by E. G. Foley
Worse, neither she nor her tutor had noticed the listening conch half buried in the sand on the floor of his cave. You only had to hold one such shell up to your ear to hear whispers of all the secrets in the ocean.
Thus it was only a matter of weeks before the rumor that an Atlantean orb had been found had encircled the Seven Seas, and finally reached the deepwater fortress known as the Locker, home to the ocean’s most legendary outlaw.
Oh, he was the devil of drowning, himself, worse than a hurricane and a giant octopus combined—the taker of souls—known to sailors the world over as the cold, the cruel, the pitiless Davy Jones.
When one of his loyal shark-shifters came and whispered in his ear, the dread, undead pirate king sat back from his gaming table, where he had been rolling the bones on a wager for the fate of some poor soul. But at this news, a covetous smile curved his bluish lips.
“Well, now, me hearties,” he rumbled to his terrifying crew. “Here’s a treasure worth havin’.” He shot abruptly to his feet. “Make sail, boys! It’s time we paid King Nereus a visit.”
“Aye, aye, Captain!” said First Mate Carnahan. Half-man, half-thresher shark, he used his long tail to whip the crew into action. But always eager for battle, the rest of the cursed pirates scrambled to obey.
CHAPTER 3
Jake Takes a Holiday
Another night, another round of potent cloaking spells from Aunt Ramona. Another grand hotel somewhere on the Continent.
Jake’s moods had been all up and down ever since they’d left England. Sometimes he was giddy with the sights and sounds, tastes and smells of some dazzling new city.
Other times, seemingly at random, the sadness over the trouble he’d caused to everyone he cared about would creep up on him in the midst of looking at some amazing ruins or a sculpture or a dazzling cathedral or some treasure-packed museum.
For the most part, everybody got along, but occasionally members of their group bickered under the strain of travel, especially Isabelle, fault-finding with poor Maddox, who just kept his mouth shut.
His stoic refusal to argue with her only irked her more. Of course, the fifteen-year-old empath was still sore that the Guardian apprentice had politely rejected her overtures. Izzy had succumbed to—in Jake’s view—a silly infatuation with the muscular older boy. She knew full well that a Guardian was not allowed to pursue romantic involvements.
As for Nixie Valentine, the witch prodigy was gloomy by nature, so it was hard to tell if she was having fun on their trip or not. Even Archie’s dauntless cheer wore a bit thin now and then, but that might’ve been due to lack of sleep.
Now that the three boys were sharing a bedroom, Jake was well aware that his cousin was still having his unsettled—and possibly prophetic—dreams.
They had started after his brief brush with death, thanks to an attack at Merlin Hall by the ghoulish hag Jenny Greenteeth. Thankfully, Nixie had been on hand to bring him back with an astonishing display of her magic, but the boy genius had been a little off ever since.
Nevertheless, Jake had found it amusing that Archie had wept when Aunt Ramona had taken them on a sort of pilgrimage to the birthplace of Leonardo da Vinci in Tuscany.
Leonardo was, of course, Archie’s top scientific hero, but more than that, the original Renaissance man had recently appeared to the boy genius in these strange dreams of his, advising him on how to solve certain problems with his various inventions.
As for Dani, they had hardly been able to pry her away from Paris, where she had loved the fact that she could bring Teddy everywhere with her. Small dogs were welcome even in the cafés. Naturally, little brown Teddy was in heaven. No Norwich terrier had ever lived so well.
Jake had laughed uproariously, however, at the redhead’s comment following their visit to Notre Dame, smack-dab in the middle of the River Seine. Dani had walked out of the awe-inspiring cathedral in a daze and announced that, after that, she simply must become a nun.
Heading east, they took a first-class car on the Continental railroad and enjoyed a stunning journey through the Alps.
Still no news from Derek or Henry—but on the good side, no trouble from the Dark Druids, either.
