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Tamara A. Lowery

Tamara A. Lowery, Author of Waves of Darkness Tamara Lowery is a former maid and current auto industry worker. She is a graduate of Soddy-Daisy High School and Chattanooga State, where she majored in Journalism. She is a new author. She currently lives in Tennessee with her husband and the Rottentots, her cats.

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Congratulations to Tamara for being in the 2011 Preditors and Editors top ten Horror Novel Category for Blood Curse.
2011 P&H Horror

Congratulations to Tamara for being in the 2012 Preditors and Editors top ten Horror Category for Demon Bayou.
2012 P&E Top Ten Winner Badge  

Congratulations to Tamara for being in the 2013 Preditors and Editors top ten Horror Category for Silent Fathoms
Top Ten Award for Horror, 2013

New Title(s) from Tamara A. Lowery

Blood Curse, Book One of Waves of Darkness by Tamara A. Lowery Demon Bayou by Tamara A. Lowery In the Dead of Winter by Tamara Lowery Silent Fathoms by Tamara A. Lowery
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Blood Curse, Book One of Waves of Darkness by Tamara A. Lowery Known as Bloody Vik Brandee, Viktor Brandewyne had a reputation as a bloodthirsty pirate. The world would soon learn just how bloodthirsty he had become. Thanks to the vengeful curse of a powerful witch, he had become a vampire. However, since he was cursed, rather than bitten, he was not vulnerable to daylight or holy items. As curses went, he didn’t think it was all that bad, until Mother Celie, his foster mother and a witch in her own right, informed him that the curse would eventually destroy him. Now he finds himself in a race against time to find the seven Sisters of Power and gain some of their magic in order to survive the curse. He is aided in his quest by Hezekiah Grimm, his first mate; Belladonna, a siren and sea witch; and Lazarus, a creature that is sometimes a cat and sometimes a raven.
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Blood Curse by Tamara A. Lowery ORDER BLOOD CURSE PRINT TODAY! (ISBN #978-1-61950-182-9)
   
Demon Bayou by Tamara A. Lowery


Viktor Brandewyne’s search for the second Sister of Power leads him to the bayou country near colonial New Orleans. Along the way, he has his first encounter with vampires not made by him, as well as running afoul of smugglers. The black waters of the bayous hold their own danger as well. An ancient demon guards the way to the Sister. Worse, the siren Belladonna begins to die in the swamps. Should Viktor return the siren to the sea or continue on to the Sister? Without magic from all the Sisters, he won’t be able to break the curse that has made him a vampire before it destroys him. Without Belladonna, he cannot find the Sisters.

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Demon Bayou by Tamara A. Lowery ORDER DEMON BAYOU PRINT TODAY! (ISBN #978-1-61950-183-6)
   
In the Dead of Winter by Tamara Lowery



Master Torbin feels honored to be accepted to a post at the University of Cordun and eager to get there. His greatest obstacle is the long trip around the edges of the Forest of Narghill. Why is there no route through the forest? No one in the village he stops in on his way seems to know of any path through. The villagers try their best to delay Master Torbin’s departure, at least until the after the Solstice and the Winter Festival. Only one old man claims to know of a shortcut through the forest, and offers to show it to him. He soon learns why no one travels in the Forest of Narghill, especially on Solstice.

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Silent Fathoms by Tamara A. Lowery



The search for the third Sister of Power takes Viktor Brandewyne to Mexico and the Devil’s daughter. She sends him to find devil’s hoof, but doesn’t explain exactly what it is. All Viktor knows is that she will use it to try to enslave him once he brings it back to her.

His quest strands him in the middle of the shark-infested Indian Ocean with no food or water, no wind . . . and no siren to sing one up for him. Try as he might to reach her, his bond with Belladonna has fallen silent.

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Silent Fathoms by Tamara A. Lowery ORDER SILENT FATHOMS PRINT TODAY! (ISBN #978-1-61950-185-0)
   
   
   
   

 



EXCERPTS

Blood Curse

Once Upon a Tide…

On a pleasant summer afternoon in 1750, a young boy drifted lazily among the salt marshes that inundate coastal Georgia. He’d fished for a while that morning without any luck. Having grown bored with the activity, he’d allowed his punt to drift where it would in the maze-like channels between the marshlands, tidal flats and small islands formed from the oyster shell ballast dumped by merchant ships preparing to take on cargo in port.

