Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

  She probably overpaid for the skirt, but it was worth it. She couldn’t figure out the coins Sam gave her, not for lack of trying. Mick tried to teach her the system, but once he’d shown her a huge coin that he said was worth the least amount of trade value than another of a different color, that he said was worth a lot more…she gave up. Math was not her strong point. Nor was memorization.

  She just trusted no one would cheat her too badly. Hell, it was all play money, anyway, right?

  She wandered down the road, looking for the Emporium. Tortuga during the day was pretty quiet. She didn’t recognize anything. And this was not the site of the pirate festival. In fact, nothing struck her as familiar.

  Once she’d found a new shirt in a lovely old-rose colored silk that caressed her breasts, even when snuggled up tight by her bustier, she kept searching.

  She walked for hours, looking for either the Barmy Cock or the stack of hay bales she’d fallen asleep against. As the afternoon approached, she found herself missing Tink.

  “Well, crap. I lost her. Didn’t think I’d gone far. And now….” She peered up and down the street, muttering, “I’ve gotten myself lost.”

  She didn’t like the energy of this area of town. She turned to see three men eyeing her, blocking the road. With a start, she spun about, searching to the left and right for a way to freedom. A narrow path was steeply cut to one side, it might be a good place to lose them. She dashed, hearing the men behind her.

  They shouted at her, promising not to hurt her.

  Emily didn’t believe them. She’d seen that expression once, on the face of a man who robbed the bar she’d worked. She wasn’t an athlete, but it was downhill, and adrenaline worked to see her get far enough away that she was able to turn and hide in a small, green area. The three bullies tore past and on down the slope.

  Still afraid, she sagged against the tree she’d found and tried to compose herself. Her breathing slowed and quiet sobs started. Drawing her knees to her chest, she bowed her head and cried for several minutes.

  “What happened, girl?”

  She started, ready to dash away when she saw an old woman standing in front of her.

  “Oh. I was…chased. Three men were after me. I’m sorry. Am I trespassing?” Emily struggled to her feet.

  “Not at all, this is my herb garden, but running from those brutes is reason enough to find shelter here. You come with me, and I’ll give you some tea. It might calm you down. They might come back this way….” She turned and headed through a short gate, concealed by the greenery.

  The idea of them coming back was enough to make her hurry after the old woman. The elder was extremely tall, with deep nut-brown skin, and long, gray hair braided down to her knees. This Caribbean must like tall women. Emily followed, eyeing the beads, ribbons and dangles in that braid. Must be hard to sleep on.

  “You can call me Louisa, girl. And you?”

  Sharp eyes met hers at the door, curious.

  “They call me Emily Pawes,” she replied. “Miss Louisa. Or…Mrs…uh, ma’am.”

  “Just Louisa, or Lu. Now, you sit here.” She pointed to a chair cleverly carved from a single log to include some back support. It was surprisingly comfortable. She sat while the old woman brewed tea, using what appeared to be some sort of propane tank and burner.

  “Now, you don’t appear settled, Emily. You fresh ta our Tortuga?” Louisa set the teapot down on the table, took a seat, and poured.

  “I guess. Does everyone know about these portals and people coming from other times?” Emily asked.

  “It be part of who we are, and what Tortuga is. We be an adaptable population. Sometimes people come through that don’t belong here, and they figure it out fast and move back. You one a’ those?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m trying to figure that out.” Emily sighed and looked away. Those deep, green eyes nailed her like laser beams.

  “Tell me where you been? How long you been here?”

  She found it easy to talk to Louisa. The old woman chuckled at hearing about the bar and waking up on the Quill .

  “That be a good ship to stumble aboard. Most be congenial here and tend ta be careful of strangers. Since it be hard to tell the wolves and sheep apart.”

  “The three men that chased me saw me as a sheep.” Emily shivered. “I know that look.”

  “Ya gots to learn how to put on the wolf ta not be taken advantage of. So, is Michael still sailing with the Quill?” She maneuvered out of her chair, and Emily jumped to her feet to help out.

  When Louisa took her and shoved her toward a mirror, Emily went, staring at her reflection with that old woman peering over her head.

