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Chapter 21~ Behind the Lion’s Head...
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The rain came down upon us with the weight of a hundred rocks, battering the skin on our backs and our heads relentlessly. It poured so heavily that I could only see a few feet in front of me as we trekked up the mountain in the middle of Cape Town. The wind whipped around us and pulled at our clothes like eager children. And the closer we got to the peak of the rocky mountain, the closer we were to walking into pure rain clouds. Many times, Constantine urged us to turn back and avoid the storm. But my vision had narrowed down to the few feet in front of me that I could see, and nothing but the hand of God could stop me now. I would find my sister.
In the farthest reaches of the foggy horizon, bold strikes of lightning touched the ground and disappeared in a flash, leaving behind an earth-shattering crack that nearly split the sky. The smell of newly-turned earth and algae filled my senses. The wet rocks and moss under my boot made my feet slip and slide on each step of the long climb. Behind me, a small cry cut through the pounding of the thunder. I turned to see Constantine on one knee, grasping onto a slippery boulder. I rushed to her side and helped her up onto her feet. Through the rain, I looked over her for any cuts or scrapes.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, shaking off the raindrops on her lashes and continuing forward. “I’m fine. Keep going.”
I held her hand as we walked on. Each unstable step, she’d gripped tighter, and I’d glance back to make sure she was there. I had to make sure.
The roar of the tempest screamed in our ears like the voices of every angel in heaven crying out all at once. The sky was dark and gray, sinking with the weight of the clouds and the lightning. I remembered storms like these whilst aboard the Amity. The winds tearing through the sails. The treacherous waves tossing us about the sea like a plaything for God himself. A man could barely hear himself think. For a while, I’d been afraid of it—afraid that I’d be tossed overboard and pulled underneath the ship by the deadly tides. But years and years of hellish storms hardened a pirate and revealed to him a little bit of Hell so that he’d be prepared when the day finally came.
I felt a tug at the bottom of my shirt and noticed Reyes, just a step behind, grasping on with a small fist. His eyes were squinted and fought the heavy barrage of the rain. I wondered if he’d already been hardened like me. Could a child so young hold his own in such a tempest? I almost didn’t want to know.
We continued slowly through the storm, taking each step together. But this kind of storm struck a new fear in my heart—a kind I’d never known before that chilled my bones and stripped away my courage. Before, aboard the Amity, I’d secretly wished the storms would take me out and relieve me of my duties. But everything was different now. Now, I held in my hand the thing most precious in the world to me. The thing I couldn’t bear to live without. And the one grasped onto me was unknowingly channeling all the mettle I needed to move forward. With him, I knew I could not slip and I could not fall. He was my right hand when I had none.
“There!” Constantine shouted against the shriek of the gales. “Look!” With an outstretched arm, she pointed to what looked like a small house against the base of the back of the mountain. Behind the lion’s head...
I smiled to myself and squeezed Constantine’s hand tight. She did it. She brought us here.
As we neared the head of the lion, I could make out the house more clearly—a sturdy yet small cabin fit to withstand South Africa’s storms. Kidd’s cabin. It was in desperate need of repair in many spots and looked quite deserted. As we found more stable ground, we ran under the shade of the roof and looked around. If Kidd’s cabin once had protection, it no longer remained that way. In fact, the place looked all but abandoned. I felt my pistol in the band of my trousers and retrieved it. Reyes did the same, sharing a grim yet combative look. With a curt nod, we rounded the entrance of the cabin and found the door locked.
Damn.
Reyes took a few steps back, raised his pistol, and fired at the lock. It shattered under the blast and both Constantine and I jumped at the sound.
“You idiot,” I rebuked, “We don’t have many bullets. Are you trying to get us killed?”
“Do you want to get in or no?!” he shouted back, pushing open the door.
I quickly raised my pistol, readying myself, but the space was empty. We slowly crept inside, nerves heightened at every creak of a floorboard and every gust of the wind. Kidd’s cabin wasn’t much to gloat about and resembled more of a storage shack with crates and barrels cluttering the walls and spaces. Some of the rafters were rotten and falling apart. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the ceilings and the floorboards had holes in them. The windows were yellowed and foggy but not shattered yet. A musty smell of dust and rat droppings hovered about the room. But not a single soul remained.
“Where is she?” Reyes said, lowering his pistol to his side.
My heart sank as I took another look around the room. Nothing. There was nothing there. It was all a lie. And I had believed him.
I stood silent for what felt like hours, trying to feel anything else but the absolute hopelessness that haunted me then. How could I have been so daft? Fifteen years I had been without my older sister, unsure of what went wrong, what drove her away. I had spent so much time wishing that I could turn back the clock and change the past—to hug her again, to see her beautiful smile. But that was all gone. And I’d never get it back.
Constantine drew to my side wordlessly and rested her head on my shoulder. I felt the strength and compassion radiate off of her like sunlight and I wanted so desperately to soak it in. But every instinct in my body rejected it and told me to crawl back into a dark corner and hide. The cold just felt easier.
I walked back towards the door and back in the storm awaiting us outside.
“Where are you going?” Reyes called out.
I turned my back to him and slipped my weapon back into my waistband. “She’s not here, Reyes.”
He was quiet but he didn’t fight me. He looked about the room thoughtfully before replacing his pistol back and giving up, too. He returned to Constantine’s side who put a hand on his boney shoulder. I felt their eyes on me, but I didn’t turn back. Darkness had fallen over me. Where were we to go from here? After so many lies and so much deception, what were we supposed to do next?
And perhaps it was just a crack of lightning or a moan of the old cabin, but a sharp creak came from the roof—no, not the roof. We all looked up at the source of the strange noise and I noticed a hatch in the ceiling of the cabin. I shared a look with Reyes and we rushed over to the hatch. I kneeled down as he climbed up on my shoulders. When I raised him up, he fumbled with the rusty latch before releasing a secret upper door and a ladder that swung down to the floor with a creaky clunk, clunk, clunk.
“Got it!” he exclaimed.
I helped him down my shoulders before beginning the climb, a nerve-wracking thumping of my heart in my chest. I made it up the ladder to finally reach a small attic space that looked nothing at all like the main floor below. The cramped and dusty room had an old bed, trunks, and tables littered with maps and empty bottles of wine. It was quite the mess, half-eaten food lying around in random places and pieces of clothing thrown over furniture. Dead rats in a small pile against the wall. But in the back corner of the attic, a small candle had been lit and trickled hotly with white wax. We stood still, silent. Only the noise of the storm outside gave life to this desolate, ghostly place.
Then, movement! A shuffle and a flash of white caught my eye from behind a table. I pulled my pistol and pointed to the shadow crouched out of sight.
“Come out,” I said, trying not to show the shaking in my hand, “Now.”
A few more seconds passed before anything happened. For a moment, I thought I might have to speak up again before a figure slowly rose up from behind the table. It was a woman, or what was left of a woman, with bronzy gold hair that was now faded and limp at the ends. Her skin was pasty and nearly shriveled into her bones. She shook like a leaf in the wind and dared not meet eyes with any of us. She was dressed in an old, thin nightgown and had scars running across every inch of her skin. She looked almost feral at times, round eyes bouncing across the ground and nearly bulging out of her head. She was missing her left pinky finger. Her lips were thin, pale, and trembled terribly. But I knew who this wretch was in a second. It was my sister. It was Gretchen Hemingway.
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