The Captain looms over his desk which is covered in scrolls, parchment and a couple of scattered quills. “Do ye want ta sit down?” He asks.
“Uh sure,” I say, licking my lips and ambling towards the chaise longue.
Sitting, I notice that there are a few windows placed lazily around the area, the noises coming through are familiar and yet they are new to me too. One of the windows is open directly behind me allowing these new city sounds to seep into my ears as if I am wearing headphones experiencing a virtual exploration.
A group of seagulls squawk at each other for fish scraps, the soft splash of waves French kiss the sides of the ship, cars roar in the distance, citizens are chatting, laughing and yelling.
The aroma is a delicious blend of fresh summer days with a pinch of sea salt. It's a scent I connect with adventure and family road trips to the Cape. Isn’t it amazing how a simple smell can trigger sentiment? Those memories bring back feelings of delight and anticipation with the added classic, yet moody rock ‘n roll soundtrack. It all collides into one unexplainable fragrance that can never be bottled. And it leaves me homesick...
“I summoned ye here ‘cause us pirates are loyal ta a code. I’m in charge of asking the crew ta vote on all serious matters tha’ affect them.”
My thoughts of home have formed a lump in my throat. Pushing it down I reply, my voice low. “And that matter was?” Me... I add silently.
The Captain bends his head and scratches at his hairline. One eye turning towards me as he grimaces. “Er... well, lass... it was about ye.”
Dropping my head, I pretend to inspect my nails. “Oh.”
The Captain quickly responds and it's clear that the conversation is making him feel awkward. “It’s really nothing personal! Jus’ an age-old superstition.”
I look up from my hands. “Superstition sir?”
“Argh lass, don’t call me sir. My name’s ‘O Callanain, but whatever ye do don’t let the crew hear of it. Just call me Captain.”
Placing my hands down on the soft fabric of the chaise I nod my agreement. Calling him sir had felt odd on my tongue. He isn’t some school teacher. I wait for him to continue, my fingers rubbing against the longue as I consider what he said. I have an inkling of what the superstition is but I'm not sure how accurate my prior knowledge on all things pirate is anymore.
He turns his head so that his profile is lit up from the side by a dust speckled ray of sunlight slipping in through one of the windows.
“Right, er... Well it’s been said that having a lass on board a ship is bad luck, but I said to them, lads, this is a different world, one where buccaneers and women both travel aboard vessels and she tells me that only one has ever sunk and it was the fault of the lass mechanics.”
The memory of how he thinks that Science and Mechanics are people, women too it appears, hits me like a grounding ship. I dip my face into my hands and groan.
“So, we put it ta a vote-” he continues. “And it's decided that we will make an exception for ye but not for any by the name Mechanics.”
Lifting my head, I smile weakly back at him. He seems cheered by the fact I am to stay on board which only makes my heart ache at what I have to say next. I clear my throat and straighten my spine but when I open my mouth he speaks first.
“The sea witch spoke of ye, and if she spoke of ye it means that ye're important, not only to her but ta both our worlds and so it would be wrong of me ta leave ye stranded lass.”
“Well, ah, thank you so much. That’s good to know because I kind of just want to find Jesse and then I’d like to go home...” I trail off.
His smile vanishes. His head moving slowly from side to side with the sinking of my heart. I know I shouldn’t have said anything. I'm basically trapped on this ship. The Captain saved my life and now I guess I owe him one.
“Is that...problematic?” I ask.
“I want ta help ye Cris. My crew and I are ‘appy ta assist ye in finding your friend and returning ye ta ye home, but it might be better if ye spoke ta Solange first. Ye may be in danger.”
“Danger?”
“Ay, the hag knows things that will be. She mentioned a three-eyed man who’d be after ya.”
My heart sinks. This sounds an awful lot like the words that started this whole mess. “When you say she knows things, she didn’t mention a prophecy and something to do with a shattered world unless two are sacrificed, did she?”
