The Kidnapped Smile

by Laurie Woodward

  Gwen sank against the door. “Oh, my God. What have I done?”

  Chapter 59

  Even from inside the Doge's palace, Bartholomew could hear the cries, and they terrified him. “What was that?” he asked Michelangelo, pulling out his hand sanitizer.

  “It does not sound good. Come,” the sculptor replied.

  When Michelangelo headed for the exit. Bartholomew shoved the bottle back in his pocket and followed up a stairway to a bank of windows on the third floor. It was too dark to make out what was happening below, but Bartholomew thought he saw brown floodwaters surging into the fort.

  Squinting, he soon realized it wasn't mud flooding the Arsenal but Shadow Swine. Somehow, they got through the gates.

  Bartholomew gasped. “They're hundreds, maybe thousands. We have to do something.”

  “Too late.” Michelangelo shook his head sadly.

  “No. You can't say that.”

  “It is as futile as carving from brittle stone.”

  “I don't believe this. A short while ago, you were telling me not to give up.”

  “We are too few.” Michelangelo pointed at the city below. “There are ten of them to every one of us.”

  “I didn't come this far to give up now,” Bartholomew argued.

  Just then, Hermes flew in the window. “I bear sad news! The Arsenal has been overrun.”

  “We saw.” Bartholomew jerked his head toward the window. “What happened?”

  “The girl, Gwen, asked them to open the gates, and the Shadow Swine forced their way in with her,” Hermes explained.

  “And Alex?”

  “He was elsewhere.”

  Bartholomew felt a pit in the bottom of his stomach. “Where?”

  “He paddles a machine in the northern canal.” Hermes quickly described how Alex was using a submarine-tank to rescue Mona Lisa before adding angrily, “He risks himself while the girl betrays us all!”

  So that was what the Shadow Swine meant when they said they'd trick Gwen. “It may look that way, but believe me. Gwen would never betray us on purpose.” He paused, stared off into space. The idea of tricking sparked a sudden plan.

  “Deliverer?” Hermes asked waving a hand in front of Bartholomew's face.

  “Okay, here's what we're going to do…” Using his hands like air sculptures, Bartholomew outlined his idea. As he spoke, twinkles of hope sparkled in Michelangelo's eyes. “…then we approach undetected,” the boy finished with a proud grin.

  “I shall bring them in all haste.” Hermes's winged hat and sandals buzzed as he hovered in front of the window. He fluttered from side-to-side for a moment, then shot out the opening like a hummingbird.

  Bartholomew didn't waste a moment watching him go. It was time to get to work. He had some sculpting to do.

  Chapter 60

  Alex stopped pedaling. It was time. He got on all fours next to the seat, took a deep breath, and dove down. He pushed past the wheels and glided into open water before kicking toward the pirate ship above.

  When he surfaced, he saw the rogues on deck rushing back and forth in the moonlight. They lit several lanterns but none revealed Mona Lisa's face. Trying to be as silent as a shark, Alex paddled toward a ladder at the stern and crept up rung by rung. He flinched. Were those footsteps?

  The sounds drew closer. He pressed up against the ladder.

  “We should tell the crew.”

  “That be too risky,” a different voice hissed. “Even with their belief in my greatness.”

  “But when it opens—” the first began.

  “Bahh. You and I can row one lady into place.”

  There was a pause as if one of the pair were in deep thought. “I hope you're right, brother.”

  “I always be right. Put your mind at ease, Hizir. Go now … busy the crew.”

  The Barbarossa brothers! Alex thought, almost leaping up to punch them both in the face.

  “Aye, Aruj. Until it's time.”

  “Then we'll be the most powerful corsairs in all of Artania.”

  Chucking like snuffling bears, their voices retreated. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Alex cocked an ear before scrambling up the final rungs and stealing into the space behind the captain's cabin. From there, he could see turbaned men checking lines and polishing swords.

  And the shackled Mona Lisa.

  Her sad face made him suck in a quick breath. Her famous smile was gone, replaced with a thin line. Still, she held herself high like a noble princess.

  What spirit! Alex thought. I can see why she holds the Renaissance nation together.

