That is, until the captain coughed into his fist.
"Now I think we'll be getting along to Deacon's house," he informed us. "The son of a rotten post might abandon ship before the lunch hour, so we'd better get a move on."
Erik furrowed his brow and gave a nod. "Very well."
The captain raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Yer just willing to go without any gripe or whining?"
Erik dropped his arms to his side and nodded. "Yes. We may find out if Deacon is involved in the Guard conspiracy, and if so how deep."
"Neck-deep, I'd say," the captain commented.
"Maybe so, but we must be sure."
CHAPTER 8
"All right, but be mindful to put in a good word for the folks on the island. They may be too meek to speak for themselves, but you've got a plenty loud enough voice to speak for all of them," the captain insisted.
"I disagree, and that's why you will be present during this interview," Erik told him.
The captain frowned. "Then we won't be getting anywhere with that scoundrel. He won't talk to me."
"But he won't refuse to see me, and that will be enough for you to make your case for him to vacate his position," Erik countered.
"All right, but I don't think it'll work. . ." the captain grumbled. He turned away, paused, and turned back. "There's two ways we be getting there. Across the fields is rough, but faster, and the town is-"
"The fields, if you will. I would rather avoid a repeat of Market Island," Erik answered.
"Then follow me over hill and dale, young lad and miss," the captain called out.
Black led us over the rocks and under a nearby wood fence out into a field of cut hay. To our far left lay the cliffs, to our far right the city with its noise of werewolves newly awakened by the rising sun. I inhaled the scent of hay and felt a thrill run up my spine. Some mad impulse made me swoop a hand down and catch a clump of the cut hay. I stuck it into my nose and breathed deep.
Erik snatched the hay from me and tossed it to the ground. "Don't smell that," he ordered me.
I stopped and frowned. "Why not? It smelled okay."
"Because it's not okay. This field has a mix of manure in its hay," he warned me.
I shrugged. "So what? It's just fertilizer."
He nodded at my waist. "Look at your hand."
I glanced down and cringed. My hand was covered in manure. I yelped and flung my hand away from me. Most of the manure flew off. "What the hell? Why is this stuff fresh in a cut field with all this hay laying here?"
The captain turned. "What's the holdup?" he called to us.
"A little lesson in picking up bad habits," Erik called back.
The captain frowned and marched back to us. "What are you-oh. That." He'd noticed me wiping my hand over a clean blade of hay, and he chuckled. "Not liking it much, aye?"
"Manure hay is illegal," Erik reminded the captain.
Black shrugged. "It's not my field."
"Manure hay?" I repeated after I'd wiped my hand as clean as it would come. "What the hell is that used for?"
"It's rolled up like a cigarette and burned, but not smoked. Instead, werewolves inhale the scent and obtain a high off the strong smell," Erik explained.
I stuck out my tongue. "That's just nasty."
"And terrible on one's nose. It dulls and destroys the sense of smell," Erik added.
"Well, let's get someplace that isn't here so I can wash my hand better," I pleaded.
The captain chuckled for the rest of the trip which turned out to be a couple of miles. I didn't need Black to tell me which house belonged to the 'modest' Deacon. His stood on the highest hill on the island far back from any neighbor. The front yard was large, but surprisingly without a fence, and was surrounded on two sides by the hay field in which we traveled. A gravel road at the front led from the town to his covered front porch. The porch fronted a two-story house with a full attic. The place was made in a colonial style with full columns along the front of the porch and a pair of large doors for an entrance. Wide windows looked out on the town like unblinking eyes. The curtains were shut.
We reached the porch and the front doors, and Black rapped hard on the door with his fist. "Deacon? Deacon, you scoundrel, are you home?"
"Very diplomatic," Erik whispered.
"It's a better calling than he deserves," the captain quipped.
One of the doors soon opened and an old man in a black suit with tails presented himself. His dark beady eyes swept over us and his lips curled back in disdain.
