PROLOGUE

In the Year of Our Lord 1715, July 31

Off the Shores of Cape Canaveral, Florida

“Well, we learned a vital lesson here today, me mateys. You canna keelhaul a demon no matter how hard you try for it. The rotten crafty beastie bastard won’t be having none of it.”

Half the crew turned to stare agape at Captain Paden Jack. The other half rolled their eyes and cursed him, then questioned his saintly mother’s impeccable reputation, as well as the legitimacy of his parentage and all his intelligence.

If they weren’t about to die, he’d take a mite more offense to their sordid insults. But right here, right now, as he looked past them and saw the great, heinous monster what was rising up from the darkest swirling depths off their port bow, insubordination seemed like a wee bit of a petty concern.

Never in all his years at sea had Paden beheld anything like its twisted, inhuman form, and he’d seen quite a lot. Its leathery skin literally boiled and caused the water ’round it to bubble with the same noxious fumes—a fetid sulphuric stench that exploded the moment it contacted the fire left from all the attempts they’d made to lay the beast low.

Nothing had worked. Not a single trick.

His quartermaster staggered back. “The sea is the devil and that wicked bitch takes pity on none.”

Aye, Paden couldn’t agree more. They were done for. To the watery locker they be headed, with every last man-jack here.

At least those who weren’t headed straight for hell.

Strange how he felt no fear, what with his assured damnation looming. And he should. You’d think that given the sins of his past and all the things he’d done in this life, they’d be haunting him now. Yet all Paden felt was an untoward kind of peace with it all.

This was the way of it. He’d known this day would come for him—sooner, rather than later—the heartbeat he’d accepted his destiny by taking up his mother’s sword and embracing the blood that flowed within him. It always did for ones such as he. His only regret was that he’d be taking his crew with him for the journey down.

And that he’d be breaking his promise to marry Letty on his return. But the greatest burn of all was that his poor baby sister would be left alone in this world, with none more to look after her.

That his great, horrific burdens would now fall to her tiny shoulders.

Damn shame, that. Cammy deserved better than what the fates had dealt the lass. They’d be coming after her now to pick up the mantle their ancestors had cursed them with. But there was no use lamenting for it. God and all His saints had turned a deaf ear to his pleas and prayers long ago.

His quartermaster, Edmond, passed a sorry stare to him before crossing himself. “What be your orders, Captain Jack?”

“Abandon ship, Mr. Symmes. Save as many as you can.”

It wasn’t until after Symmes had relayed those orders that he realized Paden had no intention of joining them in their escape.

Safety wasn’t his calling this day.

Instead of trying to find room on a dinghy with the others, Paden was rolling barrels of gunpowder closer to the port bow, where the beast still tried its best to devour them whole.

“Captain? What are you about, man?”

Paden handed his quartermaster his cutlass and flintlocks. “This fine ship be me ladylove—me one true mistress and owner of me hell-bound soul. It’s me duty and honor to escort her to her final destination. And be damned if I’m letting that bastard there have her without taking a piece of him with us. Get yourselves safe. Think naught of me anymore, Mr. Symmes. God be with you as I know He’s never been with me.”

His gaze sad, Ed hesitated. But a moment was all he had, as the demon slammed against the ship, knocking her sideways and causing her to list. “It’s been me privilege, Captain.” He held his arm out to Paden.

“Mine as well.” He shook Ed’s hand. “Now off with you, quick.”

Ed ran as the ship tipped dangerously, spilling more men over her side.

Retrieving the linstock from the deck where one of their powder monkeys had abandoned it as he fled for the dinghies, Paden waited until the last of the boats had dropped. He pulled a striker and flint from his pocket and lit the cord so that he could ignite the powder.

The demon started after his fleeing crew.

“Hey now!” he shouted at the beast. “Where do you think you be headed, you filthy, odiferous bung!” He waved the linstock over his head to get the demon’s attention back on him as he struck the side of the ship with the end of it, making as much racket as he could.

It worked.

Snarling, the demon turned and, with a hell-born cry, made straight for Paden.

His heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come, he waited for their inevitable confrontation.

This time, the beast dared to climb aboard.

That’s it, ye filthy bastard. Come get some of me. Leave me crew in peace.

With no real form, the gelatinous mess slithered across the deck and rose up before him with dark, soulless eyes.

Refusing to show his fear, as it would only make the beast stronger, or to back down before it, Paden stood his ground with every bit of grit he possessed. “Aye, you want me, don’t you? You know what I am, and I know ye for the evil in your heart.”

Possessed of great bulbous eyes, it slobbered and drooled and reached with one taloned hand.

Just as it would have slashed him open, Patrick Michel Alister Jack lowered his linstock to the keg of gunpowder that lay between them and set the barrel ablaze.

The last sound he heard was deafening, and it ended with a bright flash and one massive explosion of pain.