A Pirate's Wish Page 2

  “How did you know that I gave something to those I stole from?” Ashure curiously inquired.

  Simon reached into his front pocket and pulled out a bracelet made from the golden hairs of a unicorn’s mane. He rolled the fine strands between his fingers. Ashure became mesmerized by the movement. Now he remembered—there had been a woman who looked ill, her face pale and her limbs shaky. Her basket had been full of vibrantly colored flowers, the blooms especially beautiful in contrast to that dreary day, and he had not been able to resist taking a few.

  “You took some flowers my wife had picked for me and left this in return,” Simon said.

  Ashure cleared his throat, caught between dismay that the great Simon Black knew he had been a terrible pirate from the very beginning and relief that he had not harmed the fortunes of the Pirate King’s beloved.

  “It seemed a fair exchange. I hope you take into consideration that I was only nine at the time. If I had known she was your wife, I would have thought twice about taking the flowers,” he replied.

  “You knew that she was sick, didn’t you?” Simon quietly asked.

  “I suspected, yes,” Ashure admitted, wondering where this could be going. Why speak of this now, so many years later?

  “Did you know that the unicorn’s hair would heal her?” Simon inquired.

  Ashure hesitantly smiled. “I’d heard stories from a witch in the market about the restorative powers of unicorn hair. The witch swore that she had some locks, but I later found out that she was selling the dyed mane of a Giant’s steed as ‘hair from a unicorn’,” he divulged, still reeling from the discovery that it was the wife of the Pirate King he had cured!

  He knew she had lived many more years at Simon’s side, only recently passing away. The flags on all the pirate ships had been flying at half-mast for the past three months.

  “Where did you find it?” Simon asked.

  “I don’t remember,” he lied. He had sworn that he would never tell anyone where he got the unicorn hair. In fact, he had vowed a blood oath.

  “A lie—but a lie given to protect a promise. Do you know who I am, Ashure?” Simon asked.

  Dread pooled in Ashure’s stomach, and snippets of all those rumors rose to the surface of his mind. He’ll suck out your soul… keep it forever.

  “Of course. You are the Pirate King, ruler of all pirates in The Seven Kingdoms. You uphold the Pirates’ Code of Ethics and help keep the balance between the pirates and the other kingdoms,” he recited from the oath all pirates pledge.

  Simon rose to his feet. Ashure—unsure of what to do—stood up as well, absently holding the half-full glass of bourbon between his hands when Simon commanded his attention with the power of his gaze.

  “I am more than the King of the Pirates, Ashure. I am the Keeper of Lost Souls. My time has come to an end. The souls inside me are too much to handle without the calming touch of my sweet Amadeen. It is time to pass on the Goddess’s gift. This is how it has always been done, Ashure, from one Pirate King to the next,” Simon said.

  Ashure shook his head. “I don’t understand. Surely you can’t mean me? I’m nobody! I’m the son of a disgraced pirate and a hateful Sprite who couldn’t stand the sight of her own child,” he protested, aghast that Simon would even—could even—contemplate him as the next Pirate King.

  “You are more than that, Ashure. You are a pirate who values others. You have empathy, strength, and the ability to see things in a way that others do not,” Simon replied, his voice becoming deeper and smoother than it had been a moment ago.

  Ashure swayed as the mesmerizing sound of Simon’s voice mingled with his blood. He shook his head, pushing away the hypnotic effect.

  “No—I mean, really no. I appreciate that you think I would make a fine king, but I honestly have no desire to rule anyone but myself. Besides, think of the Isle of the Pirates! Do you really think they would listen to someone like me—a lowly Able Seaman? There are plenty of officers that I’m sure would jump at the chance to become the next king,” Ashure insisted.

  Simon stepped closer to him and nodded. “Yes, they would—and that is why you are perfect for the position. You have no desire for power. Your thievery is more capricious than destructive. You would not amass great wealth at the expense of the pirates in your care because you help those who need it. You, Ashure Waves, were chosen long ago when you gave a simple but very valuable gift to an ailing woman,” Simon stated, his voice low and resonant.

  Ashure tried to pull his gaze away from Simon’s, involuntarily shaking his head back and forth when he was unable to sever the mesmerizing hold. Simon’s eyes were swirling with colors. Ashure parted his lips in protest when he saw shadows reaching for him amidst the colorful swirls.

  “No,” he hissed, but deep down he knew it was already too late.