  Surveying the ship, Alex realized he couldn't simply rush headlong across deck. There were at least twenty pirates between him and her. He could swing down the lines attached to the mast, but Mona Lisa was handcuffed, and he didn't have the key.

  Alex chewed on his lip. How about coming from below? No way. Too many oarsmen to get past.

  When he got a cramp in his leg from crouching for so long, he stood and twisted his torso to one side. It helped, but when he turned back, Alex froze and stared at two round eyes widening from an elfin face.

  “A-another ph-photo?” the small boy stammered.

  Alex stifled the urge to clamp a hand over the kid's mouth when he remembered Bartholomew's story. “Pico, right?” he whispered.

  The little guy gave a quick nod and fidgetted with one of the frayed edges on his stained tunic.

  “You know my friend?” Even in this dim light Alex could see the boy's face blanch. He tugged harder on the loose threads of his shirt. Pico had a guilty look, reminding Alex of how he'd felt after Mom had her heart attack.

  The child's voice was barely audible. “I s-sorry.”

  “Sorry? About what?”

  “I n-no save him. He g-g-g … he d-d-d…” Pico clamped his mouth shut.

  Then Alex realized the poor kid saw Bartholomew walk the plank and must think he drowned.

  “Hey, don't worry. He is okay.”

  Pico raised his puppy eyes. “R-really?”

  “Yeah. I just saw him. He's safe.”

  Pico threw his arms around Alex's waist. “I like Photo but feel bad. He so sick.” He started to tell a story when Alex raised a shushing finger.

  “S-sorry,” he said again, lowering his voice to a whisper.

  “It's okay, but Pico,” Alex began. “I need your help.”

  “A-anything.”

  “We have to free the lady.”

  “I kn-now. R-redbeard be in with…S-s-s-s,” he stuttered but couldn't seem to get the word out.

  “Sickhert,” Alex finished.

  Pico clutched at Alex's t-shirt as if that evil name might knock him off the deck.

  Alex patted the boy's head and outlined his plan.

  Chapter 61

  Gwen couldn't believe she'd been so stupid. Even Mr. Clean wasn't quite so dumb. He'd gotten captured, sure, but that was because of the fish. She had no one to blame but herself.

  Alex was hurt and maybe dying.

  The half-light made it hard to see much of anything—a relief since Gwen didn't want to see the horrors all around. Moaning people writhed. Crumpled remains lay about. She prayed Alex wasn't one of them. “Leonardo? Vulcan?” she whispered as she made her way inside.

  She clicked her tongue. Yeah, right. Like anyone is going to hear you with all these swords clanging.

  She tried calling louder. “Leonardo?”

  The only response was another falling body. Gwen leapt back as a huge Shadow Swine collapsed right in front of her. “Take that, beast!” a man said.

  “Vulcan?” Gwen ventured, hoping the new figure was an Artanian, not a slime monster. When he didn't answer, Gwen flattened herself against the wall. A long lance pointed her way. Gwen ducked and threw her hands over her head, but instead of a jab, she heard a sound like a shovel digging into sand. Trembling, Gwen peered through her fingers. A monster with a lance in its back crumpled next to her. It shuddered once and turned to dust.
/>   Painted hands pulled the lance back. A helmet bobbed. “Ha! Try cornering Mars, will you?”

  Sighing, Gwen stood and cleared her throat. “Mr. God dude, do you know where—”

  In a flash, she was flat against the bricks, something sharp pressed into her throat.

  “You betrayed us all!” the war god accused, pushing his lance deeper into her skin.

  “No, I…”

  “I should skewer you,” Mars said.

  “I didn't know they were behind me…” Gwen's lower lip quivered. “But I have to find Alex. He's hurt.”

  “The Deliverer?” The armored god narrowed his fiery eyes. “He is fine.”

  Gwen shook her head. “No. The monster said he's wounded. I need to get to him. Now.”

  “He isn't here. He rides in a machine seeking Mona Lisa.” Mars continued to hold the triangular spear tip at her throat. “Are these lies? More deception?”

  Gwen felt the blade dig deeper and swallowed. “No, I swear. That slime thing told me Alex was hurt. I didn't know the way, so he said he'd lead me here if I gave him my pigtails.” She tugged on her short hair for proof. “He disappeared when I was about a block away. I thought I was alone when I asked soldiers to open the gates. Honest.”