The Captain shakes his head. “Solange sees with her third eye. Whether it be a touch, shadows in a pool of ink or from the twelve stars of passage. Ta her prophecies are just words sprouted from fools.”
I love her immediately. “What are the twelve stars?”
He leans forward, his eyes glittering with excitement. “The twelve stars are the twelve great adventurers who founded the five continents. Laedes, Thalassa, Ursae, Badalax, Ava, Siluria, Ural, Sval, Orian, Lyra, Antares and Aphasia. They are the guardians of travellers and they hold all the knowledge of the future.”
Okay, so now instead of spirits forewarning me of my destiny it’s going to be ancient adventurer gods. Great. I watch the clouds take shape through the window to my left.
Swallowing dry saliva my stomach grumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in days. But that's the furthest thing from my mind.
While the Captain's world sounds fascinating, all I want is to go home. My parents will be worried, or worse, they will think I'm dead and I can’t bear to put them through that pain. And then there's Mia, my little sister. She will be heartbroken. She'll put on a front, make up a cute little story to explain my disappearance but she'll be confused and devastated. I glance at the Captain.
He's seated patiently at his desk, his blue eyes watching me intently.
I owe him my life, and I owe it to Jesse to keep searching for him. I know he's more than capable of looking after himself if he is indeed still alive, but I know first-hand how frightening this experience can be and who knows where he's landed up or if he had the luck of meeting anyone as friendly as I had.
The scar above my hip stings and I grimace, placing my hand over where it's hidden beneath my corset. “Okay, I’ll go see Solange and find out what Leedes knows.”
The Captain grimaces. “Laedes, but I’m glad ta hear it, lass. Solange is a few ports from the Illustrious Iles.”
The tension I'd noticed before lifts from my lungs and I can suddenly breathe easier. “Well if it’s on the way then I don’t mind at all. We can look for Jesse and when we find him, we can go see your sea witch and then I’ll show you our version of the Illustrious Iles, as you call them.”
I stand up, my knees creaking as I do. I intend to leave the bridge but the Captain barricades the door with his body.
“One last thing lass. Ye'll have ta bunk with Riley if ye don’t mind. Of course, if ye do we can make changes. His last cabin mate had an accident so the bunk is free.”
The way he says it makes me feel as if the Captain doesn't trust Riley all that much and I don't want to even ask about the roommate.
“It’s fine. Riley seems fine.”
Grunting he moves from the exit. “If ye have any problems let me know and I’ll take care of them.”
“Sure,” I reply, opening the door and stepping out of the room.
“As long as yer on this ship yer under my protection. I’m adopting you as my own and that means I’ll be teaching ye everything I can about pirating too.”
When I turn to look back at him his face is red, his eyes wet and his expression gentle. The Captain is a big softy and it appears that I'd grabbed hold of his heartstrings. Now I really don’t want to let him down.
I swallow heavily and smile at him. From now on whenever I get homesick, I will have to push the feeling to the back of my mind.
I have bigger things to deal with right now, for starters finding Jesse... dead or alive.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The door clangs shut behind me.
I walk the length of the corri
dor and up to a short spiral of stairs, emerging on to the main deck. A warm breeze envelopes me, my legs prickling beneath my thick knit stockings. When I'd chosen my outfit, I hadn’t really considered the sunny day that shone through the windows.
I'd been preoccupied with looking the part of what is now to be my life. The marina is picturesque. Ten to twenty ships surround Quinlin, some are small and others are huge.
The closest, a houseboat with its windows smashed out, while across from us, a large cruise ship glimmers lavishly. What I'd seen from the top bunk in my new room had been only a titbit compared to this. The surrounding town is vivid and enchanting. I turn in a circle, taking in the full spectrum. We are in a port surrounded by three stone towers. The port itself seems heavily fortified and medieval, as if a wall had once stretched across the harbour.
“They say this is called the Vieux Port. It’s from the 14th century.” Riley announces, approaching from behind.
I step forward so that I'm not barricading the stairs and turn to study him. "Really?”
