He finally did as he was told, though the task was hard for his young arms. He strained and gritted his teeth, determined to do the job, and hoped the pirate would show him mercy. As dawn began to break over the horizon, he could see a bloody trail where he’d dragged the bodies into the water.
“What now, Cap’n?” the boy asked, praying for the first time in his life that he’d hear a different answer than the one he expected.
Rafe laughed. “Now I give you a chance to live, my fine boyo. You swim, don’t you?”
He gestured with the saber toward the open sea. The boy began to walk into the cold water. “Don’t turn around,” Rafe instructed. “And don’t be telling everyone about this if you make it to shore. I’ll know if ye do and come after you. I’ll slit you from throat to gullet.”
The boy’s anxious eyes searched the horizon, hoping for some sign that the British ships were still out there. But the chances were that they thought Rafe had gone down with his men. They wouldn’t stay there to check the island. He was alone. There was nothing for it but to swim if he wanted to survive.
The water was up to his chin before he began moving his arms and legs through the waves. Maybe there was some small chance that he could make it. If he did, he vowed to come back for the treasure—and kill Rafe Masterson.
And I woke up, coughing and sputtering, my throat burning like I’d swallowed seawater.
I forced myself to take deep breaths until I felt more normal. It was morning. I got out of bed, thankful that my pirate ancestor was nowhere to be seen. It would take some time before I could look at him without remembering the terrible things I’d witnessed.
They were real events—at least they’d seemed real. I had the strongest feeling that the little cabin boy I’d spent time with last night had grown up and taken his revenge on Rafe. All I had to do was find some way to prove it.
I was thrilled to find out that we had hot water for a shower—the power must have come back on during the night. Every electrical gadget in my bedroom was blinking. I showered, got dressed and headed downstairs. I wanted to help Kevin today. He was going to need an extra hand.
Gramps was gone, leaving a note that asked me to keep an open mind until we could have a sensible conversation. I knew it would happen. We both loved each other. We’d find a way to make up. He’d forgiven me my youthful transgressions on numerous occasions. I wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him forever.
He’d left pancakes in the microwave and coffee in the pot. The sun was shining brightly through the kitchen windows. Everything was looking up—including the pirate sitting at the kitchen table.
“It’s about time,” he said. “I thought ye were going to lay abed like some princess all day! We have work to do!”
Chapter 23
I yawned and heated up my pancakes, then drank some juice. “Speaking of work, I did some last night after you were gone. I called you but you didn’t answer.”
“I’m not some damn lapdog to be at your beck and call,” he growled.
“Sorry. But I need to know the magistrate’s name.”
I found it difficult to talk to him after last night’s dream. But I had to keep this in context if I wanted to get rid of him. What he’d done had happened more than three centuries ago. I wasn’t so into history that it was like yesterday for me. Even if the dream was true—I had to move on.
“I don’t know his name,” he roared. “He was the magistrate who wrongly accused me and made me dance on the gibbet. What do I care about his name?”
“Pancakes?” I offered before I started eating.
He frowned. “Even a daft wench like yerself must know the dead don’t eat.”
“You’ve never seen a zombie movie, I take it.” I poured syrup on my plate. “I was just being polite. Did you find out anything last night about Sandi’s murder?”
“Mayhap,” he said in a coy manner, pulling at his mustache. “I’ll trade for your information.”
“I don’t think you’d want to if you heard it.”
“Tell me and I’ll decide.”
“You killed two sailors who buried your treasure chest on an island, and then you sent a young cabin boy to his death in the ocean.”
His black brows knit together over his fierce eyes. “It’s possible. What of it? What does it have to do with me being hanged?”
I shrugged. “Maybe nothing. I just wanted to know if my dream was real. It seemed real.”
“That’s right.” He nodded. “The Bellamys were always being accused of witchcraft. What else did you dream?”
“That’s it. Like I said, I don’t know if it means anything or not.”
“Blast your hide! And you want me to trade my valuable information for that piece of fluff?” He couldn’t manage to pound his fist on the table—it never actually met the wood. But the salt and pepper shakers and napkins bounced up anyway.
“I guess that’s up to you. I told you what I have. How do you know your information will be any more valuable to me? I mean, let’s face it, half of what you’re seeing and hearing has got to be confusing for you. You probably don’t even realize what information you have.”
His entire form rose up from the chair to hang above the table. He looked like an angry giant. He put his hands on his hips and glared down at me. “You push my patience to the limit, girl, even if you are blood kin. Ye don’t realize who you’re dealing with.”
I ate some of the pancakes on my plate even though my hands were trembling. He was scary—I don’t think anyone would disagree with that. But I knew if I showed him that I was afraid, he’d take advantage of me. I had to at least pretend I had the upper hand, even though I wasn’t sure I did.
“You’re so sensitive,” I told him after another sip of juice. “I’m surprised you made it as a pirate at all. If I could hurt your feelings just by suggesting you might not know everything, what happened when someone actually challenged you to a fight?”
“I killed whoever challenged me!” His voice rattled the window pane behind me and made the floors creak upstairs.
I stood up and put my hands on my hips. “You might’ve been tough when you were alive—but you’re not anymore. Stop trying to scare me into doing what you want. It won’t work. Don’t forget—we’re blood kin and I think I may have some pirate in me. Be warned!”
He blasted out of the house, sending every electrical appliance crazy (more than they were already from the storm). The doors flew open, and the water turned on full force in the kitchen sink.
After turning off the water, I sat down at the table for a minute and tried to gather my wits. I had to talk with Shayla again. Despite our agreement, the ghost of Rafe Masterson and I were not compatible. I might have a nervous breakdown long before he could deliver any useful information to me or I could learn who the magistrate was who’d had him hanged.
Not wanting to be there if Rafe returned, I locked up the house and ran to Missing Pieces. I wasn’t sure if my father would be there or not. I called his name when I opened the shop door. The pillow and blanket were still on the burgundy brocade sofa, but there was no sign of him. The front door had been locked, so maybe he’d gone out for breakfast.
I didn’t want to get so attached that I began following him around. It wasn’t easy, but I had to keep my distance. I noticed with a smile that everything seemed to be in its place—he hadn’t stolen from me again. That was a good sign. Anyone could get desperate enough to do what he’d done.