Chapter Text
The SUV had never trundled before, but it felt like it was trundling then. Stede Bonnet tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully as the car passed slowly from pavement to dirt. The soft ping of rocks hitting the undercarriage provided the symphony to which the man vibrated with anticipation.
As he coaxed the heavily laden car around another ascending curve, a tiny voice piped up from the backseat.
“Are we there yet?”
“Almost, Louis! Just another few minutes.” Stede replied cheerfully.
Those few minutes passed with mounting excitement for the man in the driver’s seat. Alma Bonnet, who had spent the entire trip pouting until now, suddenly pressed her nose to the glass.
“Look, there it is!” She exclaimed.
Just ahead, on the crest of the clifftop, sat a solitary house. Stede gasped in delight.
“Oh, children! Lucius- look! It’s exactly the way it looked in the photos!”
“Yeah, Stede. Run down and decrepit. Love that for you.”
Stede gave Lucius a stern look. The younger man replied with a roll of his eyes.
“Really, though, it was so good of you to come with me to help me get settled. You know it’s always been my dream to live on a cliff overlooking the sea?”
“Mmm, no. I definitely didn’t hear you the last thirty times you told me about that or anything.”
A moment later, Stede pulled the SUV to a gentle stop at the front gate, behind a dark sedan that had beaten him there. The children and both adults clambered out of the car, stretching and taking in the scene before them.
Stede smiled, before taking a theatrical bow and sweeping his right arm out towards the property.
“Lady and gentlemen, may I present our new home, Queen Anne’s Cottage.”
Louis took off through the rickety gate, exploring the grounds while Lucius circled around to the trunk and started pulling out his bag. Alma hung back by her father.
“You mean your new home, daddy.”
Stede blinked. He knelt down in front of his daughter and took her gently by the shoulders.
“My home will always be your home, Alma. No matter what’s happened between your mother and I, we will both always love you. You never have to worry about that.”
Alma looked placated for the moment. She smiled shyly at her father, who smiled back. Stede straightened up.
“Now, shall we?” She gestured for her hand, which she gave him, and started for the house.
“Oh no you shan’t.” Lucius called from behind the car. “Not without taking some of these bags. I’m not your maid.”
The father-daughter duo giggled at each other and dragged out some more bags from the trunk.
Despite its name, the house was not built in the Queen Anne style. It appeared to be a variety of styles, charmingly mashed together over the years into one cohesively quaint abode. Stede could pick out architectural habits of a saltbox, British and Southern colonials, and quite a bit of Federal period work tying it all together. Some of its best exterior features were the wide front porch, second floor balcony, and adorable widow’s walk with an honest-to-goodness mast sticking up through the middle.
That said, it was not exactly turnkey. Stede had been assured the house was structurally sound, but its appearance was dilapidated and overgrown. He had a mind to start work immediately, restoring the home to its former glory.
“Stede, you did arrange a moving van, right? Has it already come and gone?” Lucius asked, pointedly carrying only his much lighter travel bag.
“Oh, no need.” Stede responded airly. “The place comes fully furnished.”
Lucius groaned.
“I don’t know if worm-eaten, musty, antique torture devices count as ‘fully furnished.”
Stede grunted, pulling out another bag.
“But that’s part of the charm of it, my boy! The real estate agent assures me it has all the necessary modern amenities to make this house a home. Speaking of which, I’ll bet that’s his car. I wonder if he’s inside?”
The trio started for the house, dragging their bags along. Louis, too small to carry most of the heavy load, had seated himself on top of one of the impressive stone lions that guarded the front stoop.
At that moment, the front door opened and closed with a slam. Louis just managed to keep from falling off the statue. He turned carefully, and found himself at eye level with a small man dressed in a black suit.
“Hi.” He said.
The man gave him the eye.
“Children shouldn’t be seen or heard,” he rasped.
Alma shook her head at the man from her place on the flagstones.
“It’s “children should be seen and not heard.” She corrected. The man sneered.
“Pity they’re allowed to do either.”
Louis scrambled off the statue and hid behind his sister. Stede frowned, but squared his shoulders and marched up the steps, extending his hand.
“Mr. Hands, was it? I’m Stede Bonnet, your new renter.”
The man called Mr. Hands surveyed Stede, as if appraising his worth. He did not take the hand outstretched to him, instead tucking his arms behind his back and rocking back on his heels.
