Curse of Stigmata (The Judas Reflections) by Aiden James & Michelle Wright

Author:Aiden James & Michelle Wright [James, Aiden & Wright, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9781620072707
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Published: 2013-06-21T07:00:00+00:00

or a pirate ship, our accommodations were impressive. Close to the Captain’s quarters, we each had a berth with enough space to be comfortable. I could hear Chivers above deck, barking orders to set sail while I unpacked. Being at sea was nothing new. I’d spent centuries aboard all manner of floating vessels, and it was not my first experience with pirates. I’d also developed a love-hate relationship with the ocean. I loved to stand on deck with the sun going down in the distance and dolphins swimming alongside. But I loathed the violent storms that threatened to capsize even the most stable vessel, and caused me to refrain from eating while I fought the dreaded seasickness, something I never expected considering my immortality. Two centuries ago, a wise friend, upon hearing my sea-going predicament, commented quite rightly. Mother Nature would always be in control.

Many a sailor called the storms, “God’s wrath as He did battle with mankind.” I was inclined to believe it, but doubted pirates prayed before they set sail. However, I did. This time it was a short, silent prayer asking for a smooth journey and a safe passage. It was a century for the Dutch to rule the waves and they did so with very few ships sunk. I hoped, in spite of the pirate status, we were in the hands of skilled seaman. Juan might never forgive me if we ended up shipwrecked and stranded on a desert island.

“I’m going up on deck, are you joining me?” I asked him, knowing he was wary of coming face to face with the entire crew.

“I know I have to do this sooner or later, so now will be a good time as any other,” he replied.

We arrived on deck to a howling wind and a mad scramble to set the sails. Within months, I would be wearing only my breeches and a vest as the weather improved. For now, it was extremely unpleasant.

“Best we go below, Juan,” I shouted against the driving gale.

Sheltered from the storm, the day passed peacefully enough. Food was brought to our cabin, basic but nutritious, and an invitation to dine later with the Captain.

I was familiar with a typical pirate menu, consisting of legs of meat to tear apart with bare hands all washed down with plenty of rum. There would be no need for me to dress for dinner and no standing on ceremony with table manners. I could behave anyway I wanted.

At eight o’clock, we were summoned to the Captain’s quarters where I was faced with a sight to shake my bones and cause me to hold my breath. There, sitting like a princess next to the Captain in a scandalously low cut red dress, was Rachel, grinning from ear to ear with supreme satisfaction.

“Please tell me I have died and gone to hell,” I remarked, not caring of the Captain’s reaction. Juan, as shocked as me, tried to make sense of her presence.

“How did you get here when I put you on a boat bound for Holland? With my own eyes I watched you board.

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