The lapping of waves cascade over her body. Nudging her about in the mud. Face down. Raped, beaten, broken, and bloody Bianca TeLeone was thrown to the sea like an offering. An unintentional offering. Someone did indeed try and save her. Someone quite unexpected. One she might only remember as the cause. The enemy after all. A woman with a past of her own. One that was forced to make decisions merely to stay alive. To keep what few friends in this God forsaken place allowed her. Still, being saved would never have led to this day. Perhaps in a darker shade of grey Bianca was indeed saved. Lifeless before. Lifeless after. Sins that could not be forgiven. Someday soon revenge would be her consuming thought. Her fuel that lights the fire. Greek fire indeed.
After a mile of turbulent surf the waves took her toward a distant shore. A large island of hills shrouded amid dense forest. An early morning mist cloaking even that much. Unconscious she had swallowed enough saltwater to drown a normal person. After the nights events aboard the Ceville she proved that there was more to this Greek beauty than met the eye. Eyes.
Bianca was a survivor.
A shrill sound of a flute ignores the crashing surf. Cutting in and out as if indecisive of what tune satisfied its player. As if Bianca could hear it. Her brain destroyed by her suffering. Still, music was indeed something that kept her going. The sweltering voice Of Robert Plant. Or John Lennon. Preferring more the rocker side thanks to her late fiancée. His wealth allowing her to live the freedom her body craved. Oh, the many concerts she had enjoyed. The dancing with hands in the air. High on life. High on Weed. The hypnotic attraction to the beat of guitars. The bass. The drums. In only her dreams now. Bianca just wished for death.
Not today.
The flute returns. Stops. Starts. Stops. Maddening. Who was playing that thing? Who was listening enough to be driven insane by it? It had to be calling her to the grave. Torturing her further before sending her to Hell. Yes. Bianca's ears heard the flute. Yet could not move. Her body weakened beyond belief. Barely feeling the freezing chill of the water on her legs. Mind lost. She was not even certain she wanted to be found. A corpse awaiting its soul to look for the light. Where was it? Why had it not shown brightly? Oh, right. Her eyelids were closed. Mud had caked around her face. Her breath shallow and fading.
"What have we here? Oooo! A big delicious clam." A voice barely deciphered, "The storm has given me a bounty this day." The voice draws closer. If she was aware enough Bianca might witness a lanky man of 5'5 in height. Wild hair upon his head. A ratty beard dangling from his chin. The smell of wet fur nauseating. If she could notice. Silence.
Maybe the voice had left her. Good. It was only irritating her further. It was a man after all. A stick jabs her in the ribs. If she could feel it. Again and again. She just wanted to be left alone. She had, had enough. No more torment. She had sworn off men. Not that it mattered. It would be her luck the Devil would take her time and time again. Just another man. Just leave her alone.
Hands carefully dig into the mud beneath her and roll her over. Her body limp. Pain beyond measure from broken bones. Yet, she does not let the Devil know her agony. She would not give him the satisfaction. Why was the song Sympathy for the Devil playing in her head? Subliminal? She had just been rolled over like a stone.
Poked again by a stick from the front this time. Can't a girl just die already? Breasts jostled. Not by a hand. Mud wiped away by a cloth. Okay, a hand held the cloth. Hey is that the light I've been waiting for? If she could think. Hair brushed away from her swollen eyes. Mud thick within her mane. Her arms lifted with the stick then dropped. Hey! That one I felt. Fuck that hurt. If she could truly relate. More darkness. That's better. To hell with it.
Less than a mile distant Jack Ramse and his companion the Woodland Sprite Iota combed the beach. Determined to find Bianca TeLeone. He owed it to her to save her life if he could. In a sense he had gotten her into this mess. While not predicting her rape at the crews hands. He did succumb to venom which his body chemistry usually battled anything poisonous. He attributed his ailment to the Djinn that inhabited the late Captain Mordecai. His own magic siphoning off the magic's of his friends. Their very life force dampened by him. Little did Jack know that the Weaver Bug James Ian Pryce had used to repair his severed arm was a hybrid. The Ganthorians and their damned meddling of species. The beetle was part Scarab. Something his companion Wretch had related. Osirian in nature. Luckily he had Osirian blood in him. So he was told. God traits even. Sure he bought into that. Something to mull over once things got back to normal. If that were possible.
His mission was to reach Lucas Dorsey. For murdering the Ganthorians he called allies. Falsely associated. He was scum. Having tried to kill Jack back at Wretch's cliff dwellings. For some reason Dorsey didn't want Jack to get to him. Most likely due to the Ganthorian Princess Kym'Ani. Wasn't love grand. Of course Jack sensed there was more to it. The moons above aligning a fraction more each night. Bad omen indeed.