After they had tumbled back down from the Alps, they filled up their eyeballs with art in Florence, then stood sideways together to admire the Leaning Tower of Pisa. After that, Jake learned the hard way that Rome was one big, unending horror for a boy who could see spirits. The place was lousy with ghosts! Regiments of dead centurions marched off to war beneath triumphal arches. Wild tribes of Vandal invaders pouring through the city, leaping off the old aqueducts, swinging phantom axes. Slaughtered Christians sang their way to martyrdom in the Colosseum. Countless, moaning shades haunted the labyrinth of ancient catacombs that snaked beneath the city.
They could pop up anywhere, rising right through the streets and the fountains, into the very hotels. Jake’s supernatural senses had been utterly overwhelmed. Bug-eyed and paranoid, he simply couldn’t stay there.
So Nixie knocked him out with a sleep spell, Maddox hefted him into yet another carriage, and they moved on, nomads, traveling in luxury, of course, but constantly on the move, and after a few weeks, it began to wear them down.
Jake wasn’t sure where they would ultimately land, but with the arrival of June, summer was nearly upon them. The farther south they went, moreover, the hotter the days grew.
The Italians seemed unfazed by the swelter, but eighty-degree weather was likely to boil British blood. When they began seeing palm trees, Aunt Ramona agreed it was time to find their beach.
The Order of the Yew Tree owned luxurious estates throughout Europe that could serve as safe houses. Each of them was on or near a Waypoint, so Lightriders could easily open a portal to come and go. The question was, which of these estates did Aunt Ramona deem best for their purposes?
Personally, Jake would have been content to stay in Naples, where he had fallen madly in love there with a flat, round, edible invention the locals called a pizza.
But Aunt Ramona took one look at the packed streets of the busy seaside port city and determined it would be too hard to keep him safe there, even for a mage of her prodigious powers.
She briefly considered the fashionable island of Capri just across the bay as their refuge; if it had been good enough for Caesar’s own holiday villa, then it was jolly well good enough for them.
But it turned out that Capri’s shoreline was mainly made up of rocks and cliffs, its good swimming beaches too few and too crowded. So, once again, they packed their traveling trunks and pressed on southward, by steam train, by carriage, and by boat, until they finally crossed to the spicy island of Sicily.
On the map, Sicily looked like a stone the boot of Italy was about to kick; and, indeed, brain-boy Archie was quick to give them a lesson on how the ownership of the island had been punted like a football back and forth over the millennia among various peoples—Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Normans, Spanish, French.
Archie was especially thrilled to be there, since Sicily had also been home to his namesake, Archimedes, the ancient mathematician, astronomer, and inventor. They endured while the boy genius gushed on about the great man’s geometrical theorems, but the less scholarly among them—well, Jake—was relieved when they chugged into the fancy train station at the fashionable seaside resort town of Taormina.
Miss Helena informed them that Taormina, on the Ionian Riviera, had been a Grand Tour stop since the 1700s for its many charms, including its sea breezes and its fine views of Mount Etna, snow-capped and shrouded in cloud.
Because of its longstanding popularity, one of the Order safe houses was there: the Villa di Palma. Her Ladyship had apparently decided that this would serve best as their long-term retreat.
Upon arriving at its lacy wrought-iron gates, Aunt Ramona handed Maddox a key. He got out of their hired carriage and unlocked them, hauling them open. Then they proceeded up the cobbled drive, through junglelike gardens.
At the end
of the lush span of exotic greenery, the Villa di Palma emerged, basking in the sun. They took one look at the pink stucco Mediterranean mansion in a flowery style Miss Helena called Sicilian Baroque, its tiled roof, sunbaked terraces, and quaint center tower with a cupola, and they knew they’d found their perfect refuge.
They walked around with their mouths hanging open.
“Blimey,” Jake said.
Italy had already lived up to its reputation as a feast for the senses, just as Constanzio had promised. But the Villa di Palma took it to a whole new height of elegant indulgence.
Nestled in a secluded rocky cove, the palatial villa had a dozen breezy bedchambers, sun-drenched terraces with sea views and vine-covered pergolas, outrageous tropical gardens, and its own private beach.
Sparkling sea, golden sun, waving palm trees.
“I could get used to this,” Dani said, glancing at Jake in amazement.
