Mia pulls a Six of Swords from the deck. The card has a picture of people in a small boat. “You and some of your friends will be crossing very troubled waters,” explains Miss Elisyia. “I see zis peril time and again.”
Mia stares at the card as dismay flickers across her face. “Are you sure there’s nothing here about romance?”
Mitch pulls out a card with a roulette wheel. Miss Eliysia says, “Ah, the Wheel of Fortune. Something menacing is in your future. Be careful.”
Mitch shrugs. “Guess I shouldn’t gamble.”
According to the fortuneteller most of the cards say danger lies ahead. I wish the gang would stop choosing them. Clive turns over a card with a burning tower and people leaping from the windows. “Calamity,” says the woman, which I know is another word for even worse danger. “So many trials to pass,” she continues. “You will have terrible trouble until you learn to accept other points of view.”
That card’s not so bad after all, I think. “You are good. You read Clive like a book.” Clive’s lips twitch as if he’s fighting a smile.
“Your turn.” Miss Eliysia stares at me. Behind her mask, she has dark, sparkling eyes. As she reshuffles the cards and fans them in front of me, I get that creeping sensation across my neck.
“I think I’ll pass.” I push the cards back, but Mia gives me a shove. “C’mon.”
“Are you a scaredy cat?” asks Sookie.
I sigh and pull out a card and turn it over. A skeleton in black armor sits upon a horse. Just in case I don’t get the picture, at the bottom of the card written in big black letters is the word - Death. “I’ve had about enough of this museum tour.” I drop the card on the counter like it was a hot coal.
Miss Elisyia grabs the Tarot card and places the card on my palm. I try and pull away but she tightens her grip. Her eyes bore into me. “This card is your ticket at a crossroads.” She says this like it’s the most important thing in the world. “Take it. This you must keep.”
What does that mean? But I take the card and tuck it in the back pocket of my jeans. “Let’s get out of here,” I say. No one argues, not even Sookie even though we have twenty minutes before we meet Mr. Morrows, so we leave.
“Goodbye my chers,” Miss Elisyia calls after us. “You know how to run, but do you know how to hide?” We walk faster.
Outside, the square’s become even more crowded with revelers. You can’t see past your nose, the main street’s so blocked with people. Clive says, “We’d better wait right here.”
He doesn’t have to tell us. None of us feel like adventuring when all we heard from the woman in the museum was trouble, danger, calamity, death. Even if we don’t believe in fortune telling, we all believe in Mr. Morrows’ wrath, and I sure don’t want to mess up the swamp tour.
“Take a look at that,” Clive points. We notice a new crowd gathering down the street. A carnival crewe is towing a float for the parade tomorrow. It is a giant skull in a jester’s hat. Green witch light pours from its eye sockets.
“Check out the float, Sookie,” I say, but she’s got her nose buried in the little booklet that came with her creepy Voodoo doll. I drag her behind me as we all jostle to the curb to get a better look.
All at once, it’s as if we’ve jumped in river rapids. We are swarmed by the crowd and swept down the street as if we are swallowed up by a fast-running river. I’m pushed around, someone slams into me, and I bump heads with Mia. I lose Sookie’s hand.
Before I can reach for her, the crowd surges again. Sookie is swept away with them. The mass of revelers keeps moving and I lose sight of her.
“Sookie!”
I hear a faint cry.
“Caaat, helllpp!”
4
We chase the crowd down the street but as we push our way through all the people, we can’t find my sister.
“Caa-aat!
“She’s calling from the direction of the riverfront,” Clive yells above the ruckus.
We duck and dodge our way through the jam-packed side streets, avoiding the crowds, twisting and turning as if we are caught in a maze.
“I hear her.” Skeeter shoots forward, breaks away from the crowd and runs down a dark narrow alley. We have no choice but to try and keep up with him.