“Mr. Bonnet. I tried to call. The deal is off.” He sniffed.
Lucius dropped the bags and threw up his hands.
“Oh thank God. We can get off this godforsaken island and go back to actual land now where there is much less chance that we’ll be killed in some sort of freak tsunami accident. Come on, kids, let’s go figure out when the next ferry back is.”
Stede ignored his companion, who flounced back to the car. The real estate agent looked after him with a curious expression. Stede cleared his throat.
“Mr. Hands, I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. I have a lease.” He produced some folded sheets of paper from his jacket pocket and waved them under the other man’s nose.
“I said the deal is off. The Queen Anne is not for rent.” Mr. Hands hissed.
“Oh. Have you sold it?”
“No.”
“Are you selling it? I could talk to the bank, I—”
“No, Mr. Bonnet. It’s not for sale.” The real estate agent started to push by him, but Stede blocked his path.
“Well then, I’m afraid I don’t understand what the problem is, Mr. Hands. If there’s something wrong with the property, I should like to see it for myself.” He pressed.
Mr. Hands drew himself up to his full height. It didn’t affect the other man in the slightest, as he was still taller.
“I have a number of…other properties on Ocracoke that I can show you, if you decide to stay. But I cannot rent you this one. I suggest you follow me back to town immediately.”
Stede’s expression hardened. His brow knitted together, and he pulled his lips into a thin line.
“Now you listen here. You give me one good reason why you are breaking my lease, or you will have to have me physically removed from the premises by the local authorities. I won’t go quietly, you understand. A deal is a deal.”
“I’ll call the ambulance,” Lucius chirped from the safety of the SUV.
Rather than placing a call, however, he began texting rapidly, seeming to take down every word that was said and pass it on to somebody. Alma shook her head and climbed back into the car.
No one noticed when Louis headed back towards the house. Stede was saying something about ‘good business’ and ‘not in front of my children,’ and the other man was turning red as a beet.
Louis skirted around them and made his way up the steps. He wanted to see what all the fuss was about. He approached the front door and put his hand on the knob.
To his surprise, it opened without his assistance.
He stepped inside.
Outside, Mr. Hands looked taut as a bowstring.
“Because my…boss…doesn’t want me to rent the house,” he ground out.
“And just why is that?”
Mr. Hands shifted uncomfortably.
“He doesn’t like children, for one.”
“Mr. Hands, I made it expressly clear during negotiations that my children will spend their summer with me, before returning to the mainland for school. That’s why I was looking for something with multiple rooms. Besides, it’s not like your boss is staying with us. He never has to meet them if he doesn’t want to.” Stede’s annoyance showed in the tapping of his foot.
At that, the agent paled.
“It’s also not as up-to-date as you were led to believe.”
“You mean that you led me to believe?”
“...Yes.” Mr. Hands admitted begrudgingly, practically spitting in Stede’s face. The taller man held the lease papers between them like a shield.
“This is really a terrible show of professionalism, Mr. Hands. I expected better from the man in charge of all the property listings on Ocracoke. Now what is so out-of-date that it can’t be fixed while inhabited?”
“There’s no internet.”
Stede nodded sagely.
“Fine, fine. The kids could use an old-fashioned summer. Their mother and I have wanted them to have a place to play outside more often, anyway. You have public internet available somewhere on the island, yeah? I’ll need to submit my work somehow.”
“Your…work?” Mr. Hands sneered before he could stop himself. His gaze flicked back to the car and landed on Lucius. Stede clucked his tongue and chose to ignore whatever ridiculous notion the agent was thinking that colored his cheeks.
“Yes. I’m a writer. Mostly magazine columns and the occasional interest piece for newspapers, but I’m hoping to work on my new novel out here. It’s why I chose this place. Quiet, isolated, beautiful view…there’s nothing more invigorating to the creative spirit! It’s perfect for the aspiring writer!”
The real estate agent looked like he wanted to explode.
“I still can’t lease the place to you. Boss’ orders.”
“Really, Mr. Hands! You can tell your boss to go suck eggs in Hell, for all I care. I have a lease! If he has any other offer on the table, he’ll just have to forego it, because I signed and you accepted!” Stede rapped his knuckles on the papers in his other hand. The real estate agent grabbed his wrist and pushed it away with more force than was necessary. He was snarling in Stede’s face now.
