Honor Among Thieves || Book Two

~23~

Aboard the Flying Dutchman. . .

Davy Jones sat slumped over his organ, staring mournfully at the small locket nearby as his tentacles evoked the same dreary tune from the instrument they had for the past few months . The music slowed to a stop as the locket started to play a song, their song. . .

He seethed with rage.

This was all her fault. Had she not betrayed him, he would not have--

All of his anger vanished. How could he blame her for what he had done? She had not forced him--Yes. Yes, she had. She left him no choice! If he hadn't. . .

His mangled thoughts dwindled as he felt a strange sensation on his face, a gentle tickle on his cheek. Puzzled, he lifted a tentacle and retrieved a small tear and stared at it in disbelief. Since when did he--

Not a second later, he sensed a foreign presence on his ship.

Cutler Beckett.

º º º

"Go!" Jones shouted, taking a step back from the dreaded chest as if it were a wretched disease. "All of you! And take that infernal thing with you! I will not have it on my ship-uh!"

"Sorry to hear that."

Jones's tentacles writhed over one another like angry snakes when he saw Lord Beckett. "Get that bloody thing off of my ship!"

"I don't think so." Beckett replied calmly, facing down the monstrous captain as if he were a normal human being. "It seems to be the only way to ensure you do as you're told. We need prisoners to interrogate and, as you pirates say, 'dead men tell no tales'. In other words," Beckett folded his hands behind his back. "They need to be alive in order to answer questions."

Jones scowled. "The Dutchman sails only as her captain commands-uh."

"And her captain is supposed to sail as he is commanded. I assumed you would have learned as much when I ordered you to kill your precious pet." Beckett retorted without emotion.

Jones bowed his head in shame.

"Face it." Beckett continued. "You are no longer the fearsome pirate of legend. You are merely an asset; my asset. As such, I expect you to do as I say." He paused a moment, one corner of his mouth curling into a smile. "I have a proposition for you." He eyed him cautiously before he continued. "Have you ever heard of Seraphina Drake?"

The captain of the Flying Dutchman glared at the short British man a  moment before turning his gaze to the vast expanse of sea surrounding them. "I know of her." His voice sounded low and distant. Beckett's eyes gleamed with ambition. . .and desire. "I need you to find her for me."

Jones eyed him suspiciously. "Why-uh? Do ye wish to enslave her the same way ye have me?"

"Does it matter? Do it!"

Jones made a gurgling snort. "I cannot find her."

Beckett raised his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Because she could be anywhere! Even if I could locate her, her ship would make it impossible to catch her!" He snapped. Beckett gazed at the Dutchman's tattered sails. "I thought your ship was the fastest there is."

"With the wind!" Jones bellowed. "But Drake's ship is faster still."

Sighing, Beckett nodded toward Mercer, who gave an order to the men surrounding the Dead Man's Chest and in an instant, all manner of weapons were trained on Davy Jones's beating heart. The latter's upper lip twitched.