December 1674, The Caribbean Sea, Onboard the Midnight Scarlet, Captain's Quarters
Margaret took hold of Aimee's wrist and led her to the captain's cabin. Once there, she pushed her back toward the bunk and made her sit. Margaret raked her fingers through her hair and pulled it up with some twine, then placed her hands on her hips. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the chain that held the key and charm Esme had given Aimee, then glanced back toward her.
Margaret searched Aimee's eyes for a moment longer, then took a step closer. "You were right to be wary of the ointment. It was a healing ointment. We are in the business of vengeance and that calls for death. Not only for those we target, but for us as well. But when we die, only a small amount of us have ever stayed dead, one of those deaths being particularly relevant to our current situation."
Margaret sat down beside her and looked straight ahead as she spoke. "She was our mujer sabia, or as she called herself, our sapiens mulier. Our wise woman. She cured our ailments and brought us back from the dead with herbs and words in a language only a handful of people speak anymore. In fact, none of us here aside from Felipe can understand it now that the captain is gone. We must read from the books and out of us all, I think only I can read a bit of the text. Enough for a revival, but nothing more and we need the captain back. This will be the only time I can perform the revival myself. Only Esme can carry it out multiple times, from what Taria told her, but I have no knowledge of why." Margaret rubbed her chin and thought for a moment, tapping her foot on the wooden floorboards. "That is why we are a ghost ship. We are all dead. Or at least, we have all died at least once. I was twenty-two at the time of my death. A bit older than Esme herself. It's the only reason we can perform the ritual in the first place. Those who have perished can at least once, aside from Esme, and Taria before her. And those who have yet to meet their end cannot."
Aimee chuckled and scoffed at her. "You cannot be--"
Margaret finally looked her in the eyes as she brushed her fingers along her back. "How is your body? Anymore pain?"
Rather absentmindedly as she was momentarily distracted by the annoyance she felt in the rubbish she heard, Aimee reflexively began to reply, "It's fine. I--"
"Have you already healed?"
Aimee furrowed her brow and stood. She shed her shirt along the way and began to remove the bandages feeling absolutely no pain. Her neck was still healing, but even it held only a faint scratch mark. She'd been so wrapped up in everything else that her mind hadn't ventured toward it once the salve was out of her sight. Aimee had been so interested in learning to mend the boat once she started and in why the crew was so mysterious and secretive that she hadn't paid it any mind past the morning. She'd been so swept away in fascination watching Esme that she hadn't noticed it quite literally healed overnight.
When Aimee turned toward the looking glass, she saw only scars along her back. Not even scratches as she previously concurred. Her eyes widened and she turned back toward Margaret who had taken up her perch on the edge of Esme's desk and sheepishly held her shirt out toward her.
Frozen in terror, Aimee asked, "What have you done to me?"
"Saved your life. In fact, you would be dead right now if we had not. That was quite a deep gash to your throat, lovely. A bit too deep, in fact, and you have Essie to thank for that. She decided to save you...not me." Margaret cast her gaze away, nibbling on the corner of her mouth.
Aimee's feet fell out from underneath her as her legs turned to jam and she hit the floor. She grabbed at her throat and looked back up at Margaret in disbelief. "How...?"
"I already explained." She knelt down and held her hand out toward Aimee who took it very hesitantly. "We had a wise woman who taught us--"
"Your wise woman..." She got up to her feet letting Margaret hoist her on shaky legs and glanced over Esme's desk where that framed drawing always lay. Feeling a tap at her side, she turned to find Margaret raising her pullover and she let her put it on her torso in a trance. Aimee thought for a moment, then remembered Margaret saying the wise woman was dead and she felt certain of her identity. "She...She was Taria...wasn't she...?"
"How...?" Margaret got nose and nose with her and her breath sped up as she trapped Aimee in place with her hands on either side of her along the desk. "You heard her name at your pledging, but you never heard more than that from me. Certainly not from Esme after you did what you did. So, how the bloody hell do you know she was the woman of which I spoke?"
