The Guardians of Island X

by Rachelle Delaney

  The Lost Souls howled.

  “Nice try, Deadly Parrot!”

  “Give it to me! I bet I can do it!”

  Jem chose that moment to slip away. Costumes and new weapons were all fine and good, but he had tree houses to build. He’d wasted enough time already. With pirates and King’s Men on the island, he had to get to work.

  “Today I’ll finish the floor and start on the walls,” he muttered to himself, hurrying into the trees, “which shouldn’t be—oof!” Jem ran smack into someone hurrying out of the trees and tumbled backward into a shrub with very prickly leaves. “Argh!” He rolled to the side, trying to see who or what he’d collided with.

  Gil lay in a pile of leaves a few feet away, rubbing his elbow. For a moment he looked dangerously close to throwing a temper tantrum, then seemed to change his mind.

  “You all right, mate?”

  “Fine,” Jem grumbled, although he felt as if a hundred tiny ants had marched up his shirt to sting his neck and shoulders.

  “Sorry ’bout that, Fitz. Didn’t see you coming.” Gil stood and offered Jem a filthy hand up.

  Jem grunted and picked himself up without Gil’s help. “What are you doing?”

  “Me?” Gil looked away. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Not really.” He brushed off his dirty shirt without looking at Jem.

  “You were in the jungle at daybreak doing nothing?” Jem asked, immediately suspicious.

  Gil sniffed. “If you have to know, I was…you know. Doing my business.”

  “Oh.” Jem couldn’t say much to that.

  “That’s right. And what about you?”

  “I’m going to build tree houses.”

  “Huh. Well, good luck with that.” Gil slipped past him, headed toward the clearing.

  “Wait, Gil, one second.” Jem couldn’t help but ask. “Have you…have you seen my pocketknife lately?”

  Gil stopped and looked back. “No. Why?”

  “Because it’s missing. And I…well, I just…” Jem trailed off. He really had no good reason to accuse Gil of stealing it. Except that, the last time it had gone missing…

  “Thought I stole it?” Gil snapped. “Oh, that’s nice. You didn’t think that maybe you just lost it. Or that someone or something else might have taken it. Nope, you just blamed it on me.”

  “Well, you did do it before,” Jem mumbled.

  “Well, I didn’t do it this time!” Gil shouted and stomped off.

  Jem watched him go. I probably shouldn’t have said anything, he thought. Now he’ll be awful to deal with.

  He shook his head. “Focus now. The tree houses are what matter most. I’ve got to—”

  A rustling noise in a nearby fern made him freeze. “Gil?” he called, even though he knew Gil had stomped off in the opposite direction.

  The rustling stopped.

  Jem inched toward the fern, hoping that by some miracle it was indeed Gil trying to scare him. Or if not Gil, something harmless. Like an iguana. A friendly, toothless one.

  He paused and took a deep breath. Then he swept the fern leaves to one side just in time to see a large figure disappearing into the bushes behind it. A figure dressed in torn trousers and an old shirt.

  Without a doubt, a pirate.

  CHAPTER NINE

  This time when Scarlet tromped through the jungle, she barely gave her bootless feet a thought. This time she had something far more important on her mind.

  Jem’s pirate sighting that morning had chased away all her other worries. The thought of a Dark Ranger dog so close to the clearing jolted her into action. There was no sense in sitting around planning for when they got attacked. It was time for offensive action. It was time for…

  Operation Island Espionage.

  Thankfully, the Lost Souls had agreed. In fact, everyone had clamored to take part in this mission, which would involve sneaking through the jungle to find out where the pirates and King’s Men were camped—something they should have done immediately. There was no time to lose.

  Jem, Tim, Liam, and Edwin now marched behind her, looking more determined than she’d seen them in weeks. Tim hadn’t even mentioned his beloved Hop since Scarlet had announced this mission. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded, satisfied. This was how things ought to be. The Lost Souls didn’t wait to get attacked, no, sir.

