The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure)

by Singel, N. M.

  “Erica!”

  She stood. “Mom?”

  “I’m right behind you, honey.”

  She turned. Torchlight illuminated her mother’s face. She was standing with open arms.

  “It’s just a bad dream, Sweetie.”

  Erica ran into her mother’s embrace and buried her face in her soft sweater. “Mom! I was so scared. I saw all these horrible things. There was this--”

  “Admit you’re a witch!”

  She opened her eyes and shrieked as she pushed away from the brown scratchy robe.

  The man reached for her. “Witches are burned at the stake.”

  Erica whirled and ran back toward the darkness. Tripping on uneven ground, she fell and scraped her hands on the rocks. She picked up a stone and stuffed a couple more in her pocket. She scanned the cave. Soft purple-blue light filled the end of a tunnel. She raced through the passageway. The creature flew past her and landed on a gleaming purple boulder.

  “Erica, slow down. You’re safe now.”

  She stopped abruptly and tried to catch her breath.

  “Don’t be frightened. My name is Nura.”

  “Stay away from me.”

  “It’s all right. They can’t follow us here.”

  Erica stiffened. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I just saved your life.” Nura’s voice was soft and kind. “I am a Wyatt, too.”

  Erica locked eyes with the creature. “How can you be a Wyatt?”

  Small stones tumbled down the cave walls. “You’ll understand all in good time. Now we must make haste. The guards are coming.”

  “I thought we were protected here.”

  “Not from Dagonblud’s guards.”

  “But what about Uncle Leopold? He’s in that horrible room.”

  “He’s unharmed.”

  “I never saw anything so awful in my whole life. The people, their faces . . .”

  “Yes, I know. It’s history’s ugly side.”

  “History?”

  “Every time Dagonblud rips open the membrane, evil from the past rushes into these caverns.”

  “That guy kept telling me I was a witch.”

  “His name is Torquemada. He’s part of the Spanish Inquisition. You would’ve been tortured if you didn’t confess that you were a witch.”

  “But I’m not a witch.”

  “Of course you’re not.” Nura sighed. “He would’ve tortured you anyway.”

  Erica hugged herself tightly. “I thought I saw my mother.”

  “Tricks. Deception soils these caves.” Larger stones fell after a loud rumble. “It’s the guards! Follow me. If Dagonblud captures you, he will turn you into wood.”

  “Wood?”

  “Hurry! He collects Wyatts and steals their power.”

  Erica ran. The grinding returned, and the screams grew louder. She zipped through one long tunnel and then another. She stopped and screamed when someone jumped in front of her.

  “Just me, my dear. I got it!” Uncle Leopold held out a gold watch. “A tempus!”

  Erica took a deep breath. “You scared me.”

  “Didn’t mean to frighten you. Escaping that monster got a bit dicey.”

  Nura circled and landed next to Leopold. “Glad you found it.”

  “Is that the same one that giant guy took from me?”

  “No.” Leopold handed her the watch. “This one was hidden by your father.”

  More rocks crashed to the ground as the cave shook. “We can’t stay here,” Nura said.

  Leopold looked behind him. “The guards are busy with Torquemada for now.” He turned to Erica. “This tempus will take you to your brother. Bring him back here. He’s not ready for battle.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “On the last chime, you’ll find yourself in fourteen ninety-two on the deck of the Santa Maria.”

  “You mean like Christopher Columbus? Blake’s with--”

  “Yes.” The grinding stopped. “Find your brother. Make certain you’re in the same spot as when you arrived. When the watch chimes again, both of you will come here.”

  “Why here? This is a disgusting place.”

  Nura looked up. “We are beneath Dagonblud’s throne. He’ll never suspect that we’re hiding under his own nose. Please, the Parabulls are depending on you.”

  “Who are the Parabulls?”

  “They are the source of time, a power much greater than us,” Leopold said.

  Nura looked at Leopold. “What if Blake’s been poisoned?”

