Title: Trade with the Devil

Author: PineAppleLint

Disclaimer: Anything owned by Disney is not mine, but Terrence Gallagher's crew, ship, and adventures are all her own.

Rated: PG-13

Summary: The infamous Captain Jack Sparrow and daring Terrence Gallagher are at it again, and this time a new adventure is at the edge of the horizon: Terrence is given an interesting possession from a complete stranger, promising that she will look after it, and yet she finds that she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for...

A/N: My deepest apologies for the extended delay of this story...I do not wish to disappoint. Terrence Gallagher and Jack Sparrow are ready at last to provide you with a tale of intriguing suspense, action, comedy, and most of all...romance. I wish you all fair skies and a gentle breeze.

-PineAppleLint

* * *

Prologue

Terrence Gallagher paused before dipping her writing utensil into the inkwell once more, then scribbled furiously onto the blank parchment.

-This is not a slow and tedious tale about what we wished to have changed in the past and what we-

She paused, pulling her knotted hair into a careless bun, ignoring the few wisps that managed to escape the constraints and tickled at her nape.

-wish to accomplish in the future. A pirate's life is always an interesting thing to document, and now is a better time than any to begin this task. I wish not for details to escape my mind and I mourn for them later.-

Terrence smiled and stared out the open window, which was casually letting in a light draft. It would have been a humid night indeed, but the comforting breeze sated it. The moonlight caught the gentle rolling of the waves and allowed that entrancing sparkling off of the water to cast illuminating shadows about the dim cabin.

-So, dear reader, perhaps accounting for my vivid adventures will take some time and recollection, but I feel as if this task will pay off in the future. Let us start off about eight months ago, on the shores of Isla de Fuego...-

* * *

The 'invincible' Terrence Gallagher was feeling incredibly woozy from excess alcohol. It wasn't her fault...she blamed her ruthless crew. They were a bad influence on her...or perhaps she was a bad influence on them? It was a mutual feeling, really.

"One more, Cap'n!" Brookes bellowed and the others began to chuckle as she squinted into her empty mug, looking quite shocked.

"Did ye drink me rum, Gary?" she slurred, pointing an accusing finger in his direction, "Ye rotten scoundrel!"

Gary, a young man about five years younger than her with wild red hair and an abundance of freckles gracing his cheeks shook his head, amusement twinkling in his eyes. He was a shy lad, but a couple of months aboard the Dancing Horizon had done him a lot of good.

"Ye drank it yerself, Captain Gallagher! E'ry last drop, ye did!"

"Did I?" She squinted into her mug again and sighed, patting her abdomen heartily, "Well I suppose ye may be right about that one, Gary ol' boy. I lost track."

"One more, Gallagher, ye can do it!" Brookes shouted again from across the table. The fifteen men that also counted as her faithful crew waited for her response eagerly. Terrence was never one to back out of a drinking game.

She paused and her frown disappeared. "All right, Brookes! I'll wipe that stupid smirk off o' yer face and show ye what a real woman's made off, all right?"

"Aye!" Brookes answered gleefully, beginning to sway a bit in his chair.

"'ey!" she yelled to the nearest tavern wench, "One more drink o'er here!" The young woman nodded at her, her brown hair bobbing with her head movement, and she went to the bar to put in Terrence's request.

A brawl was happening three feet away, the punching only a mere instrument in the orchestra of the raunchy "Blushing Virgin" tavern located smack dab in the middle of Isla de Fuego.

"I 'eard this island is supposedly cursed!" Jacobs suddenly piped up after eyeing the wench that set down Terrence's drink. The whore winked at him through kohl lined eyes, making a sexual gesture with her hands before turning to serve the other customers.

"How so?" Terrence asked lazily, taking a sip of the new rum laid out before her, "There seems to be a lot o' curses these days, Jacobs. Pirates don't even bat an eye at them anymore. Well, except the superstitious ones like Pete."

The older gentleman pirate, Pete, had been a part of her crew from the very beginning. He always wore a vile full of garlic around his neck to protect him from the vilest spirits, preferably the 'blood loving creatures of the dead', as he put it. The stench wasn't that appealing when it came to the opposite sex. Terrence just rolled her eyes whenever he made a superstitious remark. He reminded her a lot of Mr. Gibbs aboard the Pearl.

Everyone laughed at Pete, who flushed and grasped his vile that hung loosely from the gold chain around his neck. His graying black hair gleamed in the candlelight as well as the sweat dripping down his forehead. It was a mite stuffy in the tavern, she had to admit. The weather was always warm on Isla de Fuego. Quite ironic, since it meant "Island of Fire".

"By the devil, Cap'n," Jacobs commented, "It is said that thousands of years ago, the devil himself set foot on this island and that his minions flourished here. Hence the name Isla de Fuego."

"Sounds like a crock o' shit if ye ask me," Gallagher smirked, placing her boots up on the table leisurely, "I don't see how the Devil would want to come here anyway. Maybe to take a break from running Hell?"

