Page 9

Nine

F or the next three weeks, I researched 1718 and the events that happened in Nassau and New Providence Island. After the Spanish Fleet sank off the coast of Florida in 1715, lots of treasure seekers sailed from Nassau to the Florida Keys, picking up booty along the way.

Another hurricane swept through shortly after, delaying the Spanish recovery and placing treasure hunting in the top slot on a pirate’s to-do list.

Early Saturday morning, I sat in my comfy, overstuffed chair in my bedroom and flipped through a History on Pirates of the Golden Age , which Gertie had found in the archives at her library.

My phone rang on the side table next to me. Ace’s profile pic flashed on my screen. Ace wasn’t entirely upset about going to Nassau. He had a thing for men in tight breeches.

“Good morning,” I answered.

“Morning?” There was a brief pause. “Sorry, Hon, I’m in London, forgot about the time thing.”

“I figured, but it’s OK, I’m up. I’m working at the clinic today. I’ve got a new pirate book to plow through and I hoped to dig into it this morning.”

“Have you found any reason why Mortas is interested in 1718?” Ace asked. I heard a tinge of excitement in his voice.

“Nope. I have no idea what that scumbag is after.”

“I have a teensy clue.” His tone elevated on the word teensy, and I guessed it was bigger news than he led on.

“I visited my granddad today and mentioned I’m heading to the Golden Age of Piracy next moon cycle, and you know what he said?”

“No clue.” Ace had a way of dragging out a story, but I waited patiently, hoping it was a clue. His grandfather time traveled about the same time as Caiyan’s grandfather and my Aint Elma.

“He said you’re not chasing after that treasure map of Giorgio’s, are you?”

“Treasure map?”

“That’s what I asked. And get this. Apparently, there was a map that led to the King’s key.”

“A map that wouldn’t be helpful unless you had the King’s eye.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I had found the King’s eye on my jump to the Titanic , and Sasha had stolen it.

“Spot on. My granddad was a little put out because he wasn’t included in the shenanigans that went on during the rising of the King’s key. He was younger than the others.”

“The others?”

“Years ago, Gian-Carlo, James, and Giorgio attempted to steal the King’s key from the protector.”

“The who?”

“That’s right. There was a traveler assigned as protector of this big rock that apparently held the King’s key. And get this, Gian-Carlo, James, and Giorgio tried to steal it.”

“You’re pulling my leg, right?”

“Girl, I’m not pulling anything. My granddad says this is the truth. He swore on my Nanna Pooky Postlethwaite’s grave.”

“Did they get away with it?”

“No. Your Aunt Elma saved the day.”

“Really?” My heart swelled up with pride that my petite Aint Elma had saved the key from those idiots. “Wait, I thought she had a love affair with Giorgio?”

“I didn’t ask about those details because what happened after was way more interesting. The protector hid the key and drew up a map to the new location, then he tore it up.”

“Why?”

“He gave a piece to each of the main players in the game. Giorgio, James, Rogue, Gian-Carlo, and…Elma.”

“My aunt had the map?”

“Yes. A piece of it anyway. The protector told them no one would have the key unless they worked together to protect the key until the prophecy was fulfilled.”

Jeez. More about the stupid prophecy that it took the three to find the King’s key.

“If there were five of them, there’s two extra players in the prophecy game.” I chewed my lip, mulling over the possibility the descendants of these ruthless time travelers fulfilled the prophecy.

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Ace laughed, and I knew his eyes sparkled with the fresh gossip. “The four men couldn’t get along, which led to them stealing the eye from Rogue and kidnapping Rogue’s daughter.”

“And now that they’re dead, these map pieces have surfaced?”

“Granddad didn’t know. He’s getting on in the years, and his mind isn’t what it used to be, but maybe Sasha found a piece. Then you found the King’s eye, which she nicked from you, and now she has access to the key.”

“But she needs the other pieces of the map.”

“Bloody brilliant. You’re razor sharp in the morning.”

The morning wasn’t my sharpest time, but Ace’s information cleared the shadows. “Mortas has a piece.”

“I’d say so.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. Mortas could have used his henchman to take the other pieces. Why travel to Nassau?”

“Don’t know, Doll. At least we have a partial reason why he’s tracking Sasha. She’s got the eye and maybe a map. If Mortas had two pieces of the map, half is better than a fourth. And if Marco has another…”

“Marco would have told me if he had a map.” And Caiyan, too.

“Unless he doesn’t know what he’s got.” There was car noise in the background and a horn honking. “Gotta run, Doll, keep up the research. We’ll figure out what this bugger is after and catch our brigand with his knickers at his knees.”

Oh, jeez, I hoped not. I’d rather catch him attempting to change history and bring him to justice.

I ended the call with Ace and pulled out the drawing Marco sent in the chest. It looked like part of a skull, a treasure chest with some bushes around it. No X marks the spot or any recognizable landmarks. Definitely not a treasure map. Only the name Sea Storm scrawled in almost illegible handwriting under the skull. And why didn’t Caiyan tell me about a map? And where is Aint Elma’s map? So many questions.

I flipped through more pages of the book. According to the book, the famous British Captain Woodes Rogers sailed into Nassau and created a blockade, forcing pirates to accept a pardon. The pardon gave the pirates their freedom. Most couldn’t hang in the land of farming and fishing and returned to piracy.

I rubbed my eyes. I couldn’t read another word about Charles Vane or blockades or pirates. Maybe I’d look at the pictures. A picture’s worth a thousand words, right?

If history is correct, my jump is around this time. I hoped to find Marco on New Providence Island with both feet on land, hopefully sick of chasing Sasha and happy to come home with me.

Was Mortas Mafuso after Sasha’s map and the eye? I had a hard time picturing Mortas plundering the high seas wearing a white linen shirt open to the navel and with the wind blowing his Nazi haircut.

Skimming a few more pages, I paused on a drawing of an unknown pirate that could have been Mortas. “Why have you been jumping to Nassau, you vile sleazeball?”

I snapped a picture of the drawing and sent it to Ace, captioned Mortas Mafuso.

A few minutes later, he texted, “I’d give all the gold in Nassau to see him like this.”

* * *

I searched for a pirate captain who allowed women on his ship. Jake told me boarding a pirate ship was a hard no, but I would be ready to save Marco at all costs.

It was unclear if Vane allowed women on board. I’d have to copy Sasha and dress as a man if Marco was on his ship. I knew Calico Jack wouldn’t mind a woman, but as of that July, he was still Vanes’ quartermaster.

There wasn’t any information on a ship called the Sea Storm . I closed the book. If I didn’t find Marco on the next jump, he’d be arrested before I could return in August. If Marco was in jail, why hadn’t he escaped? Surely, he could get out of an eighteenth-century prison.

I sipped the coffee I’d neglected on my side table and made a sour face. It was cold. I glanced at my clock. Damn. I was late. I had to be at the chiropractic office by 8:30. Since I’d showered last night, I could get away with dry shampoo, a ponytail, and a quick drive-through at Micky D’s.

After putting on my Saturday scrubs, I hauled butt downstairs two at a time. Gertie was on her way up with an iPad and coffee.

“Good morning. I’m late.”

“What’s new,” she said, not glancing up from her iPad.

“I was on time yesterday.” OK, maybe on time was being a bit generous, but I was there before the patients, so that counts.

“Whatev’,” I heard her say as I rushed down the stairs and slid out the door.