“Right,” he replied. “Wagons . . .”
For all of the earlier bickering, I was happy to see our group working together as impressively as any army regiment or assassin’s squad. When Jova’s wagon was nearly full, Oliver and Jova bid their adieu, with a plan to stop at Death’s Door to load Oliver’s prized wine into the space that was left. I questioned them if the wine was really worth the risk, but Jova merely chuckled and said I should know the value of rare wine was absolutely priceless. Damn haughty Bogeyman, I thought. He would fit in very well with Cornelia’s snobby family.
As they left, our crew arrived with our wagon, and as we loaded the last chest of gold, I could smell very faintly the dastardly odor of goblins. It was nearly daybreak, and I shoved the Howler into the wagon. She protested until she, too, caught the scent of approaching death, and took the reins of the wagon in hand, and we sped back to the Dancing Swan. We encountered no trouble or Trouble brothers on the way, but Port Royal was beginning to come alive as the first hints of sun peeked over the horizon.
“Quickly now,” I said to the crew as they unloaded the wagon and deposited the treasure chests safely in the hold. This operation was going surprisingly smoothly, I thought as Garlic and I stood watch on the pier to scent any approaching goblins. The Howler looked at the brightening sky and looked relieved to see the last chest disappear into the hold.
“Let us shove off,” she said. “Cornelia and Jova should be safely on his ship by now and on course to London. It is time for us to do the same.”
I thought of all the lovely gold in the hold. “We are rich,” I said. “But we have to be prepared to fight off the goblins if they come after us.”
“They won’t,” she said.
“How do you know that?”
“Because before we joined you back at the House of Angels, Garlic barked some new portholes below the waterline of their ship and sank it rather quickly,” the Howler said. She smiled and went to hop down on the dock to help with the ropes when her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted, falling right into my open arms.
“Water, water,” I yelled. “Get me some fresh water and a cloth for our captain!”
Instantly, the crew circled around her, concerned, and I held her in my arms and dabbed at her face with the cold cloth. The Howler awoke with a sputter and a curse. “Get back to work, you scurvy rats!” she yelled.
“Some space for the captain,” I said, helping her to her feet. The crew went back to finishing the ropes, and we were ready to leave Port Royal. “What was that all about?” I asked. “Werewolves don’t faint. You aren’t sick, are you?”
The Howler threw up her breakfast onto my boots. “No,” she said. “I am fine. There must have been some wolfsbane in one of those chests. Damn those goblins. Just leave me alone.” She wobbled to the ship’s railing and proceeded to empty the rest of her innards into the bay.
“Sirius!” a voice called—a voice that should have been on the way to London long ago. I turned to find Jova, Oliver, and Cornelia sitting in a very empty wagon.
“What are you people still doing in Port Royal?” I screamed. “You should have been gone hours ago.” Garlic padded over and cocked her ear, then sat at Jova’s feet, waiting for his explanation.
“Right,” Jova said. “It seems Oliver underestimated the number of wine casks he had at Death’s Door, and . . .”
The Howler, still looking a little green around the gills, had managed to walk over to us. “And . . . ?” she repeated.
Cornelia looked at the Howler’s face, and a look of fear came over her own. “Oh,” she said. “This is not good. Not good at all.”
“You are right this is not good!” I exclaimed. “Get to it, Jova. Now! Or your face is going to be very not good because of my fist!”
Jova remained silent, so Oliver spoke up. “When we ran out of room for the wine, we started unloading the treasure, and before we knew it all the wine was in the wagon and all the gold was at Death’s Door. So we hurried to the dock and unloaded the wine into Jova’s ship. And . . .”
“And that is when we discovered we had a problem,” Jova finally said. “My ship is small and built for speed, well, and the rest of the gold won’t fit on it. I sent my ship back to London with the wine. But I need that other treasure for Cornelia’s dowry. The Dancing Swan has room for it all.”
“So here we are,” Cornelia added, her eyes still on her sister, who was doing a good job of leaning against the rail to hold it up.
I stood rubbing my head with my hand. “So, let me get this straight,” I said. “You offloaded gold for wine and sent your ship to London with nothing but wine on it.”