He had no worry of getting lost. He’d been boating these waters for as long as he could remember. The boy knew that he was currently about three miles south of Savannah.

The warm sun and cool breeze lent themselves to napping. Soon, the boy had dozed off. He was awakened by the sound of other boys chattering and laughing. They sounded nearby. As quietly as possible, he rowed toward the voices. The tide was high, and he decided to take the little flat-bottomed punt into the marsh grass before getting too close. No telling what mood these strangers might be in.

Peering through the grasses, he saw two boys around his age busy pulling up their crab traps. The wooden tub seated in the middle of their boat brimmed with their catch. Three empty traps were stacked in the back of their boat, and the trap they were in the process of emptying was very full; several of the crabs were quite large.

The boy was very fond of the sweet meat of the sought-after blue crabs. He knew old Mother would be glad of the treat, as well. ‘Although, she’ll probably grumble that I didn’t net her some shrimp to go with them,’ he thought to himself. His decision made, he nudged his boat through the flooded marsh to join the other boys.

“Those are some mighty fine lookin’ crabs,” he told them by way of greeting. “I’ll have them.”

The younger of the boys, brothers, smiled at him. “You want to buy them?”

The lone boy smiled back and calmly stated, “No. I’ll take them. Now.”

The older brother scowled at him, ready to defend their catch from the young interloper. “You can’t just take them,” he countered. “You have to buy them, if you want them. We worked hard for these crabs, and we’re going to take them back to town to sell them.”

The boy said matter-of-factly, “My waters; my crabs. Hand them over. I won’t tell you again.”

Rather than comply, the older brother shouted, “I said, you can’t have them!”

Taking his oar, the boy nimbly jumped into the other boys’ boat and promptly used it to knock the older of the two into the water. He brandished the oar at the younger boy. The lad quickly decided the water was a better place to be than in the same boat with the mad young bully. The victor then began tying their boat to his punt, to tow it back with him and ensure they didn’t try to give chase to reclaim their catch.

The older brother looked a bit panicked at this. His sibling was crying in fear.

“Hey! You can’t just leave us out here! We could drown trying to get back home,” he pled.

He looked at them, almost expressionless, and said, “You should have given me the crabs, when I told you to.” Then he rowed away, not caring if they made it back or not. “Whatever fate the tide and marsh have for you is your lot now.”

Of course, the lads made it back to Savannah. Otherwise, the legend would never have been born of how, in the summer of 1750, an eleven-year-old Viktor Brandewyne committed his first act of piracy.

And the rest, as you soon will read, is history.

--Chapter 1--

Does any man know where the love of God goes, when the waves turn the minutes to hours?—Gordon Lightfoot

Looking for love in all the wrong places. – Johnny Lee

On August 18, 1771, the pirate ship, Redfish, limped madly across the choppy waters twenty miles northeast of Hispañola, the HMS Bonnie Mae closing rapidly. The Navy ship had been pursuing her for almost five hours, since exchanging fire just north of Tortuga Harbor.

The pirate ship had not fared well in her exchange with the Bonnie Mae. Her topmast and mizzenmast had been destroyed by chain shot. Several pirates were dead or mortally wounded. To add insult to injury, a stray cannonball had blasted a good-sized hole at her waterline. The ship’s carpenter had managed to get a makeshift patch in place, before he bled to death from a leg wound. The rough waters were beginning to hammer away at it, though, and it was clear it wouldn’t hold much longer.

Already, the Redfish was taking on water. Her captain, Viktor Brandewyne, known more commonly as Bloody Vik Brandee, knew the ship was doomed. But, he was determined they’d not be taken to experience the King’s “kind” mercies.

“Aft lookout report!” Brandee bellowed.

“Aft lookout, aye,” the pirate in the rigging called back. “She be closing with us, Cap’n. Pro’ly be on us in another hour. She’s atwixt us and the nearest land.”

“Understood, aft lookout. Forward lookout report!”

“Forward lookout, aye. That be a bad ‘un, Cap’n. Definitely a hurricane. Heavy seas ahead. We be in no shape to tangle with that bitch,” the lookout answered.

