Edward noticed that the woman was bloody and bruised, and he thought he could see tears streaming down her face as she ran by.
The man lazily fixed his trousers and strutted down to the first floor, his casual and cocksure attitude on full display. He didn't match his comrades' moods in the slightest, and by the time he stepped to the first floor and took a chair, sitting backwards on it with his arms resting on the back, his men relaxed a bit.
For every bit that the other men relaxed, Edward tensed. It felt as though he was the only sane person of the lot and the only one who was sure of what was about to happen. He had to restrain himself from pulling out his pistol and cutlass right then to put an end to it all.
The man glanced from Grace to Edward, to her men, and then to his own men, and back. He grinned. "It's been a long while, Grace."
"Cut it, you know what we're here for."
"Aww, Grace, you wound me," the man said, his words dripping with sarcasm. "We're old friends, ain't we? What happened to civility? Is there no honour amongst us thieves?"
"We're pirates." Grace tilted her head. "You're the thief."
The man appeared taken aback. "Some would say we're the same, you and I."
"Enough. Save me some trouble and return what ye stole."
Though Grace was doing her best, her commanding tone had little effect on this man. Whatever relationship they had had, the man underestimated her. Or, for all Edward knew, it was plain stupidity. Whatever the case, it was not going to end well, of that Edward was sure.
The man adopted a confused, amused expression. "If a pirate claims ownership of something and a thief steals it, is it still a crime?" He held his palm open as though he were pondering the question. "I suppose a few lawyers could settle the matter, given enough time."
Grace ignored the fool's ruminations. "I've asked ye nicely, I'll not ask again."
The man cocked his brow. "Oh, threats now? You're outgunned, Grace. And I've got a stable full of horses rested and ready to take us to the opposite shore before the men on your ship know what's happened." The man leaned forward. "So why not just pack up and leave before my men and I pump your pretty face full of lead?"
Upon the escalation of events, the thieves became emboldened once more. They joined in with their leader's declaration, and some even pulled out their weapons to bolster the intimidation.
Grace simply sat there, staring down the leader with her cold, calm expression. Her officers didn't seem intimidated by the thieves' threats either, and they stood there with arms folded, staring at the other men in the room.
Grace waited for a full minute until the thieves' words died away and there was minimal murmur of activity and threatening gestures. As soon as it was quiet enough, she spoke again. "You know what the difference between a pirate and a thief is?"
The sudden change in subject brought him and his compatriots up short. He turned to them and flashed a wry smile before gazing back at Grace. "No, what?"
Grace leaned forward, and Edward's hair stood on end for the second time that night. "Thieves are weak."
Grace slammed her boots to the floor, grabbed hold of a hidden apparatus and pulled a string. The sound of several shots of gunfire rang out. Lead shots burst into the leader of the thieves' chest. He was dead in an instant, blood pouring from several wounds.
Grace's copper greaves for which she was famous held some mechanism inside them to fire bullets. It was seemingly a well-kept secret to those not in her crew, as the thieves had no idea what had happened or from where Grace had shot their leader.
Grace's senior officers, before she had even fired her secret weapon, drew their own weapons and attacked the rest of the thieves. The other men failed to react in time, and three of their comrades were dead almost instantly.
The thieves still living reached for their weapons, and Edward pulled out his cutlass and stabbed one of them. This drew the attention of more than a few of those remaining. Edward pulled his loaded pistol from his belt and fired. The bullet hit the last enemy in the head.
The leader of the men, so bold previously, lay there bleeding out. Grace's secret attack had made a gory mess of his chest and legs.
Grace hadn't moved from her seat since her secret weapon's firing that had started the conflict. She glanced from side to side, looked Edward up and down, then got to her feet as smoke still rose from the holes in her copper greaves.
She searched the dead man's pockets and found the item they had come for, but Edward couldn't see what it was. Grace pocketed the thing as quickly as she snatched it.
"We're done here. Back to the ship."
9. Smoke
"You thought I wus dead?" Sam Bellamy bellowed before bursting out in his old hyena's laugh that was equal parts nostalgic and unsettling.
Anne had taken Sam into the captain's quarters, partially to show him the room he had never seen before owing to his departure prior to it being opened, and also to speak with him privately.
Anne shrugged. "We had no way to confirm Cache-Hand's claim, but we hadn't heard about your recent promotions."
"Can't say I blames ye. I thought I killed ol' Ed." Sam's face grew dark as he looked to the floorboards of that once familiar ship. "Cache-Hand beat 'im bloody, then cut him to ribbons before they poisoned 'is food and tossed him in that Irish lake. I tried to keep him safe, tried to get him out, but there was no way." Sam looked up at Anne, pain
