Time Castaways #2

by Liesl Shurtliff

  “We have to find Jia,” said Matt.

  “Yes, of course,” said Ruby, “but we also have to think about Vincent and the Obsidian Compass. We can’t just let him keep it and keep coming after us. I don’t want to be in hiding for the rest of our lives.”

  “I thought he couldn’t get to us now,” said Corey. “Matt’s birthday’s supposed to be the furthest he could travel, right?”

  “Yes,” said Ruby. “But who knows what that really means? Who knows how things will be tomorrow? Or yesterday, for that matter. If he finds the . . . the Atter-whatever-it’s-called-powerful-thing, then it might change everything, couldn’t it?”

  “You’re right,” said Matt. “We have to stop Vincent.”

  “Great,” said Corey. “So let’s go get him. We got our own compass now. We can take him.”

  “But where and when do we go to get him?” Ruby asked. “We can’t go back to the museum, or any time when we were with them on the Vermillion. It’s too risky. We’re sure to see ourselves. And what about Jia? You don’t know where or when Captain Vincent might have discarded her, so how are we going to rescue her?”

  “Dad’s map, obviously,” said Matt.

  Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re going to tell Mom and Dad, then? About the compass and everything?”

  “Are you crazy?” said Corey.

  “No, I’m not,” said Ruby. “I think they might be really glad to see Matt’s compass. You know how worried sick they are that Captain Vincent might show up at any moment. This way we can be on the offensive, head off Vincent before he gets to us. With our own compass we can stop him for good.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” said Corey, “except do you really think Mom and Dad would let us come with them? They’d probably take the compass, go off on their own to save the day, and leave us here with Gaga.”

  “Well, maybe that’s . . .”

  “Don’t say that’s the sensible thing to do,” said Corey. “It doesn’t make any kind of sense. What if they don’t come back? Are you okay with living with Gaga forever in this boring place? And don’t rule out the possibility that Mom might crush the compass with her bare fists and lock us all up in a high-security prison, and then we’ll really be stuck.”

  Matt clutched his compass. He was not okay with either of those possibilities. It was his compass. He’d made it, so he should be the one to travel with it. Not his mom. Just because she’d been captain of the Vermillion before did not give her the right to his compass.

  Matt shook his head. “We can’t tell them about the compass,” he said. “Corey’s right. Even if they do think we should go after Captain Vincent, you know they’ll never let us travel with them. They’re too protective. And they won’t put the family at risk to rescue Jia, not like we will. We owe her. We have to do this on our own.”

  Ruby pulled at her hair and tipped her head back. “And what if we don’t come back? Have you considered that possibility? What if something goes wrong? I mean, Matt only traveled once. His compass is still a big unknown. What if it breaks down in the middle of travel?”

  “I’d be able to fix it,” said Matt with confidence. “I mean, it’s not perfect, I’ll admit, but it works. I traveled, and I was able to get back home. I can do it again.”

  Ruby was still clearly apprehensive about the whole situation. “We promised we’d stick together, with Mom and Dad too. Have you forgotten what it was like last time, when we never thought we’d see them again? When we thought we were going to . . . going to . . .”

  Tears were pooling in Ruby’s eyes. Matt was suddenly flooded with feelings and images of when they’d been discarded on that barren island and thought they’d never see their parents again. They thought they were going to die.

  “Hey,” said Corey, placing a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “We got away last time, didn’t we? And we didn’t even have our own compass then. We’re way more prepared this time. I say we—”

  “Shh!” Matt put his hand up to make them stop talking. They all sat still and listened. Matt heard the creak of old floorboards as someone walked down the hallway. Corey and Ruby scrambled out of Matt’s bed and into their own. Matt switched off his lamp and lay down just as their bedroom door cracked open. Matt kept his eyes closed. But he knew it was his mom. Did she ever sleep? He could hear her sigh as she saw that all three children were in their beds. She stood in the doorway for a long time before she shut the door and left.