Brandee mulled his predicament. Navy at his back; monstrous hurricane before him; no apparent escape. He made his decision.

“Mr. Rigger,” he addressed the helmsman, “steer me a course due east.”

“Aye, Cap’n. Um, Cap’n, that’ll take us straight into the hurricane,” Rigger pointed out.

Brandee smiled darkly. “Aye, Jim. It will.” Shouting loud enough for the remains of his crew to hear, he announced, “Listen up lads! We’re taking the Redfish right down the gullet of that storm afore us! If the King wants our ship, he’ll have to follow us into the mouth of Hell itself to catch us! What say ye?”

A unanimous roar of agreement rose from the crew. Each man knew the only alternative was dangling from a gibbet in Port Royal or at Wapping, on Execution Dock.

“Then step to it, ye scurrilous dregs!” he ordered. “We’ve a hurricane to catch!” Turning, he faced the storm and their certain doom. “Don’t fear, Jim. I’ve a few tricks left. We’ll cheat ol’ Cob same as we’ll cheat the King of his prey.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”
                                                                               Back to Blood Curse
 
Demon Bayou

                                                             Chapter 1
                            I dream of childhood friends and the dreams we had—Styx

Hezekiah Grimm found his captain at the railing on the fo’c’sle. Viktor Brandewyne stood looking out at the stars, an involuntary smile on his face. Lazarus was perched on the railing in front of him. The huge black cat emitted a rumbling purr in response to the captain’s strokes.

Grimm eyed the cat warily as he joined Viktor. Although he did not know the full story behind the act, he knew the creature was not natural and was perhaps demonic. It rarely tolerated the touch of anyone other than the Captain.

Viktor nodded, not speaking.

As uncomfortable as Lazarus made him, Grimm had to admit the cat had a calming effect on Viktor. It was the only thing that convinced him the creature, which was sometimes a cat, sometimes a bird, sometimes shadow or smoke, was at least not inherently evil, at least no more evil than the vampire Grimm called Captain.

Grimm had never been as superstitious as most sailors and pirates. He’d always believed in making his own luck and that witches, ghosts and beasties were mostly stories told to frighten small children or weak-minded fools. He’d not been above using such stories to keep his crew cowed and in line, of course.

These days, however, he’d found himself forced to come to grips with the fact that such beings did exist outside of stories and nightmares.

Since joining his old friend’s crew, he’d encountered vampires, witches, shape-shifting familiars, mermaids and a sea monster. Granted, the sea monster might easily be mistaken for a mermaid by some.

“It’s been quiet the past few days,” he observed. “How long do you think Belladonna will stay gone?”

“Until I call her back,” Viktor answered. “She’s busy with some fisherman she caught.”

“You keep surprising me, Viktor. Never knew you to share a wench before.”

“If it was anyone other than Belle, I wouldn’t. I still won’t share her with any of my crew.”

“But a perfect stranger?”

“Safer that way, Hezekiah. I don’t trust her in my bed.” He smiled at his first mate. “She’s just playing with her food.”

Grimm made a face. He’d seen the siren’s eating habits firsthand. Anyone foolish enough to go in the water with her was fair game. Even Viktor had felt her teeth, and she was supposed to be there to help him.

Viktor went back to petting the cat. “I was just thinking back to when Jim and I were first starting out. Old Billy Black said Jim was as much trouble as I was.”

“Aye and the two of you were damn near inseparable, as I remember. You never have said what happened to Jim.”

“No. I haven’t,” his tone made it clear that the subject was not to be broached again. “Was there something in particular that you wanted, Mr. Grimm?”

“There was talk in the last port of a convoy. Spices mostly, but there was rumor that some emeralds were being smuggled.”

“I heard the talk, as well.”

“I checked over the charts, Captain. The timing is right, and we’re in a prime position to intercept.”

Viktor thought about it for a while. The right spices could bring a tidy sum, although the emeralds, if there really were any, would be tricky to convert into cash. More importantly, fresh provisions would be welcome, both foodstuffs and prisoners to feed the bloodlust of his small cadre of vampires and himself.

“Very well, Mr. Grimm. Have the lads ready by first light. When the convoy comes into sight, pick us out a fat one.”