“I already told you, there is no other offer, you tw—”
Just then, Mr. Hands felt a tug on his pants leg. Both men looked down, startled to find Louis staring up at them.
“Cap’n Blackbeard says we can go in, Izzy . He told me to tell you that.”
Something strange happened then. Stede stared at his son, perplexed. As he did, Mr. Hands went from bright red to sheet white.
“Izzy?” He looked up at the other man for confirmation.
“Yes. Israel Hands.” the smaller man replied, clearly ruffled. Stede looked at him a moment longer, concerned, then shrugged.
“Ah. He must’ve heard us on the phone, or he saw your name somewhere in town. Goodness knows that’s where he must’ve picked up ‘Captain Blackbeard’ from. Your tourist attractions really quite capitalize on him, don’t they?”
“Yes. This island was where the Dread Pirate Blackbeard made his final stand, more than 300 years ago.” The real estate agent puffed up a bit, as though taking great personal pride in the story.
Louis blinked.
“I know. He told me.”
Izzy flinched. Stede chuckled.
“He has such an imagination for his age. His mother’s a painter, you know. Creativity runs in his blood.”
The real estate agent looked at Louis with an inscrutable expression for just long enough that Stede pushed the boy behind him. Izzy shook his head.
“Alright.”
“Alright?” Stede parroted.
“Go on in.”
“...really?”
“ Now , Mr. Bonnet, before I change my mind.” Izzy groused.
Stede bounced on the balls of his feet.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Hands! I’m not sure what changed your mind, but I appreciate it! Did you hear that, crew? Lucius, Alma, come on, let’s have a look!” He waved his arm towards the house.
Lucius and Alma climbed back out of the car, the latter having a little more pep than the former. Izzy hands tossed the keys to Lucius as he passed, then crowded in behind him.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He whispered into Lucius’ ear.
“Ugh. Listen sweetie, if you want to whisper in my ear, you have to wine and dine me first. And I'm not cheap.” He replied over his shoulder, leaving Izzy slack jawed and sputtering in the middle of the walkway.
Stede pushed the front door of the house open and ushered the two children and Lucius inside. He was just about to let himself in and shut the door behind him, when he realized Izzy was still standing in front of the steps.
“Well Mr. Hands? Are you coming or going?”
Izzy begrudgingly trudged up the stairs and entered the front door, followed closely by Stede.
The little group looked around the inside of the house with wonder.
They were standing in the main entranceway, which led to all the main areas of the house. The walls and floor were lined in dark, exposed wood. To the left and right were doors that Stede knew from the photos led to the sitting room and kitchen. Directly ahead was a beautiful wooden staircase leading to the second floor, the railing newel post carved into the shape of a woman with outstretched arms, like an old ship’s figurehead. There was another door beyond the staircase on the left; Stede wasn’t sure where that led.
Despite the fact that Izzy had recently been inside, the house smelled extremely musty. It was also extremely dark- all the shades and shutters were pulled or locked in place. Cobwebs lined every inch of the room, floor to ceiling. Lucius shuddered.
“Oh my God, ew. Stede, this is disgusting! I’m out, I can’t do this.” He turned for the door, but Stede clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Nonsense, Lucius, she’ll be as good as new with just a bit of work. Right, kids?”
The children nodded. Alma looked unsure, but Louis turned smartly towards the group.
“The Captain wants us to swab and scrape this place shipshape afore the dogwatch or there’ll be hell and highwater to pay!”
Stede tsked, but couldn’t help his smile.
“Louis, language!” He admonished. Louis didn’t wait to be spoken to further- he darted up the stairs to the second floor, his sister hot on his heels calling: “It’s ‘or,’ not ‘and’!”
“Then you tell the Captain that!” was the last thing they clearly heard Louis reply before they were out of sight.
“I have no idea what he just said,” Lucius sighed.
Izzy shrugged, he opened his mouth to reply, but Stede beat him to the punch.
“He said this place needs to be cleaned up immediately, and I, for one, wholeheartedly agree.”
Both men stared at him.
"I research for my work."
Stede was about to dig into the bags for cleaning supplies, but Mr. Hands snapped his fingers.
“Mr. Bonnet. I don’t have all day. Do you want the fucking walkthrough or not?”