He grinned at her and nodded in agreement. A boy on the run from a cult of evil sorcerers could certainly do worse. “This is good.”
Aunt Ramona smiled under the shade of her grand, flowered hat. “I daresay this will do for a young earl and his friends on holiday, yes?”
Even Miss Helena breathed a sigh of relief.
Jake felt an anchor’s weight lifting off his shoulders as he soaked in the soothing atmosphere of the place. Who could worry about evil wizards wanting to kill you when everywhere, beauty beckoned the eye and charmed the senses?
Maybe he was indeed getting culture, now that he’d started noticing such things. From the craggy mountains that hugged the cobalt Bay of Mazzaro before them to the brilliant flowers mounded in stone urns everywhere and winding up the stately columns on the terrace, every inch of it was lovely.
The villa even came with its own little twenty-foot sailboat for the holidaymakers to use as they liked.
“I don’t think I ever want to leave,” a sweaty-faced Archie declared, dropping his suitcase by his side.
“Me neither,” Jake agreed. “Looks like we’re staying.”
The two boys exchanged an eager glance.
“Sweet Euclid!” Archie suddenly burst out. “Does this mean I can finally have Nix conjure the Turtle here for me?”
Jake slung his arm around his best mate. “That’s what it means, coz. And Red can finally be delivered, too!”
Archie whooped and pointed at the beach. “I cannot wait to get out there and try her in the open sea!” he exclaimed—and he wasn’t talking about on the villa’s sailboat.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this, Jake? All the planning?”
“I know.” Jake nodded. Archie had been working on the Mighty Turtle nonstop ever since the last Invention Convention.
His dark, sparkly eyes shone as the boy genius stared at the sea. “Now that we’re here, I’ll finally get the chance to take her out on her maiden voyage…”
“Long as I get to be your first mate,” Jake declared, nudging him.
“Dashed right you will! You were my copilot for the Mighty Pigeon, so of course you’ll be my first mate, coz. Fact is, though, I need everyone on board as my crew to help power and steer her.”
Jake grinned. It was a fine thing having a genius for a cousin. “This is going to be fun.”
“Hey, you lot!” Dani turned then, holding Teddy in one arm and beckoning to them with the other. “Come and see this view!”
Enchanted, Jake walked to stand beside her at the stone balustrade on the villa’s main terrace overlooking the Ionian Sea. A set of chunky stone steps curved down to the beach, hugging the thirty-foot cliff atop which the house sat.
Jake could hardly wait to get down there and have a swim, but for now, the others joined him in staring at the glistening water.
It was magical. The unearthly blue-green waters mesmerized them, stretching out toward Greece for endless miles, ever-changing with the light and the currents and the silken, shifting winds.
“What do you suppose is out there?” Isabelle murmured.
“Well, that’s the Ionian Sea, and down there to the south is the Mediterranean proper. Malta’s also down that way, and Greece is about three hundred miles straight across,” Archie said, pointing.
“Thank you, Map Boy,” Dani muttered, shaking her head.
He did tend to be rather literal.
“Aw, leave him alone,” Jake said with a chuckle. “He’s just excited to take us all out in his submarine.”
“Think you can do it, Nixie? Get the Turtle here?” Isabelle asked.
The slight-figured, black-haired witch shrugged. “It’s pretty big. Dense. Lot of metal. Heavy. It won’t be easy. I may need your aunt’s help to work the spell with me…”
Nixie had been apprenticed to Aunt Ramona, who was to guide her advanced magical studies—which was fortunate, because Archie and she had become quite inseparable ever since they’d met at Merlin Hall.
“But I think Her Ladyship might be willing to assist, under the circumstances.” Nixie smiled at Archie.
“Well, I can’t wait!” he declared.
“What do you think we’ll see out there, down beneath the waves?” Jake prompted with a teasing look around at his fellow travelers.
“Fish. Coral,” Archie said at once.
“Clams!” Dani exclaimed.
“Uh, water?” Maddox mumbled.
“Dolphins!” Isabelle cried with a look of joy, ignoring him.
