Page 2

Two

M arco stepped outside the tavern, and I followed him. We weaved through the streets of Nassau. The full moon balanced like a huge pearl on the horizon. Its beams reflected off a path of creamy cobblestones leading to cresting waves and illuminating the silhouettes of ships anchored in the harbor.

We were stopped by a gypsy selling trinkets from a cart. A colorful parrot rode shotgun on her left shoulder. She held up a bottle at Marco. “Are ye in need of a potion to gird yer loins?”

“Gird yer loins?” the parrot repeated.

Marco politely shook his head. “No. Thanks.” She sent me a toothless smile and handed me twigs tied with a ribbon. “Or perhaps, make love like a king?”

“Like a king?” the parrot mimicked.

Marco gave a chuckle that meant he already conquered that realm.

“They’ll bring ye luck.” The leathery skin at the corners of the gypsy’s eyes crinkled at Marco.

Marco looked down at the twigs. “I make my own luck.”

“He’s good. Thank you.” I returned the twigs.

“Bilge sucker.” The parrot squawked at me.

I looked at the gypsy. She lifted her shoulder indicating she might agree with the parrot.

“Let’s go.” Marco clasped my elbow and steered me away.

I shuffled down the long, sloping road. My pointy-toed shoes pinched, and I counted the minutes until I’d leave them in the past.

As we turned toward the beach, my ESP went berserk. I stopped short and rode the wave of someone else’s excitement.

“What’s up?” Marco nudged me. “I don’t need the twiggy thing.”

“I got a read on Sasha.” I paused a minute to confirm. “At least I think it’s her and not the potty-mouthed parrot or the twig-toting gypsy. Let’s hope neither one of them has the gift.”

Marco looked down at the beach. A few men stood next to a beached rowboat. No Sasha. “Tell me.”

“I wasn’t even trying. It hit me like a bag of seashells. Excitement, anxiety, and—” I paused to let the full depth of emotion wash over me. “And satisfaction. She’s made headway in her quest.”

“Where is she?”

And just like that, it stopped. Sasha slammed the window on her emotions. My shoulders slumped. “She blocked me. Maybe she realized she’d let her guard down.”

“Let’s walk down to the water. Check out the men getting on that boat. One of them could be Sasha.”

“Marco, the time.” I tapped my naked wrist.

“Minutes. That’s all I need to confirm.” He stalked off toward the beach.

“Geesh.” I speed-walked to catch up to Marco. Not an easy feat in the dress my outhouse had provided for me. My stomach jostled like the ships floating in an unsettled harbor, warning me it was jump time. The cobblestones turned into a rutted, sandy path.

We drew closer, using a stack of fallen timber as a barrier between us and the beach. Four men, possibly pirates, waited by the rowboat, their faces hidden in shadow.

I squinted at the slim man on the left. He was shorter than the others, wore his hair tucked under his cap, and kept looking around as if he expected someone to sneak up on him.

A few minutes later, two more men joined them. They seemed to be making introductions. One of them was Calico Jack.

I glanced over at Marco. “The one on the left is a possibility. He’s shorter than the others.”

The men pushed the boat into the water and climbed aboard. The slim man cut his eyes in our direction.

“It’s her.” Marco started toward the boat. I grabbed his arm.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

Marco increased his pace. I lost hold of his arm, so I tugged at his coattails instead. “You can’t go after her. There’s six of them. I’m not even sure it’s her.”

His momentum tore the coat from my fingers as he sprinted down the beach.

“Marco!” I chased after him, grasping my skirts and lifting them to run across the sand in these piss-poor, painful, pointy-toed shoes. He was gaining ground, and I was losing it. He was unarmed, heading straight into a band of possible pirates.

The men rowed away from the beach. It was too dark to see their faces.

Marco stopped when the waves licked his calves, his shoes sunk into the sand. “Sasha!” He called out before I could reach him.

The head of the man in question shot up, and her anger trembled through me. She wasn’t happy that Marco had identified her.

I stopped at the edge of the wet sand, out of breath and out of time. He had his hand on his key. “Fuck. It’s too far for me to use my gift.”

Marco’s gift was slowing time for a few minutes. A few lifesaving minutes I had personally experienced on several previous travels.

