Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

  He’d no hunger for sailing anymore. He contracted the ship with the former first mate, Walter Hemmings. He kept a majority interest, moved permanently into the cabin he’d built above Tortuga, and went to work on expanding it.

  He added a craft area where she could work on the books, then built her a table. He bought clothes for her and a closet to keep them in. He even set the dancing boots at the ready.

  And he haunted Mama Lu until the woman found a way for him to go to her.

  “It gonna be for a short time. Even with the Kraken’s help, this crack between our worlds won’t stay open long. And you’ll be pulled back. Ya don’t belong there.”

  “Will she be able to return with me?”

  “I don’t know. Depends on her. Other travelers have. She still got the mirror, the pendant…maybe. No guarantees, Captain.” Lu told him when and where.

  He didn’t know what to expect. Enough travelers came through the portals that he planned on being tolerant and open-minded. The crew of the Quill gathered some coins and paper money from the era and warned him of the dangers he faced in Emily’s time.

  Streets. He knew to stay off of streets. Janey warned him of fast moving metallic vehicles that took little notice of pedestrians. Tink told him to not take any weapons. “The authorities will see you as an armed lunatic and take ‘em away.”

  He slid a slender blade into his boot, anyway.

  “It will be loud, most likely. And smell odd.” Jezebel offered her two cents.

  Mama Lu studied her scrying mirror the night of the new moon. She tilted her head. “Looks like you’ll fit in, Silvestri. Some costume event. Now, ya have till three hours past midnight.”

  “Is her time likely to be different than mine?” he wondered.

  “Nah, the portal take care a’ that. It might make ya sick, so be steady. Now, you are sure?” she asked for a final time.

  “Mama Lu, I need her.”

  She nodded. “I hope she feels it as keenly, my friend. Ya got the link to her?”

  “Yes.” He held up the perfume vial.

  “Close your eyes and be ready.”

  The sound of the ocean filled his head when he closed his eyes. The sand beneath his ass was chilly, and he could hear the snap of a fire above the waves where the Quill’s crew waited. They wanted her back, too.

  He touched her letter again. Gripping the vial in his palm, which was still pitted from the pistol damage Glacious “gifted” him with at the end, he felt the world tilt. A bit of vertigo almost forced his eyes open, but Mama Lu warned him to keep them closed until he was settled.

  The sudden warmth on his face signaled success. He opened his eyes to see a river before him. There were small boats, bristling with wires and lines, docked neatly at a marina of sorts. He shook his head when a red-sailed ketch passed before his eyes and a group of ragged looking sailors railed and cursed at it. The boom of cannon made him shoot to his feet.

  There were cheers behind him. He calmed the instinct to rise for battle, and turned. A great crowd of spectators cheered when the land sailors fired on the ketch, then hauled out a small cannon and lit a fuse. There was another loud boom, but he noted no ball flew from the gun.

  This was a play! He smiled slightly, observing the crowd behind him. Men, women, and children. Some dressed like pirates, others in simpler clothing. The roles he was partially familiar with. He read a banner behind them.

  Welcome to the Portland Pirate Festival.

  He’d arrived. Now, to find Mrs. Pawes.

  He took a moment to scan the area. An expanse of green slope gradually climbed from the narrow river behind him. The river itself didn’t appear to be part of the festival, other than the short bit of pirate fighting he’d witnessed. The red-sailed ketch drifted downstream, and the land-bound play actors slapped each other on the back, laughed and wandered away from their battleground.

  He gazed upward at a truly impressive bridge. He’d never seen something span so far and so high. He could discern a soft roar from the bridge, but ignored it. He needed to find Mrs. Pawes, and he doubted she was on the bridge.

  Setting his sights upslope, he followed the combatants as they wove through the grassy streets.

  Merchants, he surmised. Very distracting merchants. Alan’s height enabled him to view their wares and observe the haggling going on, the exchange of money and babble of commerce surrounded him.