“Aye, Captain.”

                                                                  ****
“What’s the word, Mr. Grimm?”

“Sniff reports five ships in the convoy. They’re just to the south of us on the horizon,” he answered as he entered the captain’s cabin. “Their current heading is north. Three look to be merchantmen. He said the lead and chase vessels appear to be smaller gun boats.”

Viktor moved to the window, opening one of the panes to smell and feel the wind. Five specks of white, the topsails of their prey, were just visible where sky met sea.

“Have the riggers furl a third of the sails,” he ordered. “Give them a better chance of catching us up. They won’t suspect our purpose until it’s too late, if they come up behind us, rather than if we turned toward them.”

“What colors should we fly?” Even though Sniff, using the glass, couldn’t see what flag the convoy ran under, Grimm knew Viktor’s eyesight was much sharper than his.

“British, Mr. Grimm.”

                                                                  ****
Even with fewer sails up, it soon became apparent it would take the merchant ships most of the day to get remotely close to the Incubus. Less experienced or less patient pirates might have turned their ship toward their prey.

But Viktor didn’t want to spook them into scattering, or to provoke their escorts. As long as he sailed as if they were of no interest, their guard would be down when he did order an attack. Past experience had taught him it was an effective ploy when encountering convoys.

At midday, Sniff called down from the crow’s nest, “They look to be changing course!”

Grimm took the glass and peered at the slowly approaching ships. Viktor stood beside him, not needing a spyglass. They watched as the ships made an eastward course change.

“Damn. Wasn’t expecting that,” Grimm muttered. “Most spice traders usually don’t head eastward until they’re far enough to the north to catch the

Trades. Something must have spooked them.”

“It is odd,” Viktor agreed, “but not as odd as how the middle ship is sailing.”

The first mate focused on the vessel indicated. “Interesting. Looks like she’s pulling away from the pack and returning to the original heading. Wonder why she’d leave the protection?”

The vampire sniffed the air. Viktor’s heightened perceptions greatly augmented his already well-honed weather eye. “The wind is going to hold steady for at least another day. Our stray little lamb should be pulling even with us by dusk. That should be perfect.”

“Thinking of trying the harpoon and counterweight system?”

“Aye. It’s set up to pull them right to us. I want to see if it works.”

“I’ll have the lads get the buffers ready to take the brunt of the impact. What’s the plan if the contraption doesn’t work?”

“It would do my little cadre good to indulge in a fresh feed,” he said, referring to the five crewmen he’d turned. “The rum and blood blend is sustaining them, but blood is much better in its pure form straight from the source.”

Grimm suppressed a slight shudder. He’d seen the vampires in a feeding frenzy back when Viktor had set them on the pirate hunter who had managed to capture the first mate. He’d never wanted to be the target of their Hunger.

“If you say so.”

                                                                      ****
It was moonless that night, a fact that normally would preclude any kind of pirate attack. The merchantman only had one man on watch.

Nighttime, however, was no barrier to Viktor Brandewyne. For that matter, neither was daylight, since his vampirism was the result of a curse placed on him by an irate witch. He had never actually died, unlike his cadre of five. They were now permanent members of his crew, pirates he had killed personally when his blood Hunger had threatened to overwhelm him.

Since the five were true vampires, they had the same weaknesses described in most of the legends: sunlight and holy objects. There was another weakness one had discovered the hard way. Viktor had originally made six vampires, but one had made the mistake of trying to feed on Belladonna. The siren’s blood had been instantly fatal to the vampire.

Brandee had the cadre assembled on deck. He’d already ordered all the topside lamps shuttered, so as not to give away their position to the other ship. The Incubus was a dark shadow against the star-studded sky and all but invisible.

Silently, the pirate ship maneuvered alongside the merchant vessel. Large cork buffers were hung over the side facing their prey. Using the swivel guns mounted on the rails, the pirates launched several harpoons. As soon as he heard them thud home into the wood of the other ship, Viktor gave the signal to release the counterweights.

Line attached to the harpoons passed through small ports in the deck via pulleys and attached to heavy iron weights. These were shoved out the lower gun ports. The result was that the other ship was rapidly pulled to the pirate vessel. The cork buffers prevented the hulls from damaging each other.