“Yep. You ready to see it? The town is great and the cafes have amazing wine, apparently, it’s from a place called Bordeaux, which is to the south... So, I’ve heard.”
My chin tilts in his direction. I'm curious. “How do you know all this?”
Riley frowns. “I just told you... so I heard,” he says the last bit slower than the first as if I'm slow myself.
I'm immediately tense up with a rebuttal but before I can reply he is talking again.
“I’ve been speaking with the locals. The ladies like me.” He winks. “They say I’m unusual and intimidating.” He grins. “Of course, I’m not as menacing in comparison to the others.”
I'd forgotten what I'd planned on saying to him. Instead, I find myself staring at his lips, studying how they curve into that smile. His teeth are creamy and off white with a small gap between the top two in the middle. It's probably the smile, I decide. Most of the other pirates are mammoth with rough beards and huge muscles. They remind me of a tattooless biker gang.
Riley is different.
He's clean shaven, his flaxen hair framing his chiselled face and radiant bright green eyes. He's handsome in a way I've never seen in another guy. Unless all that time I'd been telling myself not to date just anyone, I hadn’t really been looking... But I am looking now and I want to throttle myself for it. I'm a fool. Riley is the poster boy for a guy who will play with your heart before crushing it into nothing. It's that thought that hardens my opinion of him. From this point on I vow not to form any kind of close friendship with my new roommate.
“I’m sure they love you.” I reply with an edge to my voice, adding an afterthought, “Just don’t run off with them okay. Modern women aren’t... Well, you can’t imagine how they are... I mean they can be different and, well, you could catch something.”
His expression is cheeky, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if he knows exactly what I'm trying to say but wants to tease me. “Like what? Fish?”
Despite myself, I laugh. “No, you idiot. You could get sick.”
It's his turn to laugh. “I have an excellent immune system and there is no way any woman will make me sick, although I might make her sick... Lovesick.” He winks.
I cringe, a laugh escaping despite myself. “You are so lame.” I'm not about to continue the conversation. The last thing I want is to try and explain safe-sex to a pirate, mechanics and science have been bad enough!
“Anyway, the only thing I find different about the women here is their attire.”
I fold my arms and lean against the side of the ship, looking over at the people walking past. Many of them are dressed in black. It doesn’t come across as gothic though, rather, chic.
One lady, in particular, has shockingly bright red hair that she has teased into a stylish bun. She wears black satin cigarette pants and a matching silk blouse with gold buttons. A younger woman runs beside her, attempting to keep pace. Her heels are long and spindly followed by tanned horse legs and a black mini skirt. I find it kind of amazing that she isn’t stumbling with her stilettos on the uneven cobblestones. I know I would be. Actually, I'm certain I would have broken my leg or twisted my ankle within the first five minutes.
“Well, France is the fashion capital of the world? Or the artists capital?” I say unsure. “I can’t remember.”
Riley props his elbow against the ship's side, his hips sagging against the wood. “Don’t ask me... I’m the last person who would know what France is the capital of.”
Interested, I turn to him. There are a few things I’d love to know about Riley. Where his sister is? Why he’s so different from the others?
“What?” He asks. “Oh, never mind, I’m sure you are about to tell me all about capitals and France, but I’m not interested. Come on let’s go find your friend.”
“Actually, I wanted to ask you about your sister. Where is she now and what’s her name?”
Riley stops in his tracks his shoulders stiffening. “Her name is Jasmine and she’s with a friend.”
I know I shouldn’t push him but I want to know more. “That’s beautiful and coincidentally my favourite flower.” When he doesn’t respond I continue, “I have a sister too, her name is Mia, she’s twelve.” Still, he doesn’t reply. “The friend and her, are they in Faronade?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not from Faronade.”
“Where-”
“Cris, enough. Let’s do what we came here to do okay?”
Admittedly the blow off hurts and I have to remind myself that this is the reason why I cannot be friends with Riley. I am bound to get hurt one way or another with him.