  “You were deceived?” Mars eased up on the lance.

  Gwen nodded. “Now take me to Alex. I know first aid.”

  “Human. You were lied to. As I said, the Deliverer is safe.”

  “You mean he's not hurt?” Then her stupidity really hit her. “No way!”

  She barely had time deal with how dumb she'd been before five Shadow Swine approached. “Just two … easy,” the largest one grunted.

  “You will soon see how easy!” Mars cried and swiped at the closest Swiney, but the slimy thing dodged to the left. Mars swung again and grazed a second's cloak. The next few thrusts also proved unsuccessful. Mars charged again and again. Missed. To add insult to injury, the Shadow Swine slapped each other on their backs every time he missed.

  Jerks.

  An angry Mars glared at the group while Gwen raised her fists and took a step forward. Mars pushed her out of the way and swept his lance once more. A long scratch oozed brownish blood from the tallest one's cheek. The monster clutched his face and roared. The others bellowed with rage and closed in.

  Chapter 62

  Alex crept from under the captain's cabin and raised a finger. Then two. When he held up three, a loud boom exploded from the starboard bow. “Good job, Pico,” Alex whispered as he dashed from his hiding place and climbed the mainmast to the empty crow's nest.

  There were scattered cries as the pirates ran in circles trying to find what happened. More oil lamps flickered to life. “New attacks?” a voice called.

  “The canal were empty, weren't it?”

  While the confused pirates tried to determine what was going on, little Pico slipped away from the cannon. In a saunter fake enough to embarrass any actor, he strolled past a few corsairs toward one with a key ring on a rope hanging from his belt. The ship's boy reached a tiny hand toward it, but when a glance turned his way, he snatched it back.

  “Careful now, Pico,” Alex whispered, crossing his fingers.

  The keymaster turned as Pico was extending his hand again. Alex tensed. With a plaintive wail, Pico wrapped his arms around the keymaster's waist. “S-s-save me!”

  “Get off, Stupido,” the pirate snarled, trying to push Pico away. The boy clung tighter. Whimpering, he weaseled his legs around the man's ankles while sliding one hand toward the elusive ring. Alex held his breath as Pico untied the knot and slipped off a key. He dropped it down his shirt scarcely a second before the man he pestered grabbed him by the hair. “Stop!”

  The little guy fumbled to retie the ring but when the pirate yanked him upward, he couldn't reach it. The rope dangled ever looser, sagging with the weight of all those keys.

  Alex could almost hear them clattering if they fell, ruining their plan. He climbed out of the crow's nest.

  The keymaster pulled Pico's head back. “Get off I say!”

  Pico tightened the knot and let go. “S-sorry,” he said hanging his curly-topped head as if terribly ashamed.

  “Bah!” The pirate stormed away.

  Pico gave Alex a thumbs-up. Then with a quick glance over his shoulder, he stole to Mona Lisa and unlocked her handcuffs.

  Meanwhile, Alex looped line around his hand by using his arm as a measuring stick. Once he'd unravel enough, he glanced down, praying that Pico followed the plan. “Don't completely remove her handcuffs,” he'd advised. “Just unlock them. We don't want anyone to notice she's free until the last possible second.”

  Pico gave Mona Lisa a hug goodbye and crept off toward the stern just before a turbaned man with a reddish beard emerged from the hold. “What be this?” he cried. “Hizir!”

  A man with one hand on the hilt of his sword shimmied up the ladder and slowly surveyed the surrounding scene.

  Alex figured these must be the Barbarossa brothers B-three warned him about. He could easily tell Redbeard strutting across the deck like a showoff from his brother. Bartholomew said Hizir was the smarter one and would figure out what was going on, if they didn't act soon. “Were that the blast of cannon?” Hizir asked. “I see no ship.”

  “Aye, brother. It appears this canal not be as empty as we were led to believe. “But they not know who they be dealing with.” He gave his velvet cloak a dramatic snap as he stepped closer to Mona Lisa.

  Alex felt the seconds ticking.

