Time Villains Series, Book 1

by Victor Piñeiro

  “Why, you most certainly can!” she said excitedly as she hopped over to the kitchen. “Let’s see if you figure out the secret ingredient this time!” I was really good at figuring out secret ingredients.

  She came over with a big piece of corn bread for each of us. She gave one to Brady, to Wiki, and then, as she gave me a piece, she paused and looked me in the eye.

  “Just be careful who you invite to dinner, Javi. There are good guests and bad guests.”

  “It’s just homework, Aunt Nancy.”

  “Of course it is,” she said, looking at me intently. “Of course it is.”

  “Cumin,” I said, biting into her amazing corn bread. It was definitely cumin.

  “Correct!” she said, clapping once.

  She walked back into the kitchen to get herself a piece of corn bread. Wiki whispered, “Hey, Javi, you’re going to set up the meal for the photos tonight, right? Like you always do?” I nodded. “If I give you a bunch of options for guests, will you help me fix up a good dinner and take some pictures of it?”

  “That sounds like the best trade of all time. Done and done.”

  “All right, I’ll be over after dinner. Make those legendary tostones.”

  6

  Tostones (pronounced toast-tone-ness) are a Puerto Rican classic and my specialty. You take a plantain—basically a big banana that tastes gross raw but delicious cooked—cut it up, smash it, fry it twice, then dip it in garlic and oil. There’s no better food in the world, I guarantee it. I bet we could achieve world peace if all the world leaders got together and ate tostones. Who could go to war after experiencing that magical blend of garlic and fried banana in their mouth?

  I was finishing up my third batch of tostones, and the smell was already wafting through the entire house. I was in my happy place. Brady kept running through the kitchen, swiping tostones as I finished each batch. I shouted at Dad to tell her to stop, and she gave me a little punch in the gut. That shut me right up. Then the doorbell rang, and Wiki walked in.

  “DO I SMELL TOSTONES?!” he yelled as he walked in.

  Dad wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of me cooking a second dinner, especially one that would go to waste, so he just let me make a bunch of tostones and set the table. I made it look a little more legit by taking some of our fruit and bread and placing them in a nice decorative little basket in the center of the table. And then I did my pièce de résistance—what sets me apart from all the amateur dinner party enthusiasts—napkins folded like swans. It never fails to get an ooh and an aah from anyone who sees it.

  “Ooh. Aah.” Wiki walked around the table looking impressed, especially at the swans.

  I leaned on Andy and he purred. Wiki cupped his ears, scrunched his eyes closed, and repeated, “I didn’t hear that. I didn’t hear that. I didn’t hear that.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, he’s still doing that. Hey, Andy, any chance you can transform into a royal table—the kind a king would have in his palace?”

  Wiki immediately jumped back, his hands in front of his face. Andy stopped purring, so I shrugged.

  “It was worth a try. Hey, Andy, if you have any tricks that might get me an A+ on this assignment, go nuts.”

  Andy purred, and Wiki shook his head, his eyes wide. “Don’t listen to him, Andy. We’ll be fine without any tricks, thank you very much.” He glared at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, friendo, you have one deluxe table and dinner courtesy of Chez Javi. Now how about you rustle up some guest ideas for me?”

  “Absolutely, just stop involving Andy. So, what general ideas do you have?”

  I looked at him blankly for a second. “Um…none. Nothing.”

  “Don’t be lazy, Javi. You’re the one who actually loves throwing dinner parties, not me. What makes for a good dinner party?”

  “Hmm… Fair question. I’ve never really broken it down like that before. I guess good conversation, good music, and good food.”

  “Perfect. Let’s start with music. What musician should we invite?”

  “Well, I guess if it’s for school it’d better be Mozart. Who else, right?”

  Wiki shook his head. “Mozart?! As if there were only one great classical musician in all of history! Shame on you, Javi. Let’s broaden your horizons a bit, shall we? Why not pick someone who makes great dinner party music. Really knock-you-off-your-feet beautiful music. The kind of music that regularly brings people to tears.”