The sleeping crew of the merchantman was taken completely by surprise, jarred awake by the collision. Within seconds, the vampires were on board. Two quickly silenced the lone watchman; he was drained and dead in a matter of minutes. The other three swarmed the rigging, in case any sailors were in the crow’s nest.

Quickly and quietly, Viktor sent a large part of his crew over, led by the Grimm Reaper, to secure the ship. Most of the merchantman’s crew was still half-asleep, making for a swift victory.

The ship’s captain must have been a heavy sleeper. Not only had the colliding of the ships not wakened him, but Grimm had to shake him a few times to get him on his feet. The man was only half-dressed and disheveled, when Viktor entered his cabin.

“I apologize for this untimely interruption of your voyage, sir, but I believe you and I have some urgent business to attend to.” Brandee gave a mock bow. Before he could continue, however, Lazarus darted past him. In a black blur, the demon cat launched himself at the prisoner, clawing and biting any part of the man he could reach. This did not fit in with Brandee’s plan.

“Lazarus! Return.”

The cat abandoned his attack and leapt to Viktor’s shoulder in one fluid movement. He glared and growled at the merchant captain from his perch.

Brandee narrowed his eyes at the man. “My friend does not like you, sir. Have we perhaps met before? What is your name?”

“I’ve never set eyes on you before in my life,” he spat. “I am Captain Thomas Brumble. Who the hell are you?”

“Brumble? Brumble. Hmm, that would explain it, then. Your father wouldn’t happen to be Tobias Brumble?”

“I am his younger son. Who are you, and how do you know my father?”

“Captain Vik Brandee, sir, at your service. You’ve already met my first mate, Hezekiah Grimm.”

The young captain blanched, recognizing the names of the two most feared pirates to sail these waters.

“I don’t know your sire personally, Mr. Brumble, but an old friend of mine once spent six miserable months as cabin boy to that cowardly piece of shit. I promised him that I’d pay the bastard back, with interest, for every lash of the whip he’d given my friend unjustly.”

“Then I am a dead man. I know the reputations of Bloody Vik Brandee and the Grimm Reaper. All I ask, sir, is that you allow me to dress, so that I may face my fate with some dignity,” Brumble requested.

“What say you, Lazarus?” Brandee asked, stroking the agitated cat’s head.

Lazarus stopped growling, yawned and stretched out one paw, toes and claws spread. “Meh,” he mewed. Then he proceeded to groom the paw and ignore the prisoner.

“Very well, Mr. Brumble. Mr. Grimm, if you will escort our guest topside once he’s properly attired? I shall be inspecting our prisoners and new recruits.”

“Aye, Captain.”
Back to Demon Bayou
 
In the Dead of Winter

The traveler was not surprised when the old man approached him with word of a shorter route to Cordun. He’d made no secret of his destination or why he was going there. And he had been asking around the village if anyone knew of a path that would take him through the Forest of Narghill.

No, the surprising and somewhat annoying thing was that no one in the village of Timbro seemed to know of any such path. Everyone thus far had told him the only route was to stick to the main road. The problem for the traveler was that the road skirted the vast forest. Villages were spaced three to five days’ travel apart along the road, but the maps showed Timbro was directly opposite of Cordun with only the forest between them.

The traveler had been sent from the University in Borduin. He was to go to the University in Cordun, to assist the Dean of Science there. He had been chosen from a large number of candidates for this honor.

He studied the maps, and it had been his reasoning he could shorten his journey by nearly a fortnight simply by going through the forest, rather than following the road several leagues to the south to go around it. Being nearly fifty leagues west of the forest, no one in Borduin could find any record or reason why the road had not been cut through the forest.

His friends at the University begged him to put off his journey until after the Solstice and the Winter Festival. They knew it might be many years before they could celebrate the Festival together again. But he had been eager to assume his new post and set out as soon as he could get his affairs in Borduin settled.

So it was with gratitude that he welcomed the old man to his table in the dining room of the Timbro Inn.

“You are the young man seeking a way through the Narghill?” the old man asked.

“Yes, Grandfather, I am,” he replied, using the customary title of respect for the unrelated elder.

“Please, sit with me. Would you care for some food or drink?”