"May I help you?" he questioned us.
"Yes, we want to see the master of this smug place," Black informed the man.
"May I have your names?" the man requested.
"Captain Edward Black and company," our guide announced.
"Please wait here a moment. I will see if my master is in," the man replied. He shut the door before Black could argue.
The lake-dog glanced over his shoulder at us and jerked his head towards the door. "Now ya see what we have to put up with? I bet that penguin-suited idiot is paid by our tax money."
The penguin-suited idiot soon returned and opened both doors for us. "My master isn't here at the moment, but if you will wait in the library we expect him any time."
"That'll do," Black agreed. He swept inside and we followed behind him.
The butler closed the door behind us and gestured to the first room on the right of the large hall we found ourselves in. "This way." He shuffled to the door and led us inside.
The library was a long, narrow room filled with, predictably, shelves of books. Many looked as old as the foundation of the island towns with their dull, leather covers and faded lettering. At the front of the room to our right was a large window, and there was another smaller window between two of the bookcases on the opposite wall as the door. At the rear of the room on our left stood a small, round-top table with clawed feet.
A group of furniture made up of a couch and two chairs huddled near the door and around a small coffee table. The butler gestured to the furniture.
"If you would please be seated and remain so, my master will be with you as soon as he comes," he assured us.
Erik and I took the couch and the captain plopped himself into one of the chairs.
"Got anything to eat?" the captain asked the servant.
"I will see. If you will excuse me." He bowed his head and left the room, closing the door behind him.
I turned my head to and fro.
"Is something wrong?" he asked me.
I raised my hand, the one that had held the hay. "I was hoping to get this washed."
The captain grinned and waved a hand at the books. "Take a couple of pages and wipe away."
"Perhaps you can find some towel wipes in the drawers," he suggested.
I stood and walked over to the small table. My hand was on the round knob handle of the drawer when an unpleasant scent floated into my nostrils. I wrinkled my nose and leaned back to catch a glimpse under the table. There was nothing. My eyes searched the room and fell on a small grate on a bottom shelf and hidden behind the row of books.
"There's something funny here," I called to my companions. I knelt down and my nose was bombarded by a strong smell. My head grew faint and the room began to spin. I tried to stand, but I lost my balance and fell to the floor. My mind drifted into a semi-conscious state where sounds were fuzzy and I could barely keep my eyes open.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around me and I was pulled against a firm chest. "Sophie? Sophie!" Erik's voice called to me. It seemed to be coming from far away.
"Something. . .wrong. . ." I murmured.
"Gas!" the captain yelled.
Erik slung me over his shoulder and spun us around so I faced the small table and bookshelves. "Through the window!" he shouted.
We raced to the window in the long wall of the room and Erik angled himself so he threw his unloaded shoulder through the glass. It shattered and flew around us as we ourselves flew out of the
room. The fresh outside air cleared most of the haze from my mind.
The wide captain came behind us and broke the remainder of the glass. Behind him the door swung open and the butler stood in the doorway with a hideous snarl on his wrinkled old face. Behind him came a group of sleazy-looking Guards.
The butler pointed a finger at us. "Don't allow them to escape!" he yelled.
Erik turned to the right, but spun around and rushed to the rear of the house. I saw what changed his mind: a group of a half dozen Guards armed with revolvers who rounded the front of the house. The captain pulled out one of his own from the sash at his waist and got off a few shots before he raced after us. One of the Guards clutched at his arm and hit the ground, but the others just ran around or jumped over him. Another half dozen Guards swept through the broken library window and joined their companions in this terrifying game of tag, and we were It.
We rushed down the wall of the house and came out at the rear. The house sat near the cliffs, and the crashing waves roared only fifteen yards away. The Guards behind us fanned out so we couldn't escape to the right, so Erik turned left. Another two erupted from the rear door of the house, and four more came around the other side. We were cut off from everything but the cliffs, and it was to these we backed up. The Guards pointed their revolvers at us, and the captain sidled up beside us.