We turn down the lane and away from the swarms of people. Even though jazz music spills out of New Orleans’ taverns 24/7, the mysterious beats and tinny horns echoing in this lane sound more old fashioned. There is something odd about this music…
Out of breath, I finally spot Sookie at the end of a dark lane, where my little sister is talking with great glee to someone. In fact, it seems like she is showing off. I see her waving her new doll. When we catch up, a strange sight emerges from the shadows. We see a costumed carnival crewe wearing the most peculiar costumes. Instead of shiny and glitzy, their clothes are baggy, dark, and old-fashioned, making the crewe look as if they’ve suddenly appeared from a Mardi Gras long past.
“Don’t they have astonishing costumes, Cat?” Sookie beams up at me. “Meet my new friends, the Mystik Crewe.”
If Sookie was the least upset about getting lost, she seems to have forgotten. But there is something I don’t like about the Mystik Crewe.
First, there is the smell, is it just me or do any of my friends catch a whiff of stale dry air as if a crypt door has been opened, and something ancient has escaped. And then there are the creepy costumes. I check out each of the Mystik Crewe.
There are three revelers, and they are about our height, so I figure the Mystik Crewe are our ages—not that you can really tell. Two of them have heavy face paint—white with black lips—and elaborate black masks hide their eyes. One reveler wears a weird navy baggy suit covered in red stars. The other costumer is in a jester suit of black and white with giant pom-poms that remind me of those clowns you only see in horror movies.
They carry wands, wear leggings and velvet boots, and have tall pointy hats.
The third masker looks the freakiest. The girl is dressed in a ghostly blue-grey dress that looks both old fashioned and sinister. Her hat is most peculiar. It has devil horns that curl down the side of her head like a demonic goat. Her face is veiled, and I very badly do not want to see the face under that veil.
She reaches out her arm, and I’m not the only one who instinctively jumps back. Sookie snickers and mutters, “Scaredy Cat.”
The ghostly-looking girl reaches into a purple sack and pulls out a handful of gold doubloons. She hands one to each of us, and when she places the doubloon in my palm, a spine-chilling jolt shoots through me. The scar on my arm heats up – strange, that scar bothers me when I brush up against something otherworldly. Well, Mardi Gras is pretty otherworldly….
“We should be getting back to the museum before Mr. Morrows misses us.” Clive sounds like his voice is calling from far away.
I turn toward Clive to agree, and when I turn back, the Mystik Crewe has disappeared again into the shadows. It occurs to me that during that whole uncanny meeting, no one from the Crewe uttered a single word.
“Wow, these doubloons are heavy,” says Skeeter.
“I wouldn’t want them to throw these at me from a float,” adds Mia. “It would hurt.”
Clive holds his doubloon in front of his face and peers closely. “Yeah, this doubloon is not made of aluminum. There’s no Mardi Gras stamp on it either, and I think the writing is in Spanish.”
“A Spanish doubloon,” Skeeter grins. “That’s pirate money.”
Ghosts, pirates and vampires – will Skeeter and Sookie give it a rest. I look at my doubloon. It seems to grow warmer in the palm of my hand, and when I touch it with my finger it feels hot. I put it in my pocket, but can’t shake off a creepy feeling. What am I missing?
Instead of trying to figure it out, I say, “We better find our way back and fast. We’ve only got ten minutes to get back in time for Mr. Morrows.” I look around the gloomy alley. “Can anyone track all the twists and turns we took chasing Sookie?”
None of us ca
n guess the direction back.
“We should walk to the waterfront. I can see it ahead between the buildings,” suggests Mitch. “Then we can hop an electric streetcar and get off near the museum.” Agreeing, we head in that direction.
As we near the docks, we see that booths and rides are set up along the waterfront like a carnival. Right away the gang splits up and starts scoping out the food booths.
“Is anybody else hungry? Mitch hesitates at a food tent and sounding uncertain says, “This fried alligator smells like fried chicken.” Mia pulls him away. “Don’t even think about it. Mr. Morrows is going to be so upset.”
“Do I smell beignets?” Sookie checks out the next booth.
I see my hopes of a swamp tour bursting like a soap bubble. “Hurry, stop splitting up,” I snap, but no one is listening, they’re all so hungry.
Clive walks over and hands me a cup. “I thought you might like this.”
“What I’d like is to get back in time for the swamp tour.” I sniff the creamy liquid in the cup. It smells so rich and sweet - café au lait. “Thanks Clive,” I say in surprise.
