BLOOD CURSE

~ THREE ~

________________________________________________________

Coughing, Lyria tried to ignore the burn of her throat as hunger washed over her. Her men were enjoying the latest bout of blood and to ensure they had enough to drink, Lyria had skipped out on 'meal time'. Gums aching, Lyria tried to force her fangs back into their hidden space but the thought of blood had them snapping out.

Angry with herself, she clenched the edge of her desk, having to release it once she heard the creaking of wood. When was the last time she had fed? Singapore was two weeks ago. Two weeks without feeding and despite her acute control, she was beginning to feel the effects.

The intense feeling of guilt was making her control slip more and more, and she had to fight the urge to storm onto the deck and devour the whole barrel of crimson liquid.

Fangs snapped out. Lyria could not get them back in.

A knock at the door distracted her momentarily but as James announced there was a messenger for her, Lyria allowed him in without a second thought. Without realising the mistake she had made.

Heart beats echoed in Lyria's immortal ears. Pumping blood tickled her hunger, forcing the veins under her eyes to pop out as the bloodlust took over.

"I'm sorry." Lyria whispered as her body moved against her will.

The poor messenger wet himself as her mouth widened, showing off the fangs dripping with saliva. Frozen in terror, he was unable to move as those sharpened weapons closed around his throat. Piercing the jugular, Lyria moaned as warm blood slipped down her throat.

For the first time since her times as a Newborn, Lyria kept drinking until the body was barren of blood.

Releasing the deceased male, the Vampyre let out a choked sob once she realised what she had done. Ended a life. Lyria had drained somebody of their blood.

Locking the door to her quarters (for the first time since they'd had the ship), Lyria felt intense amounts of guilt as she rushed to her open window. Widening it some more, she picked up the body and saying a prayer (not that she believed in a God), she rolled the body out the window and watched as the body was sent to Davy Jones' Locker.

Sinking to the floor, she ran a blood covered hand over her face, lip trembling at the heinous act she committed. That was when she noticed the letter that had been discarded on the floor.

________________________________________________________

Murder.

Murder was pounding violently in his veins. How dare she pillage his ships?! How dare she steal the treasure he had earned himself?

Letting out an angered roar, he launched his mug across the room and took little satisfaction in the glass that rained onto the floor. Nothing but wringing her neck could quench the anger pumping through his blood.

Storming out of his dark quarters, the door slamming violently against the wooden frame, he stomped up the steps until he had reached the helm.

"Listen up, you lot!" He bellowed, drawing the attention of all his crew.

Their faces looked back at him; tan from spending the vast majority of their time in the sun, but covered in scars and burns and tattoos, a reminder that they had fought for him.
They had been broken for him. Something he would never forget for the remainder of his days; not that that would be long.

Not only was he a human in the 1700s, he was also a Pirate. Hunted by other Pirates, and men of the law looking to hang him for his 'crimes'.

"Set sail for Tortuga! I have urgent business with an old friend there. Fear not, if we come across The Crimson Rose, they will not survive."

The bloodlust in his tone was enough to reassure his crew, their eyes reflecting the violence simmering in their Captains sea blue ones. The Crimson Rose would pay.

"To Tortuga!" The Captain of the Mermaid's Ghost yelled.

"To Tortuga!" The crew echoed.

Smirking at his men as they rushed to change course, the man with sea blue eyes let out a satisfied sigh as he imagined the fate he would bestow upon Captain Lyria Blackwood.

________________________________________________________

Muscles jumped in her jaw as she stared at the parchment lying on the desk before her. Parchment with no words, just a blot and a signature. A black spot.

Lyria had been sent a black spot.

On the back of the parchment was one word. A direction.

Ensuring she washed off every drop of blood, and had changed her outfit, throwing the blood soaked ones out the window, Lyria joined her brethren on the deck.

Not wishing to ruin their merriment, she sauntered up to Isabelle - her helmsman - and whispered their new destination in her ear.

Nodding at her Captains directions, Isabelle sped to the helm and spun the wheel, causing the ship to turn sharply. Men on the deck bellowed in shock but upon seeing their Captain, they quieted. Just seeing the look on her face they knew something had happened.
Both James and Caleb surged forward, only to take one step and notice that their Captain had disappeared. Whatever had happened, Lyria was not in the mood to share with her Second and Third.

Noticing the new path that Isabelle was sailing, Caleb approached her, asking the direction of their course. He only got a one word answer before Isabelle returned her gaze to the ocean.

Tortuga.