"I hope ya have a plan. . ." he whispered.
If Erik had one he didn't have time to tell us because two people emerged from the back of the house, two very familiar people. One was Deacon, and his frowning face told us we weren't welcome. The second was Tyrone Blackwood.
CHAPTER 9
Blackwood wore a smile on his face as the two of them came up to within five yards of us.
"Good morning, dear cousins," Blackwood greeted us. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you what I'm doing here, but I am very curious to know what brings you to this backwater island."
"You, of course," Erik spoke up. "We've been following your trail since the cave at Wolf Island."
Blackwood chuckled. "I doubt you've known it was me until I made my appearance, and I'm sure you know that now that I've shown all my cards, I can't let you tell anyone else." He snapped his fingers and the revolver-packing Guards moved closer. "Pity you won't join me, but I know you and won't waste my time asking."
"What about me?" the captain spoke up. "Mayhaps I'm wanting to live."
Blackwood titled his head back and laughed. "Perhaps you do, but I don't have any use for you. Once I've dealt with your little mate in her secret cove than I'll deal with your beautiful ships. Maybe I'll even commandeer one for myself."
The captain snarled, stepped forward, and pointed his revolver at Blackwood. "You'll be dead before ya lay a finger on any of them."
Erik stepped back to shift his weight, and his foot slipped as a clod of dirt broke from the ground and fell to the rocks below. He partially turned and I noticed his eyes fell on the fresh breakage and two large rocks that stuck out from the ground.
"It's no use fighting them, Captain Black," Erik spoke up.
The captain whipped his head around and glared at Erik. "Are you just gonna let-" Something in Erik's face caught the captain's attention and his eyes flickered down to the unstable ground and the rocks.
"Stop your blustering and put the woman down," Blackwood ordered Erik. "It's much easier to shoot you when you're lined up."
Erik took a step back and stood on the rocks. The captain grinned and joined Erik to stand beside him on the other rock.
"I can't oblige you now or ever, dear cousin," Erik countered.
Erik slammed his foot hard on the rock. The ground shifted and broke apart beneath us. It tumbled towards the rocks below, and we went with it.
The last view I had over the edge of the cliff was Blackwood's wide eyes and Deacon's gaping mouth. The captain fell a foot after us and he got off a couple more shots of his gun before their bullets zinged over his head.
In my position over Erik's shoulder I had a great view of our approaching demise on the sharp rocks below. The waves crashed over the rocks as though clawing with its wet fingers for our broken bodies. I gripped the back of Erik's shirt as though he could fly.
"Hold on to me!" Erik yelled.
"I am!" I screamed back.
Erik's feet were still planted firmly on the flat stone, and a half second before it crashed into the rocks he jumped with me. We flew over the pointed rocks and landed in the rock-less waters five yards off the cliff wall. I broke from Erik on splashdown and became completely submerged in the water, but Erik pulled me up to the surface. The captain did the same and came sputtering up beside us.
"I hope yer plan for getting out of the water is better than the one that got us in here!" he growled. Shots rang out above us and bullets hit the water around us.
"Yes, swim!" Erik quipped.
We stroked our hearts out and probably broke some Olympic records in the free-style life-saving event. The men on the edge of the cliff shouted and followed us, but the angle of the cliffs sloped away from the water and they fell behind. We were a half mile ahead of them when we hit the first beach running. Erik scooped me into his arms and the captain huffed and puffed beside us.
"Not. . .enough. . .air. . .in this. . .water," he gasped.
"You have to make it to your crew, captain! They're counting on you to warn them!" Erik reminded him.
The captain stiffened his jaw and hurried on faster than Erik was able to run with me in his arms. Black looked over his shoulder. "I'll take care of the ships, you save me Marge!" he demanded.
"Aye, aye, captain, and send a message to my father!" Erik shouted as Black widened the gap between us. "Warn him about Blackwood and the Guards!"
