Swashbuckling in the Dark

Chapter Eighteen

Metal scraped against metal with a harsh noise, to the torture of his eardrums. Between the “X” of the swords, their eyes locked in deadly challenge. Every muscle in their bodies was tensed; they remained there unmoving, each waiting for the other viper to strike first.

“Grimm,” Dark spat, a false grin curving his mouth. “So good to see you.”

His former captain didn’t answer; unless baring his teeth in a jackal’s smile counted as a greeting.

Around them the rest of the world moved at a frantic pace. Wedding guests stampeded like a herd of wild animals, trapped in the church by Grimm’s crew. The looks in their eyes made it clear they were thirsty for some blood.

“Took you long enough to find me,” Dark taunted. With satisfaction he noticed the faintest twitch of Grimm’s mouth; the image of dead white teeth tattooed above his lip quivered. For a moment he looked almost human.

His captain’s particularly ghastly appearance had come as a gruesome shock. But seeing the man every day, he’d grown accustomed to seeing his face. Beneath the skull tattoo that covered him, masking his true features, was a stubborn square jaw, a mouth that had never once smiled, a repeatedly broken nose, proud cheekbones and a wide forehead.

The man under the mask was fierce-looking, maybe even handsome, in a way. But there was nothing like having death for a face to make your enemies turn cold with fear at the sight of you.

His eyes were the truly frightening feature. Some men claimed they were an icy blue that struck fear into the hearts of men. Others were certain Grimm’s eyes were black and soulless as the Devil himself. The most spectacular story was that he simply had no eyes, and that the sockets were empty and black.

Dark knew better. It had been a long time since he’d looked into Captain Grimm’s eyes. But he hadn’t forgotten their pale grey color, darkening ever so slightly at the edge of the pupils. They were unnerving, cold and cruel; their ghostly color lending to his mystique. But they were voids—there was no life in them.

Dark shuddered to think what Grimm could have seen to become this way.

“A snake is difficult to catch,” the other man spoke, jolting Dark’s senses when the voice washed over him. “One must have patience, and cunning.” His blade slid closer to Dark’s, their fists nearly meeting. “You are the slime of the earth,” Grimm hissed. “A little snake, slithering away in the grass, thinking you are safe…until my boot comes to crush you.”

Shivers broke out against his will, and it took all his strength to keep staring bravely into those vacant eyes.

Without warning, he attacked. Grimm leaped backwards, side-stepped and swung low, arcing upwards towards Dark’s exposed ribs. The blade whisked under his arm, but twisted out of reach. But he was thrown off balance, and crashed into the nearest pew.

With a groan of pain, he wrapped his free arm around his ribs, feeling to see if they were cracked. He took a deep breath; it was uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

“It’s just you and I now,” Grimm said softly.

His voice would have been soothing; it was low-pitched, soft and eerily melodic. But like his eyes, it was if he had drained all emotion, all feeling from it. The sound was more disturbing than comforting.

Standing up awkwardly, Dark resumed his stance, laughing at his enemy. Grimm’s brows drew down in irritation. “You think I’m alone?” Dark teased, his voice mocking.

From the back of the church there came a loud roar; Dark’s crew thundered into the chapel from the back rooms where they had hidden themselves. Grimm’s men, turned in surprise. The civilians in the church huddled into a corner, far from the fighting as the rival pirate crews clashed. Worthington’s men, who had been holding off Grimm’s bunch, seemed unsure whether to get in the middle of the scuffle.