Page 32

Thirty-Two

V ane strode toward Mortas with murder in his eyes. I threw myself in Vane’s path. He couldn’t kill Mortas. My inner voice stomped on my moral compass and added The Matrix movie’s iconic beckoning hand gesture. I agreed with her. It would solve many problems but killing him was wrong.

Rowan grabbed me around the waist and swooped me out of the way like I was an annoying bird shitting on the freshly swabbed deck.

Vane stopped in front of Mortas. In one swift movement, he cut the ropes from the beastly brigand’s wrists.

Ace let out a disappointed, “Bullocks.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Mortas rubbed his wrists and gave me a searing look before joining the angry pirate’s crew.

I was dumbfounded. “I thought?—”

“Dinnae have thoughts.” Rowan released me. “Thoughts weel get ye tossed overboard.”

To my horror, the crew stared at me like this might actually happen.

Vane pointed out at the open ocean. “Silver suggests we sail toward Cayo Hueso . The treasure is near Bone Island.”

“Bone Island,” passed through nervous mutterings of the crew.

“Do ye trust Silver speaks the truth?” Rowan asked Vane. “No one has returned from Bone Island and lived to tell the tale.”

“Aye, I persuaded him to be forthright.” Vane made a fist and displayed his swollen knuckles. “This time weel keep a close eye on ya until we reach the treasure.” He turned and crossed the planks that connected the two ships, followed by Mortas and his crew.

Rowan waited until they pulled the planks back onboard, then barked orders at the crew. The crew untied the Ranger from the Sea Storm , tossing thick ropes across open water separating the two ships.

Marco’s eyes, make that the eye that hadn’t met Vane’s fist held mine as the ships separated. Rackham yanked him to his feet and took him below decks.

Once the vigilant shepherd had secured his flock and the Sea Storm was underway, Rowan returned to me. “Ye need to stay oot of trouble, healer. Take yer manservant, mend his wound.”

“What about Captain Kirk?”

“Kirk isnae yer concern.” Rowan’s blue eyes turned to hard slits. “Ye weel mend the cook and return him to the galley.” Those fiery blue slits focused on Ace. “Dinnae be like the slug, or I’ll return ye to Vane.”

“Aye, aye Cap-i-tan.” Ace saluted with bound hands.

Rowan removed his knife from its sheath and cut away Ace’s bindings.

In a flash, Shrug was at my side, poking me in the ribs with his rifle.

Ace oinked at Shrug, and he immediately dropped the rifle to his side.

I stepped in front of Rowan before he could stomp away and motioned at Shrug. “Is a guard necessary? I’m sure Mister Shrug has more important duties.” When Rowan didn’t comment, I added, “Where am I going to go?” I waved my hand at New Providence Island, now only a speck on the horizon.

“’Tis for yer safety, Miss.” Rowan bowed, turned on his heel, and ascended the stairs toward the bow.

Shrug lifted his rifle to nudge me, thought twice, and splayed his palm toward the aft of the ship. “Be on yer way, witches.”

“At least I’m part of the coven,” Ace mumbled as we headed for that damn ladder.

* * *

Back in my cabin, Ace slouched in the chair while I unwrapped the dirty bandage around his arm.

“So how did Max sneak around Vane and then outrun him by a day’s chase?” Ace wanted to know.

I filled him in on Max’s abilities.

“Blimey, jumping a vessel of this size, truly amazing.”

“What happened to your arm?” I poured rum on the bandage to loosen it from the wound.

“Ssssshit, that burns,” Ace hissed. “Vane slashed me when I couldn’t lift another log for his fireship. I mean bloody ’ell those logs weighed a ton, and I’d already quartered three of them with a saw older than Moses.”

“The fire was spectacular.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Ace beamed. “I told ’em we didn’t need more logs because the whole bloody ship’s made of wood, but he insisted he needed to kindle the fire. And then he sliced me arm. That one has anger management issues. He could use a good therapist.”

“Where is Cayo Hueso?” I asked.

Ace’s brows lifted. “You’d know it better as Key West, but I’ve never heard of Bone Island, and based on the rumblings from the crew, it sounds like the land version of the Bermuda Triangle.”

“If we’re sailing to the Florida Keys, how long do you think that will take?” I washed Ace’s cut and rummaged in the medical bag Rowan had dropped off earlier for something that might prevent gangrene.

“If we have the wind, maybe two days.”

“Two days?” I shrieked. “I’ll go stir crazy in this cabin for two days.”

Ace gave me a pathetic scowl. “Try cooking a pig on a candle.”

I stopped digging through the bottles and tins and looked up at Ace. “They brought the pig?”

“Both of ’em. We should ’ave dumped Shrug in the tar pits.” We stifled a shared giggle. “Ned told me they brought the pig while you were trying to save the life of our most hated villain.”

“Yeah, that was stupid. I couldn’t stand by and let Vane have all the glory. I didn’t know they were best buds.” I rattled around in the medicine bag, steadily removing glass bottles and lining them up on the table.

“What’s that, love?”

“It’s the medicine bag from the Lark’s doctor, but the bottles’ labels are in Latin.”

“Doll, you should have studied in Latin class.”