Before my little snoopervisor can catch me, I dump the coffee contents into my thermos to hide it. I’m about to take a sip when Clive points to the crowds gathering at the dock. “Get a load of that ship.”
Before any of us can grab him, Skeeter lets out a whoop and takes off for the dock.
5
I look where Clive is pointing and Skeeter is running. Mist on the water fills the darkening horizon. Silhouetted in the fog is an old wooden ship with black sails. Strange red lights dance in its hold. Skeeter is standing on the dock shouting, “Pirates!”
“That is a brigantine.” Clive gives a low whistle.
Before he can enlighten us more, I break in, “A smaller ship popular to pirates who sailed through the Gulf and bayous.” Some history sticks in my head—the interesting stuff.
With a crash, the ship drops a gangplank on the wharf. A crew hustles to set up a boarding sign beside it. We walk closer following Skeeter, and to my surprise, I see it is the Mystik Crewe we met in the alley. The strangely costumed crewe doesn’t seem too creepy to the other people on the wharf, in fact they line up to get on board
Skeeter hustles to the front of the long line. I’m about to say we don’t have time to do this, when I see my friends staring at the sign at the end of the gangplank.
Price to board the Barataria
One gold doubloon
Lots of people are grumbling. “Daddy, they wouldn’t take my doubloon,” complains a girl about Sookie’s age. Her black braids bounce as she shakes her head in disappointment. She holds out a purple fake Mardi Gras doubloon.
Her father shrugs his shoulders. “I waved twenty dollars in front of them, but they wouldn’t take it. Sorry, Sweetie, there must be special boarding passes.”
“All aboard mateys,” Skeeter cries halfway up the gangplank.
“Look Cat, our doubloons must be the right kind. We must have won a prize.” Sookie squeals and shoots off like a cannon ball up the gangplank toward the deck. Mia is close behind.
“Wait,” shouts Clive. “We’re supposed to meet Mr. Morrows.”
“Come back, we’ll miss the swamp tour!” I add. It occurs to me Mia never wanted that trip in the first place.
“C’mon,” Mitch nudges Clive with his elbow. “We’re kids. We’ve just been offered a tour on a pirate ship—that doesn’t happen every day. We’ll still be back in time to meet Mr. Morrows.”
“Actually, we’re already late,” I point out. I’m calculating how angry Mr. Morrows is going to be. Looking for and finding a lost Sookie might be a good excuse, but if we wait too long, we’ll miss the last swamp tour.
Clive is shaking his head. He doesn’t like getting in trouble with his teachers. Me, well, I pretty much live on the bad side of teacher town. You weren’t always that way, whispers a pesky voice in my head.
“We’ll look around and get off quick.” Mitch races up the plank.
“Now we have to board the ship to drag them back,” I complain. Clive doesn’t move. “Come on,” I grab his arm and pull. “The two of us will round them up faster than one.”
Clive resists, but the others have disappeared onto the ship, and so he hands over his gold doubloon to the creepy looking clown kid and steps onto the gangplank. I hand the ghostly girl my coin, but as my fingers brush her gloved hand a cold fog seems to seep into me and wrap around my heart. The scar on my arm itches.
A warning bolts through my mind –for once I wish Clive hadn’t considered my point of view.
I shake off the uncomfortable foreboding and step onto the gangplank leading up to the mysterious ship. The plank tilts and trembles under my feet.
6
“All aboard the Barataria,” a rough voice shouts from the crow’s nest. “Have a walk about and enjoy the harbor view as the ship sets sail. Wave goodbye to your loved ones…”
Sets sail? Clive and I exchange looks of alarm. “We better get the others off the ship, quickly,” I say.
“…this trip’s not for the likes of landlubbers.” The crewman laughs as if he is in on some mean joke—one that delights him.
“I’m no landlubber,” shouts Skeeter from the aft.
Clive chases after his brother. I stand frozen on deck for a second. How can I round up everyone in moments? Then the ship lurches below my feet. We are already setting sail!