  “Oh, right.” Leopold patted his jacket and then pulled two glass vials from his pocket. One was filled with red liquid and the other, blue. “This is the antidote for coriane.”

  “What’s coriane?” Erica asked.

  “It’s Dagonblud’s venom. You must bring your brother back here so he doesn’t end up like Nura.”

  Nura nodded. “I’m afraid he’s right.”

  Erica had no idea what they were talking about.

  Leopold jiggled the vials. “If Blake was poisoned with a strong dose, he won’t be able to move. You’ll have to make sure this gets down his throat quickly--half the red vial and one-third of the blue. The wrong proportion will kill him.”

  Erica’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just simple math. Purple foam will form--that’s the carbon dioxide.

  Erica blinked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Do I look as though I’m kidding? Remember--half the red and one-third of the blue.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  Leopold shook his head. “I must deal with something else first.”

  Tiny stones bounced off her head. Deep voices resonated through the emptiness. “Who’s that?!”

  Nura flew toward the sound, then returned. “The guards. I must leave.” She sped into the darkness.

  “The dials on the tempus are set. Do not alter them.”

  Erica looked at the watch. “So there’s nothing I have to do to make this work?”

  “Nothing,” Leopold said over the clamor of falling stones. “Remember, stand in the same spot when it chimes, and one-half red, one-third blue. Understand?”

  “But I don’t even know--” Erica caught her breath as the wall split open. Tall men in red uniforms with brilliantly polished medals dangling from their sleeves filed into the cavern and surrounded them. Swords with large blades hung from their hips. One man tossed a torch at her feet.

  Erica jumped back and grabbed her uncle. Eight men stared at her.

  One stepped away from the group. His face was angular, and his short black hair was plastered against his head. “What do we have here? A traitor and a Wyatt. A good day for the dungeon.” He looked back at the other guards. “Shall we show the young one what happened to her father?”

  As Erica backed away, she heard tinging from the watch, and the eight men in front of her shimmered, then faded away. Uncle Leopold was gone, and so was the cavern.

  CHAPTER 12

  NO PLACE TO HIDE

  Clutching the chronicle, Blake eyed the dagger. “Whoa, dude, take it easy.”

  “I should cut out your tongue now so I won’t have to listen to all that Wyatt rubbish.” The man moved closer, his weapon drawn.

  “Hey, come on, we’re cool. It’s Rat, right?” Blake said, backing into the cabin door.

  Rat ripped away the text and pitched it on the table. “Michael Wyatt’s kid on Christopher Columbus’s flagship. How unfortunate for you.” With the tip of the blade, he flipped open the cover. “My blood no longer stains the pages of this miserable book. Pity.”

  “Look, I don’t how you know my dad, but I’m just trying to get home, okay?”

  “Lies!” Rat rammed the point of the knife into the binding and twisted it.

  Blake stepped toward the chronicle with his palms up. “Easy, big guy.”

  Rat shoved Blake against the door, his knife ready. “You must take me for a fool.”

&nbs
p; “No, no, man.”

  Rat pressed the edge of the blade against Blake’s throat. “You came to fight me?”

  “I think you got the wrong guy.”

  Rat pressed the blade harder. “Wyatt tricks!”

  Blake felt blood drip down his throat. “What do you want from me?”

  “The book’s mine!”

  “Then take it.”

  Rat threw Blake aside. “That’s not all I want.” Clenching his knife between his teeth, he ripped out a handful of pages and flung them to the floor.

  Blake reached for the latch and jiggled it.

  Thwack. Rat’s dagger stuck into the door.

  “Whoa, dude.”

  “Keep your fingers, for now.” Rat pulled his knife out of the wood and returned to the chronicle.

  “I wasn’t going to--”

  “What? Run away? Like your father?” He shredded more pages with his knife. Sweat fell from Rat’s forehead, and his skin reddened. He swatted the remains of the chronicle to the floor and crushed the book’s gold spine with his boot. “Where’s your power now?”