Stede frowned.
“There’s no need to be rude. Mr. Hands. I suppose she’s waited this long for a good scrubbing, she can wait a few more minutes.”
Izzy smoothed his hair back with one hand and seemed to settle back into his body. He pushed open the door to the right first.
“Galley’s through here. Plumbed, hot water. The stove was converted for gas some years back. Don’t expect me to come out here and show you how to use everything.” He grumped.
Stede took on the appearance of a kid in a candy shop.
“Oh, Lucius, it’s so authentic! Just look at that old coffee grinder. I’m sure we can figure everything out.”
Lucius shook his head.
“Mmm mm. You have fun with that. I’m just gonna go find the nearest coffee shop that can make a grande iced soy macchiato three pumps of mocha no whip. Not sure your little…bean grinder can do that, even without the healthy layer of yuck.” He scrunched his nose up.
Izzy ushered them back through the door and pointed down the hall.
“Back door leads to the backyard. There’s a half bath and a dining space down that way as well. Storage closet and furnace room are off the galley.”
Stede nodded along, taking everything in. Izzy opened the door to the sitting room. He took a breath, preparing the next part of his speech, but Stede sailed into the middle of the room, as though pulled by an unseen force.
“What a magnificent man.” He breathed. After a beat, he coughed and amended, “Er, painting. What a magnificent portrait of a man. Who is he, exactly?”
Izzy glanced at the portrait hanging above the fireplace.
“That’s Blackbeard.” He said simply.
“That’s creepy.” Lucius murmured, taking a step back.
As he did, the rug beneath his feet slid unexpectedly, and he slipped, landing on his back with a crash. Stede tutted and rushed to help him up.
“Lucius! Lucius, are you alright? What happened?”
The younger man sat up, shaking himself out. Izzy snorted, and Stede shot him a stern look.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m suing you for everything you got in the divorce, but I’m fine. The rug slid, that’s all. You should get some of those sticky carpet things if you’re gonna keep that around.” He sounded startled, but stood and rejoined the group.
Izzy turned his attention back to the painting and cleared his throat to continue. Stede, contented with Lucius’ wellbeing, returned to Izzy’s side and refocused.
“As you know, Blackbeard was executed on this island in seventeen eighteen, on the very beach that this house overlooks. He scuttled his ship, the Queen Anne’s Revenge , just south of here to throw bounty hunters off his trail, and he struck out on the Adventure instead. What isn’t widely known is that the infamous captain dismantled part of the Queen Anne while she was scuttled and intended to use her wood and tacks as a way to repair the Adventure if things got out of hand. When Blackbeard was killed, the Adventure was taken, along with his head. But not before anything considered ‘unnecessary’ was left on the beach, from bodies to supplies. The wood from the Anne would be scavenged by locals and eventually used as the wood that forms the structure of this very house, and that’s why it’s called Queen Anne’s Cottage .”
It was a speech Izzy was extremely familiar with. He’d given it countless times before. But he’d never recited it under the hard stare of the uncanny painting in the sitting room. A shiver passed through him; he finally dropped his gaze.
Stede seemed enrapt, but unaffected otherwise.
“That’s incredible, Mr. Hands. What an amazing piece of history this house is. Thank you for sharing.” He said slowly.
Shaking himself free of his trance, he finally moved to part the curtains and open the windows on the side of the room facing the beach. Light streamed in, and gently caressed the edges of the portrait. Stede clapped his hands together to dust them off.
“There. I think dear Captain Blackbeard could use a little salt and sun after being cooped up in here for so long, don’t you?”
With that, he motioned to Lucius to follow him out of the room and back into the entryway so they could start up towards the second floor. Izzy lagged behind.
“I think you’ll find that’s for him to decide,” he muttered under his breath, before catching up with the other two men.
The upstairs tour was largely uneventful. The children had claimed a room as their own and were exploring every nook and cranny. Izzy half-heartedly showed Stede the full bathroom, closets, and additional guest room, where Lucius ducked in to determine if the place was livable or not. He vaguely gestured up in the hallway, and muttered something about an attic, but Stede figured he really didn’t need to make the trip without cleaning supplies and a dust mask. The last room on the list was the master bedroom.
Stede reached for the knob, but Izzy moved like lightning. He flattened himself against the door, blocking the way, and fixed his client with a grim stare. Stede put his hands on his hips indignantly.
