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Welcome to the Caribbean, Luv
Chapter Six: All Roads Lead to Haiti
By spikeNdru, April 2004, revised January 2006 Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 7
The story so far:
Captain Jack has taken on the British Navy and won—using charm and finesse—all without firing a shot. Angelus and Darla have laid waste to Cuba, decimating the convent of Santa Teresa, and have escaped in the hold of a ship with no idea where they’re going. Dru has sired Priscilla Hightower and renamed her “Miss Edith”. She has lots of good games to teach her new dolly.
Rowan’s mother, Marie-Angelique, has 'seen' that she’ll be going to Haiti shortly, so has begun making her preparations. Rowan and Spike have gone to Cuba to rescue the pirate, Jeb Horner, who knows how to find the Black Pearl, so Spike can get Drusilla back. Of course, he has no idea that she is no longer sailing on the Pearl, but instead commands her own ship of vampire-pirates, called the Aurelius.Rowan has begun to explain things to Tiberius and he learns he has been staying with a witch and a vampire, to which he adjusts better than Rowan thought he would, so she decides to tell him the rest . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Six: All Roads Lead to Haiti
Rowan’s fingers moved rapidly. Little sparks of blue flew from them and formed around Spike. She then passed her hand in front of her own face and down her body. When Spike looked at her, he saw an older man crippled with arthritis. Looking down at himself, Spike saw a body that was not his own. It was rather disconcerting.“Tuck your right hand in the waist of your breeches,” Rowan suggested.
Spike raised an eyebrow.
Rowan laughed. “It’s just a glamour, but I thought it best if we looked like men not expected to ride out in search of the monsters, so I’ve given you one arm. If you tuck your hand away, you won’t forget and use it. It’s still there, but as no one can see it, if you pick something up, the object will appear to be floating and not call unwanted attention to us.”
Spike nodded, and they made their way to the fortress.
Walking slowly but surely, as if they belonged, they entered. Once through the opened portcullis, they crossed a large, open space where wagons containing provisions could be unloaded. The stalls on either side of the courtyard were empty of horses.
“It looks like nearly the entire garrison has joined in the hunt,” Rowan commented.
“Lucky for us, then.”
Without calling attention to themselves, they passed pens holding livestock and entered the fortress by way of the kitchens. Fires burned low on the hearth and a side of beef was roasting on a spit, unattended. They saw no one as they continued out into a large hallway.
“Which way, pet?”
“Down, I should think.”
Spike nodded. Descending two flights of stairs, they came to an empty guardroom.
“This is too easy,” Spike complained.
“Thank the gods!” Rowan replied.
Removing a large ring of keys from a hook on the wall, they continued down two more flights. The air became foul and hard to breathe and the walls were coated with damp slime. Coming to a barred door at the end of the steps, Spike easily lifted the huge bar that normally needed two men to move it, and they entered the dungeons.
Filthy, emaciated wraiths of men stared at them with dull eyes.
“Which one of you lot is Jeb Horner?” Spike called.
No one answered, and they moved down the row of cells. At the fourth cell, they received and answer. “He is,” said a shell of a man, pointing to a heap of rags lying huddled on the filthy straw.
Rowan tried the ring of keys, but none seemed to fit. Shoving her out of the way, Spike took the bars of the cell door in his left hand, bracing his invisible right on the iron of the cell, and yanked. With a screech of tearing metal, the door opened.
Jeb’s cell mate attempted to scramble past them, but Spike caught him by the back of the neck and shook him.
“Here’s what we’re goin’ to do, mate. We’re takin’ Mr. Horner, here, with us. We’ll give you the keys and when we’re gone, you can let the others out and make your own escape, or . . . I can just kill you now.”
“Why can’t I just go with you?” the man whined.
“My game, my rules.”
A crafty gleam showed in the man's eyes, and Spike back-handed him across the cell. Dropping the keys next to him, Spike said to Rowan, “When he wakes up he can decide what he wants to do.”
Slinging Jeb over his shoulder, Spike and Rowan began to retrace their steps. The sound of a pistol cocking stopped them cold.
“Halt!” a voice commanded.
Spike handed Jeb off to Rowan before he charged the guard. She slipped an arm around him, supporting him with her shoulder. The flash of powder dazzled their eyes and the shot echoed through the dungeons.