  Scarlet had chosen her spies wisely, selecting only those she knew wouldn’t mind splitting up to investigate on their own. For there was another part to this mission that she hadn’t told them about—and couldn’t tell them about. She needed time to herself so she could see her father again.

  She wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to see the admiral. She still hadn’t forgiven him for abandoning her with Scary Mary. And yet, for some strange reason, she simply had to see him. Even if just from afar.

  Jem had brought along his map and was calling out directions, trying to steer them toward the clearing where he and Scarlet had seen the pirates and King’s Men. He claimed he was certain that they were headed the right way, but Scarlet wasn’t so sure. Above her, the afternoon sun trickled through the forest canopy, speckling the jungle floor with gold. A cicada chorus whined. A few aras flapped by, trailed by a cloud of black-and-white checkered butterflies. But nothing looked familiar to her.

  Nothing, that is, until the big toe on her left foot lodged once again into a twisted root and sent her sprawling. Scarlet had just begun to hurl the worst pirate curses she knew when she recognized the root. “You scuttling scourge of the—hey! Hurray!”

  Tim peered down at her over his spectacles. “Hurray? Cap’n, your toe’s bleeding like a fountain. Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dark blue handkerchief.

  “I know! What luck!” Scarlet cried, wrapping the cloth around her poor toe, injured twice in three days. “This is the root I tripped on last time we were here. That means we’re on the right track!”

  “It also means you should be wearing boots,” Edwin quipped. Scarlet tossed him a cutlass glare.

  “See,” Jem said proudly. “This is a very accurate map.”

  “I think I’ve been here before, too,” said Liam. “That’s where Smitty and I found the squash he made me wear.” He pointed off to the right.

  “I didn’t know squash grew in the jungle,” said Tim.

  “Maybe the Islanders grew them,” Liam suggested.

  “Maybe.” They both turned to Scarlet for an answer, and she shrugged. Vegetables weren’t high on her list of things she wanted to recall.

  “Right, then,” said Jem. “I’ll add the squash to the map. And the tripping root, too. Maybe that way you’ll avoid it next time.” Scarlet shot another cutlass glare, this time in his direction. He grinned and offered her a hand up.

  “Well, at least we know where we are.” She stood and dusted off her trousers, then continued on, trying to ignore the gigantic blue bandage on her foot.

  They reached the other clearing in surprisingly little time. The blue butterflies still lazed around the stream running through it. “All right, spies,” Scarlet said, “gather round. This is the place. Those swabs must be camped close by, and wherever they are, the King’s Men can’t be far. Let’s each pick a corner of this clearing and explore the jungle beyond it. Go quietly and don’t forget which way you came. We can’t have anyone getting lost and stumbling into enemy territory.”

  Scarlet stuck her fist into the center of their huddle. The Lost Souls piled theirs on top.

  “No prey, no pay, mateys.”

  “No prey, no pay!” they whispered, excited to hear the old chorus.

  “And may you die peacefully in your sleep rather than at the paws of that mousy Captain Wallace.”

  “Die peacefully!”

  “I’ll take that corner over there. Meet back here in…” Scarlet paused. Timing was difficult now that there wasn’t a clock to be found. “A while.”

  The Lost Souls scattered across the clearing. Scarlet headed f
or her corner, hoping that the island would steer her toward the King’s Men. On her way, she detoured past the shrub in which she and Jem had hidden and grabbed a fistful of its purple flowers. She placed one on the ground as she slipped into the trees, hoping it would still be there when she needed to find her way back.

  The going was slow. This part of the jungle was even thicker than the one they’d just passed through. Scarlet dropped another flower and pushed her way through.

  As she shuffled along under the whining cicadas, she wondered exactly what she’d do if she did see her father. Would she hang back and spy on him? Or pop right out and say hello? No, she couldn’t do that, not after all this time. What would she say, anyway? “Well now, Father, fancy meeting you in the depths of the jungle on the island of my birth. Long time no see!”

  And would she even want to talk to him? He had, after all—

  Swish.

  Scarlet paused, wondering if she’d imagined that—

  Swish. Swoosh.