“No, thank you,” he said, shaking his head. “I am fasting until Solstice night. It is my custom.”

“I see. Tell me, Grandfather, do you know of any path that leads all the way through the forest to Cordun?”

“There are many paths in Narghill, my son, but only one that may take you to your destination,” he said. “I was a hunter in my youth. I have wandered farther into the forest than any other man alive. I can lead you to the trailhead.”

“My thanks, Grandfather,” the traveler smiled. “Are you sure you won’t dine with me?”

The old man shook his head with a sad smile. “No, my son, I must keep to my vow. Just be ready to go at daybreak. I will meet you at the village gate.”

“Thank you. I will.”

Shortly after the old man left, a serving girl brought a flagon of wine to the table. She seemed nervous, darting her eyes about as if to see if anyone was watching.

“Is it true? You plan to go into the forest?” she whispered.

“Yes. I leave in the morning,” he replied, puzzled by her behavior. “Please inform the landlord I wish to settle my bill.”

Rather than leave to do so right away, she gave him an almost frightened smile. “Please, sir, delay your departure for a few days. It’s almost Solstice. Our Winter Festival is quite the spectacle.”

He frowned politely. “I am afraid I cannot. The Dean of Science at the University in Cordun is expecting me. It would do much for me in his eyes if I could reach there a fortnight early.”

Once again glancing around nervously, she leaned closer and said in a low voice, “If you try to go through Narghill, you may never reach Cordun. There’s an evil that stalks the forest, and it is not safe to enter into this close to Solstice. Please, sir, stay here for a while, or at least stay to the road.”

“I appreciate your concern, my dear, but I am a man of science. I do not subscribe to unfounded superstitions,” he said firmly, but politely. “Now, go inform the landlord I will be leaving in the morning and wish to settle my bill.”

Bowing her head at the dismissal, she replied meekly, “Yes, sir.”

After a few minutes, she returned with his meal and the landlord of the inn. Silently, she placed the food on the table and then left to wait on another table. The landlord cocked his head toward the opposite chair with a questioning look in his eye. The traveler nodded, and he took the seat.
Back to In the Dead of Winter
 
Silent Fathoms

                                                                 Once Upon a Tide . . .

Hezekiah had to admit the boy had balls. He’d had his doubts three months ago, when he’d signed on to this crew. After all, how many fools would be willing to ship out with a nineteen-year-old captain and a fifteen-year-old first mate? If it hadn’t been for the fact that Billy Black had vouched for him, he never would have considered sailing under Vik Brandee.

He still remembered the night he’d walked into the Black Flag in Savannah, looking for a crew to sign on to. He wasn’t the only man off that damned unlucky ship to head to the tavern, but he still missed those who hadn’t made it. A few had been good friends.

He felt like an old man already, at the tender age of twenty-five, especially after that last voyage. Why had he signed on with that idiot, Kerns? How the man had gained a captaincy was beyond him.

Kerns couldn’t navigate, was a piss-poor pirate, and couldn’t hold his liquor. The bastard had almost gotten them caught by hunters. If it hadn’t been for the storm and shoals that had wrecked them, he would’ve led a mutiny and taken the ship. Just as well he hadn’t. Although the ship had looked seaworthy at first glance, it had proven rotten, leaky and ill-outfitted.

Still, when the crew finally realized they were going down and made for the boats, Hezekiah had taken great satisfaction in slitting his former captain’s throat. He’d vowed then never to serve under a man so unworthy of his respect again.

“Mr. Grimm.” The fat old pirate-turned-tavern-keeper acknowledged him. “Been a couple of seasons since I’ve seen ye in these parts. What brings you to the Black Flag?”

“Let’s just say I’m between boats.”

Billy squinted at him. “Word has it you were sailing with Rob Kerns. I find it hard to believe. The man’s an idiot.”

Hezekiah grimaced. “Yes, he was. But, it’s true. I last shipped under him.”

“Notice ye said was.”

“I left him with a second smile, bright and red, when we parted company.”

The old pirate smirked. “About time. Someone should have slit the bastard’s throat years ago. Reckon the ship wasn’t worth taking?”

Grimm shook his head. “No, he ran aground, and it started breaking up. Worm-eaten, anyway.”