Maybe it’s better if I alert a crew member that we have to get off. I run along the port side. Nobody is there. I run to the stern and don’t see a single soul. I run across the deck, but I can’t see anyone through the swirling mist. This ship is eerily deserted. It’s not just that I can’t spot a member of the crew. I haven’t seen any other passengers either. I head back to the crow’s-nest—at least I can shout up to that crewman.
“We have to get off!” I cry up through the fog to where I heard the sailor in the crow’s-nest. “We’re in big trouble for being late. We can’t go for even a short sail.”
I crane my neck, but I can’t see anyone. Come to think of it, I only heard a voice. Maybe it was from a speaker. Maybe the crew operates the ship below deck. As I gaze up into the patchy fog, my only answer is a flag that unfurls slowly from the mast – a big, black, pirate flag.
I race to the captain’s cabin and pound on the door, but no one answers. I rattle and yank the handle of the door, but it’s locked tight. I peer into the portal. The small cabin is dark, dusty and deserted. I wander around the deck shouting, “Let us off!”
I hear Mia’s voice from the other side of the ship. “It’s no use, Cat. Come see.”
I find my friends hovering over the rail. I stand beside them as we watch the shore shrink in the distance. We have set sail and are picking up speed. Except it appears no one is manning the sails or steering.
“Is it me, or is this ride kind of freaky,” says Mia.
“Maybe that’s it,” I say, “This is one of those rides that are supposed to spook you a little. It’s part of the fun.” I remember when I was as a little kid, going to an amusement park with my parents before their divorce. That time, Sookie was still in a stroller, and my dad and I had gone on the ride. I remember leaning against a pillar, and it slipped and I heard rocks tumbling. I cried out and hid behind my dad. He picked me up and smiled. “Don’t worry, Catnip. It is all part of the ride to give you an extra thrill.”
“Ride or no ride, we are in a world of trouble,” says Mitch.
“Ya think,” snaps Clive.
“Look how fast the moon is rising.” Mia points to the horizon. The moon floats up orange and bloated like a jack-o’-lantern. Scattered clouds scud across the darkening sky and partly cover the moon. The orange glow of the moon turns the clouds from grey to red, so they glow like a crimson halo.
“Blood circled moon,” says Sookie in that detached, observant way that sends a shiver up my spine.
“What does that mean?” asks Mia.
; Sookie’s voice deepens and grows more ominous. “A blood circled moon means only one thing…danger.”
7
The wind picks up and my hair starts flying. Black sails billow as the brigantine tacks and lurches forward in the water. I stumble and bang my elbow hard against the railing. The wind picks up more and sends fierce howls across the deck, and cold salt spray splashes my face. The sails whip menacingly.
“Is this hurricane season?” asks Mia. “My mom wouldn’t have let me come to New Orleans if she’d known it was hurricane season.”
The skies open up and rain pelts down. In only a few moments we are drenched.
“Cat, I’m not having fun.” Sookie folds her arms, her dripping blonde bangs plasters her forehead. “Take me back.”
“How can they leave us out here?” Mia says with chattering teeth.
I’m still thinking about rides, and how lots of water rides soak you, but something still isn’t right. For one thing, this isn’t fun at all. Without anyone actually saying anything, we drift back to the captain’s cabin.
“Hey, this door has another one of those upside-down keyholes,” observes Skeeter. I hadn’t noticed that before.
“This door must be to keep the ghosts inside,” says Sookie. “The upside down lock means they can’t get out.” I just shake my head—sometimes there’s no point arguing with my kid sister.
“Was that lightning?” Clive looks up. A roll of thunder explodes above our heads, and we scramble away from the tall masts.
“Sookie, get away from the ship wheel. You’ll steer us out to sea.”
“It’s okay, Cat, it doesn’t do anything.” To demonstrate she spins the wheel easily.
“Okay,” says Clive. “We know it’s a fake, automated ship. Could someone be guiding it from the shore by remote control?”
“We’re too far out,” says Mitch. “The crew must be below.”
“Jerks!” Mia stamps her feet down hard on the deck. “We want out of the rain!” she shouts. “Let us below!”
Grim Tales: The Curse of the Doubloons Page 2
