The Pirate Episode

by Kristy Tate

  #

  Joel sat at his desk, his chin propped in his hands. He stared at the letter in front of him, trying to process his emotions. How could Becca Martin go to Colorado, meet a cowboy, and get married all within a week?

  He had known her since she was a kid and had planned on spending the rest of his life with her. Not that he had been passionately in love. He didn’t believe in that sort of thing. What he did believe in was partnership, shared interests, and rapport.

  Marriage, he thought, should be less about hormones and more about compatibility. It was like software. In a marriage, two partners should be capable of getting together without requiring anyone to change. They should be able to share their lives without making any alterations. No one should require special modification or conversion.

  That was how he foresaw his future with Becca Martin. They were both scientists, dedicated and involved in meaningful work. He had always planned on telling her how he felt when the timing was right. But then that disastrous kiss at the Witching Well happened. What was that about? And then she went to Colorado and smashed all his goals and dreams.

  “I guess I dodged a bullet,” he muttered, pushing away from his desk.

  “What’s that, Dr. Fleur?”

  Joel spun around.

  Cambria Brandt stood in the doorway holding her tennis racquet, smiling at him in the knowing way he found so frustrating eighteen-year-old girls. She always looked at him as if she could read his thoughts, which would be disastrous for his position at the school if she really could.

  “Ah, Cambria, I hadn’t heard you come in.”

  “I think I left my book in here.” She looked past him and pointed to her fifth-period chair. “There it is.”

  Smiling, she moved past him, smelling earthy and raw. The air around her moved. He could practically feel the molecules rearranging themselves, welcoming her into his space. Typically he didn’t notice what women—girls, he corrected himself—wore, but he found Cambria’s too-short tennis skirt and tank top hard to ignore.

  Because he couldn’t indulge in such thoughts about Cami—or any of his students—Joel strode to his microscope. The bottle of water from the Witching Well sat on the counter. He had forgotten about that. He picked it up, intending to throw it away.

  “I heard your sister is getting married,” Cambria said, pausing beside him.

  Joel cleared his throat. “Yes.”

  “And she’s going to be running the dress shop out of your grandmother’s house.”

  “Yes,” he repeated, adjusting his glasses so he could see her better. Damn. Why did she have to look like that? Long blond curly hair, damp with sweat. Flushed skin. Shining eyes.

  “I think it’s so cool. All the girls love Delia’s Dress Shop. I can’t wait to see her wedding dress. Celia is so talented.”

  Joel nodded, cursing himself for social ineptitude and his inappropriate thoughts. She’s a kid, he berated himself. Get a grip.

  Waving her hand in front of her flushed face, she nodded at the water bottle in his hand. “Can I have a drink? Do you mind?” She reached for it and her fingers brushed his. Tingles shot up his arm.

  Cambria unscrewed the lid. “The water fountain on the courts is still broken.”

  “Um, that’s not—” Joel began.

  But Cambria didn’t stop to listen. “Don’t worry. I won’t put my lips on it,” she said. Tipping her head back, she poured the water from the Witching Well into her mouth.

  The tennis racquet, water bottle, and book fell with a clatter as Cambria vanished.

  Damn.

  CHAPTER 3

  The world looked blurry and blue, and it took a moment for Cami to realize she was submerged. Her lungs burned, instinct took over, and she propelled herself up toward the light, watching blue bubbles swish past. Breaking the surface, she gasped as the air hit her skin. She wiped her eyes and blinked again at the robin’s egg blue sky dotted with wispy clouds, and a matching, nearly translucent sea that stretched forever. While her legs churned the warm bath-like water, she drew in a shaky breath. Where was she? Cami blinked and salt water stung her eyes.

  Florida. Wasn’t that what she’d written on her slip of paper for the time capsule? But why was she in Florida when she was supposed to be studying for her math test? What had happened to the science room, Dr. Fleur, and Norfolk Comprehensive?