“Ow!” Spike looked down at the hole in his chest. “You shot me, you right bastard!”
Shifting into game face, Spike leapt for the startled soldier and punched him in the face. His head snapped back, and he went down like a felled tree. Throwing Jeb over his shoulder, Spike and Rowan raced for the stairs.
They made it up the first two flights before hearing pounding feet cutting off their escape. Making a right at the guardhouse, they hurried down a corridor which ended at a barred window.
“Not again!” Rowan sighed. Her fingers moved and the bars glowed blue. Knocking the bars out of the way, Spike clambered through the window. Keeping a firm grip on Jeb, he stretched back a hand to Rowan and they jumped.
“I still can’t swim!” she hissed.
“Maybe you should learn, pet!” Spike retorted, and the three of them hit the water.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Marie-Angelique’s head came up and she paused in her work as if listening. Nodding, she began carrying her packed items down to the rocky beach where a skiff awaited. Loading her goods aboard the skiff, she shoved off and began rowing the 250 nautical miles to Haiti.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Returning to Acklins just after sunset, Spike carried the unconscious Jeb into the kitchen. Rowan dragged out the copper tub and started a fire in the cookstove. Coming up behind her, Spike crossed his arms over her waist and pulled her against him.Nuzzling her neck, he purred, “Another bath, love? Want me to wash your . . . hair?”
Rowan laughed. “Yes, a bath, but this one’s for him.” She indicated the filthy, reeking Jeb Horner.
“Oh,” Spike said disappointedly.
Rowan smiled. “But after he’s clean and fed and tucked away for the night . . .”
She was interrupted by a feral growling and the sound of a heavy body slamming against the locked door of the root cellar.
“What the bloody hell is that?” Spike sniffed and smelled a strange, wild musky smell that was still somehow familiar.
Rowan sighed. “That is Tiberius.”
“Yeah, if he was a wild animal!”
“He is a wild animal tonight . . . and tomorrow night. Tiberius was bitten on Loup-Garou—Werewolf Island. I had hoped it was one of the hunting dogs that had bitten him, but there was the possibility that it was not. I couldn’t be sure until the full moon. For the three nights of the full moon, he will wear the guise of a wolf. The rest of the time, he will be a man.”
“Glad I didn’t eat him! Do you think if I had, if I’d taken his blood, I’d be a werepire?” Spike asked with keen interest.
Rowan stared at him. “I don’t know. I don’t know that such a possibility has ever come up. Once he has gone through the change, vampires would sense the wereblood and not consider him appropriate food, but as for the time between getting bitten and first going through the change . . . he would probably still register as human.”
Spike nodded. “Smelled human to me. Wonder what would happen to a vampire that unknowingly drank wereblood?”
“Thankfully, we’ll never know! Go and feed while I get Jeb’s bath ready.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “D’you know vampires can feed without killing prey, if they want to?”
Rowan nodded. Spike left the kitchen murmuring, “Think I’ll try a three-course meal—some sheep, some goat, some cow . . . wonder if they’re any pigs around?”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Once completely out of sight of all land, Marie-Angelique stopped rowing. She murmured an incantation as her fingers moved rapidly, sketching arcane symbols. The signs hung in the air, glowing with green fire, and the skiff was lifted above the waves as if by an unseen hand. The sigils faded and the tiny boat raced toward Haiti, floating above the surface of the waves.Marie-Angelique tied her large straw hat securely under her chin, tipped it forward to shade her face, and made herself comfortable in the bottom of the skiff, using the seat as a back rest. Closing her eyes, she dozed.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Drusilla and Priscilla, now known as Miss Edith, were strolling the streets of the harbor town arm-in-arm, the recipients of many admiring glances. They took their time selecting their prey for the night.“Oi want a handsome prince who will do my bidding!” Dru said happily.
“I don’t care what mine looks like,” Miss Edith commented. “I want a nasty, brutal man who thinks he can overpower me and hurt me. I want to see the fear in his eyes when he realizes he doesn’t have the upper hand. I love the fear part!”
Drusilla twirled in her excitement, then grabbed Miss Edith into a hug. “That’s right, Miss Edith! You are a very good dolly! Mummy has taught you well.”