  Several women sauntered by, dressed quite provocatively in leather bodices and skirts much shorter than he generally viewed on the streets of Tortuga. But experience with travelers hardened his reactions. He barely glanced at them.

  He assumed it was relatively early in the day. A soft fog drifted far above the revelry, the sun seldom breaking through with any real effect on the temperature. The sheer number of children astounded him.

  Little pirates ran helter skelter up and down the streets, brandishing brightly colored swords, wearing eye patches and calico scarves tied about their heads. They screeched and shouted in excitement, chasing each other and shouting out challenges.

  Children in Tortuga tended to be of a rougher sort, and this sort of play acting seldom took place. They worked, they grew up. They prospered. Tortuga didn’t tolerate abuse of children, but he’d never seen any play with this sort of reckless abandon.

  All the while, he scanned the crowds, searching for her. It was early; he had hours to go. His heart stayed calm. He knew fate guided him to this place and time. She would be here.

  After seeing a man stroll by bearing a tankard of something golden and foamy, Alan found himself thirsty. “Pardon me, sir. Where might I find a place to purchase some ale of my own?”

  “Oh. Up the slope, there’s a group selling wine and different local brews.” The congenial young man pointed to a red and black banner. “See? They’re raising money for the homeless shelter. Good place to wet your whistle.”

  “I thank you.” Alan bowed and strode to the booth in question. He fingered the money the Quill’s crew gave him. Janey explained a bit of it to him. It certainly baffled him that paper was of more worth than coin! He stood in line, examining the menu posted on a board behind the serving girls. He took note of the cups most took their drink away in, and was prepared when one of similar fashion was handed to him.

  It felt flimsy when he took it carefully in hand and turned away.

  “Sir! Your change!” The buxom lass who’d flirted with him held out a pile of paper and several coins.

  He did as he’d seen others do, took the paper and left the coins as a tip, smiling as he did.

  She beamed back at him.

  He’d chosen something called Columbia River Red Ale. It lacked the kick of a nice, stiff rum, but was tasty enough. The chill of it took some getting used to. He followed the path through more merchant booths, paused to watch a magic show, and another that involved several parrots trained to do tricks.

  And he searched the crowds for Emily. Always on the lookout for her. He listened for her laugh, followed women he thought might be her, only to be disappointed as he realized they weren’t.

  Following a trail down a small gully and back up, he saw several huge structures gyrating in an alarming fashion. The screams of children reached him, and he hurried forward. Only as he grew close did he realize it was more make believe. Knowing something about rubber, he figured they were huge rubber play structures. One played a pirate ship, with a slide the children were throwing themselves down, only to land in a pool full of brightly colored balls.

  Another was a fair rendition of the Kraken, though the colors were completely wrong. The head loomed above the tentacles, which formed a frame for another pool full of balls. He smiled.

  Children were much indulged in Emily’s world.

  He turned to return to the merchant area, thinking that since she’d never shown a keen interest in children, she was unlikely to be in this section of the festival. He took another path. Finishing his ale, he did as he’d seen others do, and tossed the contai
ner into a barrel.

  “Hey, mister!” A tug at his coat hem had him looking down at a little girl. She had the loveliest light blue eyes, bright golden hair and wore a frilly little pink dress, though he noted a large brown stain marking the lace at the collar.

  He knelt to reach her level. “Yes, miss? How might I be of assistance?” Closer up, he noted a flower painted on her cheek. The paint had smeared and one petal was nearly gone.

  She shrugged and wiped at a tear on her cheek. “My daddy is lost! Can you see him? You’re tall.”

  He sighed and introduced himself. “I’m Alan and you are?”

  “I’m Stella. Princess Stella!” She held out her skirt and did a sweet curtsy for him. He noted her white shoes were dirty and her crown dipped to one side.

  He straightened her crown. “Where did you last see your daddy, Princess Stella?”

  “He was buying Mommy a hat.” Her lower lip trembled. “I seen a man with parrots and followed him. Now he’s lost!”