"Well, the story says that a man was possessed by Lucifer after a couple power lovin' mates were messin' with witchcraft and sorcery. Nearly destroyed everythin', those bastards did!" Pete said quietly.

Gallagher was about to make a sarcastic reply but bit her tongue. It was a hard task trying to control herself on a belly full of rum.

"I don't see how it's so hard for you to believe," Jacobs replied, pointing at her, "After all, Sparrow was cursed himself."

"That was a long time ago, Jacobs," she answered wearily, eyeing him, "And he got rid o' the damn curse. All's right with the world, aye?"

"Your so careful when we mention Captain Jack Sparrow," Brookes informed her, a mischievous grin spreading across his tanned, flushing face, "Like ye don't think we know what goes on behind closed doors when ye meet up with him in Tortuga every once in a while."

Terrence blinked and a few men chuckled at her surprised reaction. But she would not get embarrassed. They wanted to see her squirm and by God, she wouldn't have it.

"Ye want to know what goes on behind those closed doors, Brookes?" she winked. The crew actually quieted and stared at her, actually leaning in close to hear the details.

"Nah, I don't think ye gents are old enough to hear it," she said loosely with a flick of her hand. They groaned and she grinned as she finished off the last of her rum, then clinked the mug down.

"Yer no fun," Gary grumbled, flinching as a gunshot rang out amongst the yelling, laughter, and loud talk.

"Am I not?" Terrence looked down at her self and smiled, "Well right now I'm too drunk to care."

"Senora," a woman gasped from behind her. Terrence turned around to stare into an old woman's worried eyes. She had long grey hair and a Hispanic complexion. Her face was wrinkled from years of experience, from seeing too much; from witnessing life pass slowly by. Her sharp green eyes were studying her and she was mumbling Spanish to herself softly.

"May I help ye?" Terrence questioned with a frown, standing up from her chair, a bit unsteadily from the rum. Damn that rum.

"I...I have to give you something, por favor. Un regalo. For you, senora."

"A gift?" Terrence repeated, blinking, "Why?"

"Lo siento, where are me manners?" she said warmly, extending her hand, "I am Senora Gerterrez. I live in the next street. Soy una adivina. Fortune teller."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Pete cringing and stroking his vile.

"What do you want with me, Miss Gerterrez?"

"You have kind eyes. Por favor, watch over this for me. Keep it from harm." The old woman shakily held out a small cloth to her. Terrence took it from her gingerly, untrusting, but who would trust a stranger that came up to you and shoved something into your hands? It was not wise to be trusting on Isla de Fuego.

She unwrapped it carefully to reveal a small silver key. The tiny handle was encrusted with red rubies the color of fresh blood.

"Senora," she hesitated, "This most be worth much money. Why trust me with such a thing?"

"Just take it. The fires are coming. No time."

Gallagher shook her head, showing her she did not understand. The old woman closed her eyes and placed a hand over her forehead. "You have been through much, senora."

Terrence did not know how to reply. Her grey eyes looked over the woman. She had a dagger hanging from her belt, and she wore a colorful red dress. A black shawl was draped over her shoulders.

"Tienes ojos bonitos, senora. You must have a man back home." The crew, still accessing the situation, smiled at this remark.

Suddenly, she walked to the door quickly, preparing to leave. "Wait!" Terrence called, "Where are you going?"

"Home," Senora Gerterrez said gently, "And it's about time you do, too."

"Me ship is my home," Terrence said with a small smile.

"Freedom is most important," she replied, "And I trust that you shall keep this safe." She patted the small bundle still resting in Terrence's sweaty palm.

"Even if I am half drunk?" Gallagher joked.

"More like fully intoxicated, but your good judgment will shine through that. Good night and pleasant journeys." She began to walk slowly down the creaky steps when Gallagher stuck her head out the door.

"I shall return this to ye when we meet again, I suppose!" she half slurred, half shouted over the commotion of raunchy pirates.

The Hispanic woman kept walking confidently away, not breaking her stride or turning back to face her. She mustn't have heard Terrence's exclamation into the darkness.

Well, in fact, she did. Smiling sadly, Senora Gerterrez whispered, "It's too late for that."

* * *

Two hours later, Gallagher was standing at the helm, watching the horizon in front of her full of dark clouds ominously floating around in the black sky. The crew was busy tying and retying ropes, making sure the sails were catching a reasonable amount of wind, and if the Dancing Horizon was in need of any more assistance.

"Make quick, divvies!" she shouted, "The storm's comin' quick!"

She took out the small bundle from her pocket, examining the silver key once more. She leaned in close, examining it. She realized the rubies were in the shape of a serpent, and intricate carving in the key gave the small animal fangs and an icy glare. What could the key possibly open? Oh, the possibilities, but it wasn't her job to find out.

"Captain!" Jacobs yelled, "Take a look o'er there!"

Terrence glanced up and followed the direction Jacobs's finger was pointing to.

It was back in the direction they had come from. Isla de Fuego.

And the whole island was aflame.

* * * Reviews are delightful, if ye know what I mean. (wink) And sorry for my spanglish.