  “Boi Squad?” Brady said from under the table where she was doing her homework. Ever since Andy moved in, she was always hanging out close to him.

  “Claude Debussy. One of the most influential composers of the last century. He could melt our hearts on that old piano you’ve got in the corner, if we could convince him to play it.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know anything about the guy. I know everyone picks Mozart, but at least I know some of his music and I could write about him.”

  Wiki groaned. “Well, how can we make him more interesting? Maybe pick Mozart as a child. By the time he was our age, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart had composed his first symphony and was playing for royalty around Europe.”

  “Kid Mozart! Done. Good call—that’s got to be worth an A. Okay, that’s the music, and I’ve taken care of the food, so all we need is some good conversation.”

  “Well, what do you want to talk about? What’s the conversation you want to have?”

  I looked at him blankly. “I don’t know. Who’s interesting?”

  Wiki laughed. “Well, my father and I agree that Theodore Roosevelt and Ida Wells are two of the most interesting people in history, although I think ascribing that title to anyone would be highly controversial. But maybe you should choose someone who…shares a specific interest of yours.”

  “Are you saying they’re too smart for me?” I gave him a look and he winced.

  “No, that’s not what I meant! Not at all. Just that their interests might not overlap with yours.”

  “Okay, okay, let me see… Well, what do I like? I used to be pretty into dinosaurs… I went through that monsters-with-squid-heads phase last year… Oh, I know. Duh. Sandwiches!”

  “Sandwiches? Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, I want to talk to the inventor of the sandwich. Maybe he can settle our sandwich debate once and for all. Any idea who that is?”

  “John Montagu, the fourth Earl of Sandwich.”

  “That’s seriously his name? The Earl of Sandwich? Yeah, that’s definitely a guy I want at my dinner party!”

  Wiki rolled his eyes. “Out of literally every human in history, you’re inviting the Earl of Sandwich to your dinner party. Why are we friends? Remind me.”

  “Ha! You’re just scared he’ll side with me—you’ll have to call hot dogs sandwiches from now on!”

  “Never,” Wiki said through gritted teeth.

  “Okay, I need one last person who’s just purely a kiss-up choice. Someone who sounds very teacherly and academic. Like Billy A++ or Mary WowDoILoveTeachers or something.”

  “Interesting strategy. Give me a moment.” Wiki looked toward the ceiling and started tracing invisible lines in the air with his finger, which is usually how I know he’s doing deep thinking. His eyes went wide and then he started laughing. “Teach! Edward Teach! How perfect is that?”

  I smiled and nodded. “Almost too perfect. Wow. Is he famous?”

  Wiki nodded quickly. “Incredibly famous. Oh yeah. Big-time.”

  “What is he—a famous explorer?”

  He chuckled again. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, giving him a suspicious look. I know better than to trust Wiki when he laughs.

  “Nothing—nothing at all. It’s just so perfect.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I should probably pick someone I know really well. Otherwise, I’ll have
to do all this research on top of writing the essay and then—”

  “One hour till bed, Javi!” Dad called from his room.

  “Okay, forget it. Mr. Teach it is. Let’s do this!”

  7

  Andy was looking really good by the time I borrowed Dad’s phone to take some pics. Besides the killer decorations, the delicious spread, and the fancy plates (I convinced Dad to let me use the good china since we weren’t actually eating from it), I printed out place cards using our thick printer paper and a swirly old font that gave it that extra touch of class. I must say, “John Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich” looked extremely awesome printed out in that font. I wondered who I would have to convince to take up that title. “Javier Santiago, three-hundredth Earl of Sandwich” had a pretty nice ring to it. And I bet Montagu’s best creation couldn’t touch my next-level sandos.

  “Brady, could you evacuate the premises while we complete this photo shoot?” Wiki asked, since Brady still hadn’t left her post under Andy. “I feel that you might be a little out of place in these photos.” For once, Brady didn’t get angry and instead jumped up and grabbed a tostone as she circled the table for a better look.