I pulled out a large syringe that looked more like a caulking gun than a doctor’s tool. “What’s this?”

“And paid closer attention in medieval medicines class.” Ace let out a pitiful sigh as if I were the weak link in our chain of time travelers. “That’s the thing they use to treat syphilis. You know, a shot of mercury into the eye of the snake.”

“Ick.” I sat the tool on the table and rummaged through the bag again.

“For heaven’s sake,” Ace rolled his eyes so far back in his head I thought he was having a seizure. “Look for something with a grease base to protect the cut.”

I opened a tin and smelled it. “This one smells like honey and looks like the grease Mamma Bea keeps in a coffee can under her kitchen sink.”

Ace took the tin and read the label. “That’ll do.” He examined another bottle on the table. “Sleeping potion. This might come in handy.” He pocketed the bottle and took an anesthetic swig of the rum.

I doctored his cut with the smelly mud and wrapped his arm with a clean cloth.

He stood and put his shoulder through a few ranges of motion. “Not bad, Florence Nightingale.”

“Wait and see if your arm turns black and falls off before you sing my praises.”

“Gurl, do not joke about such things.” Ace’s face screwed into a mock panicked expression.

I dug out the antibiotics I’d carefully stowed and handed one to Ace. “I brought some antibiotics. Just in case.”

He popped the pill and washed it down with the rum. “I told ’em you weren’t all boobs and no brains.”

“Who said that?”

“Um.” Ace backpedaled away from me.

I picked up the penis gun and aimed it at his crotch. He winced, slowly sat down the rum bottle, and held up his hands in fake surrender. “I might have overheard Captain Kirk tell our favorite brigand, Captain Crunch, those exact words.”

Caiyan. The rat.

“I’m sure he was playing nice with Mortas by distancing himself from you. I’d say he was protecting you, in an odd way, but protecting nonetheless.” He took the gun from my hand and dropped it into the medicine bag.

“I don’t want his protection. I want him to treat me as an equal.” A lot of silence followed my announcement.

Ace scooted onto my bed and swung his legs back and forth until the wood ceiling popped and creaked. “Blimey, hard to believe the kid’s able to jump an entire ship. Do you think he’s a transporter?”

“I’m guessing yes since an entire crew survived the lateral jump.”

“Funny how my grandfather tried to keep me in the closet. Afraid for the WTF to find out about me.”

“You’re talking about your gift, right?”

“Absolutely darling, there’s no hiding the gay me. I thought I was the only male transporter, but now they’re coming out all over the place. First Toches and now Max. I don’t feel special anymore.” Ace’s shoulders slumped.

“C’mon Ace, you’ve got a special talent. No one else would be able to jump in their lucky undies.”

“I do have a flair for fashion.” Ace perked up. “So, Max’s mother’s vessel was a submarine?”

“Yeah, Mortas described Lidiya’s vessel as an iron whale. I assume it was a sub like Sasha’s and Fredericka’s vessels.” I opened one of the medicine bottles and sniffed. “Eesh, this smells like sweaty gym socks.”

“How d’you think Max got this vessel?” Ace arced his arm toward the room.

I capped the bottle, placing it back in the bag. “No idea. Maybe it was her gift.”

Ace shot up, almost tipping out of the bed. “Brilliant. We’ve got a name for those.” He tapped his finger to his lips. “What were they called? We haven’t had one in ages.”

I paused, recalling the story Caiyan told me when we first met. “Caiyan told me the first travelers could control the gift and transfer it from one inanimate object to another.” Even though my teammates poked fun at my outhouse, it had grown on me, sort of like a puppy dropped on my doorstep. Now, I was attached. “Jumping in a vessel other than my outhouse would feel weird.”

“That’s it!” Ace snapped his fingers triumphantly. “A wielder. I’m sure of it. You’d think the crew would have bloody questions popping out of peril like a leaping leprechaun.”

“The crew turns a blind eye. They think the Sea Storm is a ghost ship. Rowan acts like it’s all in a day’s work, but Max thinks he’s cursed.”

“Cursed?” Ace thought about it a beat. “Maybe we are.”

“We are not cursed. This special thing we do is magic. The Ancalites acquired the gift to save their starving tribe.”

“And now?” Ace hopped down from the bed and walked to the window. “What is the purpose now?”

I couldn’t immediately answer. Save the world from the Mafusos? Fix the future? Fulfill a prophecy? I wasn’t entirely sure. In the end, I gave him my favorite part of my gift. “So, we can jump to Sorrento on a hot summer day and drink fresh limoncello.”

“I’ll drink to that. A fresh limoncello would be quite refreshing.” He picked up the bottle of rum and toasted me, taking a drink. “What are the chances we find the treasure and get the ’ell out of here with all our favorite parts intact?”

“There’s a good chance a lot of Spanish treasure is at the bottom of the sea. The famous treasure hunter Mel Fisher didn’t find it until 1985. Of course, he was using special equipment but since we’re three hundred years earlier, I hope it’s more visible.”

“I assume it’s not in knee-deep water, or it would ’ave already been spoken for. How are we going to get it?”

“How good are you at holding your breath?”

“Not that good, doll.”