Frustration, worry, and something like excited butterflies hit me in the chest. For the first time, I wished I couldn’t read Marco.

We watched the men row toward the ship until they disappeared, all except for a small dot of light from their lantern bobbing across the inky darkness. The lantern light climbed up the side of the ship and vanished.

Marco sloshed out of the water and back to where I stood speechless on the beach. “She’s gone.”

My stomach gave that little flip that it does when the moon cycle is getting near its end. “Looks like we’re going to have to research this in our time because the moon cycle is closing. Let’s go.” I tugged Marco’s sleeve, urging him to walk back to the small patch of woods where we had arrived in this rugged place.

He didn’t budge.

The sea breeze blew my hair, and I could taste its salt on my tongue. I was ready to go home. My nails, in need of a manicure, clamped down on Marco’s arm. I had to convince him to leave. “It would be much easier if you would return to the present. We can do the research and come back next month.”

Marco stared out at the harbor. “If Sasha finds what she’s looking for, and I’m assuming since Mortas is here, it’s a key, she’ll have the King’s eye and a new key.”

“Are you sure it’s the King’s eye that you’re staying for and not something else?”

“Why else would I stay?” He tried to sound casual, but didn’t fool me.

“Your feelings for her could put you in danger.”

He huffed. “I’m in charge of this mission, I know how to do my job. I’ll say if I stay or if I go, and I’m staying.”

I didn’t want to stay. “What should I tell your family? What about Angel? Your parents? And what do I tell Jake?”

Our boss, CIA agent Jake McCoy, wouldn’t approve of Marco staying behind.

He stepped away from me, breaking our contact. “I’m starting test trials next month. I don’t have to be anywhere until after the next moon cycle. Tell them I’m taking a sabbatical. Tell them I’m turning off my cell phone. Tell them I’m on a beach having some me time.”

“You want me to lie for you?”

“It’s not lying. My cell phone is off.”

“Just taking a sabbatical on a beach in 1718.” I clasped my hands together in awkward prayer hands. “I’m begging you to come with me.”

His eyebrows shot upward. “Begging, huh? Not sure you’ve ever begged before.” He held up a finger. “I take that back. There was that one time on the Titanic .”

“Due to one too many Gin Rickeys.” And I thought maybe it was a shame we didn’t hook up then. Maybe his attention wouldn’t be on Sasha now if we had. Maybe it would be on me. Of course, that would be a problem because my attention should be focused on Caiyan.

“I’ve got to get on that ship.” Marco pointed at the boat in the distance. Only a few dots of light could be seen through open portholes moving around inside the wooden vessel. “It’s dark. They’re not going to set sail tonight. The captain’s just prepping, getting his crew out of the beds of the prostitutes and back on board.”

“It’s not her.” I fidgeted with my dress sleeve. “I probably had a false read.”

“It’s her. I’d recognize her anywhere.”

Marco had a point. The size was right. The way the man carried himself was right. And the unmistakable anger that almost knocked me out of my shoes was right. I wished it was wrong. All of it.

“If she’s going on board as a man, she’ll need to do better than that.” Marco placed his hands on his hips. “I could tell she was female from a distance.”

I wondered how much experience Sasha had at pretending to be a man. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. On a prior jump, I’d pretended to be a Confederate officer in the American Civil War, and it was more difficult than putting on a pair of slacks and occasionally adjusting the jewels.

“She’s obviously gotten in good with a member of the crew to be asked aboard.” One of those men looked important, not like a deckhand or a cook, but like somebody with authority. I moved to stand in front of Marco and placed my hands on his arms.

“You think—” He paused, swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple yo-yoed like a fish bobber. “You think she’d…”

Oh, brother. Marco had it bad for this girl. I could feel the jealousy brewing. Time to calm down the blond god and get his butt back to base.

“She’s dressed as a man. I doubt she’s using her feminine wiles to woo the captain. Most likely, she offered herself up as an extra hand for whatever reason she finds it necessary to get on that ship.” What I didn’t add was it looked like she was staying through the moon cycle. It was doubtful that once they rowed out to the ship, she’d have enough time or privacy to make a jump.