“Really, Mr. Hands. I thought we were past all this.”
“Believe me, Mr. Bonnet,” Izzy spat, “I would very much like to take your money and never look back, but I have a responsibility to my cap—I mean, my boss. I highly recommend you turn around, take your namby-pamby little family, and leave right now .”
Stede didn’t want to suffer fools, but the man looked so deadly serious that it gave him pause.
“Can you at least tell me why?” He pleaded.
Izzy sighed, gaze sliding sideways before looking back at Stede.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.” Stede softened.
“House is haunted.” Izzy said simply.
Stede stared at him for a moment, before a peal of laughter escaped his throat. The smaller man in front of him bristled, anger rolling off of him in waves.
“That’s very funny! And just who is haunting this house, pray tell? Is it Blackbeard?” Stede said through convulsions of mirth.
“Yes.” Izzy wasn’t laughing. He looked at Stede as if the taller man had him at gunpoint.
Stede collected himself, and the conversation turned serious.
“Oh, dear. You really believe this ghost nonsense, don’t you?” He reached for the knob again, but Izzy moved with him.
“Yes. I do. And you would be very wise to clear out while you still can, Mr. Bonnet. Blackbeard prefers his privacy, and these are his private quarters.”
The writer rolled his eyes.
“Well, I don’t believe in ghosts. Even if I did, I have a lease, and your Dread Pirate Blackbeard does not. If he has something to say, he can use his words, man to man.”
A sound, like rumbling laughter, reached both of them in the hallway. Stede looked around.
“What was that?”
“Wind, probably. On account of you not believing in ghosts.” Izzy snarked.
“No, I most certainly do not, and I’ll ask you to refrain from telling these ridiculous ghost stories in front of my children. They’re very sensitive to that sort of thing. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see this final room.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” Izzy reluctantly stepped aside.
The door swung open with a slight creak, revealing a large, dusty room. Stede stepped in, reverent. Izzy followed, eyes darting around as if looking for something.
The bedroom somewhat resembled a ship’s cabin- at least, it did to Stede. There was a large wooden desk in the middle of the floor, as well as a single chair. Many nautical knicknacks covered the desk, and the floor around it. There were a couple chests of drawers against the walls. A small bed was stuffed into one side of the room under a run of windows. The sleeping area was separated from the rest of the room by a tattered curtain. A fireplace adorned the opposite side, as well as a small sitting area and a wall of built-in bookshelves. Behind the desk, a set of French doors opened onto the balcony.
Stede circled the room, step by step, taking it all in. He paused at the desk, running his fingers through the dust on the wooden top.
“Yes. I think this will do nicely.” He murmured, turning to look out at the view.
“Satisfied, Mr. Bonnet?” Izzy rasped, refusing to step over the threshold.
Stede turned back to reply, but his eyes alighted on something atop the desk. He picked up the small piece of blood red silk, turning it over gently in his fingers.
The wind picked up outside, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Is this yours?” He asked Izzy, who shook his head curtly in the negative.
“Huh. And you say no one but you has been here recently?”
“No.”
Stede gently patted the silk as he set it back down on the desk.
“Interesting. It’s a lovely piece of fine silk. There isn’t a speck of dust or any age discoloration on it. Aside from having one raw edge, it looks brand new, like it was only just put here. Just one of those things, I suppose.”
The wind died down, and no more thunder could be heard.
Stede made his way to the door, Izzy already long gone, when he heard something rustle from the bedroom. He turned back, staring hard at the desk.
The silk was gone.
Stede was lost in thought as he made his way back outside, coming around only when he heard Izzy’s voice from the front gate.
“Mr. Bonnet. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Stede asked quizzically. “What do you need me for tomorrow?”
Izzy shrugged.
“No one’s ever lasted the night in the Queen Anne. One way or another, you’ll change your mind about this place by morning.”
“For the last time, Mr. Hands,” Stede sighed, “there is no such thing as ghosts. Thank you for your concern, but we will be just fine here.”
The smaller man blinked.
“S’not you I’m concerned about, other than cleaning up the mess after.”
“After?” Stede quirked a brow.
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Bonnet. If you’re lucky.”
With that, he got in his car and peeled out, a trail of dust from the dirt road obscuring the otherwise pristine view of the beach.