  “You will be a great King, Ashure. Never doubt that, for I don’t,” Simon softly stated.

  Ashure wondered why Simon’s voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a vast tunnel. Suddenly, blinding color engulfed him. His head snapped back, and the magic entering him lifted him in the air.

  His gaze was still locked with Simon’s. In his eyes, Ashure saw the moment long ago when the Goddess appeared and gave the Lost Souls into the first Pirate King’s keeping. He felt the power surging through him, and he tilted his head forward, his forehead almost touching Simon Black’s as he breathed deeply. He now had the ability to take a soul and the power to release one. He curled his fingers into fists and gasped for air.

  Then he could hear the Goddess’s instruction as she gave it to the first Pirate King. “Know that you must find the one who can calm the souls inside you. Without this peace, they will grow louder until you can no longer contain them. If the souls escape, evil will spread through the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. There will be one who will look deep into your unguarded eyes, see who you really are, and love you all the more.”

  The colors spun around him before turning black. Ashure’s head snapped back again as Simon transferred the souls that had been locked deep within him. A hoarse cry of horror rose in Ashure’s throat but never escaped.

  As quickly as the process had begun, it ended. Ashure stood frozen in the middle of the empty cabin, still holding the glass of bourbon in both hands. He slowly turned in a circle. Everything was clearer, sharper, even in the shadows.

  A sharp knock on the door drew his attention. He turned when it opened, and the First Officer stepped inside with a frown when he saw Ashure standing in the room alone.

  “Waves, what are you doing in…?” the First Officer started to growl before he stared into Ashure’s eyes, paled, and bowed his head. “My King.”

  At that moment, Ashure realized that his destiny was sealed. He was now the King of the Pirates—and the Keeper of Lost Souls, the souls that loudly beseeched him for mercy even as he sensed the thirst for revenge that they could not hide.

  Ten Years Before Present Day

  Portland, Oregon

  * * *

  Tonya Maitland groaned when she saw the reflection of a police cruiser’s flashing lights in the window of the store she was walking past. Pulling up the hood of her dark blue hoodie, she adjusted the backpack on her shoulder and shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pockets. With any luck, the Popo was after someone else.

  “Hold up, kid,” a man called out from the driver’s side window.

  Tonya glanced over her shoulder, realized that her luck had run out, and took off. She heard the officer curse loudly before he pulled his cruiser up onto the sidewalk and shifted it into park. She was already halfway down the dirty alley by the time he exited his vehicle.

  The alley cut across to another street. She was in the unpleasant part of Portland that bordered the downtown area where she had been working on a project this morning. Behind her, the officer yelled at her to stop. In response, she lifted her right hand and shot him the bird.

  She disappeared around the corner and crossed the street without loo
king. A taxi driver blared his horn at her. She offered the driver another middle finger salute and a kick to his bumper for good measure. She grinned when he returned her gesture.

  Another glance over her shoulder revealed that the officer was huffing and puffing and waiting on traffic. She headed down another alley. At the end was a chain-link fence with a gate. The gate had a chain wrapped around it and a heavy-duty lock. Fortunately, several large garbage cans lined the wall up to the fence. She used the wooden pallet that was leaning up against the first trash can as a makeshift ladder and climbed onto the can. Walking across them, she looped the top of her backpack on a wire before she climbed over the fence. She put the toes of her worn tennis shoes in the holes of the fence, unhooked her bag, and climbed down to the other side.

  She lifted a hand and gave the out-of-breath officer a two-finger salute before she turned around and rapidly walked down the alley. She was almost to the end when another police cruiser pulled up and blocked her exit. She groaned again when she recognized Officer Max Bennett as he got out of the car. She stopped several feet from him.

  “Running again, Maitland,” Officer Max dryly commented as he opened the back door to his cruiser.

  Tonya shrugged. “Hey, Max. I’m just trying to keep you guys on your toes. Officer Donut back there looked like he could use a little exercise,” she muttered as she walked to the open door with a sigh of resignation.

  “I heard that, kid,” the officer behind her yelled.

  “I’ll take it from here, Joe,” Max said.

  Tonya slid onto the back seat and leaned her head back. She listened as Joe argued with Max before the out-of-shape officer turned in a huff and stomped back the way he had come. Honestly, she didn’t know how the guy had passed the physical fitness test to be a beat cop. He couldn’t catch a bad guy unless they were using a walker.