“But priceless wine,” Cornelia said with a smile. I rolled my eyes. She was clearly drinking the Bogeyman’s elixir.
“And now you want us to go with you through likely goblin-infested streets in the middle of the morning, load treasure into a wagon, come back to the dock, load it onto the Dancing Swan, and then go to London?” I said, making eye contact with Jova and his wayward pirates.
“So you will do it,” said Cornelia as she took her sister’s arm and helped her into the wagon.
“She is not going,” I said. “She can barely move. She must have touched some wolfsbane.”
Cornelia looked at her sister. “Wolfsbane, right, that explains it,” she said. “Then she needs to get away from this ship. Let the crew search for it, or it will be a long trip to London for us.”
“She can stay on the dock away from the boat while it is searched by the crew,” I said. The Howler gave me a cross look. “Fine,” I said. “Just try not to throw up on my boots again.” I turned to see the crew ready with their cutlasses, all of which would be useless if the goblins approached. Then I saw them priming the cannons and turning them toward the docks. Still not likely to stop the goblins, but if it made them feel better, that worked too.
“Find the wolfsbane,” I said to the first mate. “And if anything comes down that pier besides us and this wagon, blow it up, and leave for London,” I said. “In fact, if you see anything that resembles trouble or the Trouble brothers—go. Understood?” The first mate nodded, and with a deep breath, I took the reins of the wagon and steered the horses toward Death’s Door.
I guided the wagon through now crowded streets, but the going was slow as it seemed all of Port Royal was out doing their morning errands. There was a tremendous crash ahead of us, and I slowed the wagon to a halt, which gave the Howler a chance to poke her head out the back and vomit once again. She did not seem any better being away from the wolfsbane, I thought, but my attention was diverted by a cloaked figure flipping over wagons in the middle of the street. I spied sinewy hands reaching out from under a cloak, and inhuman strength at work. Goblin! The merchant whose path the goblin had just blocked jumped out of his wagon for a confrontation, and there was a sickening crunch of facial bones being pulverized. The merchant crumpled to the ground, and the crowds scattered.
“Go that way.” Oliver pointed down an alley marked by where the Howler had just thrown up.
I backed up the horses and peered down the alley. “It is too narrow,” I said. “The wagon cannot clear it.”
Oliver waved his hands in sweeping circles. “Look again,” he said.
To my great surprise, I now looked upon a deserted cobblestone alley, easily big enough to allow us to pass. The cobblestones appeared to be made entirely of wood. I nudged the horses down the alleyway, delighted that I saw no goblins or traffic, and was shocked to hear the horses’ hooves made absolutely no sound. “How did you do that?” I asked.
Oliver smiled. “That alley is my backdoor bridge to the loading dock of Death’s Door,” he said. “A warlock might be able to find it, but it should give us enough time to load the gold and get back to the ship, especially with all the commotion that goblin is causing.”
It was an hour before no
on when we pulled up to the loading dock of Death’s Door. Color had returned to the Howler’s face, and she placed her hand on my own and squeezed it. “Are you ready?” she said with that delightful but oh so rare smile of hers.
“Indeed,” I replied. “Let us get ourselves a dowry.”
She gave me a rather pained look, perhaps the wolfsbane again? “For Jova,” I clarified.
Cornelia set watch at the front of Death’s Door, as Oliver, Jova, and I moved the treasure chests into position. “Oh no,” she screamed. “Not him. It cannot be.”
“What is it?” cried the Howler. Cornelia did not answer but merely pointed. I peered outside to see Murfield standing with the entire goblin horde, all, to a man, carrying flaming torches in one hand and assorted death-dealing weapons in the other. They backed a wagon piled high with hay against the entrance of Death’s Door and ripped the wheels off, sending it crashing to the ground. We would not exit that way.
“Forget the gold,” I said. “Oliver, let’s head to your bridge.”
I was the first one to the back entrance and flung open the door to find myself staring at a brick wall where there should have been an alleyway. “I guess they found your bridge,” I said. “You got any other secret trapdoors out of here?”
He shook his head. “All I have is this one crystal,” he said. “It will get me out of here, but is not big enough for all of us.”
“Give it to Cornelia,” I said. “We can go out the windows and fight them, but she cannot.”