When I step off of the ship my legs feel strange and the world around me wobbles. Grabbing on to the armrest of a nearby bench I double over, my breathing irregular. Riley flops down beside me, his arms stretching above his head. “You alright there?” he asks.
Bobbing my head, I lift it, mumbling, “I think going from sea to land is going to take a bit of getting used to.”
His laugh is dark and humourless. It sounds like a bark. “You haven’t even experienced the real sea yet.”
Standing I glare at him. “Let’s go then.”
We walk through the city. It is beautiful with cobblestones coloured autumn from years of use and the quaint timeless buildings. The narrow streets smell of fresh bread and baked delicacies. My stomach lurches. I ache to sink my teeth into a real French éclair. Riley sees my face and is kind enough to pull a Euro from his sash.
“What’s your poison; chocolate, vanilla or caramel?” He asks inspecting the eclairs through the glass window display. A man with blonde hair and orange scruff sprouting from his chin taps his long fingers on the window counter impatiently.
I raise my eyebrows. I really want to sink my teeth into an eclair but the sight of the Euro discomforts me. “Where did you get cash?”
Riley’s eyes roll. He turns from me, facing the man. “I’ll take chocolate.” He slides the Euro over the wood. “Oui. Mademoiselle?” His voice sounds hollow.
Folding my arms over my chest I reply, “you can make it two. Two chocolates.” While the man is preoccupied with packaging our order I step in front of Riley. I’m not letting him get away with avoiding this one. “Where did you get a Euro?” I repeat.
His lime eyes flash. “As I said earlier Cris, the women here like me. They told me where I could exchange a few things for money, a pawn shop I think it’s called. The Captain had me sell a whole lot of the clothes you didn’t want and some other crap so we could get by. Obviously, we learned early that your kind think that gold coins are a joke.”
I step back, my cheeks burning. “Sorry. I thought maybe...”
“Maybe what? That I’m like you?” He laughs but there is no humour in it. “Let’s just do what we need to do okay.”
The man hands us our eclairs and I look down at mine with a lump in my throat.
“And Cris, I’m not trying to be rude but don’t ask
me about myself or my family again okay?”
Pushing my hair behind my ears with my free hand, I nod. I bite into my eclair despite having lost my appetite. The mousse hidden inside melts in my mouth, cheering me slightly. We walk in silence, each caught up in our own heads. La Rochelle is definitely somewhere I would want to settle down in if given half the chance. Once my eclair is finished, I take the chance to get away from Riley.
I ask street vendors if they saw anyone fall from the sky or if they’d witnessed anyone badly hurt or seen anyone who looks like Jesse. All their answers are the same - No one fell from the sky but one had been visiting a friend near the peer and they’d seen a pirate ship appear out of nowhere. Another swore he’d seen an entire castle vanish while the last woman I spoke to mentioned how she’d found a child crying, lost in the street.
When she’d gotten closer, she’d realised that the child wasn’t human with his yellow-green skin and tiny horns. She isn’t sure what the little boy is because he speaks a language she’s never heard before but he’s staying with her while she figures it out and until she can find his parents.
We move on, the afternoon sun fading as we question the locals. Most of them are kind, telling us of how they’d heard of the bombs and the creatures, buildings and artefacts that had appeared globally after but they hadn’t seen anyone who needed help. A few aren’t as accommodating, threatening me and Riley with swear words. They especially don’t like him. One woman said he was an abnormality like the half man, half horse thing her husband had shot three nights earlier and no, she didn’t know if he was okay. No one has seen anyone who resembles Jesse and Cris is sure they’d remember. Jesse, human as he is, is pretty unusual. For starters, he has long black hair and eyes like a medley of agates.
Riley starts to yawn and orders us each a cup of mulled wine from a street vendor as I question an Asian couple visiting the city. The wine smells strong and tastes a little bitter but I enjoy it despite the heat of the late afternoon. Pulling at the white shirt beneath my corset I blow out of my nose and huff. I'm getting a little tired as we enter a new section of old-world cafes and restaurants where they sell great smelling seafood.
Time Torn Page 6