  Matt listened to the creak of her footsteps as she walked away. He waited a minute before he spoke again. “Ruby, I get it,” he said. “It’s not an ideal situation, and it’s good to be cautious, but we can’t plan for every little thing that might happen. We’re going to have to take some risks. But you need to decide right now whether you’re in or you’re out. You don’t have to come, but we don’t have time for a lot of debates. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to have to move fast, before Mom and Dad catch on.”

  “You know I’m in,” said Corey. “A pirate’s life for me.”

  “Ruby?” Matt asked.

  Ruby didn’t reply for several moments. He imagined she was biting her lip, mulling everything over in her brain. She was always cautious. She liked to be sure about things, and Matt liked that about her, but now was the time to make some big decisions. Jump off the cliff and grow some wings. Ruby took a deep breath. “Of course I’m in. It’s all insane, but I’m in. For Jia’s sake, if nothing else.”

  “Good.” Matt thought the moment should have felt momentous somehow, like there should have been fireworks or trumpets or something, or a rush of magic that they all felt at once, but all Matt heard was the crickets outside, and the distant tinny sound of Chuck still playing his harmonica. It seemed like no one slept around here except Gaga.

  “So what now?” Corey asked. “When do we leave?”

  “We need to get Dad’s map,” said Matt. “It’s the only way we can know exactly where and when the Vermillion went after we came home.”

  “What, do we just ask if we can look at it?”

  “No,” said Matt. “That will make them suspicious. They’ll know we’re up to something. Plus we should really have it with us when we travel. We need to steal it.”

  “Well,” said Corey. Matt could hear him rubbing his hands together. “We’ve learned a thing or two about that in the last few months, haven’t we?”

  “We also need to run more tests on the compass,” said Ruby. “We need to see if we can actually time-travel all together. If only Matt can do it, then that changes things.”

  “If that’s the case, I vote we take turns,” said Corey.

  Matt felt a slight clench in his chest. He didn’t want to be selfish, but he did feel a powerful possessiveness where his compass was concerned. Luckily Ruby voiced his thoughts for him.

  “Only one person should hold the compass and that’s Matt,” she said. “He built it. It’s his. We’re not going to take turns.”

  “That’s bogus,” Corey muttered, but he didn’t argue the point any further, and Matt was silently grateful to Ruby.

  They stayed up late into the night, or early into the morning, rather, making plans for their first mission. They had to steal their dad’s map. Then, hopefully, they could rescue Jia and somehow stop Captain Vincent.

  8

  Signs and Symbols

  Belamie, Age 25

  1893, Chicago, Illinois

  Captain Belamie Bonnaire had enjoyed an illustrious and lucrative career as a time pirate since acquiring the Obsidian Compass a decade ago. Her private quarters were only a small glimpse into the life she led and the interests she’d developed. Clothes from all different eras and countries were stuffed in an open wardrobe and slung over the back and arms of an enormous golden throne she’d stolen from a Russian czar. (She never sat in it. Though it was majestic and beautiful, it was quite uncomfortable to sit upon.) Ornate silver and golden boxes overflowed with jewels and pearls.

  Several paintings hung on the walls in gold-
leaf frames, many of them from artists quite famous, including Rembrandt, Van Gogh, and Vermeer.

  The rest of the walls were covered with swords and daggers—heavy ceremonial swords with jeweled hilts, thin rapiers with little embellishment, and dozens of daggers, some ancient and some made hundreds of years after she was born. She was forever collecting blades and learning how to use them. She’d studied fencing and combat with every master throughout the world. If she were being honest with herself, she might admit she was trying to compensate for something, but she was rarely honest with herself. She was rarely anything with herself. Belamie was a self-escape artist. Everything she acquired, everything she did, was an attempt to escape her past, ignore the present, and avoid the future.

  Sometimes she escaped into clothing, luxurious gowns, jewels, furs, and shoes. Other times she used art, theater, music, or books. She had hundreds of books in towering stacks around her cabin, a few art and history books, but mostly novels—adventure and fantasy and mystery and romance—from nearly every country, era, and language. She told herself it helped her with language learning, and it did, but the primary reason was escape, to slip into another world, become another person. Romance novels were her favorite, her guilty pleasure. This was a great secret. To her crew she appeared to be above such “nonsense,” but deep down she was a romantic. Romance was the best escape of all.