So much had happened in a very short time. Lowball's crippling fall on the rocks paralyzing him. Addison Rogers revealing being related to Ruby Goddard. How was that even possible, Who tracks somebody a billion years in the past? Couldn't just be coincidence. He knew Addison helped him defeat the Djinn. Still, her methods before hand were not so clearly defined. Fear of the Captain certainly. Yet, why would she use Jack and the others so cruelly? She obviously had been on Pangaea long enough to lose sight of right on wrong until push came to shove. Adaptation. The mind realizing that taking was just as easy as asking for it. Once he had found Bianca he would get back out to the ship and get to the bottom of Addison Rogers. A mental flash of fucking her from behind troubled him. Of all the times. Shaking his head he finds Iota fluttering in front of him. Tiny winds battling the wind off of the water. She was shivering from the cold. Her look of concern made him come to his senses. Lifting the neck of his shirt collar he motions Iota in. At least his shirt was beginning to dry now that the rain had stopped. He himself not bothered by the chill. Iota in her frail size far less warm.
As she enters his shirt her chin rests on the neckline looking out. Her hands tugging the cloth tighter to her body. She really should wear clothing. Of course there wasn't exactly a Pixie Clothing store on this world. Yet, it made him smile. She was adorable. Damned sexy if he got right to it. If she were only...Jack shook it off. His hormones unbalanced due to the venom. Sure, that had to be it. Besides, come on, Iota was five inches tall.
Within his body heat Iota cooed. She had sensed his emotions. She loved her Jack. The higher the sun rose in the sky the warmer it got. He hoped that the heat would keep Bianca alive. If she even made it to shore. For all he knew a shark had eaten her. Or that Mosasaur Addison had mentioned. He refused to believe that. Looking out over the distance he narrows his eyes.
"Disturbed mud. Could be from turtles or something nesting. Wait. Footprints. Bianca?" Jack bolts into a run. Iota holding on for dear life beneath his collar. In five minutes he reaches the location and sizes it up. These were not human footprints. These were from an animal. Yet, it was easy enough to see that a human body had left an imprint in the mud. The waves not reaching it enough to wash the indentations away. No mistaking the molds of large breasts. It had to be Bianca. Crouching to examine the animal prints he nods, "Hoof prints."
Following the prints up the beach and into the foliage he tracked them until things got rocky. Iota escaping Jack's collar to flutter her dragonfly like wings. She points upward for Jack to look. He spots smoke rising. Somebody had built a fire. Motioning her to fly up and check the situation out Iota nods and heads straight up like a missile. She was handy to have around. His thoughts suddenly thinking of her arms wrapped around his hard..."Dammit Ramse. Enough."
Iota carefully reaches the top of the rocks where it leveled out. There she found a stone enclosure on looking a green pasture on the other side. A pasture with crops. Zipping out toward the crops she investigates further. The vines held a very special fruit. Plucking a single sweet smelling bulb she carries it back down to Jack. Resting the bulb in his palm.
"You brought me a Grape?" He scowls as she nods, her arms them re-enacting what she saw. Forming a hut and acting as if she was opening and closing a door, "A house. Front door." He plays along with her charades. Her next action being to stomp her feet roughly as if attacking the ground. That had him bewildered.
"I think she's stomping grapes." A voice appears behind Jack. How did anyone sneak up on him. Turning defensively he notes the Man who had rescued Bianca. The man swigging back from a flask. Wiping his mouth on his wrist he offers Jack a drink.
"Red wine?"
"Who are you? Where is the girl?" Jack sizes him up. He then notices his feet and worse yet the horns on his head.
"The devil I think. At least that seems to be what the girl keeps calling me."
"Satyr?"
"Isn't that obvious? I'm certainly not a Centaur."
"Is Bianca alright?"
"Resting. I built a fire to warm her. Had to boil some fruity froth anyways. Poison if not. Sure you do not want a drink? Humble Host I am."
"Gotta name?"
"Don't we all? Pan. Pan I am."
"Pan? The God of Wine in Greek Mythology? Funny. Bianca is Greek. I'm Jack Ramse. Bianca's friend."
"Greetings Jack and his lovely Sprite. Who might you be Sweet Thing?"
Iota blushes and shakes her tits toward the dazzled Satyr. His eyes dancing along with them. It takes Jack to snap his fingers over Pan's eyes to bring his fantasy back to reality.