  Fortunately, there was no shortage of hiding spots. Scarlet chose a tree whose giant roots lay above the ground, almost as high as her waist. She crouched behind one of the roots and peeked over the top just in time to see a man in a blue coat walk by swinging a machete. Swish. Swoosh. Ferns and vines fell around him as he slashed a trail through the jungle. Scarlet cringed. She had yet to feel the distress of any island plants, but she imagined they weren’t pleased at getting hacked up. The Lost Souls had long ago put away their machetes and let the island vegetation grow wherever it wanted to.

  The King’s Man stopped and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He might have been twenty, but his wispy blond hair and chubby face reminded Scarlet of a toddler. Once he’d passed, she slipped out from her hiding spot and followed him.

  He took quick, nervous steps as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the jungle and back to his tent. A snake’s tail disappearing into a pile of leaves made him yelp. A vine tickling his neck made him swing his weapon wildly. Scarlet kept back a safe distance, fairly certain this yellow-belly would lead her right where she wanted to go.

  Sure enough, within minutes Scarlet found herself on the edge of yet another clearing, this one filled with gray canvas tents and men dressed in blue. Three King’s Men studied a compass while two others chopped wood. Porridge bubbled on the fire, and the yellow-belly hurried over for his share of the steaming mush.

  Scarlet parted the ferns a crack, studying the scene. There was something odd about it, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something that made her uneasy. She thought hard until she realized that she was feeling uneasy because the animals and spirits in this area were, too.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, then looked at the clearing again. And realized exactly what was wrong.

  “Shivers,” she breathed. “I’m home.”

  The King’s Men had gone and set up camp right where her old village had once stood. Their canvas tents sat right where the Islanders’ huts once sat. Scarlet trembled, wondering what had happened to the huts. Had the Islanders taken them down? Or had they been destroyed by weather and intruders, crumbling to nothing, leaving no trace of the village that once housed Scarlet’s family and so many others?

  And more importantly, what the flotsam was her father doing camped here? Surely he hadn’t led his men here just to cut down trees and trample the earth with their big old boots.

  Scarlet scanned the camp until she found exactly what she’d come for: Off to the left, two men sat on stumps, deep in discussion. One had pasty, pockmarked skin and meek, greenish-brown eyes. The other was her father. He looked older and even stonier than he had the previous day, with creases around his gray eyes and long lines on either side of his mouth. Though she couldn’t make out what he was saying, she was fairly certain it wasn’t about the nice weather they were having.

  She pictured this father next to the one she used to sit with while he made canoes for the Islanders. They were so very different. The old father used to carve little stars for her to wear on a thread of twine around her neck. This father chopped the air with his hands when he spoke. The old father used to hum songs and tell jokes. This one’s glare could freeze an ocean.

  Suddenly he stood and stalked off, leaving the pasty-skinned man looking like a dog that had been punished for chewing his master’s shoes. Ignoring another man’s offer of porridge, Admiral McCray headed toward the ragged path the yellow-belly had just cut. Scarlet followed him.

  He marched down the path, hands balled into fists. But after a few minutes, a strange thing happened. The admiral’s shoulders suddenly slumped, and his march became a shuffle. When a droopy vine brushed his head, he barely noticed. And when a giant rhinoceros beetle buzzed in his ear, he simply flicked it away with a fingernail. The beetle took the blow right on its snout and tumbled to the ground while Admiral McCray drifted on unaware.

  Scarlet paused to scoop up the insect. “You all right, beetle?” she whispered.

  The beetle tottered around her palm for a moment, then took off in a loopy, off-balance flight.

  Scarlet ran on tiptoes to catch up to her father, but stayed several yards behind him, congratulating herself on how quietly she could sneak through the jungle.

  Maybe my Islander ways are coming back to me, she thought. Maybe I don’t need boots after all. Or a—

  She looked up just in time to see her father bending over to pick up one of her purple flowers, mere feet away. She dug her toes into the dirt and stopped short of running smack into him. Then she took a slow step back. And another. One more…

  Admiral McCray twisted the flower between his fingers. He looked up as if searching for the tree that had dropped it. He looked left and he looked right.

