hand and spraying down into her hair and on her dress. The woman didn’t seem to mind, her hand continuing, and her mouth never straying from that spot on JanJak’s thigh. The man’s pleasure went on far longer than any Adeyemi had ever experienced himself until finally JanJak slumped against the wall, blubbering words of love and devotion to the woman. She pulled her mouth away, licking the man’s leg like a dog would an empty dish, then she rose, pressing a kiss on JanJak’s mouth and rubbing a hand along his hair with obvious affection. As she turned, the faint light from the lamp highlighted her face and Adeyemi saw long sharp fangs – longer than ones on the dogs of the plantations, larger than the bats and spiders of the trees. He’d never seen such teeth on a human before, and these teeth were now red with blood.

  Adeyemi relayed what he’d seen to Soeh and Boukman. Yes, the old man was crazy, but he was also powerful in ways the Adeyemi would never fully understand. If anyone could make sense of what he’d witnessed, Boukman could.

  “One of the spirits has come to walk among us and tempt men to their death,” Boukman pronounced. “Eventually she will kill her lovers. She is most likely the one who has slain Goue and the others. It won’t be long before JanJak is also dead, then she will find another to take, and another, and another until she has killed us all. We need to stop her, Lidè.”

  Adeyemi respected Boukman, but this woman was no spirit. She was flesh and blood. Just as the Tainos had never known the white men before the boats landed on their shore, just as his mother’s journey across the waters had been filled with frightening, magical new experiences, so was this. It seemed magical, of the spirit world, because it was unknown. Once he figured it out, it would no longer be magical, only different, then eventually a normal part of his life. There were women with long sharp teeth who bit men and drank their blood, who somehow made the experience enjoyable for their victims. He’d seen the numbing of insect bites, the plants that made men and women open their eyes to the spirit world. There must be something this woman had, like the insects and the plants, that ensnared her victims so they didn’t resist. And if the woman had to ensnare her victim, then she must have
a weakness that could be exploited. He just had to find something that would allow him to resist her, then he could destroy her before she could kill again.

  Although, if he were completely honest with himself, the whole thing had been very arousing. It had been too long since he’d had a lover. Maybe he needed to make the time for one. And ask if she’d do that…thing with her mouth. Not the biting thing, but the other.

  “Found him.” Soeh strode into the room, her eyes fierce with anger as she dragged JanJak by the arm. With a shove, the man fell to his knees. Looking around in bewilderment JanJak caught sight of Adeyemi, then stood, hunching his shoulders and staring at the floor.

  “Who is the woman you met tonight?” Adeyemi demanded.

  JanJak flinched as if he had struck him. “Her name is Madeline. She and her family just arrived from France. They have no slaves, they know no one. She came up to me in the woods outside of town, saw me even though I was in the darkest of shadows. She spoke kindly to me, she…I love her. She has done no wrong, Lidè. I have told her nothing about us, about you.”

  Adeyemi caught his breath, wondering how long it would be before they were hunted down, forced to move or slaughtered in their camp. He believed that JanJak did love the woman, but he didn’t believe that there had been no inadvertent slip of secrets in a moment of passion.

  “Thinking with your prick again,” Soeh sneered. “You’d sell us all to our deaths just to bury yourself in some woman’s softness.”

  “I wouldn’t,” JanJak cried. “I swear. She and her family have just arrived. They know no one on the island. Her father and elder brothers and sisters were away for the evening. She snuck away to see me.”