  “Now, you see how startled you look? You need to school yourself better and not be such an open book. Those wide eyes, looking around at everything, avoiding mine. You be sending out sheep signals. As bad as standing in the street and saying, ‘bahhhh’.” She smiled crookedly, removing some of the sting.

  Emily narrowed her eyes and lifted one corner of her lips in a partial smile to show she understood.

  “Ah! Now that ain’t bad! You don’t want ta necessarily lock eyes with those you meet, but focus above their knees. Don’t slump; keep your shoulders back. Get a weapon and learn how to use it. Knife, pistol, staff—it doesn’t matter as long as it’s something you can find confidence in. That Tink knows knives. Michael knows pistols.”

  “Any weapons ever cross those portals?” She’d been wondering about that.

  “Some sharp blades, but nothing fancier. I sometimes think there is a sort of protection. I hear of some nasty ways to kill from those who travel the portals. Pistols that can fire over and over again, and invisible blades. Nothing we want over here.” Louisa ruffled her hair. “I like how short you keep this. Much easier ta care for then what I got.”

  Emily noticed that most women here wore long hair. She supposed it was the style of the day, but it appeared really impractical to her. “Thank you.” She found it impossible to meet Louisa’s gaze. Even as a reflection. “Why can’t I find the portal I came through?” It didn’t hurt to ask.

  “I don’t know, girl. Perhaps you don’t want to. What are you searching for?”

  “A portal.”

  “And what does your portal look like?”

  “I don’t know. You mean, they aren’t all the same? Hell.” Emily leaned back to gaze at the ceiling.

  Louisa laughed and returned to her chair. “No, girl. You don’t know what yours looks like. You have a problem.”

  “Maybe I’m not supposed to go back.” Emily straightened and closed her eyes. “I’m terribly confused.”

  Louisa took her hand and stroked the fingers. She turned it and gazed at the lines on the palm. “Confusion gonna be your friend for a while. But in the end, I think all that worry gonna be worth it.”

  Emily focused on the woman and tried to jerk her hand away, but Louisa held it firmly.

  “Don’t hurt ya to listen. Confusion is not a bad thing—it creates opportunity. And you be ripe for fresh chances. Take them, Emily.” Louisa’s stare bored into her. Her skin flushed hot, then cold, before the room blurred.

  When Emily woke up, she was leaning against the tree in the green area and the daylight was quickly fading. Damn. Her pack sat at her side. Reaching in, she felt around; it seemed everything was there. “Did I fall asleep, have a nice dream?”

  Once on her feet, she noticed the note, pinned to the tree trunk where she couldn’t miss it.

  Go downhill, make a right at the big oak.

  “Well, fuck it. I hope Tink is at the bottom of that hill.” She stretched as she considered the advice Louisa gave her, about standing straight, going eye to eye, and maybe learning some weapon skills. She’d do what she needed to do. She didn’t like being confused, but at least, it left room for hope. If Louisa was right, a chance for change was at hand. Couldn’t get much more changed than this, she thought.

  After Tom died, hope disappeared, and life turn
ed into waiting for death, which didn’t make for bright days.

  Walking out of the park area, she quickly moved down the path. She hoped the oak would be easy to recognize…. “Wow!”

  The massive tree loomed in front of her was the biggest oak she’d ever seen. Even in the fading light, it was easy to recognize. Turning to the right, she observed the light of the setting sun glowing above the water. She’d made it back to the harbor.

  But reaching Tink or the ship anchored out in the harbor was problematic. She saw no service available to take her out, and a young lad told her it was suppertime. “No one be available for an hour or more.”

  “Great. Well, do you know where the Barmy Cock is?” she asked.

  “Up Broad Street.”

  “Thanks!” She turned and looked. Five streets branched out and headed up slope. “Uh, which one…?” But the boy was gone.

  “Be logical, Emily. That is an exceptionally broad street. I’ll stay straight, and if I don’t find it, I’ll turn around and come back.” Talking to herself gave some small bit of courage.

