"Not full shape-shifters?" Mr. Pryce called out, stepping to the front of Bluebeard's band. "I am." Everyone gave a gasp of surprise, except Mrs. Monkfort, who remarked with adoration, "My hero."
Jack the Rip growled and stepped forward, red fur sprouting on his foxy face, and revealing sharp little teeth and pointed ears. "I'm looking forward to a little snack," he said.
Hook's laugh was razor-sharp. "I have thirty crew members, and twenty-three are wererats," he said. The sounds of claws and paws filled the air. Time was up. Hook's crew had finished their transformations, and their heads had reshaped into those of giant rats. Long tails protruded from their hairy buttocks, and extremely wicked-looking teeth were bared in anger.
Suddenly Major Gallant charged out of nowhere, in Bonaparte style, an imaginary sword in his hand. The mutt Junger was nipping at his heels and barking frenziedly. Eve gasped, then watched in stunned disbelief as the nimble Hugo also appeared, leaping from the rigging to the crow's nest. From there he swung across the yardarm, his little face twisted in gleeful madness. He pelted the pirats with marbles, causing them to slip and slide as if they were learning a new kind of jig.
Jack the Rip charged forward, caught sight of one crewman's tattoo—a rose—and, just as the pirate drew his blade, exposed himself. "Take that!" he yelled to the stunned pirate. Before the man could reply, he was knocked overboard by Hugo. The splash he made started the battle.
Adam stared in astonishment, for Eve's patients were out in full force, the whole mad lot. And this time, it was to his benefit! He loved the whole scurvy lot. He would have laughed at the absurdity of it all if Hook weren't leering at Eve.
"Soon you'll be mine," the wererat captain snarled, then he turned to attack Adam.
"Never!" Eve retorted.
Adam saw dark figures sneaking up behind her, and he yelled, "Darling, there!" He pointed.
Grabbing her pistol, she spun and fired. The shot hit one rat bastard right in the eye. He fell and did not rise.
Adam grinned, admiring his wife's deadly aim as she dodged another wererat and fired at close range, blowing out its brains. Fester jumped upon a nearby pi-rat's back with a shout of rage, his little face red. "I want me gold!" he cried. And two more of Hook's crew jumped overboard to avoid his maniacal charge.
As Hugo sailed past on a rope, Adam admitted, Yes, the lunatics were in full swing. And those like Gallant and Fester were in charge.
He turned to find Eve, sniffing, intending to use his keen sense of smell. She had disappeared far into the maddening crowd. The foolish woman had risked her life to save him, and surprisingly so had Captain Bluebeard. He had to save her. He had to break free before Hook returned.
Blood loss slowed Adam's shape changing, but finally he felt the tremors begin and the skin on his back and shoulders stretch. He fought, working hard not to transform completely; he wanted to be able to explain his shape to Eve. But his eyesight became sharper, and the raw, ravaged flesh on his back slit open for massive wings to emerge. Talonlike hooks burst through his toes and fingertips. He used those to rip free of his bonds.
Throwing back his head, he stretched, feeling strength course through him as the ropes fell away. Long, brownish-gray wings had erupted from his back. A dusting of feathers now covered his chest and arms, while a short beak had formed—a very sharp, slightly curved beak. A beak that he would soon use to good advantage, for he was immediately confronted by none other than Captain Hook himself.
"Damn you to hell! You're a werehawk," the head pirat hissed between his daggerlike teeth. He raised his hook to the sky and shook it, raging at heaven and hell and everything in between. Adam valiantly faced the monster.
In the process of reloading her pistol, Eve glanced over at Adam to see how he was faring. Gasping, she was shocked into stillness at the sight of her lover. Adam was a werehawk, and his wings were magnificent!
"Blast me to smithereens with a bottle of rum," she mumbled, appalled at the fact that she hadn't even known this part of his nature. He must be of a royal lineage to be able to blend into humanity so smoothly.
Off to her side, she heard Major Gallant charging up and down the deck, yelling, while she finished loading her pistols. She shook her head grimly. Major Gallant should show more fangs and less dash, and Adam shouldn't have kept his heritage a secret. But while she ought to be furious, she found she was not. He was such a splendid specimen, in the prime of life, and with such magnificent wings and glorious feathers… He was also battling for his very life.
As her two supernatural suitors clashed, Eve held her breath, praying that her beloved would prevail. Hook couldn't win. She winced as he clawed Adam across the chest, but Adam struck back and slashed Hook's face with a talon. Rivulets of blood filled the wererat's good eye. And though the fight turned bloodier from there, Eve was forced to turn her attention back to her own precarious situation. She was surrounded by three of Hook's goons.
She immediately shot one of them with a pistol, but her second shot was delayed as the firing pin jammed. She threw the pistol aside and reached for her cutlass, feeling the wererat's fetid breath on her shoulder. In the nick of time, she was saved by Teeter, who grabbed the rapacious rat and threw him over the side of the ship. The last rat attacking Eve saw that he was alone and turned to scurry away. But he lost the race as Mrs. Monkfort set him on fire with a torch, screeching, "Rats! Dirty, nasty little buggers! Off the ship, I say—off the ship!"
The wererat obeyed, jumping into the water with the smell of scorched hair trailing after. The intrepid Mrs. Monkfort was encouraged by the result, and began to shove her torch at two more nearby wererats.
Observing Mrs. Monkfort's success, Pavlov stepped up. He urged the others to pick up torches—with the exception of Sir Loring, Jack the Rip, and Mr. Pryce, who, being werecreatures, had a fear of fire. Rapidly Bluebeard's crew began forcing Hook's over the side. Soon only a small contingent remained, encircled by the Towers lunatic army.
"Deserting a sinking ship?" Eve called out to the fleeing wererats, and managed a shaky laugh. "Bravo! Bravo!" Then, feeling a whisper of wind behind her, she turned to find Adam. His chest was bleeding slightly, but behind him Hook lay dead.
Eve shook her head. Evil would always come to an end, and good would always triumph. Or so she wanted to believe.
Adam's breathing slowed as he saw that Eve was not injured. She might be a bit of a mess, what with her hair waving in the night breeze and gunpowder on her clothes and cheeks, but didn't she look lovely? He would never forget the way she looked tonight. The wind whipped through her hair, and the cool sea breeze brought a rosy hue to her cheeks. He wanted to enfold her in his arms—wings—forever. Yet, in spite of the almost irresistible urge to clasp her close, he remained motionless, trying to judge what she was feeling about his ancestry. His heart pounded in his chest. Her grandparents had been a mixed couple, and he hoped Eve had no prejudices.
"Eve?" he said.
His fears were swiftly displaced. She gave him a blinding smile and rushed into his arms, clasping her hands around his neck, holding on for all she was worth.
"Oh, Adam—you could have died!" she cried, breathless. "What would I have done without you?"
"Have an empty bed again." Mrs. Fawlty just had to put in her two guineas.
A few chuckles were heard, but Eve lovingly touched Adam's feathers. "My, my. I must say that you are a fine-feathered figure of a man. Adam, you're a werehawk! Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "Mmm, soft."