  The sheer terror of her situation was obviously coming home. He needed to stop her from growing more scared.

  “I remember where the hat vendors are. I’ll take you there, but would you mind riding on my shoulders? Maybe you’ll see your daddy from up there. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

  She slowly nodded and he easily lifter her up to his right shoulder. She giggled a bit, but settled down, one little hand fiercely gripping his hair. He carefully turned toward the hat vendors, chattering with Stella as he went.

  “What is your daddy wearing, Princess?”

  “He’s a pirate, like you! Though not as tall. But he’s the meanest one here! Has a ship and a crew and everything!” She babbled on while he scanned the crowd. “You’re a tall man. Where is your wife?”

  “Not all men have a wife,” he answered, a small smile growing at her assumption.

  “But you’re old; old pirates need a wife to cook for them.”

  She certainly carried conviction in her voice!

  “I actually cook for myself. But I am looking for a woman. She’s lost, like your daddy.”

  She sniffed and he realized he shouldn’t have mentioned that. Now the little girl was worried again. “Maybe you can help me find her?” That might work to distract her.

  “Are you gonna ask her to marry you? I won’t help unless you make an honest woman out of her!” She nodded vigorously. “That’s what my granny always says.” Her little face scrunched and with a frown, she stated, “Why buy the cow if the milk is free?”

  He didn’t know what the last bit meant. He bet she didn’t either, but it was obviously important to her granny. She’d repeated it enough for little Stella to remember it word for word. But he was impressed with Stella. Why, the little Puritan! He chuckled. “If you insist, I promise to ask for her hand in marriage when I find her.” He’d actually thought about it. Wondered if it was something Emily would want. She’d been married already. He’d never married. But the idea of her wearing his ring held a delightful appeal. Tortuga was mostly tame, but being his wife would afford her more protection than being his lover.

  Tink told him the vampire king admired Emily’s dancing. They weren’t allowed to hunt married couples. Another good reason to marry. Not that Emily showed any attraction to living as a vampire.

  “So, what does she look like?” Stella asked him.

  “Well, she’s short, with brown and silver hair, also short.”

  Stella sighed. “What’s she wearing? Does she love pink, like me?”

  “I’ve never seen her wear pink but I’m sure she’d look very nice in the color. But not as wonderful as you. Was your daddy wearing a hat?” Time to find this child’s parents and return to searching for Emily.

  “I don’t remember. He wanted to buy a red hat for Mama.” She took a deep breath. He feared she was preparing to cry again.

  Her description wasn’t helping him find her errant father. And it was uncertain whether the hat was purchased at all, once they’d discovered their daughter missing. He kept an out for a distressed looking couple, searching for someone small.

  When he approached a booth with a banner of Lost and Found, he turned in.

  “He’s not here!” Stella exclaimed.

  “I know, but he may have been here, looking for you!” Alan smiled at the man behind the table. “I have found this little girl, Princess Stella. And she has lost her parents. Perhaps they have come looking for her?”

  The man let out a huge sigh. “Stella Montgomery! Your daddy was here looking for you! I know he hasn’t gone far.” The man reached behind the table, pulled out a ball on a stick and cleared his throat.

  Alan jumped a bit when the sound was amplified tenfold.

  “Will Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery please return to the lost and found? We have Stella waiting for you.”

  He repeated the announcement twice before a shout rang out. Alan turned to see a short, round man, wearing a sash, long pants and a scarf come running toward them.

  “Daddy, I presume?” He lifted Stella from his shoulders. She was shrieking and nearly threw herself into the round man’s arms. He swung her around in the air, laughing.

  Stella chattered, “I saw parrots!”

  “Yeah, I talked to the parrot man. He said you’d been there!” Stella tucked at his waist, the man turned to Alan. “You found her?”

  “She found me, actually. I believe I was the tallest adult around, so she thought to use me as a crow’s nest.” Alan shook the man’s hand, declined a reward and backed out of the booth, watching a woman come running up. She looked to be a bit of scold.

