Grim Tales: The Curse of the Doubloons
Page 5
“If only I knew,” I say, and dip the paddle into the choppy waves.
15
The ghost ship circles going round and round in the same spot. A cloud of mist rises from the water, and fog rolls in. As we look back, the ship straightens its course, and moves silently into the fog until it becomes a silhouette against the moonlight and the fog. The crimson glow blinks inside the hull, and then the light extinguishes. The ship fades into the night. I shudder to think where we’d be if we stayed on the ship.
We row our rickety boat deep into the bayou under the bright moonlight. My dripping wet T-shirt and shorts cling to my skin. The air is humid, and there’s no chance of my clothes drying out. An odd chill works its way through me, almost from my insides out.
As we row nearer to shore, the passage narrows. Water is broken with marsh grass.
“I didn’t know swamps were so noisy,” says Sookie.
There are twitters, and creaks, slithers and loud bird calls. Marsh grass shivers and then there’s a scuffling. Something hoots. Mounds of earth covered in canes sprout up everywhere in the water, and between the canes I can see what looks like the glow of animal eyes watching us.
We navigate through winding tree roots, and Mia lets out a strangled scream when a log bumps our boat.
“Be careful, that might be an alligator,” I warn. “I read that they can look like logs in the water.”
We keep rowing, making sure we keep our limbs safely inside the boat. Even though Skeeter and Sookie keep baling, water keeps pouring in covering my feet in a slimy pool.
“This is no time for us to sink,” says Clive. That goes without saying, but Sookie and Skeeter bale faster.
My eyes dart from low hanging branches to dangling vines. I scan for any place we can go ashore. The trees springing from the water are dripping in Spanish moss, and one of the tree vines entwines itself around a branch.
“You might want to duck under the vines and proceed carefully.” I keep my voice calm. “Some of the vines are snakes, and cottonmouths have a deadly bite.”
“Nooo…” Mia ignores my advice about being cautious and starts rowing faster. “Why would you ever have wanted to take the swamp tour?”
“Yikes.” What looks like a floating stick curls and slides away when Mitch’s oar touches it.
“That’s a Black Swamp snake,” I say. “They’re harmless.”
“Not if I die of a heart attack,” says Mitch.
Mitch and Mia have a point. All I wanted was to tour the bayous but the swamp seems a lot more hazardous when you’re up close and personal.
Won’t you ever learn to be careful what you wish for, says that annoying voice.
“There’s the riverbank,” says Clive. We row until the battered boat scrapes the sandy shore. We jump out and drag the boat out of the water. Just as we step out of the ghost boat, its tortured timbers groan, and the boat breaks into a pile of kindling. Clive gives a low whistle. “That was a close call.”
“Are we home yet?” asks Skeeter.
“I don’t think so,” Sookie says hesitantly.
The city lights seem distant and blurred, as if looking through bottle glass. A din echoes in the background, and I strain my ears. It’s music, sort of like the music we’ve been hearing in New Orleans, but there is lots of drumming—and there is something wild about the drumbeats.
“At least we are close to other people,” I say, more optimistically than I feel.
We begin walking up from the shore, across a deserted stretch of road. All the buildings are stone and have columns. They remind me of a smaller version of those ancient Greek cities I’ve seen in history books. Like those old cities, these buildings are deserted. This is eerie and…
“Haunted,” whispers Mia. “Mr. Morrows said that New Orleans is a haunted city.”
“Well, we are walking past a necropolis,” says Clive.
“A what?” But then I see giant stone angels, and gravestones. I get it now. All those stone buildings are mausoleums—crypts for the dead. The smell of rotting flowers clogs my nose.
I understand before Clive answers back, “‘Necropolis’ means city of the dead.”
We come to a fork in the road with paths leading off in two directions. I hate graveyards, and we are standing at the crossroads of the most gigantic graveyard I’ve ever seen.
“We’ve seen pirates and ghosts,” Sookie says nervously. “This place must be where the vampires live.”
“There is no such thing as…” but the word dies on my lips.
A tall iron gate creaks open. Four shadows emerge from behind the wall of a mausoleum and creep through the gate. Are they walking or floating? It’s hard to tell in the dark. My heart hammers in my ears when the four dark creatures stop in front of us.
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The Mystic Crewe is standing before us. Behind them looms a tall, thin man—his face is painted white for Mardi Gras. A top hat rests low over his face; he’s wearing a purple coat, and leans on a cane. A thick cigar dangles from his mouth.
“Thanks a lot for the stinking ride,” Mia tells the Mystic Crewe. The two creepy clown kids and the sinister ghost girl say nothing. The man laughs and takes a puff from his cigar.
“Hey,” says Skeeter, “Smoking is bad for you.”
“Ha, ha, not if you’re already dead,” says the thin man.
“I suppose not.” Skeeter scratches his head.
Sookie fishes through her sopping wet backpack and pulls out her Voodoo doll then stares at the man. “You’re Baron Samedi! Are you a vampire?” Sookie asks matter of factly. The man shakes his head. “A ghost then,” Sookie declares.