They smiled at each other, anticipating the pleasure of the games to follow, and continued trolling for unwitting participants in those games.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The ship rode at anchor. The movement felt more like a gentle rocking in place than the previous forward momentum.“Looks like we’re here, Darla. Wherever ‘here’ happens to be.”
Darla giggled. “I hadn’t expected these islands to be such fun! Here we are in a whole new place. New adventures . . . new victims . . .”
Angelus flashed her a feral grin. “Suppose I’d better see where we are an’ what time’ o day it is.”
“We’ll both go . . . I don’t want to be stuck in this boring, smelly hold for one minute longer than necessary!”
Slipping out of the cargo hold, Angelus tested the air. “Most of the crew must be ashore, and it smells like evening.”
Emerging on deck, they noticed a single sentry. There may have been others elsewhere on the ship, but those others were not their concern. Silently coming up behind the watch, Angelus’ large hands snapped the man’s neck before he was even aware of their presence. He pushed the sentry overboard with one fluid motion and offered his arm to Darla. Inclining her head, she accepted his arm and they left the ship as if they were royalty.
Stepping off the pier onto land, they were both aware of a thrumming vibration under the soles of their shoes.
“What on earth is that?” Darla wondered.
Tilting his head and sending out his enhanced senses, Angelus had the answer.
“Drums.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Putting into port in the West Indies, the Captain of the Victory prepared to send a report to the Crown of the loss of the pay earmarked for the Jamaican garrison. Anticipating that it may take some time to locate a British ship returning to England in the near future, he released the crew to the enjoyments available in town.Commander Bostwick, Lord Allyn, sniffed disdainfully. What could he expect in a harbor town fitting a gentleman of his stature? Raw liquor and poxed women, most likely. He paused and applied a pinch of snuff to his left nostril.
When he had dabbed his watering eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief after the expected sneeze, he opened them and beheld a vision. Two beautiful women were approaching arm-in-arm, and they were definitely a cut above what he had expected to find in a port town. One was tall and slim and dark; the other petite and blonde, looking like a china doll.
Regis, Lord Allyn, smiled thoughtfully. Between Charles’ utterly unreasonable refusal to die and grant him the title and income that should have been his, and that terrible pirate failing to show him the respect he deserved and then trussing him up like a . . . a boar for the spit, he felt a sudden need to reassert his manhood. These women would do nicely. Both of them.
Stepping into their path, he looked down his long nose at them. “I say, how much for the both of you . . . and be assured I shall know if you attempt to cheat me!”
Drusilla giggled. “He thinks we’re whores, Miss Edith!”
“You’re not?” Regis raised an eyebrow. “What would ‘ladies’ be doing on the docks at night, if not plying their trade?”
Voice dripping with sarcasm, he continued, “Enjoying the air? That must be it! The sweet smell of rotting fish, tar and unwashed sailors is so alluring you decided you must partake of it immediately?”
The lovely blonde slipped her arm through his. “We’re not whores, but that isn’t to say we would not be amenable to spending some . . . time with you.”
“You won’t get my purse,” he declared, “if you have any thoughts of robbing me!”
“Don’t want your purse.” Drusilla glided up and captured his gaze. “Look into my eyes . . . be in my eyes . . .”
If anyone had bothered to look, all they would have seen was a rather pompous naval officer strolling down the quay, engaged in conversation with two lovely women.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Jeb Horner was so debilitated from his ordeal, he was not yet aware of his surroundings. Rowan had cut off his filthy rags and thought about burning them, but was afraid the stench would permeate the house, so she tied them in a bundle and placed them outside to be disposed of later.It took three separate tubfulls of water to actually get him clean. Rowan wondered, not for the first time, how humans could be capable of treating each other like this. She had finally managed to remove all of the surface filth, but some was so ingrained, she doubted if weeks of bathing could remove it all.
She wrapped him in a soft cotton bath sheet, while Spike emptied the tub for the final time. After spreading salve on his open sores, she gently woke him.
“You must take some broth, you need to get your strength back. Then you may sleep without fear. You’re safe here.”