  Cami rolled over so she could float on her back and enjoy the sun’s warmth on her skin. In Connecticut, it had been overcast with looming heavy storm clouds, but here everything was as calm and peaceful as a summer’s day without required reading for her AP English class.

  Briefly, Cami’s memory flitted back to a time when summers were easy-breezy, full of laughter, sandy beaches, and afternoons at the park. Before her dad had left, before her mom had gone back to work, and before her life had turned into a long string of homework assignments, term papers, and science projects.

  The water rippled with waves, forcing Cami’s eyes to open. A ship approached, but it was unlike any other ship she’d seen, except on a movie screen. Its weathered wood made it look like the Black Pearl from Pirates of the Caribbean. With sails billowing from masts pointing to heaven, it rapidly approached, causing Cami to bob in merciless waves.

  She thought about trying to swim away, but she had nowhere to go. The sea stretched out around her like an unending carpet of blue. It crossed her mind she should feel scared, but she didn’t.

  “Ahoy!” A man standing on the ship’s deck and gripping the rail peered down at her. She couldn’t see him very well, but with his dark clothes, hair, and skin he looked like Johnny Depp or Captain Jack Sparrow. Although she wasn’t sure if his hair was naturally brown or just really dirty.

  “Ahoy?” Cami answered.

  “State thy name!”

  “I don’t think so,” Cami said.

  “Art thou lost?” A second face appeared above the rail. This man wore a long scruffy beard, large silver hoop earrings and a three-cornered hat.

  “Yes.” And maybe she’d lost her mind, but she didn’t feel like she needed to mention that.

  “I’ll inform the Captain,” the man in the hat said.

  Seconds later, the Johnny Depp man tossed her a rope. It landed with a splash beside her.

  Cami considered her options. She could grab on and let the man haul her up and onto his ship—but what then? Wouldn’t she rather take her chances in the water?

  But if she really was in Florida that meant there could be sharks. Sharks or men dressed up like pirates—were those her only choices? She could bloody a man’s nose. She didn’t think she could spar with a shark and win, so she grabbed the rope.

  As the man hauled her up, she debated whether or not she’d made the right choice, but everything became as clear as the blue sky and as transparent as the crystal water as soon she reached the deck and saw another man standing there.

  Tall and dark with long hair tied back at his nape with a leather band, he wore tan pants much more revealing than a pair of leggings, a black pair of knee-high boots made of supple leather that had to have cost a fortune, and a white billowing shirt with ruffles around a gaping neckline, which would have look femmy on anyone else, but on Dr. Fleur, it looked good. Really good.

  But how he looked didn’t matter. Obviously he had slipped her a roofie and she had to let him know his little plan wasn’t going to work. Pointing her finger at him, she mustered all of her confusion into anger and blasted it in his face.

  “You’re going to go to jail for this!”

  The men standing on the deck, unshaven, unwashed, smelly and hairy, grinned and laughed.

  Which made Cami even madder.

  “If I’m caught, yes,” Dr. Fleur drawled in a strange accent. “But then His Majesty’s Navy has been chasing me for these past many years, and I’ve yet to see the inside of a jail.”

  His Majesty’s what?

  Cami tried again. “When my mom hears about this, you’ll never teach again! They�
�ll pull your license and all the biology you’ll ever study will be in your jail cell.”

  “Biolo…” he said half the word as if he’d never heard of it before.

  “G, sir,” the Johnny Depp lookalike said. “I believe it must be the letter the G.”

  “Bio-G,” Dr. Fleur said slowly. “But this makes no sense.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man in the hat said. “But none of this makes sense. Where are this girl’s clothes? Why was she floating in the water leagues from land?”

  Dr. Fleur tapped his chin. “Do you think she is a spy?”

  “Hey!” Cami exploded. “I’m standing right here! Don’t talk about me as if I’m a.. a..”

  His lips twitched. “And what, pray tell, are you?”

  Cami straightened her shoulders. “I’m an AP honor student.”

  “An ay pee…she sounds so proud of it,” the hairy man said, “but I cannot make out her meaning. And her accent is strange, impossible to trace.”