“Not quite,” says the Baron.
“A creature of the Otherworld,” I say.
“Oh,” says Sookie. She looks at her doll again and says softly, “Of course.”
“What do you want,” I say. I can feel the scar on my arm flare in pain. I realize it hasn’t been bothering me because of Mardi Gras. It’s been burning because I’ve been meeting Otherworld creatures.
“The law of our realm says that you must make an offering to enter back into the city,” says the Baron. He stretches out his arm and opens his white-gloved hand. “Those are the rules.”
“We don’t have any more doubloons,” says Mitch. “Your little friends already took them back.”
“Those coins were mine to begin with,” says Baron Samedi. “They were my gift to you—lagniappe.” Then with a wicked grin he adds, “Just as I gave Jean Lafitte a whole treasure chest of them.”
“Wasn’t that a couple of hundred years ago?” asks Skeeter.
“Are you sure you’re not a vampire?” asks Sookie.
“Has it been that long? It hasn’t done Lafitte much good.” The Baron chortles as if what he’s said is hilarious. “That’s the curse of the doubloons. You take them, and you’re trapped forever on a ghost ship. That’s a good one, isn’t it?” His laugh is dark and sinister.
“We’re not trapped on the ship,” I say.
“No, but you’re not exactly in the land of the living yet.” The Baron gestures at the necropolis with its crypts and gravestones, strange statues and stone angels—a city of the dead.
“What do you want?” says Clive.
The Baron says nothing and keeps puffing on his cigar. The smell of the smoke makes me dizzy. I take a step back and try to think. So far, everything Miss Eliysia warned us about has come true. Maybe she was trying to help, says that voice. Now think…
Mia crossed troubled waters; Sookie became the sorceress; Clive should have listened to Skeeter’s point of view; Skeeter totally followed the wrong group, and Mitch has been in nothing but danger.
I reach in my back pocket. The Tarot card of Death is still there—wet, but intact. And I am at a crossroads. Miss Eliysia said, “This is your ticket at a crossroads.” Except so far, the fortuneteller’s warnings have brought terrible misfortune, says that voice.
Forewarned is forearmed. “Skeeter,” I whisper,
“can I borrow your backpack?” Skeeter nods.
“Sookie,” I whisper, “What else does your little book explain about the Baron?”
“He goes after naughty children.”
“Not helpful,” I whisper.
“Um, that people give him coffee, and that’s as far as I read.” Sookie shrugs her shoulders.
I pull my thermos from my own pack. “Offer him my café au lait.”
“Cat, Mr. Morrows said for you to dump your coffee,” says Sookie. “And Mom…”
“Now is not the time, Sookie,” I rasp. “Set the coffee before his feet and back away.”
While I prepare, Sookie takes the thermos, and sets it on the cobbled ground, offering it to the Baron.
The clown boy picks up the thermos and hands it to the Baron. Baron Samedi opens the cap and takes a long swig. “Mm mm, delicious.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I mutter.
The Baron takes another long drink. “That is a good start,” he says, “but there is still a toll.”
“I have a ticket,” I say, and wave the Tarot card over my head.
“Then hand it to me girl, and all of you may cross over into the land of the living,” says the Baron. There is menace in his voice, and I can tell he’s up to no good.
You’re just a girl, and he’s a powerful creature of the Otherworld, I think. Do you really believe you can trick him? You’ve done it before, says that voice.
Clive puts his hand on my shoulder. “No Cat. Don’t go near him.”
I shrug him off, and take a deep breath. “Miss Eliysia said I am the one who must use the ticket at the crossroads.”
“Careful,” Mitch says.
“Cat?” Mia’s face pales under her mop of red hair.
I step forward and I’m holding the card face up. Death’s white skull glows in the moonlight. I reach to place the card on the Baron’s outstretched hand.
“Do you know girl, when I take my leave, I keep whatever is in my hand?” In a flash his hand leaps out and grabs my wrist. He fiercely tugs and my arm is yanked right off!
17
Mia screams. Clive shouts and grabs me. Mitch yells, “No.”
Sookie and Skeeter giggle. I roll up my sleeve and stretch out my hand. My arm is perfectly fine.
“What? This is an outrage!” The Baron looks at the plastic pirate hook that Skeeter bought in the souvenir shop. He waves it in front of us. “You tricked me.”
“I paid my toll,” I say. “I obeyed the rule.”
The Baron puffs his cigar and seems to look me over. Then he cackles. “Ha, ha, you did. You got the Baron at his own game!”
“Yeah, so let us through,” says Clive.
“What’s the rush children, you are in the city of forever. Hmm,” the Baron puffs his cigar and leans on his cane. “Though you did give me the most excellent café au lait.”
“Through great sacrifice,” I point out.
The Baron is looking at my green hair. “You’ve been marked by the fairies for a reason. You are special.”