  A shadow fell across the mast. Movement in the corner of his vision gave Alex a start, and he threw up a fist. Heart pounding, he turned his head. A white gull had landed on some nearby rigging. Alex blinked.

  Then the bird cocked its head and winked one dark eye. “Time,” it cawed.

  Alex didn't think. He leapt. The line unraveled above him like silk from a spider in free fall. The rope grew taut. He swooped down and drew his legs up kicking the sword from Redbeard's hands. “Ha!” he cried, sailing over the gawking pirate.

  Swinging back, Alex reached an arm towards Mona Lisa who had undone her shackles. With a whoop, he grabbed her around the waist.

  “What the blazes?” Redbeard sputtered.

  Grimy hands snatched at them, but Alex kept his legs up, and the pirate's weathered paws met only air. Mona Lisa covered her mouth and giggled as they flew over the railing.

  Beneath them, the black canal reflected their gliding figures. For a brief moment, Alex thought of Mom before the heart attack. She'd been so vibrant and strong, racing Dad on long runs every morning. Most days, she'd come in snorting her victory while Dad insisted she'd cheated, waiting until he tied his shoe. “Still, I won,” she'd say with a gentle smile, turning her cheek upward for Dad's ready kiss.

  When the swing hit its apex, Alex told Mona Lisa to get ready. “Take a deep breath. Three, two, now!”

  He released the rope, and they plummeted feet-first into the canal. Now submerged, he grabbed Mona Lisa's hand and kicked towards the bottom. The growing darkness made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead, disorienting him. Swimming with one hand, he pulled her through the water to where he thought his sub waited.

  A few moments later, he felt soft mud between his fingers and groped along the bottom. He tried to think, remembering he snuck aboard at the stern, so it made sense that the sub-tank would be behind the ship.

  Tugging on his arm, Mona Lisa signaled her lack of air. Alex gave her hand a squeeze, placing it on the back of his t-shirt for her to grab. Little bubbles escaped his nose as he looked up. He could barely make out the dim light of the ship's lanterns through the murky water.

  With the ship's shadow as a point of reference, he got down on all fours and crawled. Lungs aching, he tried to remember Isis's words. “Do not forget that you are a Creator. Air, water, food, is all at your command. You have only to dream it,” the goddess said during his first trip to Artania.

  He imagined he was home, sitting
at the kitchen table. breathing in the sweet aroma of Mom's blueberry muffins, and suddenly it was true. He had all the oxygen he needed.

  Next to him, Mona Lisa had no such power. Close-mouthed screams pulsed in her throat as she dug her fingernails into his back. Then she made gurgling noises, Alex knew she was close to drowning.

  He pressed his knees deeper into the soft mud, willing his body to go faster, but the submerged vehicle was nowhere to be found.

  Had it moved?

  Wailing bubbles blasted from her mouth as Mona Lisa's tugged on his shirt, his collar becoming a noose. Swallowing hard, Alex scuttled forward, groping mud and more mud.

  Then her grasp grew slack.

  He grabbed her hand and bounded forward. She spasmed. Once, twice.

  Just as Mona Lisa began to float upward, he felt smooth metal. Before she slipped from his grasp, he placed both hands on her waist and shoved her under the tank. Circling, he used one foot to drive her under the wheels. Then he dove under and lifted her towards the little pocket of oxygen inside the sub's dome.

  Clinging to the metal ribbing of the domed walls, Mona Lisa threw her head back and swallowed mouthful after mouthful of air.

  “Are … you … okay?” Alex asked when he popped up beside her. Even in this dim light, Alex could see how pale her face was. She placed a hand on her chest and nodded. “Good. Then let's get out of here.” Alex sat down, put his feet on the pedals, and maneuvered the vehicle towards where he figured shore was.

  He had gone about ten feet when there was a violent rumbling, and the sub shook. They both stood and peered through the glass dome. The sea floor was giving way. Crimson light rose from to a gaping hole as the entire canal filled with a red glow.

  Alex gasped.

  The doorway to Subterranea was opening directly in front of him.

  Chapter 63

  When Mars brandished his spear, Gwen dove between the closest Swiney's legs. Half-scooting, half-crawling, she'd almost wriggled through, when cut-cheek squeezed his jackboots together like a lion's jaws.