  Shoulders back and standing straight, she started up the hill. The dark fell a lot faster than she’d anticipated, and typically, she brought no shawl or coat. Tink suggested she look for one, but after the bath, the last thing she’d wanted was another layer of clothing. She’d been comfortable and didn’t want to sweat.

  Dumb.

  She shivered, and kept walking, hoping the exercise would warm her. Her head swept from side to side. People started spilling out into the streets, and she considered asking for directions again, rejecting the idea as it might be seen as a sign of weakness. She’d walk five more minutes, then turn back around.

  Five minutes later, she heard some sweet music coming from a building at the top of the street. The tune sounded very familiar. Heart lifting, she wandered over to look into the window. It was dim in the room, but she still recognized the movement. They were waltzing. She smiled and set a hand at the sill, content to watch.

  ***

  Silvestri left Tortuga determined to chase down the Cursed Quill and discover who this new arrival was and why he kept seeing her everywhere his eyes rested. Even with his lids closed, her face rose to his mind. One day out, he realized the most logical thing to do was lurk around Tortuga. They’d be back. They seldom roamed far from the port. The Immortal usually went much farther afield.

  He ordered the ship on a slow circuit of the island, keeping far enough from shore to prevent his curse from lingering on the island. A surly crewman climbed aloft to keep a sharp lookout for the Quill. When out of the wind shadow of the island, no one liked lookout. It was cold that high up the mast. When the ship was sighted, and he realized they were setting course for Tortuga harbor, Silvestri ordered anchor set at Filly Beach and walked into the city.

  The dark enveloped the town completely as he began strolling down Broad Street. He hadn’t slept for more than an hour at a time in the past two days—longer than that and his cock woke him up, driving him to locate the haunt. It hammered at him; find the woman he kept seeing in his dreams and take her to bed. When he walked the deck, her face appeared in the sails, her hair in the white spray off the bow. If his hand lingered on the wheel or the rail, his palm caressed her cheek. A sense of her never left him.

  Lifting his face to the sky, he inhaled. If she were here, he’d know it. A faint scent he associated with her, though he hadn’t named it yet, made him turn to where Broad met South.

  When he recognized her silhouette, peering in a window at the vampires waltzing, he moved up behind her. A deep breath filled his head with the fragrance of apples. Yes, that was the scent. He placed a hand on her right forearm, his left swept around her waist, and he bent to her ear. “It isn’t safe to spy on them.”

  She started and her hand touched the window in reaction. A white face filled the window, inches from hers, and eyes of total blackness glared at her. A loud hiss sounded from behind the glass. The blast of magic hit him indirectly, since he was shielded by her body, but the force of pure anger struck her full on.

  She fell into him. He steadied her and backed away into the shadows, away from the window. She trembled. “What…? I was only watching!”

  “Yes, and they object to being spied on.”

  “Why?” Her voice carried nothing but confusion and hurt. A hand rose to her face. “My eyes! I can’t see!”

  “You’ve been blasted by a vampire. It will fade. But until it does, your eyes will be sensitive to light.” He hadn’t been fast enough to keep her safe. But this might work to his advantage. With a short bow she couldn’t see, he apologized. “I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker.”

  “Did you say vampires? Waltzing vampires?”

  She rubbed at her right eye, and he snatched at her hand. “Don’t touch them—it will make it worse.”

  Her body sagged, and she took a deep breath, hugging her torso. “My day can’t get much worse.”

  “Oh, I’d never say that.” Keeping hold of her hand, he kept her close. Together, they leaned on the wall, where they could hear the music, but no windows gave visual access to the full moon dance.

  “Ah, yes. Vampires. This is their initiation dance, and the citizens know to leave them alone. You aren’t a citizen. That is obvious.”

  “No, newly arrived. But…vampires? And no one hunts them? Or worries about them?”

  “No. They struck a bargain with Tortuga nearly a century ago. We leave them alone—they leave us alone. They are free to convert and initiate those who want to be turned.”

  “What does Tortuga get out of it?”

  He watched as she eased away from him. He allowed it.

  “Protection. No one attacks or invades. If they do, the vampires are free to feed, harvest…. It’s only happened once. They are basically normal people, with an odd appetite.”