  Blake felt a drop of something trickle down his chest, most likely blood. He had to get out of there. He turned around and then pounded the latch with his fist. “Come on!” The bar moved. He yanked the handle. It opened slightly before Rat drilled him into the door, slamming it shut.

  The man pointed his knife at Blake’s neck. “The fleeing prince is wounded. You’re nothing like your father, and he was a coward.”

  Blake felt a bomb explode in his head. “My dad was not a coward!” His heart beat wildly, and his muscles tightened. He kneed Rat between the legs, grabbed his arm, and knocked the knife away. The weapon fell to the floor as Blake drove him into the table.

  Rat quickly recovered and delivered a blow to Blake’s jaw.

  He staggered backward, tasting his own blood.

  Rat charged and slammed him into the wall.

  Blake slid to the floor. Pain ripped through his head, and lights burst before his eyes.

  “No Wyatt will ever do that to me again!” Rat kicked him in the ribs.

  Blake squinted through the throbbing pain. A shiny ring pinched between Rat’s fingers dangled above his face.

  “See this? Your father’s ring. It’s real gold. The gutless snake traded it for his life. Didn’t help him either.”

  He tried to kick at Rat’s legs but missed.

  “Touch a nerve, did I?” Rat picked up scraps of the chronicle’s pages and threw them in Blake’s face. “Here’s your price.”

  Blake caught a glimpse of the glistening book’s mangled spine. Several jewels were gouged out, and scratches marred the cover. A few pages remained inside the binding, but most lay scattered around him. The ship suddenly rolled hard. Blake heard something metal bounce off the floor, probably the ring.

  “Cursed ship.” Rat moved around the cabin apparently looking for what he had dropped.

  Blake glanced up at the latch. This was his chance--Rat’s back was turned. He reached out and snagged the battered cover. He struggled to his feet and smashed it over Rat’s head.

  The man didn’t flinch. He pulled the oil lamp off the wall and turned around. “Now that made me angry.” He swung the lamp and connected with Blake’s head.

  Collapsing to the floor, he thought of his mother--how destroyed she would be when he was dead. Weird, disjointed thoughts raced through his mind. He felt the slivery wood floor scrape his hands. He tried to lever up to his knees for a few dizzying moments before he fell backwards, looking up at the ceiling. He watched Rat open a spout from a small leather pouch.

  “Dagonblud will deal with you now.”

  Blake gasped for air when Rat pinched his nose. Thick, fiery liquid dribbled down his throat. He gagged.

  “That’s it, swallow the poison.”

  Blake stared at a beam above him. The world blurred. He turned his head toward Rat, but his muscles stiffened until he couldn’t move.

  The broken chronicle spoke. “. . . a secret evil walks her decks and destiny almost dies. You still . . . have the power,” she said softly. “It will . . . be in you.”

  Blake tried to call out to the book, but nothing came out of his mouth.

  “. . . succeeds because of determina . . .” Her voice faded.

  “Psst, Blake.”

  Did he just hear Erica’s voice? That was impossible.

  “Blake” she whispered.

  “Who said that?” Rat barked.

  Blake moved his eyes to the voice. Erica, hiding under the bed, motioned to keep quiet.

  Rat knelt and reached under the bed.

  She tried to avoid his hand, but he grabbed her arm and dragged her out.

  “Another Wyatt?”

  She kicked him in the shin. “You monster. What did you do to my brother!”

  He picked her up, glared into her eyes, and then flung her to the floor. “Won’t have to waste much coriane on you, little girl.”

  Moving his eyes toward his sister, Blake saw one of the chronicle’s gems on the floor. The brilliant crimson facets cast tiny red triangles across her face. She reached out and picked up the precious stone, but Rat stepped on her wrist.

  “Shrewd wench. The power is gone.”

  Blake watched his sister dig into her pocket with her free hand. Her body suddenly glowed. High voltage appeared to travel through Rat’s foot, up his leg, and into his head. He collapsed to the floor.

  Erica pulled her hand out of her pocket and looked at her palm. She nudged Rat, but he didn’t move. “Did I do that?”

