Honor Among Thieves || Book Two

~35~

"Seraphina, dear," Teague gave the side of her leg a small pat. "You need to start pushin'."

"What?!" Her head shot up from her pillow. "Is it coming now?"

He hummed in affirmation and swept his dreadlocked hair over his shoulders before rolling up his sleeves even more. She moaned in pain and rested her head on her pillow. "I want Jack to be here."

His dark eyes filled with sadness. "You an' me both, but y'need to start--"

"At least let my crew come in."

He looked at her funnily. "You want the crew in here?"

"Goodness no, not in here. Have them come in the parlor. Just keep this door shut."

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Meanwhile, aboard the Flying Dutchman. . .

When Jack pulled the trigger, he knew the odds were against him. Driving rain, viscious winds, no time to aim properly--by all rights, he should have missed, but fate carried the bullet true and it struck Davy Jones's hand, causing the fabled Dead Man's Chest to hurtle onto the deck below with a resounding thump. It happened to land right in front of William Turner, who did not see the chest but, instead, saw the opportunity to save his cursed father from his horrible fate.

Without a moment's hesitation, he snatched the chest up from the waterlogged deck and scrambled to open it only to find that it was locked.

Damn.

Frantically, his eyes darted around the chaotic ship in search of the key. Where is the damn key? Where is it?!

"Will!" Elizabeth rushed down the steps toward him. "Will, you've got it!"

"I don't have the key!" He shouted, slamming the chest down on the deck in frustration. Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Davy Jones, who towered over her like a giant. "Feckless tart-uh!" He roared. "You will not find favor with me!"

"That's quite alright." She squared her shoulders and drew her sword. "That's why I brought this."

With a cry of indignation, he made ready to slice Elizabeth's head from her shoulders but before he could do so, William stabbed him in the back. Startled, Jones peered down at the blade poking out of his chest and laughed long and slow as he turned to face William. "Mister Turner, did ye forget? I'm a heartless wretch-uh!"

With one swift movement, he thrust his sword into William's chest. The finely crafted blade, the one crafted by William's own hands, cut through his flesh and bone as if they were nothing but thin, withered pieces of paper.

Jones laughed coldly as he yanked his sword out of the young man's chest, relishing in the sound and feel of metal grinding on bone, and watched as he stumbled backwards onto the deck. Crying his name, Elizabeth knelt beside him and desperately tried to keep him awake. "Will, n-no. You can't close your eyes, Will. Please. Stay with me. Stay with me!"

"Ha ha!" Jones chuckled. "Love-uh. Such a powerful thing. They say it can move mountains and save a man's soul-uh." He spat at William's feet. "But I say it brings only heartache and misery. Tell me, William Turner," He leaned close to the young man's ashen face. "Do you fear death?"

"Do you?!"

Jones wheeled around to find Jack holding his heart in one hand and his splintered sword in the other, holding the pointed blade just a hair's width above the pulsating organ. Putting his initial surprise aside, Jones managed a harsh, mocking smile. "You won't do it, Sparra', you an' me both know it."