  “Who like to waltz and can cause blindness with a hiss?” The way she stood, arms wrapped tightly around her torso, provided a sweet view of her full bust. He took advantage, eyes wandering over those luscious mounds as he ignored the tone of her voice. She was offended at the idea of the extremely effective vampire defense? There would be time to learn.

  Clearing his throat, he smiled. “Yes. The vampires like to waltz. And the only guest allowed is the initiate. They come to town when the moon is full—otherwise they remain in the castle.”

  “The castle on the hill? I heard of that.” It sounded as if she held back a laugh, the pitch of her voice rising as if slightly hysterical. “I suppose there is a graveyard full of zombies and a forest inhabited by wolves?”

  “No, the zombies stay in the swamp. Most of the werewolves choose to wander the forest. Why are you laughing?”

  The enigmatic woman rotated away from him, chuckling. “Oh, relishing the clichés. I’m…Pawes. Call me Pawes.” She held out a hand, moving it side to side as if searching for him.

  “Ah, women do like to take their time.” He pressed a quick kiss on her knuckles and slowly released her.

  He detected a slight hesitation before she nodded. “Yes. While men generally are in a hurry.” She turned her face toward him. “And you?”

  “Call me Alan, Miss Pawes.”

  “No, Pawes or Mrs. Pawes if you like, please.” Drawing a deep breath, she tried to focus on him, then winced, closing her eyes tightly. “You were behind me. Why didn’t it hit you?”

  “Because I was behind you, but I turned my face away in time. Let me escort you somewhere quiet and buy you a drink.”

  “Are your intentions honorable?” Her head tilted.

  “Of course not, but not actually dishonorable. I promise to warn you if driven to some despicable bit of deviltry.” He must have impressed her, because a smile danced across her face—that upward tilt of her lips to the left exactly as he remembered from his dreams. He wondered if the rest of the details were the same.

  Setting her hand at the crook of his arm, he urged her forward. “I promise a good glass of wine, or
tankard of rum—whatever you would like.”

  “I was looking for the Barmy Cock.”

  “Too bright for the condition of your eyes, but I can take you there later, if you wish.” Plan in motion, they stepped from the walkway. Acting the concerned guide, he directed her carefully, warning her where the ground sloped or if there were steps. He held her arm the entire walk to the Raven. Once there, he led her to a dark booth at the back of the tavern. “Sit. I’ll place the order. What would you like?”

  “Wine? That would be nice.” She sat back. He paused, watching her hands rise to her face, then slowly move back to lay flat on the table. Good, she remembered to be careful.

  After a whispered consultation with the owner, he joined her. He set a tall-stemmed, delicate glass in front of her and guided her hand to it. Sitting down kitty-corner to her, he studied her face.

  She winced when a serving girl walked by with a dimly lit lantern. He commented, “You are extraordinarily sensitive. Let me place a wrap around your eyes to protect them.”

  She nodded, and he carefully wound a narrow scarf around her short, wavy hair, enjoying the brush of it on his fingers. She sat back and he smiled, quite entranced.

  This was going to be delightful.

  CHAPTER 5

  Emily knew the only sane thing to do would be to run for the hills. She should be…no, she probably was, wrapped tightly in a straightjacket and calmly pounding her head against a rubber wall somewhere.

  Nope, not sitting in a tavern, blindfolded, with a man who admitted to dishonorable intentions.

  Yet, that was where she found herself.

  Her knee touched his leg. He sat quite close, this mysterious man. What did he look like? He smelled good, like a fresh breeze on the bow of the ship.

  The wine wasn’t bad, so she took another sip, trying to think of what to say.

  “Thank you for the wine—it’s nice. So, did you tell me your name? It was quite kind of you to help me, but you know, if you have things to do or plans for the evening, I don’t want to keep you.”

  Nice? She’d barely touched the wine. The best she managed was nice? Why did she feel completely out of her element? Twenty years tending bar should have her prepared for anything and anyone! Her bartender self was certainly faster with conversation than to end up with nice. Damn, he made her uncomfortable.