“I am not leaving Jova,” Cornelia said, and the look in her eyes said she was not going to be persuaded otherwise.
I could smell smoke and feel heat coming from the front wall. Maybe I had only delayed my time in Hell, I mused for a second. “This place is about to come down on top of us,” I said. “We have to go out the windows and fight them.”
The Howler took that moment to pass out and fall to the floor. “What is wrong with her?” I said, looking to Cornelia. “The wolfsbane has got to be out of her body by now. Good Lord, I didn’t think a person could actually expel that much bodily fluid by puking.”
Not waiting for her to answer, I picked the Howler up, and motioned for Garlic to bark a hole in the wall.
“It is not wolfsbane,” Cornelia said. “She is with child. Your child.”
The floor began to shift and wobble beneath my feet. I stumbled and struggled to hold the Howler. “My child,” I stammered, trying to regain my composure, but a crack formed in the floor, and the walls began to buckle. I was picking one heck of a time to start seeing things, and possibly faint.
“It’s an earthquake!” Jova shouted. “We have to get out of here, or we will be crushed!”
Garlic barked loudly, and in front of her formed a great swirling wormhole. Her collar fairly shimmered as the ruby-red crystals on it were stirred into action by the most amazing vampire Maltese. “Garlic, why didn’t you tell us earlier that you can use those crystals on that collar,” I yelled over the din to her. “Oh yes, that whole can’t-speak-like-a-human thing . . .” The floor tilted up right under the treasure chests, and soon we were under an aerial assault by the wealth we had so dearly coveted. A treasure chest slammed into the backs of Jova and Cornelia, knocking them sideways before it disappeared through the wormhole. The rest of the treasure quickly followed.
“Let’s go,” I screamed, dodging falling beams with the Howler and my unborn child in my arms. “I don’t know where that hole leads to, but anywhere is better than here!” Where did a vampire Maltese focus on going when she was in certain danger? We were about to get our answer.
Oliver swept up Jova and Cornelia in his massive arms and dove for the wormhole, with Garlic, the Howler, and me right on his heels. There was a great rush of air reminding me of passing through the hidden gate of Hell, and the Howler chose that moment to wake up, and pull away from my arms. I flailed around in the wormhole but could not see or feel her before I found myself hurtling headfirst into a massive pile of hay. Were we only just outside Death’s Door? Yet I smelled no fire and heard no goblins, and no sword pierced my chest. I pulled my head from the hay, wiped the dust from my eyes, and found my face an inch from Harvis’s naked, hairy behind. And he was not alone.
“Hello, Molly,” I said to the beautiful naked werewolf under him. “Did I interrupt you all taking a roll in the hay?” Molly’s mouth dropped open, and her hands went across her breasts. Her eyes went wide with horror, and I looked up to see a swirling gray cloud rotating above the hay loft. The wormhole!
“Sirio Sinestra,” Harvis sputtered. “I am going to have to kill you.”
“I go by Sirius Sinister these days, Harvis. And it is great to see you too,” I said. “Perhaps not so much of you, but you can’t kill me,” I said, “I am going to be a father.” I looked around for the Howler, but did not see her in the hay, nor any of my companions from Port Royal. Were they still in the wormhole? Had they gone somewhere else? I heard a faint bark coming from the wormhole. “Garlic!” I exclaimed.
Harvis’s ears perked up, and he rolled to his haunches and looked up at the wormhole. “What in the hell is that, and what is it doing in my barn?” he said. “Did you say you are going to be a father?”
Garlic’s bark grew closer. “Yes, yes, I did,” I replied.
“Congratulations,” he said, looking up as a screaming Jova flew out of the wormhole and landed in his naked lap. “Jova?” he said.
“Hello, Harvis,” Jova said. “It has been a while. Have you been well?” Jova then noticed that he was sitting in Harvis’s naked lap. “Oh, this is awkward.” Jova coughed loudly, and moved to safer territory faster than I had ever seen him move.
Molly had scrambled off the loft and into her clothes. “What is that?” she screamed. “Something big is coming through . . . Look out!” But it was too late, and Oliver tumbled out of the wormhole, barely missing crashing into Jova, Harvis, and me, before sending a huge cannonball of hay flying into the air when he finally landed.
