Page 124 of The Worst of Them

It struck her then—Lovibond. It was the captain from Stede’s story months ago, the one who had traded his soul to Davy Jones to save the lives of his family and crew.

And this woman, Ann, must have been his wife.

If she was offering Copson favor, it was a rare moment indeed that he was not the most powerful person on board.

“He was a good man,” Copson said, and now Cecily could see worry in the set of his shoulders. “I doubt there are many souls Davy Jones would accept for the sake of so many.”

“You are kind to say such things,” Ann said. “And you must know that I, too, am eager to protect these good people.”

Copson inclined his head, his movements slow and calm, like he was at risk of calling down Jonah’s fury at any moment. “Indeed, madam.”

Again, warning pricked at the back of her neck. She wanted off this ship, away from mentions of the nigh-immortal, inescapable captain whose reputation made Copson look like a saint.

But then a small hand slipped into Cecily’s. She startled and looked down to find a boy, no older than four, looking up at her with wide, terrified eyes.

“Vanetta,” he whispered, and he tugged her arm to pull her closer.

There had been plenty of children in Cecily’s village growing up, and it had always been easy to be kind to them. And though it had been a long while since she’d been around a child, she quickly sank into a crouch so he could mutter into her ear, “I’m scared.”

Her first inclination was to sheath her blade, which she finally did. Her second was to tell him that she wasn’t Vanetta, but as tears welled in his eyes, she decided to let him think she was whoever he damn well wanted her to be.

She hoped Vanetta was a kind woman as she whispered back, “Don’t be afraid.”

He pressed into her side, gripping her hand tighter as Ann’s voice reached them from over the other passengers, still cordial but heavy with authority.

“I travel with these people as good luck because they fear situations such as these,” she said. “My husband may be in service to Davy Jones, but he watches over me. This ship is under his protection, so anything you do will be known.”

“Very well,” Copson said, sounding eager to agree with whatever she proposed. “Consider my payment the honor of meeting you. I hope I’ve gained your goodwill.”

Ann replied, “For peace, Captain, you have.”

“See?” Cecily whispered to the boy, trying to find some relief that there would be no battle today. “Copson won’t hurt anyone here.”

The boy nodded and huddled into her, his fingers going to the pendant around her throat. She remained on her haunches, content to let him watch the emeralds glitter as he turned the turtle this way and that. Oddly, hidden behind a forest of legs and bodies offered a brief respite from the gut feeling that had haunted her all morning.

Beyond those standing in front of them, Copson said, “Safe travels, my lady.”

Bootsteps retreated, thudding over the plank between the ships. Copson’s crew began to return to the Fortuna Royale, and Cecily patted the boy’s shoulder.

“All is well,” she said. “But I must go.”

He said nothing, still holding her pendant. A few more moments, she told herself, and then she would get up and leave. Only a few seconds to enjoy peace from the dread that had been hanging over her⁠—

A scream split the air.

Her head snapped toward the sound. The shuffling passengers and pirates fell quiet, and the boy let go of her necklace. Another cry went up, and Cecily stiffened as she recognized Hester’s voice.

“Cecily!”

She shot to her feet and surged through the crowd toward her friend’s cry. Hester needed her—she was in pain, or hurt, or stabbed, or dying⁠—

She reached an open space where Hester knelt in a puddle of blood. Cecily nearly cried out at the sight until she realized it wasn’t Hester who was hurt, but another.

A girl laid motionless, on the deck her long black hair splayed over the boards. And as Hester leaned away, a cry did escape Cecily’s lips, horror swallowing every thought and feeling as she saw the dead girl’s face.

It was her own.

The girl’s throat had been slit, and dark, unseeing eyes stared at the sky, set among pretty features shaped exactly like Cecily’s. Even her build was the same, her lips parted in surprise.