  But romance was far from her mind now. Nothing could help her escape the present situation (or past or future, whatever it was). Belamie paced around her cabin, holding a baseball cap in her hands, the one the boy had left behind. The boy . . .

  Annie’s words echoed inside her head.

  “You can’t kill him! He’s your son!”

  Her son . . . The boy was her son?

  Impossible. Annie had to be mistaken, or she was playing some kind of trick. She never thought the girl capable of such an outlandish lie, but it was easier than believing that the boy was her son. Belamie may be a romantic, but her fantasies always stopped short of having children. She’d decided long ago, even before she’d been given the compass, that she could never be a mother. She’d barely had a mother herself. Both her parents had been torn from her when she was so young, and she wasn’t exactly the perfect role model.

  Vince, however, had a different reaction to the whole fiasco. He’d believed Annie’s claim more readily than Belamie did, even though he despised the girl. In fact, he’d welcomed it. He immediately dropped all notions of any spies and rejoiced in the idea that he’d just seen his own future son, his heir!

  This had annoyed Belamie for some reason, though she couldn’t quite peg why. Maybe it was how happy he was about it, his complete joy and enthusiasm at the prospect of a son. At best, Belamie felt annoyed that the universe would suddenly plop a child in her midst without her permission. At worst, she was absolutely terrified.

  Or maybe it was how Vince had called the boy his heir. Not theirs. His. But heir to what? Vincent had no real title or property or inheritance (a definite sore spot for him). Belamie was master of the Obsidian Compass. She was captain of the Vermillion, but the way he spoke made it sound like it was his to pass on. Belamie felt a prickle of apprehension.

  A knock came at the door. Belamie tucked the hat in the back of her waistband. “Come in.”

  The door creaked open and Annie peeked her head inside, her eyes wide and shining like a frightened doe. It reminded Belamie of when they’d first found her.

  Belamie had found Annie about a year ago in Ohio in the late 1860s. They’d only stopped there as a resting point on a longer journey. It was never a good idea to travel too far in one go. It had been the dead of winter. (Belamie had gotten the timing off.) They were just about to leave for warmer weather when Belamie spotted a young girl carrying firewood in the freezing cold and snow. She wore a threadbare dress and no coat. She was shivering violently, her lips blue, and she looked half-starved. Belamie’s heart nearly split in two at the sight of her. It was perhaps the closest she’d come to feeling any kind of maternal instinct. Without a thought she took the girl, wrapped her in her fur coat, and brought her on board the Vermillion. She gave her a cup of hot tea, a hearty meal, and told her she could stay as long as she wanted.

  “Forever?” Annie asked, her eyes wide.

  “If you want,” said Belamie. “But you have to earn your keep. No one dawdles on the Vermillion. I run a tight ship.”

  Annie wasn’t afraid of hard work, only cold and hunger. Belamie had thought to teach her the sword. She was petite, but strong and agile, with dark, serious eyes that seemed to soak in every tiny detail. But Annie turned out to prefer guns over swords. Belamie had never cared for guns and only kept some on board the Vermillion as a means of precaution when they traveled to certain times and places, but one day Belamie found Annie on the upper deck with a rifle, shooting pewter goblets off the sides of the ship. Belamie would have been angry if she hadn’t been even more impressed. Annie’s aim was dead-on. She knocked over every single goblet from every which angle every single time. She was a natural sharpshooter, and Belamie knew she had a skill that could be very useful on many missions.

  Annie grew bold and confident, and Belamie grew quite fond of her. She became something like a little sister. Belamie never could understand why Vince didn’t like her, or why Annie didn’t like Vince, though it wouldn’t be the first time he’d clashed with one of her crew.

  Now Annie was trembling almost as much as the day Belamie had found her in the freezing cold, all boldness and confidence swept away. “Are you going to discard me?” she asked in a near whisper, staring at the compass on Belamie’s chest.