“How about the ruins of Atlantis?” Nixie slyly suggested.
“I should certainly hope not, Miss Valentine,” Aunt Ramona said, coming up behind them just then, having overheard.
They all turned to her.
“Why is that, Your Ladyship?” Dani asked.
“There is a reason Atlantis was wiped off the face of the Earth, my dear,” the old baroness said, pursing her lips. “It was a perfectly wicked place. You’d better hope it’s never found. Now that is quite enough dawdling, children. Choose your rooms and go unpack your things while I make us a staff of servitors.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they all said, then stampeded in to go and claim the best bedrooms.
It was time to start this holiday in earnest.
# # #
A week later, they had quite settled in. Trouble seemed to have forgotten about them altogether, thanks, no doubt, to Aunt Ramona’s efforts. The Elder witch had quite worn herself out casting protective spells over the villa, their private beach, and even the town itself.
This done, they could finally get down to the serious business of enjoying themselves.
Life was good.
That afternoon found them amusing themselves on the beach in their own particular ways.
Dani O’Dell, slightly sunburned despite the wide-brimmed straw hat meant to shield her Irish skin, stood before an easel, trying to paint a picture of Mount Etna in the distance.
“It’s Italy, and Italy means art,” she had informed them.
Three days ago, it had been cooking.
“It’s Italy, and Italy means food,” she had said then. But cooking hadn’t proved to be her forte either, alas.
Ever since they had left Merlin Hall, the barmy carrot-head had set out to discover her own personal talent, much to Jake’s amusement.
It might not be a magical or extraordinary gift like the rest of them were born with, she had said, but she was sure there must be something she could do especially well, and on this quiet, forced holiday, she was determined to find it.
Jake wished she’d leave off, for he liked her perfectly well the way she was. Not that he’d ever admit it.
Archie, meanwhile, puttered away happily, ankle-deep in the surf with his pant legs rolled up, wrench in hand, lucky bowtie askew as he put the finishing touches on the Mighty Turtle.
Nixie had been exhausted for two days after conjuring it from its dry dock at his home laboratory back at Bradford Park, but the little witch had succeeded in this impressive magical task.
At present, the twenty-foot subme
rsible lolled in the shallows like an odd, metal beached whale. Archie was always cheerful, but with his latest invention ready for its maiden voyage, he was especially chipper.
Nixie assisted him in her own peculiar way. Pale as porcelain and dressed all in black, as usual, the young witch lounged on the sand beneath an umbrella nearby, eating a cherry-flavored Italian ice and helpfully providing shade for Archie’s work by conjuring a small cloud over both their heads.
Its shadow covered the length of the submarine, too, for in full sun, its shiny steel-and-copper hull could get very hot to the touch.
Farther down the beach, Isabelle was frolicking in waist-high water with some dolphins who had swum over to greet her. The empath could not talk to fish, but she had no trouble conversing with cetaceans, since they were mammals.
The smiley gray dolphins had utterly charmed her, bobbing upright in the waves around her, clicking away, maybe teasing the soon-to-be debutante about how fashionable she looked in her navy-striped bathing costume, complete with long swimming bloomers and black stockings.
Isabelle took care to avoid looking over at Maddox. The black-haired Guardian-in-training was messing around with the little sailboat that had come with the villa rental, working on practicing sailor’s knots that were almost as tightly wound as he was.
Maddox had one goal for this vacation—besides keeping his promise to Derek to make sure that nobody abducted, killed, maimed, or otherwise mangled Jake.
He had taken one look at Mount Etna and cracked a rare grin. “We’re climbing that,” he had said, glancing at Jake.
Who wasn’t sure that was the best idea.
“You do realize it’s a volcano?” Jake had replied, but Maddox had merely shrugged.
Yes, Mount Etna was said to be mostly dormant. But with his luck?
At night, dining on the terrace under the stars, they could see the orange glow atop Mount Etna. Showers of sparks sometimes flew out, but the little bits of fire and lava oozing casually from the mountain did not seem to alarm the locals.