“Heh. Doesn’t surprise me. Why don’t you head on upstairs? Maggie should be unoccupied right now, provided that little bastard hasn’t sneaked up there hoping for a free one. Told ’im if I caught him doing that again, I’d take it out of his wages.”

“Thank ye, Captain Black.” Hezekiah knew Margery was one of the Black Flag’s most talented girls.

“When ye come back down, come see me.” Billy tapped him with his pipe. “I’ve got a business proposition for you.”

~~~~
Hezekiah thought his luck seemed to get better and better. He hadn’t been so sure, though, when he’d heard what the proposition was. “Are you daft, man? I just came off a ship with a captain that never should have been, and now you’re suggesting I sign on under a boy?”

“Don’t underestimate the bastard,” Billy cautioned. “He has real talent for our kind of work. Earned a berth here with me a few years ago and has learned more about our craft in that time than many do in a lifetime. Not just stories, either. I think the brat was born to piracy, but don’t let him know I said that. He’s got a big enough head, as it is.”

Grimm thought he understood what the old pirate was doing. “He’s gotten too dangerous for you to keep him around, hasn’t he?”

Billy Black shrugged. “Voracious wencher has cost me money. Tired of my whores being too worn out to service the paying customers. Figure if he’s out to sea, he can’t cause trouble here. Told him if he could secure a ship, I’d help him assemble a crew. Damned if the bugger didn’t show up two days later with a decent little sloop.”

“Impressive. Very well, I’ll give him a try. He’ll need experienced mates.”

“Aye, but don’t hope for first mate. That berth’s already filled.”

“Who?”

“Little alley-cat called Jim Rigger. Young Vik teamed up with the brat not long after he came to work for me.” He pointed out a teenager lurking near a table of drunken sailors. The lad picked a few pockets even as they watched.

“A child.” Grimm was less than impressed.

Billy chuckled at his reaction. “They’re cut from the same bolt, those two. Closer than brothers and thoroughly wicked. Jim is sneaky as a cat and more loyal than a dog, where Vik is concerned. I wouldn’t suggest trying to separate them. Don’t know about Jim, but I do believe Vik Brandee wouldn’t hesitate to cut yer heart out and hand it to you with a smile, if you did.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

~~~~
Looking back, he had no regrets about his decision. Brandee truly had a talent for finding and taking fat prizes. It had been the most profitable three months he’d experienced since he’d turned pirate.

He was also impressed by Brandee’s intelligence, ruthlessness, and skills. As far as he was concerned, the young captain had earned his loyalty and respect. He had even found that Rigger was tolerable as a first mate. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that the boy was ten years his junior.

It became apparent that a few of his shipmates didn’t share his views, however. He’d heard grumblings. It never ceased to amaze him at the stupidity a man’s pride could push him to. So he listened, he watched, then when he felt the time was right, he acted.

“Enter,” Brandee said in answer to the knock on his cabin door.

When Grimm entered the cabin, the boy seemed calm, but alert when he saw who it was. He could almost swear the young captain had expected some sort of trouble from his crew, but he looked mildly surprised to see the bastards had picked Grimm as the one to deliver it. “What is it, Mr. Grimm?”

“I came to warn you, Captain. Some of the lads have been talking mutiny.”

“I see. What about you, Mr. Grimm? Are you throwing your lot in with them?”

Grimm sized the lad up. By his reaction, he was willing to bet Brandee had known about the unrest for quite some time. “If you had asked me three months ago, I probably would have said yes. It did not sit well with me to have such a young captain.”

Viktor steepled his fingers and leaned forward, his green eyes intense. His voice was deceptively calm with a hint of curiosity. “What has happened to change your mind?”

“Old Billy Black knew what he was talking about when he said you were born to this life. These three months have been the most profitable I have ever seen. I also admire the intelligence behind your way of using different tactics with each prize.”

“Why?”

“It’ll make you harder to predict, therefore harder for the hunters to catch. Most pirates have one or two attacks at the most, which makes it easy for the hunters to figure out where and when to lay a trap. You don’t follow any set pattern. Personally, I would prefer to remain free,” he continued, “and I believe staying on with you as Captain will improve the odds of staying free.”