Harvis turned to look at me. “Um, Sirius, is it now?” he said. “There is a troll in my hay loft.”
I nodded. “That’s Oliver—he is with us.”
“I kind of figured that part out,” Harvis replied. “You got any more friends coming through?”
“Actually, yes,” I replied. I was beginning to wonder if the two sisters were going to make it out of the wormhole. I wished I had been able to keep the Howler in my arms, but had not expected her to fight me from holding on to her in the wormhole’s disorientating twists and turns. What had happened to the werewolves, one of whom was carrying my child?
Cornelia came cartwheeling through the wormhole, and Jova dove to catch her. They rolled to a stop in front of Harvis and began kissing passionately until Jova pulled back and looked at his betrothed.
“I was afraid you were lost forever,” Jova exclaimed, stroking her hair, and looking deep into Cornelia’s eyes.
“The Bogeyman was scared,” she teased. “You are not going to lose your future wife so easily.”
Harvis sat, processing out loud what he had just heard. “Bogeyman? Wife?” he sputtered. “Cornelia? Is that you?”
“Harvis,” she said, seeing the gruff werewolf for the first time. Then realizing that he was not wearing any clothes, she blushed the finest shade of red and turned her head quickly away, and that was when she spotted Molly. “Oh, hello, Molly, nice barn you’ve got here. It has been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, Cornelia, it has,” Molly said politely, and eyed the wormhole with suspicion.
Harvis scrambled around the loft, looking for his breeches. “Let us hope there are no more surprises,” he said.
Before I could open my mouth to reply, I heard Garlic’s bark, and coming through the wormhole in a tangle of arms, legs, soon-to-be swollen belly, and paws came the Howler and Garlic. Harvis’s face turned a lovely shade of crim
son as he realized he was holding the Howler in his arms while wearing not a stitch of clothing. Garlic was happy to see the big werewolf and began licking his toes. That is when I was glad that Garlic was a vampire Maltese and not a vampire Great Dane, and I was wagering that Harvis felt the same way. But Molly was not so happy, or perhaps was simply feeling the urge to let loose the most primal of angry screams.
“You!” screamed Molly, pointing a finger in my direction.
“Me?” I said. “What did I do?”
“Not you,” she screamed. “Her.” Her gaze rested squarely on the Howler.
“You know each other too?” I said, looking from the Howler to Molly and back again.
“Yes, we do,” said the Howler. “How are you, Molly?” She looked downward at Harvis’s nether regions and, grimacing, slid over toward me. “Better put some clothes on, Harvis—it looks like you are catching a cold.”
An eerie silence came over the barn as the two female werewolves stared each other down, low growls emanating from their throats. Then a single gold doubloon shot out of the wormhole, flew through the air, and plunked Harvis right in the middle of his forehead. “Ouch,” he said, bringing his hand to his head. “What madness is this?”
“Move, people, move,” I shouted, as more and more doubloons shot from the wormhole. “The treasure chests are coming next!” Jova helped Cornelia off the loft, and I did the same for the still weakened Howler. No more than seconds after we vacated the loft and got to safety, the wormhole jettisoned the final bit of its cargo from Port Royal, the massive weight of the treasure sending Harvis’s loft crashing to the floor. A fine mist of gold dust hung in the air, and gold coins covered the floor wherever the eye could see. Jewels dotted the landscape along with various necklaces and bracelets of unimaginable value. But all Harvis wanted was his peace and quiet and his loft back in one piece. He held his breeches in one hand and a piece of wood that was all that remained of the ladder up to the loft and frowned sadly.
I was relieved to see that the wormhole had closed and had brought only treasure and no goblins. “Sorry about the loft, old chum,” I said. “But I think we have the means to rebuild you another.” Harvis said nothing, but I had a feeling that he was about to build the nicest hayloft in London, courtesy of the treasure. I looked over at the Howler, who stood next to me, staring daggers at Molly. “Come on, now,” I said to her. “No reason to be angry. You are going to be the mother of our child. What is the problem here?”
My Ex-Wife Said Go to Hell Page 16