  Rat moaned.

  Blake locked eyes with his sister.

  She cupped her hand on his face. “What did he do to you?” She shook his shoulder. “Come on, Blake! I don’t know what I just did, but this guy’s starting to wake up. Say something--please!”

  He heard glass clinking. Erica had pulled two vials from her pocket, one with red liquid, one with blue.

  “Was it one-half blue and one-third red, or was it the other way around? No, one-half red. I’m pretty sure. Was I supposed to mix them together first? Or just pour them into his mouth?”

  She uncorked a vial filled with red fluid.

  “Okay, so half of this one . . . or maybe just a third, in case I’m wrong. I can always add more. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do . . . or will I kill him if I’m wrong?” She bit her lip, took in a deep breath, and then exhaled. “I can do this.”

  She pulled opened his mouth and dumped some of the red liquid inside.

  “Nothing’s happening. Okay, don’t panic, that’s probably okay. I think.”

  She uncorked a vial of blue liquid. Her thumb slid up the glass, stopped, and then moved again. “Please make this be right.” She poured some of the liquid into his mouth.

  Blake felt cool fluid trickle down his throat.

  Erica looked into his mouth. “Why isn’t it turning purple? I don’t see any purple! I know I did the math right. I'm pretty sure. What if I mixed up the colors? What if I--Oh, please, Blake, wake up!”

  Blake felt bubbles drool out the side of his mouth.

  “It’s purple! It’s working!”

  He coughed and moved his arm.

  “That’s it! You can do it! Move something else.”

  He raised his other arm and wiped foam from his lips. Using his elbows to brace himself, he slowly sat up. “Erica?”

  She dropped the vials, and then grabbed him around his neck, pulling him close to her. “Don’t you ever do that to me again!”

  Blake returned her squeeze, coughed a few times, and belched. “Man . . . am I glad to see you! How’d you get here?”

  The table skidded on the floor when Rat twitched.

  “Come on, Blake! That guy’s trying to move.”

  He glanced at Rat. “How’d you do that?”

  Erica held up a glowing blue rock. “With this.”

  “What is that?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” She returned the rock to her pock
et and loosened a string holding her ponytail. “Here.”

  “What do you want me to do with that?”

  “Tie him up.”

  “This won’t work.”

  “Yeah, it will. It’s Katy’s violin string. It’s really strong.”

  He took the string and tied Rat’s wrists together. “I saw what just happened to you. It happened to me, too.”

  “What happened?”

  “You were connected with the chronicle’s power when you picked up that red jewel.”

  “I was just trying to find something to throw at him.” Erica surveyed the pages around her. “What’s all of this?”

  Blake picked up a few torn pages. “I was supposed to protect her.”

  Rat groaned.

  “Come on. He’s moving again.” Erica pulled a gold watch from her pocket. “We’ve got to get under that bed and hope that guy stays right where he is.”

  “Where’d you get that watch?”

  “Dad hid it in this horrible cave place, but Uncle Leopold found it.”

  “Dad?” Blake coughed from the bitter gunk coating his throat. “How do you know Uncle--”

  “We have to be ready. I don’t know when this watch-thingy is going to go off.”

  Rat groaned and slowly raised his head.

  “Hurry!” Erica pushed the cases aside and crawled under the bed.

  Blake followed but stopped when he slid on a ripped page of the chronicle. He picked up the warm paper. A secret evil walks her decks glistened brightly on the scrap. “I can’t go, Ricki.”

  “What?!”

  “I can’t go.” Blake gathered the remains of the chronicle and tucked them between the banged-up covers. “History needs me.”

  Erica stuck her head out from under the bed. “Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what these people want to do to us?”

  “Yeah, probably something I won’t like.”

  “I can’t leave you here! Uncle Leopold told me not to!”

  Rat chewed on the string wrapped around his wrists. “You’ll pay for that,” he growled.

  Airy, harmonious chimes began to sound: ting, ting, ting. “The alarm! Let’s go!”

  “Tell Mom I love her.”