Shivering at the chill in Margaret's eyes, Aimee leaned back against the desk as she braced her hand along her pulsing neck, but she followed. "Felipe told me about her. And that she is gone now. If you could bring me back, why not her? If you can bring him and Gally back, why not Taria?"
Margaret's face shown pain and she took a step away. "She was dead for over a week. The only reason Esme even agreed to do what she did was because she thought they could get more herbs sooner. They thought they had enough already in our storage here, but--"
"Wait..." Aimee put a hand on her wrist in fear that she may retreat before she got all her answers, as the crew always seemed to do. "What did Esme agree to do?"
Margaret stared at her blankly, then unsuccessfully tried yanking her hand away and scowled. "Kill her. Esme killed her. You..." Margaret stepped back and shook her head. "You did not know that part, did you?"
"No..." Aimee let her go and stared down at the floor. The way Felipe described it, Taria was like family to Esme. The idea of her willingly hurting her family beyond that of upholding the articles was unfathomable, previously, but after seeing her attack Felipe...perhaps... No, she was bewitched, remember? Aimee shook her head as the idea just wouldn't sink in. Esme struggled enough as it was to uphold the articles, visibly falling apart each time. She was most alive when defending them. Aimee glanced upward toward Margaret once more, nibbling her bottom lip and absentmindedly running her thumb along her wrist as she racked her brain for any semblance of a rational explanation, and then stammered, "How... How could she have done that? She and Felipe were her--"
"Family?" Margaret walked to the door, lulling her along with herself, and took hold of its handle. "Yes, she was. Actually, she and Taria..." She shook her head and her face grew red as she stared back toward Aimee. "That's not important right now. She and Taria knew it would come down to it in the end and she flogged her to death in order to get away from Francisco."
At the name, Aimee recoiled her hand and took a step back. "Francisco?"
"Yes. He did not just hurt Esme once. He has hurt her twice. Thrice actually, and in the deepest of ways possible." Margaret looked back at her over her shoulder with the most saddened expression Aimee had witnessed, but her eyes remained fierce like the morning sun creeping up the eastern horizon, reminding them it was alive. "I was there when it happened. Not even Genny took it well and I cannot understand her actions today, but I know Esme only left to keep us safe from her. Genny... She is an even more complicated woman than I thought.
"She is the only member of the crew that I can safely say I would never trust no matter what she did to earn it. I have felt that way for months, but before, she was just Genny. Quiet and always watching everything from a distance unless one of us was in danger. This just is not like her and she has not been herself for some time now, but this...this is worse than I ever expected. I still do not understand it all myself. I am not sure that I can."
Aimee rubbed her hands along her sides as she thought, then asked, "Then why was Genny still here? Why not confront her about her odd behaviour?"
"I...do not know why she hesitated so long. I have spoken with Esme many times to have her gone from us and I would have kicked her off the ship if I had the power, but she would not listen to reason. Even Felipe asked her to send her away not too long ago, and it seemed like she had finally agreed, but that was just fifteen minutes earlier. When we found something in her things she should not have hidden in her things. Esme could not ignore it any longer, but we never got to act, as you well know." Margaret appeared to grow angrier by the second and Aimee moved to her side.
She took her hand again and steeled herself. Aimee needed answers, but something told her seeing with her own two eyes would explain matters more than words ever could. The captain had taken her in, shown her kindness and even let her join them. What had she done in return? Betrayed her? Stolen from her? Plotted to leave them all as soon as she could? Gone against the very vow she'd made?
The truth was, none of these people were true pirates. They were mission seekers, pot stirrers. They were vengeful, but caring, yet not to a fault. They were toughened by their line of work, but not deterred and the most mysterious and enthralling of them all was Esme. It was hard to believe that someone with a reputation like Esme's was a kind soul at heart, especially when Aimee had seen just how ruthless she could be in battle, or toward the articles being upheld. Having said that, the more she learned of their captain, and the more questions that formed in her mind, the more she was enthralled. The more she wanted to understand.