  “Looking good, gents. Kind of stinks that it’s just pretend and we can’t have this dinner.”

  “Trust me, this would be an extremely awkward dinner. Javi picked a very unusual trio, to put it mildly. You wouldn’t catch me dead eating dinner with the Earl of Sandwich and Edward Teach.”

  “Who’s Edward Teach?” she asked innocently. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Wiki wink and put his finger to his lips.

  “Wiki, if you’re playing a prank on me after I spent an hour making these glorious origami napkin swans…” I gave him one of my signature glares. Wiki hates my glares.

  And then Andy began to shake.

  For a second I thought Andy was laughing at Wiki’s prank, but then all I could think about was Dad storming into the dining room and wondering why our new dining room table was possessed.

  Brady leapt over to Andy and started petting him. “What’s wrong, Andy? Don’t worry. They weren’t really fighting. Everything’s okay. Shhh.”

  But Andy kept shaking, even more violently now.

  “He’s going to shake the china onto the floor, and Dad is going to murder us!” I shouted. “Everybody, grab the china!”

  Wiki and I practically jumped on the table and were about to grab the glasses and plates when Brady leapt in front of us, making a stop sign with one hand and shushing us with the other one. “Listen! Andy’s not trying to sabotage your homework. Do you hear that? I think he’s trying to show us something.”

  At first all I heard was the rumbling of plates and glasses, and I almost pushed past Brady to pick up the china anyway, but I realized she had a point. There was a really high-pitched metallic sound that was coming from inside the table. She moved the chairs to the side and dove under Andy, her back on the floor as she explored the underside of the table like a mechanic checking a car. Wiki and I watched her, wondering if she was right. Her hands started feeling around under the center of the table when she yelped.

  “There’s something here! It’s…it’s a secret compartment!”

  Wiki and I both scuttled over to see, knocking our heads together in the process.

  “Quit crowding me, guys! Let me get this thing open. It’s a teeny little latch. I bet no one’s ever noticed it before. Here it goes… Now, I just slide this little thing to the side and… Hey! Whoa!”

  Something shiny dropped onto Brady’s stomach and she quickly swiped it and rolled out from under Andy, exploring her new treasure.

  It was a silver bell. And it looked like it had never been touched before. Without thinking, Wiki and I both grabbed for it.

  “Hey, stop! Let me take a closer look.” Brady easily pushed us away with one hand as she studied the bell with the other. “Wow, there’s something written on it.”

  “Perhaps you should let someone familiar with Latin take a look, as I imagine the arcane words might be impossible for you to understand.”

  “Um, if it’s not in English, it’s pretty obvious. It’s just three words.” As she spoke the words, she let Wiki and I get close enough to it that we could read the inscription.

  INVITER

  ET

  DESINVITER

  Wiki’s brow furrowed. “French? Invite and disinvite.” His finger traced an invisible pattern in the air as he worked something out in his head.

  “What do you think it means?” I asked.

  “Only one way to find out,” Brady said, raising the bell above her head. I could hear Wiki screaming “Noooooo” as Brady shook it.

  Andy started purring louder than ever. Louder. Louder. A deafening purr…

  Then everything got really weird.

  8

  It wasn’t exactly an explosion—more like an epic burst of light that seemed to come from Andy. We threw our hands up over our eyes and all took a few steps back, completely blinded for a second.

  Before we could really tell what was going on in front of us, we heard them. There were definitely other people in the room with us who hadn’t been there a second ago. And we smelled them. It might have been the worst stench I’ve ever experienced in my life. Despite being a mix of shocked, surprised, and horrified, we couldn’t help but pinch our noses immediately—it smelled like someone had taken a long, hot bath in raw sewage.

  “Well isn’t this a rather odd establishment for a dinner fete of this caliber?” a stodgy voice with a strong British accent stated. “I thought this would be a dinner party for the ages.”

  “Feels fancy enough to me,” growled another voice—a very rough, scratchy one.