  “Of course not!” Belamie quickly tucked the compass beneath her shirt. “I would never do that to you.”

  Annie gripped her rifle tightly, her whole body tense.

  “You’re not in trouble, Annie,” said Belamie. “You’ve done nothing wrong, but I need your help. I want you to tell me exactly what happened today with the boy, everything that was said. As much as you can remember.”

  Annie relaxed a little, but she still looked pale and frightened. “I don’t know where he came from. I had him looking down the barrel of my gun, and I asked who he was and told him he’d better not lie ’cause I could smell a lie, and that’s when he told me he was from the future and he was your son.”

  “You’re sure that’s what he said? He said he was my son?”

  Annie nodded. “Yes! He said, ‘I’m Captain Bonnaire’s son from the future.’ That’s what he said exactly, I swear it.” She crossed the rifle over her heart.

  Belamie furrowed her brow. She was hesitant to ask her next question, but she felt she must. “And . . . did he say who his father was?”

  Annie shook her head. “He didn’t say who his papa was, not exactly,” said Annie in a small voice. “But . . .” She looked at the floor and shifted uncomfortably.

  “Yes?” Belamie coaxed. “Tell me, Annie. I need to know.”

  Annie looked Belamie straight in the eyes. “He said it’s not Vincent.”

  Belamie let the words sink in a bit. “He said Vince was not his father?”

  Annie nodded. “I asked if Vince was his papa, because that seemed reasonable, considering, but he said he wasn’t. He said his father’s no time pirate.”

  Something flared in Belamie’s chest. Disappointment? Relief? Perhaps it was just her body telling her this was the truth. Vince was not the boy’s father. But she was his mother. If it was true, what did it mean? Why wouldn’t Vince be the father? Her mind began to spin. Maybe he gets lost in time somewhere. She searches the world over but fails to find him. She believes he’s lost forever, and then after years of mourning she meets someone else . . . and they have a son together, and they’re happy, but then the father tragically dies . . . and then, years later, she finds Vincent again, and he sweeps her in his arms and . . .

  “He also said Vincent gets the compass.”

  Belamie snapped out of her daydream. “I’m sorry,
what did you say?”

  Annie scratched her leg with the butt of her rifle. “The boy. Your son? He said in the future Vincent is captain of the Vermillion, that he gets the Obsidian Compass.”

  Belamie’s eyes narrowed. “But the boy had the Obsidian Compass, didn’t he? If he came from the future, then surely he had the compass?”

  Annie shook her head. “He had a compass, but this one was different. It wasn’t the Obsidian Compass.”

  Another compass . . . that sounded like trouble . . . And Vincent, captain of the Vermillion? A memory surfaced in Belamie’s head. It was more than a year ago. She’d taken the Obsidian Compass off to bathe. That was the only time she ever took it off. When she went to dress, there was Vince, holding her compass. He’d wrapped the golden chain around his wrist, his fingers circling the dials. Belamie had taught Vince the basics of how the compass worked. It had felt like the right thing to do, a precaution in case anything happened to her, but looking at him with the compass . . . she’d never forget the look in his eyes then. Desire. Hunger. Possession. It sent a shiver up her spine.

  Vince played it off smoothly enough. When he saw Belamie standing there in her robe, he unwound the chain from his wrist and placed it over her head, gently setting the compass against her chest. He smiled and told her she was beautiful, but the compliment felt more cunning than romantic, and his smile did not reach his eyes. They still held a dark sort of hunger that she knew was not for her.

  Belamie was startled out of her thoughts by Annie, who suddenly burst into tears. Alarmed, Belamie knelt down next to her. She’d never seen Annie cry. Not once. She was not sure what to do or how to make her stop. “Annie, it’s all right,” she soothed. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Annie only sobbed all the harder. “No it won’t. If Vincent gets the compass and becomes captain, he’s going to discard me at the top of a volcano right before it explodes!”

  “Annie, I’d never let that happen, and Vince would never do such a thing.”