  Then he turned to look behind him.

  Scarlet froze. Her father froze. He blinked. And blinked again. He took a step back. His mouth opened and shut, opened and shut. Suddenly he no longer looked like a hard-hearted King’s Man, but like one of the smallest Lost Souls waking up from a nightmare.

  “No,” he whispered. “No, you’re not real.”

  Scarlet took a step back, too. Did he really think—

  “Don’t do this to me, island.” His voice rose. “Don’t show her to me unless she’s real!” His gray eyes darted around as if looking for more ghosts.

  “Father,” Scarlet whispered. “Don’t shout. They’ll hear you.”

  He glared at her, then shook his fist at the trees. “I said don’t do this to me—”

  “Oh, stop now,” Scarlet interrupted, growing impatient. “The island’s not doing anything. It’s me, Father. Scarlet.”

  Admiral McCray lowered his fist and looked at her suspiciously. “How do I know?”

  Scarlet threw up her hands. “I don’t know. Here. Pinch me.” She held out her arm, but he recoiled. “Oh, come on. Look here. I’m bleeding.” She raised her leg so he could see the bloody blue bandage. “There. Real blood.”

  He stared at her toe until she lowered it. Then he opened his mouth as if to speak again, but all that came out was an odd choking noise. He bit his lip like he was about to cry.

  “Oh no.” Scarlet was at his side in a second, laying a hand on his arm. “Oh, Father, don’t do that. It’s all right.”

  He grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. Then he engulfed her in a crushing hug.

  Scarlet allowed it for a few moments before tapping him on the shoulder. “Father,” she gasped, “I can’t breathe.”

  He released her, but he kept his hands on her shoulders, gray eyes wide. For an instant his frown lines softened, like a great worry had just up and left him, and Scarlet caught a glimpse of the father she used to know.

  But only for an instant. Then he gripped her shoulders hard, giving her a shake. “Where have you been?” he shouted. “And what were you thinking, running away? Do you have any idea what you put me through?” He gave her shoulders another shake.

  Scarlet squirmed out of his grasp, startled. “Well, I—”r />
  “Look at you—you’re filthy! What on earth are you doing here?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “First of all, Father, what I put you through? You were the one who abandoned me with a witch. And, anyway, what do you think you’re doing camped in our old village? Hmm?”

  His face suddenly went pale. “Our what?”

  “Our village. The place where I was born, where we lived with my mother and—”

  “That’s…” Admiral McCray turned to look behind him. “That’s not…”

  “You didn’t recognize it?” Scarlet couldn’t believe it. “How could you not? It’s—” She froze. “Wait, did you hear that?”

  Her father looked around. “What?”

  She put a finger to her lips, then grabbed his hand and yanked him off the trail and behind a tree. They both peered out as Liam marched by. By the look on his face, Scarlet knew he, too, had found the King’s Men’s camp.

  “Who was that?” her father whispered, incredulous.

  “Liam,” Scarlet answered. “One of my crew.”

  “Your crew?”

  Scarlet nodded. “I’ve got to get back to them.”

  “What? You’re not leaving!”

  “Shhh. I’ll come back. But I can’t stay now.”

  “You’re not leaving,” the admiral commanded.

  Scarlet rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten how tiresome grown-ups could be. “I am,” she said firmly. “But I’ll be back.” She turned to go, then turned back again. “You can’t tell anyone about me and my crew.”

  “I don’t even know who your crew is!” he hissed.

  “I have to go.”

  Admiral McCray reached out to stop her, but Scarlet turned and sprinted after Liam.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Scarlet replayed her conversation with her father at least fourteen times that day and the night that followed. It was all she could think about—especially the part where he’d claimed he didn’t know he was camped on the remains of their old village. Not only had he forced her to forget her past, he’d also gone and erased his own memories. What else had he forgotten? she wondered. Surely—