Brandee smirked. “When you came in here, I half-expected you were the one they picked to take my place.” He stood and walked around the small desk to get a rum bottle, deliberately turning his back on the older man.

Grimm quickly took advantage of the situation. Cat-quick, he rushed up behind Brandee and had his blade at the young man’s throat before he could put the bottle down. “If I’d wanted to take this ship, you’d already be dead, Captain.”

“Then you’d have followed right behind him, Mr. Grimm,” Jim Rigger whispered in his ear. He held his own blade’s point just below Grimm’s ear. The boy had been silently lurking in the shadows behind the door the whole time.

Vik slipped easily out of the deadly position. Smiling, he picked up three glasses and said, “It’s a good thing for you that you didn’t come here to kill me then, isn’t it, Mr. Grimm? Have a drink. You can put your knife away, Jim.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” The boy and the man both sheathed their weapons.

“Now then, Mr. Grimm, since you’ve chosen to warn me, what do you know about the mutineers, and what suggestions would you make on handling them?”

“There is only a handful stirring the others up. Take them out, and the mutiny will die.”
Jim spoke up. “Isn’t the usual punishment for mutiny marooning?”

“It is,” Vik confirmed. “But, I don’t think that is what Mr. Grimm would suggest.”
Grimm shook his head. “I would kill them; make an example. You have been a very generous, successful Captain. It’s my opinion that they are ungrateful fools. That point won’t be lost on the rest of the lads.”

Viktor looked at him without expression for several minutes. Hezekiah never flinched, even though he could see the younger man wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

“I like the way you think, Mr. Grimm. Assemble the crew on deck at first light. Be prepared to point out the ringleaders.”

“Aye, Captain. Thank you for the rum.”

~~~~
“I hear some of you aren’t too happy to be sailing under my command.”

A cautious murmuring was the only answer Brandee got. He pressed on after making eye contact, first with Jim and Hezekiah, then with the five men Grimm had named as the mutineers. “I make no apologies for my age. During these three months we have taken several fat prizes. Shares have been generous. Casualties have been low. We haven’t been captured. What is the problem?”

There was more murmuring, mostly in agreement with the young Captain’s words. There was also agitation among the mutineers. They saw their hold on the crew evaporate in those few minutes.

Viktor and his mates had expected one of them to make a move at this point. Jim and Grimm had positioned themselves by the ones they felt to be most dangerous, but none of those men were the one who acted.

Grimm was closest, as a grizzled pirate pulled a dragoon out, cocked it and aimed at Brandee’s head. “Stop him!” he yelled, even as the man squeezed the trigger.

With no time to reach the would-be killer, he jumped in front of his Captain, taking the mini ball in the upper arm. As he fell, he wondered why the young man was reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

Mere seconds later, the assassin lay dead on the deck with Viktor’s dagger protruding from his eye.

~~~~
Jim had watched with morbid fascination as the sailor, who was the closest thing they had to a surgeon, dug the fragments out of Hezekiah’s bicep. To his credit, the older man had no more than grunted and given an occasional hiss, as the man did his work. Luckily, the powder had been damp and a low charge. That meant the mini ball had stayed mostly intact and had lodged in the muscle. The bone wasn’t even fractured.

“There, that’s the last of it I think,” the surgeon said.

“Thank ye, Gordon. Heat that knife up red hot and sear the wound before you stitch me back up. It’ll help stop the bleeding,” Grimm directed.

To his satisfaction, the boy winced at the smell of burning skin and meat. Grimm grinned at the lad’s reaction.

“That’s going to leave a nasty scar.” Jim whistled as Gordon began stitching the puckered, charred wound shut.

“Not the first; won’t be the last.” Grimm shrugged. “If it’s too jagged, I can just cover it with a tattoo. At least I didn’t lose the arm.”

“You could have been killed. I knew I would kill or die for the Captain, but I never imagined anyone else would. Why?”

“Young though he is, Vik Brandee is the best Captain I’ve ever sailed under. He deserves my respect and loyalty. Don’t worry, Mr. Rigger, I’m not after your berth. Old Billy Black warned me against that, and I’ve seen how the two of you work together. But I’ll gladly sail as one of Brandee’s mates as long as he will have me.”
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