"Yes, my lord!" Black agreed.
We rounded a corner of the cliffs and the beach on which we ran broke into two directions. The left went up the cliffs to the town and inn, and straight ahead led to the secret cavern. We separated at the point.
"Good luck!" I shouted to him.
The captain couldn't reply as he scampered up the sandy cliff wall. In a moment he disappeared over the edge. We were alone.
Erik continued our path down the beach.
"Let me down. I can run as fast as you," I insisted.
"I will let you down when we're safely in the boat," he replied.
"If it's still there," I returned.
"It has to be. . ." I heard him whisper.
Erik pushed on harder. I could feel his heart bump madly in his chest. He couldn't use his arms to pump and his legs grew tired and slower.
I took advantage of his weakness and pushed myself out of his arms. I landed on my feet in front of him and he nearly tripped over me. He tried to snatch me up, but I grabbed one of his hands and yanked him down the beach.
"Stop being a baby and let me help!" I insisted.
We sped over a few more miles of beach and came out near the opening to the small cavern. An engine roar warned us we were nearly too late. I pushed on faster, but Erik slowed me down. His energy was spent. I let go of him and rushed forward with my arms waving wildly above my head.
The boat raced out of its hidden port ten feet in front of me and roared across the waters. "Wait!" I screamed. "Greg!"
Our companion sat in the center seat, and at my call he turned around. His eyes grew wide and he pointed at the coast. Marge was at the helm and turned, and in a moment so did the boat. It sped back to us and landed near us.
"What happened? Where's Black?" Marge asked us.
"Gone to the ships," Erik wheezed as he came up beside me. "We split into two groups to give them to trails to follow, so you must take us with you."
"Well, hop in if you want, but we don't have enough provisions for everybody," Marge pointed out.
"I would rather risk starvation than certain death here," Erik countered.
"All right, climb aboard," Marge agreed.
Greg and I helped Erik aboard just as we heard yells from the top o
f the cliff. Shadows appeared above the edge and pointed down at us. Marge glared at Erik and me.
"You led them to my cove!" she snapped.
Erik plopped himself on a seat and shook his head. "They knew about you before." The water around us was peppered with bullets, and we ducked into the bottom of the shallow boat.
"Haste would not be a sin at this moment," Greg quipped.
"Darn right it wouldn't!" Marge agreed. She pressed on the handle and the boat shot forward beyond the reach of their aim.
We were off on another adventure, and this one would take us into the depths of the forested shores of Wolf Lake.
MOON CHOSEN #6
CHAPTER 1
The mood in the boat was quiet and tense. The sun was obscured by the ever-present fog. I sat beside Erik in the center of the boat with Greg at the bow and Marge at the stern. She sat beside the engine and pursed her lips. We'd just finished our tale of escape to them.
"So that damn fool had to race back to his boat. . ." she murmured.
"I'm sure he will have made it. We gave him ample distraction," Erik commented.
Marge leaned back and scowled. "I suppose he did. He was never a good sprinter, but he'd do most anything for that damned crew of his."
"What is the plan now, Master?" Greg spoke up.
"The same as before," Erik replied. He shifted around to face the bow and nodded at the fog ahead of us. "We may find the root of Blackwood's trump card in those woods. If we do then that will be solid proof against him, and his plans will be ruined."
"So what exactly do we know about his plans?" I wondered.
"That he intends to control the islands, and with the assistance of someone on the shore he will possibly expand the fog," Erik summarized for me.
"That sounds insane," I commented.
"It is certainly dangerous," Erik agreed with a nod. "The fog provides us with a sanctuary here. Any expansion on its part might reveal us to the outside world."
I tilted my head to one side and furrowed my brow. "So if we do find a witch what exactly can we do to her? I mean, she's a witch. If she doesn't like what we're saying can't she just turn us into frogs or something?"
"Less blubber and more quiet. We're just about to shore," Marge spoke up.