“If we find the King’s key, the game has only begun. The prophecy states the key is a golden armor and holds all the keys. I assume we’ll have to piece it back together while keeping evil hands at a distance.”

“And there’s the teensy issue of collecting all the keys. Especially the ones the Mafusos have secured around their dirty, rotten necks.”

“Let’s worry about that later. Right now, I need to get Marco back on this ship and figure out how to beat Mortas and Sasha to the King’s key.” I stood and paced the room. “And then there’s Max.”

Ace leaned back and eyed me. “Are you thinking about adding a passenger?”

“He doesn’t belong here.”

“Max grew up here. It’s the only home he’s ever known.”

“What if Mortas summons Mahlia, and they cart him off to our time?” I slapped my skirts with a theatrical groan. “He’s not a pirate. He may be able to stomp around, curse like a pirate, shoot like a pirate, but without Rowan’s help, his life span is short. Most pirates don’t live past thirty.”

“And what about tall, dark, and stormy? He won’t step aside even if we could get to Max before half-sies brother Mortas gets his slimy hands on him.”

“If we can find the treasure, I hope I can convince Rowan.” I smoothed my bunched skirt. “Do you think it’s possible for Max to return to our time?”

“Since Max was conceived in the present but born here, it’s a gamble. With Mortas playing long-lost family, promising things he can’t possibly deliver, it might be harder than you think to convince Max our side is the better choice.”

“At least Rowan wants to keep Mortas far away from Max.”

“Rumor has it that once we find the gold, half the ship’s crew is joining up with Vane.”

“They are?” This was not good news.

“I heard it through the cook’s grapevine. It’s amazing what they talk about thinking I’m a nobody.”

“You are definitely not a nobody.”

Ace smiled wide. “You can say that again. Who’d of thought I’d be cooking for a bunch of pirates?”

“Smugglers.” I reminded him.

“You can tell yourself that, but they helped Vane snatch plenty of stolen booty before we made our great escape. The talk of signing up with vile Vane gave the crew a gleam in their eyes that they didn’t have when they were hiding tobacco and sugar.”

“Yeah, Vane’s got in their heads.”

“Captain Vane also has a stash of the Spanish treasure in his footlocker.” Ace examined his nails and frowned.

“If he already has Spanish treasure, why is he sailing for more?”

“Maybe he only has a little bit.” Ace held his fingers apart an inch.

“But he would already know where to find it.”

“Maybe he didn’t find it. Maybe someone gave it to him.” Ace shrugged his shoulders.

“Like Lidiya, along with the piece of her map.”

Ace raised his eyebrows. “Why would she do that?”

“To protect her family from Vane.” A prickly tingle skittered up my spine. “And now, Mortas has promised him so much more, but only if he gets the King’s key.”

“And based on Vane’s history, he’ll never allow Mortas to leave with something so valuable. I smell a double-cross.”

“Damn. Max will never leave Rowan if Vane takes all the gold and half his crew. Rowan won’t be able to give up smuggling.”

“If only we could find something that would entice Max to leave this hellish life and come with us.”

“I can agree to marry him.”

Ace chuffed. “What will yer betrothed think about that?”

I chewed my lip at the deceptive idea. There was no way I could follow through. What would my parents think? “My betrothed is locked in a cell. I’m surprised he hasn’t bothered to free himself.”

“If I know McGregor, there’s a plan in the works.” Ace sat in the chair across from me.

“It would be nice if he’d include me in his planning.”

“Did you tell him you were planning to bring the boy home with you?” Ace’s lips pulled into a smarty pants smirk.

“Not yet.” I scowled at his wise-guy assessment. “I need to figure out a way to convince Max first.”

“True, gurl. No sense upsetting the Scot before you ’ave the boy committed to our cause.” Ace tapped his fingers on the table. “You need to encourage Max.”

“Like how?” My tone reflected a big negative at anything sexual.

“I didn’t mean play footsie with ’im. I meant Max would be enchanted by our technology. Entice ’im with something that will make him want to go. Leave Rowan.”

Ace was right. “What would make a sixteen-year-old boy want to leave his home and join the WTF?”

“Girls?” Ace suggested.

“No. The crew have introduced him to the tavern and all it has to offer, but he’s not interested. His mother taught him good manners.”

“What about video games?”

“I don’t think he’d understand the concept.” I closed the medicine bag and bent over to place it in the chest. A carved object was wedged in the leather straps lining the inside of the chest. I thought about all the wooden figurines Max whittled. I picked it up and left the medicine bag. I ran my hand over the square block of wood and along the curved top.

“Is that some sort of box?” Ace examined the item in my hand.

It wasn’t a box, it looked like… a car. Max’s mother had told him about more than how to be respectful to women.

“Cars. If Max saw Marco’s vessel, he’d love it.” Was it possible Max’s mother had told him about cars like she’d taught him the Elton John song? Possibly preparing him to return to her time?

“Unless we remove the extra rowboats, there’s not enough room on the bow of the Sea Storm .” Ace pointed out.

“If we get off the ship at Bone Island, we might have a chance there.”

“Bone Island sounds delightful.”

Yeah, delightfully deadly.