He looked at her with dull eyes, but eagerly opened his mouth as she spoon-fed him the nourishing broth. He managed to take about a cup, before slipping back into unconsciousness.
Spike carried him into the small bedroom off the kitchen, and Rowan tucked him in.
“You make a habit of collectin’ strays?” Spike tilted his head and raised one eyebrow.
Rowan smiled. “It certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?”
Spike continued to stare at her with piercing blue eyes. “That include me? See me as one of your ‘lost souls’, do you?”
Rowan laughed. “Not lost. You may think you have strayed from your true path, but how can you know what path you are meant to follow if you forge straight ahead without even noticing the existence of other paths? Now, you know. You may not choose to walk them unless forced to, but you’re now aware of other paths. That is an insight not usually given to your kind. It does not make you less . . . it makes you more.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
As the Mignonette glided into the harbor at Port-au-Prince, there was a bustle of activity on deck. Sailors shouted and trimmed sails. Amidst all of this frenetic activity, one man stood perfectly still, forcing the sailors to move around him in the performance of their duties. He wore a greatcoat which was really too warm for the current climate, but seemed impervious to the discomfort. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, but saw nothing that was actually in his line of sight.When the ship had docked and the gangplank was secured, he started inexorably forward. The sailors and other passengers gave him a wide berth. He was obviously a man with a mission, and all recognized that, although none had any knowledge of what his mission might be. In truth, none cared to know.
Eyes burning with single-minded fervor, Daniel Holtz was the first to exit the ship.
~*~*~*~*~*~
For two days, Jeb Horner hovered between life and death.Spike was frustrated. It was all well and good running around having adventures, learning about mystical destinies and such, but this was his first solid lead to Drusilla and he wanted the information now! Rowan was doing her best to save him, but if it looked like she would lose the battle, Spike had determined to turn him. Spike paced. He wanted to hit something.
Rowan came out of the small bedroom and Spike glared at her. Rowan touched his hand and he immediately felt calmer. It was as if a quiet peacefulness was seeping into his body from her hand, relaxing his taut muscles and calming his impatience.
“His fever has broken. He’s sleeping naturally, now. We should be able to speak with him tomorrow.”
“About bloody time!” Spike grumbled, and went to find Tiberius to see if he wanted to practice wrestling throws.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Black Pearl made for her secret home base. The only way one could find the base, is if one already knew where it was. Captain Jack navigated by way of a special compass. It appeared broken to those not in the know, as the needle did not point to true north. It was attuned to a special lodestone at the hidden port, and when anywhere but in home waters, the needle spun lazily.It was time to give the men a brief leave to spend their ill-gotten gains while Captain Jack planned the next heist.
He was back, he was bad, and he was loving it! “A pirate’s life for me . . .” he whistled, a huge grin on his face.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Regis Bostwick came to his senses in the cabin of a ship. It wasn’t his own cabin, of that he was certain.It looked like a bordello. Heavy red velvet drapes covered the portholes and the large four-poster bed was swathed in diaphanous hangings in black and various shades of red. None of them matched. Here was a swath of black tulle, there some red netting, and a bolt of reddish purple silk had been thrown over the top. He imagined this is what a dress-maker’s shop would look like—after a hurricane hit it.
His muscles felt cramped and he attempted to sit up. He heard an ominous clanking and realized that both his wrists and ankles were chained to the four posts of the bed. Regis, Lord Allyn, began to yell. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two doxies approaching the bed. He yelled louder. The dark-haired one smiled evilly and turned to her companion.
“Shall we play with him a teensy bit, first?”
The women’s eyes glowed yellow, their foreheads thickened and ridged, and their teeth elongated into fangs. The brunette’s smile was more terrible than before. Regis, Lord Allyn, ceased yelling and began to scream like a girly-girl.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Angelus felt hidden eyes watching them, yet whenever he turned suddenly, there was no one there. The vegetation was much denser here than on either Jamaica or Cuba. It was like a jungle.Angelus’ nerves began to fray. The feeling of constantly being watched coupled with the incessant thrumming of the drums was beginning to spook him. The humans didn’t seem to be affected—they just calmly went about their business. Couldn’t they hear the drums?
Apparently not.