I looked up the beach. A figure stood at the top of the hill. The glow of a nearby building illuminated his face. Mortas stared out at the waves, toward the ship Sasha boarded. He glanced in my direction, and a shiver skittered down my spine. Then, like a creepy magician, he disappeared into the shadows.

“We need to ask around, find out where that ship is heading.” Marco turned toward town.

“Great idea. Let’s do that on the next jump.”

Marco jogged up the beach, back the way we came. I scrambled after him, kicking sand, then running across the cobblestones like a galloping horse.

“Marco. The woods.” I panted out the words as I caught up with him. “Jump site. Moon cycle ending. Pain. No indoor plumbing.” I grabbed his coat and dug my heels in.

He dragged me along behind him, finally stopping when we got to the gypsy cart.

“Marco, we have to go home.” I stomped a demanding foot.

“I’ve got to find out where that ship is headed.”

“OK, yeah, great. Let’s jump back to our time. Do the recon. We can come back next month and figure out how to get Sasha.”

“Dat be Vane’s ship.” The gypsy spoke from her perch on the wagon.

I jumped at her creaky voice. Marco’s mouth dropped open, then clamped shut in a stubborn-as-a-jackass frown. We had forgotten about her, and she’d heard everything we’d said. Hopefully, she couldn’t make any sense of it.

“He be gatherin’ his crew, what’s left of ’em, an headin’ out ta sea.” She spat on the ground. “The way he treats his crew ’tis shameful. Vane’s the devil himself, he is.”

“Charles Vane?” Marco’s face went pale when the gypsy nodded.

He pulled me out of hearing distance.

“There must be a reason she’s with them, and next month will be too late to find out what that is. Charles Vane has a reputation as one of the most brutal pirates. If he discovers her identity, he could hurt her, or sell her, or…” His words trailed away, but his eyes pleaded for me to understand.

I turned my head, clapping my leather sole on the cracked cobblestone. “You can’t stay. The moon cycle’s almost over.”

“Jen, this may be our only chance to get her. I’m staying. Go back. Tell Agent McCoy whatever you want.”

“Marco, I can’t leave you.”

“Jennifer Cloud, you made your choice a long time ago. Now I’ve made mine. Go home. Go back to Caiyan. As soon as I find Sasha, we’ll come home, together.”

My chest felt tight, not from the impending jump, but because I didn’t want to leave him. But I couldn’t manhandle his billboard-worthy, sex-God body into my outhouse. I was tired of this smelly, sandy den of vice and vulgarity. My heart felt twisty, like a wrung-out dishrag.

It would take time for him to locate this Vane guy and figure out where they were taking Sasha. Possibly that ship would be underway before he could get aboard. He’d hang out in Nassau, find some wench to take him in and nurse him through the painful experience of staying during a closed moon cycle. Then, next full moon, he’d come home.

“Fine.” I looked up at him. “Have it your way. Stay. Suffer the pain of a moon cycle in a time where hydrocodone doesn’t exist.”

“It can’t be any worse than being shot twice or getting knocked unconscious by a flying deck chair.”

I had a feeling it would be worse, but lesser men than Marco had lived through it. I turned to leave, full of piss and fury.

“Wish me luck?” His voice wavered with nervous energy.

I whirled around, yanked him into my arms and hugged him. Not the hug of a scorned lover, but the hug of a friend.

“I wish you the best of luck.”

“Jen. Go home. Do the research. Figure out where that ship is headed. See if Sasha changed the history books. I’ll come home as soon as the next moon cycle opens. I swear I’ll make the jump. I just need some time to convince Sasha to come back with me.” He kissed the top of my head.

“I’ll die if something happens to you.” My face smushed into his chest. Scents of meat and fish hung in the air with the salty sea, but I inhaled only the scent of him. “Promise me you’ll come back, even if you don’t find Sasha. Because if you don’t, I’m coming after you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, period.” He hugged me tight. A Marco hug, the way he used to hug me. His nearness warming my body and my fractured heart.

In the distance, waves crashed against the beach, boats creaked, men sang the tune of pirates, and a piece of my heart chipped off, like a broken seashell washed up on the beach by a supernatural force and forgotten.