"Show me." Aimee demanded.
Margaret nodded and led her out of the room. Aimee let her hand go as Margaret walked them down into the hull. There were two large blankets strewn across the floor and the crew that wasn't busy with work above deck stood around the bodies of Gally and Felipe. Aimee followed Margaret to the heads of the bodies and Margaret took a book from Juan's hands.
All eyes were on the bodies as they knelt down, except for Margaret's. She peered at Aimee expectantly and she finally knelt down as well. Gustavo gazed at her somewhat heatedly, but she hurriedly looked away and at Felipe's face. He looked more like he was sleeping than anything else, but she knew better. His skin was pale and chalky and his severed arm had been sewn back onto his bloodied nub.
She spotted some of the thick ointment Genny had given her along the bindings and glanced back up at Margaret, but she was busy doing something else entirely. Margaret had her eyes closed and she was chanting something inaudibly soft. She opened her eyes and looked down at the book, speaking loudly in some language Aimee couldn't understand. She had no way of knowing just what she was saying, but then the other chanting began.
She gazed around the circle and watched as the other crew members joined in, chanting something else in the old language as well. They all kept their eyes on Felipe and Gally and Aimee glanced at them as she saw something twitch in the corner of her eye. The hairs along the back of her neck stood at attention as she noticed Gally's hand was moving. Aimee gasped, but no one paid any mind to her and she kept her eyes peeled to their bodies.
They both began to convulse and Felipe opened his mouth. A thick black smoke came from within and he wheezed as it made its journey away and toward the book Margaret held. Aimee wanted to stand and tell it to get away from her, but couldn't find the strength to rise from her knees as she felt her legs become heavy as stone. She gulped as she watched Gustavo stand with a latched box in his hands. Then he opened it. The black smoke went into it and he hurriedly closed it, securing the latch just as an identical swarm of smoke billowed from within Gally. The smoke traveled to Weizz who held a matching box, wherein he caught the smog and the chanting ceased.
Aimee watched Gally and Felipe's still bodies for what felt like an eternity, mentally telling them to get up, to sit up, to do something other than just lying there and--
Felipe sat up and gasped for air. He clutched at his arm and yelled out so loud Aimee feared she may go deaf. It didn't even sound like a noise any human could produce and she covered her ears as they rang out in agony. Then, Gally rose. He also gasped, but clutched at his chest and didn't yell, coughing rather boisterously. He glanced around the room with wide eyes and let out a long guffaw as he fell back against the floor, staring up blankly for a few moments.
Gally grew visibly angry and sat up with a huff. "That hurt like a sonuvabitch! I'll kill the wench!" He leapt to his feet and wavered on unsteady legs, but one of the others caught him before he could hit the ground. "Where is Gen?"
He glanced around the room and zeroed in on Margaret. His eyes widened again as Felipe was helped to his feet and looked at him. They both turned in unison to Margaret and walked to her as if the strength was beginning to flood into their bodies all at once, as if they hadn't ever been struck down in the first place. Aimee felt like the solid wood beneath her was suddenly unstable. Margaret took her arm and helped her to her feet on trembling legs.
She looked into her eyes, then nodded before flitting her gaze back to Felipe who now looked enraged. "Where is the captain? Where is Essie?"
"Genny did something to her. A dust that I haven't ever seen in the book. I..." Margaret placed a hand on his forearm. "The cap left with her and told us not to follow."
"To bloody hell with that!" Felipe rang his previously mutilated arm out and clenched his hand into a fist, then relaxed it several times. Aimee gazed at where his shirt was ripped along his bicep and found nothing more than a reddened scar decorating its tan skin. Before she knew it, her breath grew short and the room began spinning. His muffled voice continued in the background, saying, "My fightin' hand is back and ready to go. Let's get'er back! Aye?"
The crew cheered and the once solid floor beneath Aimee's feet left her. She crashed to the darkness beneath herself as the rest of her world crumbled away.