Knowing nothing about this island on which they now found themselves, Angelus struck up a conversation with a wealthy planter over snifters of brandy. He had followed the prosperous-looking man into an establishment that reminded him of the post inns set up as way-stations along coach routes.
There was a dining room and a retiring room for ladies, to which Darla was relegated, much to her displeasure. The room in which Angelus now found himself resembled a private Gentlemen’s Club.
Until they got the lay of the land, they couldn’t afford to call attention to themselves. Consequently, Darla 'retired', where she attempted to repair the ravages of their hasty voyage, and as he joined the planter, Angelus pulled out all the vestiges of Irish charm he could muster.
He spoke of their life in Jamaica and they discovered mutual friends, which they discussed at length. Angelus made no mention of why he and Darla were on Haiti with no luggage and no specific plans, and good breeding forbade the planter to ask. After an hour of pleasant conversation, Angelus got what he came for—an invitation for him and Darla to stay with the LaPointes at their home.
The planter had concluded his business in port, and when his carriage was brought round to the inn for his journey home, Angelus and Darla accompanied him.
He had originally planned to spend the night in town, leaving for home in the morning, but at his first sight of Darla’s lovely, exhausted face, his chivalry came to the fore and he decided to leave at once.
Darla went out of her way to be charming during the long carriage ride and Paul LaPointe found himself telling her all about his plantation, his wife and four children and his mother-in-law who, unfortunately, also resided with them.
He found Darla utterly delightful, and knew Simone would be thrilled with her company. Paul felt a moment of guilt. She never complained, but it was hard for Simone; their plantation was isolated and she had no close friends nearby, spending her time with the children and her demanding mother. He smiled at the thought of how pleased she would be to have such a cultured, charming companion as a houseguest.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Jeb had been amazed to discover his changed circumstances when he finally awoke to the world. He had been sure his rescue had been a delirium dream. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. Not only had he been rescued, Captain Jack had reclaimed the Pearl and these people were going to return him to his ship. On second thought, this probably was a dream! The sun was shining, he was clean and well-fed. . . maybe he was dead? Dead was a lot better than he thought it’d be.The woman helped him up and he managed to walk to the kitchen, where he beheld more food than he had seen over the last five years. He had a hard time believing there wasn’t a catch somewhere.
Over the next few hours, he became convinced that these people were on the up-and-up, and he agreed to take them to the Pearl.
~*~*~*~*~*~
As they neared the home base, Rowan was amazed. She’d had no idea this group of islands existed. She didn’t think anyone knew. Could they be mystical in some way? She didn’t sense any sorcery . . .If it still beat, Spike’s heart would be hammering right about now, he decided. He was worried about Dru, and how she was faring on her own. She had never really been on her own. She was a vicious killer, right enough, but she was also vulnerable and childlike. If anything had happened to Dru . . .
Tiberius was still coming to grips with his changed circumstances. What would it come to mean for him to be a werewolf? Where did *he* go on the nights the wolf took over? And, as time went on, would he lose more and more of himself until there was only the wolf? Rowan had assured him that he was still a person. The beast was part of him now, but it wasn’t all he was. What would happen when this journey ended—when they found this Drusilla? Would Rowan go her own way, or was there any chance she would stay with him? He was growing to care deeply for her. Could she ever learn to care for him in return . . .
Jeb’s heart swelled with happiness. He was coming home! He had never expected to live to see this day. He was a free man when he had expected to die in prison. The mutineers had somehow been defeated, the curse lifted and the Black Pearl was back where she belonged, under the command of Captain Jack Sparrow. He couldn’t think of a single thing he had ever done to deserve to be this happy . . .
Jeb heard the call of a macaw and knew it to be the sentry guarding the approach to the Pearl’s home port. That meant the Pearl was actually here! He was so overcome with emotion, his throat constricted and he had to swallow hard before giving the answering call. Knowing where to look for it, he saw the brief flash of a spy glass as the sun glinted off the lens. Dragging himself to the rail, he waved frantically.
“Who goes there?” a voice called.
“It’s me. Jeb Horner.”
“Jeb Horner? Thought you were dead.”
“So did I.”
“Who’s that with you?”
“Friends. We need to see Cap’n Jack.”
“Come through, then. Glad yer not dead, Jeb.”
“So am I!”