  “She’s a Loyalist spy and is using a disguise—” Dr. Fleur began.

  “What are you talking about?” Cami demanded.

  The hairy man studied her. “I believe she is telling the truth. The most likely scenario is she was aboard a hapless ship and they wearied of her, stripped her of her clothes and threw her overboard.”

  Dr. Fleur grinned. “Why yes, I do believe you are right. That is the most likely scenario!”

  “What?” Cami couldn’t believe any of this. For the first time ever, she wished she knew someone who had been given a roofie so she could ask if this episode was any weirder than most drug-induced delusions.

  Dr. Fleur waved his hand as if to dismiss her. “Take her below. Find her something to wear. She can’t stay on board dressed like a harlot. Having a woman aboard is temptation enough for these men, but having one dressed like Mother Eve in their company is more than anyone could be expected to bear.”

  Harlot? Cami slid nervous glances to the men circling her and a shiver started at the top of her head and traveled to the bottoms of her tennis shoes.

  “Lock her in my quarters!” Dr. Fleur said.

  “B-b-ut,” Cami sputtered.

  “’Tis for your own safety,” he said, pinning her with a hostile look. “Let this be a warning to you. If you wished to be treated as a lady, then you should not expose yourself thus.”

  Which sounded a lot like something her mom would say, and more than a little hypocritical coming from a man who had put a date rape drug in her water.

  The hairy man grabbed her arm and pulled her across the deck.

  Cami dragged her feet. “Dr. Fleur!” She didn’t really like, or even know, this Dr. Fleur, but she did know and like the real Dr. Fleur. He had always been kind—even when she was a little kid and he’d carried her across the muddy street. The Dr. Fleur she knew would never really slip her a roofie. And to be fair, if she remembered correctly, he hadn’t offered her a drink. She had taken his water bottle without his permission.

  She had to rethink this. Maybe she’d hit her head. Maybe she was having a nightmare. Maybe she was having a breakdown.

  The hairy man pulled her down the steps, tossed her into a cabin, and locked the door.

  Cami stood in the center of the cabin, looking around at the red carpet, the heavily carved wooden chest, the bed with rumpled sheets and a fat down comforter. The bed beckoned her. Maybe, she told herself, if she slept the whole world would return to normal when she woke. Stripping off her soggy clothes, she looked around for something dry to wear. Her gaze landed on a massive wardrobe. Inside, she found a collection of white shirts. She pulled one over her head. It floated around her. The bottoms were more difficult, so she finally settled on a pair of white cotton pants that didn’t fit any better, but had a drawstring she cinched tight.

  Then, she lay on the bed and sank into the feather mattress. Through the porthole, she watched the sun dip toward the horizon. Maybe this was a dream, but if it was, it wasn’t so bad. She’d had much, much worse.

  She woke to snoring and bolted upright. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Moonlight poured through the porthole and landed on the Dr. Fleur lookalike. He sat in a chair across the cabin with his arms dangling at his sides, his legs angled out and crossed at the ankles, his eyes closed and his mouth open. He snorted in his sleep.

  Cami ran her fingers through her hair. The salt water had turned her curls stiff. This could not be happening. Flopping back down on the bed, she pulled a pillow over her head and closed her eyes. She promised herself the next time she woke she’d be home.

  #

  “Wench, wake!”

  Cami’s eyes fluttered open. “Dr. Fleur,” she murmured. He looked even better in the daylight with sunlight glimmering on his dark hair. His long shadow loomed over her and the bed. With his legs shoulder-distance apart, and his hands on his hips, he stood in what her mom called Wonder Woman position. But there was nothing womanly about him. Cami tried to remember the last time a man, other than her dad, had woken her, but came up empty.

  “Pray tell, how do you know my name?” he asked.

  “I, hum.” Again, empty.

  He inhaled a long breath. “I shall ask an easier one then, shall I? What is your name?”

  Cami scooted up, braced against the bed’s headboard, and pulled the comforter up to her chin. “Cambria Brandt.”