  “Something smells delicious!” said a high-pitched kid’s voice.

  When my eyes finally adjusted, I realized I wasn’t dreaming. There were three complete strangers sitting at our table. And they seemed pretty hungry.

  One of them was wearing fancy clothes and jewelry and seemed like the kind of royalty that belonged in a castle with a squire. Another was a kid our age wearing a white wig and some really uncomfortable clothes from what looked like hundreds of years ago.

  But the third guy was the stuff of nightmares. He was tall and imposing, and his eyes had this devilish look that chilled me to the bone. He was dressed in black and had a long, dark beard that went up all the way to his eyes and down to his chest. It was knotted and tangled like brambles. Also, I could swear that there were little tufts of smoke rising up from his beard. Had it been on fire before?! Oh, and he smelled exactly like a sewer.

  He picked up a fork and pointed it directly at Brady, Wiki, and me. “Am I right in assuming that you three are our hosts?”

  This might have been the most awkward moment in my life. Wiki and I stared in terror. The guests stared back in confusion. Brady saved the day, as usual. She didn’t even miss a beat.

  “Welcome to Casa de Brady, home of fine dining! Make yourselves comfortable and we’ll start serving you. I’m Brady, and these are my associates, Javi and Wiki.”

  “Hobby and Kiwi, did you say? By the queen, those aren’t real, respectable names. Give us your real names at once, children,” said the royal-looking guy. I could already tell he was going to be a royal pain in the butt.

  “Ahem, m-m-my name is William, sir, and this is Javier,” said Wiki in a nervous but overly formal voice. “An honor to meet you, y-y-your highness.”

  “Highness?” the stinky-sewer guy burped. “Who might you be?” he said as he poked a finger at the royal pain.

  “Mind your manners, peasant—you’re speaking to John Montagu, Fourth Earl of Sandwich, also known as Viscount Hinchingbrooke and Baron Montagu of Saint Neots.”

  The bearded nightmare’s eyes got really narrow and it looked like a fight was brewing. Thankfully the kid saved the day.

  “
A pleasure to meet all of you,” the little boy said kindly, waving and kicking his feet merrily under the table. “I am Wolfgang Amadeus. This meal looks quite exceptional. Not as fancy as my dinner with the princess, but in truth it smells even better.”

  “So if you’re the Earl of Sandwich, and if you’re Mozart…” Brady began asking.

  “Don’t!” Wiki whispered loudly to her. “You don’t want to know. Trust me. You don’t want to ask that question.”

  The dirty, drenched dude heard Wiki and laughed. “It appears,” he said darkly, “that only one of you realizes who you invited to dinner.” He looked slowly at each of us, a wicked smile growing on his face. “Nobody else?” The room got perfectly silent and Wiki gulped so hard I could swear that it made the floor shake. He started backing away toward the door, too afraid to turn from the dinner guest.

  Then, in a flash, the guest pulled something thin and shiny from his pocket and flung it toward Wiki. Before anyone could scream, we heard a thud. Wiki made a noise like he’d been hit, and everyone gasped. But then he opened his eyes and looked over at his hand. His right sleeve was pinned to the front door by a big, fat dagger.

  “It’s rude for a host to leave his own dinner party,” Beardo chuckled. “Now tell your friends who you invited to dinner, and then let’s all sit down and have ourselves a nice little meal.”

  Wiki stuttered for a good minute before he could get a word out. “M-m-m-m-meet Edward Teach. B-b-b-better known as…Blackbeard.”

  The Earl of Sandwich dropped his fork, and his eyes went wide. I stared in horror. Brady turned to me and yelled, “You invited Blackbeard the pirate to the dinner party?!”

  “Wiki!” I shrieked. “This was your stupid prank! Now look what you’ve done!”

  But I couldn’t feel too angry at Wiki. His eyes were the size of floodlights, and he was visibly trembling.

  “Can somebody pass the bread, please?” Kid Mozart asked sweetly. “I’m starving.”