Baron Samedi tips his hat. “Bonswa, you may proceed. By all means, pass through to the city of life. “ Then the Baron and the Mystic Crewe enter the tall iron gate and disappear into the shadows of the necropolis.
“Cat, you could have given us a warning,” says Mitch.
“I almost tackled that baron guy to get your arm back,” says Clive.
“I thought I was going to have to give First Aid,” says Mia.
“There wasn’t time,” I say.
“Let’s get moving.” Mitch breaks into a jog. “We’re not exactly out of danger yet. Mr. Morrows is going to kill us.”
We leave the graveyard and soon reach the city’s riverfront. As we rush along the city streets, the sky begins to lighten. The air warms and our clothes dry out.
“Get a load of that,” says Clive pointing to the sky. We watch in amazement as the moon climbs back down from the sky and the sun rises. It’s like I’m watching a time-lapse video in reverse.
We run one more block, and the city bursts to life as the vendors and carnival crewes bustle. Jazz and Dixieland bands blast music from every street corner. We keep moving along the riverfront, and end up at the same dock where the pirate ship had sailed. I check my watch. I’d assumed it had stopped working when it got wet, but I was wrong. Time in the Otherworld has snapped back like elastic, and it’s only an hour since we left the museum.
“I knew you mixed up my instructions,” an angry voice shouts. “I told you to meet me outside the museum while I got the tickets. Not at the river front where the swamp boat departs.”
Mr. Morrows rushes towards us. Ms. Dreeble is right behind and so is the rest of the soccer team.
Amarjeet and Jasper reach us first. Amarjeet takes one look at me and says, “Okay, tell me what I missed.”
“I bet their story is going to take quite a while to tell,” says Jasper.
“I’ll fill you in,” says Mia. “Brace yourself.”
“You won’t believe us anyhow.” Mitch shakes his head.
“I might surprise you.” Jasper nods at me and winks.
“I’m afraid it’s too late to catch the last tour to the swamp,” Ms. Dreeble says brusquely. She adjusts the elastic in her blonde ponytail and peers over her glasses as she frowns. “Cat, Mr. Morrows told me how badly you wanted to go on the swamp tour. I hope you realize it is your own lack of responsibility that causes your problems.”
“Cat rescued me, even if she was drinking coff…” Sookie stops herself and looks at me. “Your trick saved us,” she says slowly. “Oh, Cat, I’m sorry you never got your drink or your trip to the swamp.” Then she mutters, “I should have never talked to the Crewe. Even if they weren’t boring, I knew they were peculiar.”
“I was part of the problem, too,” says Skeeter. “Sorry, Cat.”
“I’ve seen plenty of the swamp today, anyway,” I say to Sookie and Skeeter. “Trust me.” Ms. Dreeble pushes her glasses up and stares at me for a second. Sometimes I wonder if she knows there’s more going on.
“Clive, I expected you at least could follow instructions,” says Mr. Morrows. He still sounds angry, but I wonder if Clive sees the relief that washes over our teacher’s face.
Clive opens his mouth and starts to say something, then closes it. He shoots me a confused look. I know what he’s going through. What’s he going to say? That we were shanghaied on the pirate ship of Jean Lafitte, and had to face Baron Samedi, the Voodoo spirit of death?
Right. That will work out just fine.
Instead I clap Clive on the shoulder and whisper in his ear, “Welcome to the bad side of teacher town.”
The End
BOOKS BY
LINDA DEMEULEMEESTER
The Secret of Grim Hill
Grim Hill: The Secret Deepens
Grim Hill: The Forgotten Secret
Grim Hill: The Family Secret
Grim Hill: Forest of Secrets
Praise for the award winning and best-selling “Grim Hill” series:
“Solid tween appeal…” - The Glove and Mail
“…an entertaining and worthwhile read.” – Kirkus Reviews
“(An) appealing mix of realism, whimsy, and legend.” – Booklist
“…bubbles along at a magical pace…creepy enough to cast a spell over anyone who reads it!” – Resource Links
“A winning, fun and spooky series…that fantasy addicts will devour.” – Montreal Review of Books
Visit the official “Grim Hill” series website:
www.grimhill.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda DeMeulemeester has worked in the fields of literacy and education for many years as a teacher and program adviser. She credits her grandmother, Alice B. Walls, a natural storyteller who was born over a hundred years ago, for her love of mystery and suspense. She lives on the west coast of Canada with her family.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Much appreciation to Kent Ross for his insight
ful editorial feedback, thank you to Helix for your first impressions, and to Karen Abrahamson and Rhea Rose for your encouragement and advice. Thank you always to John, my trusted reader.
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Grim Tales: The Curse of the Doubloons
Copyright ©2012 Linda DeMeulemeester
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author
Published by Pumpkin Press
Editor: Kent Chapin Ross
Cover Design: Linda DeMeulemeester
Ebook conversion by 50 Seconds North ebooks
Table of Contents
Title Page
Grim Tales: The Curse of the Doubloons
Books by Linda DeMeulemeester
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Copyright information