  Stella waved at him, and he made an extravagant bow to her before fading into the crowds.

  A good deed like that deserved a reward. He strolled back to the ale booth and bought himself another.

  Only when the day grew chilly, showing signs of darkness approaching, did he begin to worry.

  Several times during the day, he’d heard large musical groups on the elevated stage at the top of the slope. In a natural amphitheater, they would sing merry songs of pirates and sailors. He’d stopped to listen a few times. The day lengthened, and he surmised the group preparing to play must be quite popular. He noted how large the crowd grew, heading for the stage, laying out blankets and settling down to listen. He leaned against one of the great bridge pilings and surveyed the festival.

  The amplifying tool was used again, to announce their name. Captain Boggs and Salty! The crowd shouted. He was bemused to see the children jump to their feet and race to the stage. But once he discerned lyrics, he understood. Songs for pirate children.

  He smiled and turned away. And finally there she stood, shoulders bowed, turning away from the stage. His heart soared. Found! He’d found her! Now, to entice her to listen, to return, and to stay with him forever.

  He stepped around the blankets, trying to hurry and keep her in his sights. She disappeared behind a group of standing adults and he moved faster.

  She took a step away from that group, weaving her way through the watching crowds. When she reached the last of them, she came within reach. She shivered, and he draped his coat over her shoulders. “Found you. Thank God, I found you.”

  She whirled, threw herself into his arms and held on tightly.

  He considered the joy Stella’s daddy exhibited and copied it, lifting her into the air and twirling her about, laughing.

  CHAPTER 25

  She drove through the night, a driving rainstorm hindering her. But the closer she came to Portland, the lighter her heart grew.

  This is insane.

  This is perfect.

  Her mind spun with what she wanted to take with her. As she drove, she mentally packed a duffle bag. She’d bought a new pair of Tevas and a good pair of leather boots. They laced instead of pulling up, but she found that more practical. She’d take several pairs of socks, the kind that wicked moisture away. Oh, and face cream, every bit she owned.

  She’d found, after returning to the
real world, that she grew keen on how certain products were produced. She had purchased several slender books on soap, herbal creams, and dyes. Even how to make paper. They’d go with her. And her book of Whitman poetry. What would Alan like?

  She included the book of macramé and the erotic poetry. The solar shower she’d bought to supplement her camper while she was out in the desert. A few towels! The great big bag of M&Ms—they wouldn’t last long, but maybe someone else would pass through with more someday.

  By the time she crossed the Columbia, she was humming and bouncing in her seat. Damn it, she wanted this!

  She didn’t give a rat’s ass about the camper; the closest place she could find to park was a tow away zone. Fine, it would be towed. It was nearly dusk, and she knew she only had an hour, maybe a bit more, before the night concerts started, when they’d chase everyone off the grounds until the next day. She left the keys in the refrigerator, tossed everything she could think of in the duffle bag. She took a moment to hook up her electronic reader to the internet and filled it entirely with reference books, craft books, the classics, and a few favorites. She didn’t know how long its battery would last, but she also packed a small, solar powered battery charger. She tossed that in also, forgetting that something must be powering the iPods she’d first seen when walking the Quill.

  Damn, the sucker weighed a ton! She hoped they’d have somewhere she could check it in.

  She tied her mirror to her belt, put the Kraken pendant on and took a moment to breathe. Glancing around the camper she considered her life here for a moment. Ordinary, little to look forward to. She’d miss pizza. And donuts. Ice cream—but she bet with some entrepreneurial spirit she could find some cooks on Tortuga willing to try new dishes. Maybe she’d be the Pizza Queen of Tortuga! She touched a small picture of Tom and herself playing pirate, from more than twenty years ago. And she tucked it into her bag.

  With a laugh, she gladly turned her back on the rest of it.

  After leaving her duffle at the check-in tent, she ran through the festival. In her dreams, he’d been standing at one of the great bridge stanchions, wearing a brown coat and scanning the crowd.