~*~*~*~*~*~
Angelus and Darla were made quite comfortable at Avignon, the LaPointe’s large, gracious home.“Back to bein’ lord and lady of the manor, eh darlin’?”
“We could always eat them, but then we’d still be stuck on this exceedingly strange island until another ship arrives, and I’m sure you don’t expect me to fetch and carry my own bathwater because there’s no one else available, do you?”
“No, can’t expect that, Darla. Or should I say ‘Lady Burroughs-Hill’?”
Darla laughed. “Variety is the spice of life, dear boy. Don’t fret . . . there will be other convents.”
“Lord Burroughs-Hill ‘tis, then.”
The evening stretched interminably. These people were stupefyingly boring. They dined much earlier than was the custom on Jamaica, and the four brats ate with them.
Angelus lounged in his chair and played with his glass of wine while surveying the company. Darla was vivacious and charming as ever, drawing these people into conversation. The four children, ranging in age from four through ten, ate silently, unused to strangers. Angelus amused himself by making faces at them when no one was looking. The youngest finally started to cry, and Simone excused herself to put him to bed. Angelus gave him a final leer as he was carried out, clinging to his mother and sobbing.
Simone was a quiet little mouse of a woman, but the mother was something else. Now there was a nasty piece of work! And her visiting friend was just as bad. They seemed to find fault with everything. The food was too hot or too cold, too spicy or not spicy enough . . . if the auld bitches didn’t soon shut up, he’d eat 'em on general principle.
Darla poked him in the ribs, and he focused his attention.
“Mrs. Higgenbottom was speaking to you, darling. She asked if you found Haiti very quiet in comparison to Jamaica.”
Angelus looked at the woman with interest. So that’s who she was. He smiled slowly. Wonder what she’d do if she knew he’d eaten her delectable, nubile young daughter? But he’d promised Darla he’d behave. Self-preservation was always Darla’s highest priority.
“T’would be quiet if it weren’t for those infernal drums,” he replied.
The humans paled. Madame, the mother, looked down her nose at him with a haughty expression.
“We don’t mention the drums in polite company,” she informed him with a sniff. “The slaves are like children—they must have their little amusements. We just ignore it.”
Angelus had had enough. Rising, he bowed to his dinner companions and excused himself, citing the need for some air and the chance to stretch his legs.
Mrs. Higgenbottom looked scandalized that he had mentioned ‘legs’ in front of ladies. He winked at her and left the table.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Tears came to Jeb’s eyes at his first sight of the Black Pearl. As the sloop came up to her starboard side, he cupped his hands and called, “Permission to come on board, sir?”Captain Jack swept off his hat and made a low bow. “Permission granted!” he replied, eyes twinkling.
It was an emotional reunion, as the crew had thought Jeb Horner long dead. Spike’s eyes frantically searched the deck while Jack was thanking them effusively for bringing Jeb back. Not finding the one person he was looking for, he grabbed Captain Jack by the lapels and growled, “Where’s Drusilla?”
Captain Jack looked surprised. “She’s not here.”
“Of course she’s here, you git. She left with the Black Pearl. What have you done with her?” His voice was low and dangerous.
“The Black Goddess has her own ship, now.”
“What’d’ya mean, ‘she has her own ship now’? Where would Drusilla get a ship?”
Rob Powder spoke up. “She took it off Angelus, but she said he wasn’t the real one, so she killed him and took his ship.”
Spike attempted to hold on to his anger, but by the time he had everything sorted out, he was laughing helplessly.
Dru had put Captain Jack in thrall, got him to take her on board the Pearl and teach her to be a pirate. She took the Aurelius (what poser would actually name his ship the bloody ‘Aurelius’?) away from a vampire calling himself ‘Angelus’ (and wouldn’t Spike just have loved to see her sort ‘Angelus’ out?) and was now sailing the seas as commander of a ship full of vampire-pirates, although these humans probably didn’t know they were vampires. *That’s my girl!* Spike thought, and couldn’t even begin to imagine the mischief she was getting into without Angelus and him around.
“We have to find her,” he announced.
In return for their rescuing Jeb Horner and bringing him back to the Pearl, Captain Jack agreed that they would track down the Aurelius.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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