  “And miss—it is miss, is it not? You are not married?”

  Cami twittered a nervous giggle. “No.”

  “How is it I found you bobbing in the ocean all alone? Where are your brothers? Your father? An escort?”

  “I don’t…I’m an only child. I live with my mom.”

  “And how may I find your mother? I should like to return you to her as soon as possible.”

  “She’s in Connecticut.”

  “Connecticut? Great Apollo!” Dr. Fleur swore.

  Cami cast a glance out the window at the bright sun. “Actually, right now she’s probably in New York. She works in the city.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Your mother is a laborer?”

  Cami nodded. “Mostly in an office, but sometimes in a courtroom.”

  Frowning, he strode across the cabin, settled in the chair, and braced his hands on his knees. “Everything you tell me is beyond belief.”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “This is all beyond belief.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean if I told you where I’m really from, there’s no way you would ever believe me.”

  “But you said you were from Connecticut. That is not what is so hard to believe.”

  Cami bit her lip, not sure what to say.

  The man who looked like Dr. Fleur studied her like she was a bug on the end of a pin.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “But you know my name.”

  “You look like Dr. Fleur, but I don’t think you are him.”

  “I am not a doctor.”

  “And you don’t know what biology is.”

  “Why is the bio-G relevant?”

  “Because the Dr. Fleur I know teaches biology.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Maybe you’re related to Dr. Fleur. Do you have any relatives who teach biology?”

  “Why would a doctor also be a teacher?”

  “He’s not a doctor like a medical doctor. He has his Ph.D in biology.”

  “P H D.”

  Cami rolled her eyes. “Never mind, you obviously aren’t him, so who are you?”

  “Phillip La Fleur, captain of the Snow Maiden.”

  “And why are you afraid of the Royal Navy?”

  He bristled. “I did not say I was afraid.”

  “No, of course you’re not.” She sighed, thinking of all the courtroom stories she’d heard from her mom about men and their inflated egos. Even a few girls ruffled their feathers when they were called chicken, so of course this manly man parading in a pirate costume wouldn’t want to be called a coward. “Why
did you think I was a Loyalist spy?”

  “Are you a Loyalist?”

  Cami sat up straight. “Wait! What year do you think it is?”

  He grinned. “What year do you think it is?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “Hmm, memory loss?”

  “Maybe something like that. But never mind about me. What year do you think it is?”

  “I don’t think it is 1782, I know it is 1782.”

  She waved her finger around the cabin. “So this is the Revolutionary War?”

  “No, this is my captain’s quarters, but you mustn’t accustom yourself. You will not be staying long.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Because we dock at Île du Ciel within the hour, and while we are there, you shall remain my prisoner until your identity and intentions are made known.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “Of course not.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you trust me?”

  “No-o,” she said slowly.

  “I thought not.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to hold you prisoner.”

  He smirked. “I can only assume if you matched me in strength, and if you possessed the following of men I enjoy, you would attempt to turn the tables. But alas, this is not the case. I cannot jeopardize my men’s lives, or the great cause, by allowing your freedom. Île du Ciel is, as far as I know, unknown to the British. And so it must remain. Wench, while you are a guest on my island, I must insist upon your complete discretion.”

  “Guest? I thought I was a prisoner.”

  His lip twisted up in a half grin. “’Tis the same thing, is it not?”

  Somewhere above them, a bell clanged. The ceiling shook as footsteps pounded across the deck. Men began to yell and swear.

  Irritation flashed across Phillip’s face. He leaned toward her. “Keep yourself below deck, or I swear I shall return you to the bloody deep.”

  He wrenched open the door, stormed out, and slammed it shut. A key turned in the lock.

  Cami sat on the bed, claustrophobic and conflicted. Part of her wanted to pound on the door, screaming. Another part looked longingly out the porthole at the clear blue sky and sea. She supposed she could leap out and try to swim, but she didn’t know where to go. Besides, she was afraid of sharks, pirates, and the British Navy—in that order.