  She looked through the metal screen separating the front and back seat when Max got in the car and shut his door. He spoke into the mic, telling dispatch that he had apprehended the suspected runaway. She rolled her eyes and pulled her backpack onto her lap.

  “Seat belt, Tonya,” Max instructed.

  “Seat belt, Max,” she mumbled in response.

  They both pulled on their seat belts. Tonya knew from experience that it was easier to let Max think she was going along with him. Otherwise, she would have to listen to his lectures. She sat back and wrapped her arms around the bag containing all her worldly possessions.

  “So, what is wrong with the folks you’re with this time?” Max asked, looking at the mirrors before pulling out onto the street.

  “Nothing,” she muttered.

  Max looked at her in the mirror. “Did they beat you?” he pressed.

  She snorted and rolled her eyes in response.

  “Did they starve you?” Max asked.

  She pursed her lips and shook her head.

  “Did Mr. Rollings say or do anything inappropriate?” Max demanded, looking intently at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Sheesh, no, no, and no already. The Rollings are nice, okay?” she answered with a bite in her tone.

  “Then why did you run away? This is the eighth time in two years, Tonya. You do remember the last time you went before the judge? He said this was it—no more chances. If you don’t stay with the Rollings, he’s going to send you to Juvie. You won’t be able to run if you’re locked up,” Max stated.

  Tonya looked at Max. He was alright for a cop. His dark brown face was creased with concern. He acted like he actually cared about what happened to her. She leaned forward when she saw him lift his hand and wave a pedestrian across the road.

  “You finally got Angela to say yes?” she asked.

  Max chuckled and thumbed the wedding ring on his hand. He had told her six months ago that he was thinking about asking Angela to marry him. Angela was one of the attorneys at the Portland Department of Child Services. Angela had handled two of the cases involving Tonya’s placement with a foster family.

  “We were married this past weekend,” he confessed.

  “Thanks for the invite,” she said, sitting back against the seat and looking out of the window.

  Max glanced at her again. She pretended not to notice. He released a deep sigh and pulled into the parking lot of a hamburger joint. She looked at him with a quizzical expression when he parked and turned off the ignition.

  “I’m hungry. Do you want to get a bite to eat?” he asked.

  She looked at the building before looking back at him. “I don’t have any money. I was hoping to—” she started to say.

  “I’ve got enough,” he promised.

  Tonya watched as Max opened the door and slid out of the cruiser. He spoke into the mic attached to his shoulder, explaining to dispatch that he was taking a lunch break. She slid out when he opened her door, trying to act like she was doing him a favor instead of the other way around.

  They walked across the parking lot and entered the restaurant. She sat down in a booth facing the road. A woman with a bright smile came over and took their order, and then they were alone.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours, Tonya? You’re a bright kid. You’ve got a lot of people trying to help you. You know the right decisions to make: go to school and stay with your new family. So why won’t you do it?” Max asked.

  Tonya pursed her lips and flashed Max a heated glare. She wasn’t making bad decisions—okay, she was making a few bad ones, but they were for the right reasons. At fourteen, she thought she was doing pretty damn good compared to some of the other girls at the new school that she didn’t often deign to attend.

  “School is boring, okay? I finished half a year of work in two weeks. I’ve got better things to do than sit around with a bunch of snobby kids who think they’re better than everyone else and don’t have a clue what’s really going on in the world. Food’s coming,” she snapped.

  They both sat back as the waitress placed their hamburgers in front of them. She grabbed the bottle of ketchup, opened it, and tried to pour some on her fries.

  Nothing. Why did a business make a ketchup bottle that you can never get the ketchup out of? she silently groaned, smacking the bottom of the bottle.

  “Let me,” Max said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

  She watched him take his clean knife and swirl it in the glass bottle. He pulled it out and held out the bottle to her. She took it and poured more ketchup than she wanted onto her plate.

  “I just can’t catch a break today,” she muttered.

  “So, what do you do all day on the streets?” Max casually asked, taking the ketchup bottle from her.

  Tonya looked up at Max, a French fry halfway to her mouth. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but she didn’t see any disapproval in his expression, only curiosity. She stuffed the ketchup-laden French fry into her mouth and reached into her backpack for her notebook. This was her life’s work—or at least the last two years of it.

  “I’ve been working on an investigation,” she said in a hushed voice.

  She looked around the restaurant before she leaned forward and slid the notebook to Max. He raised an eyebrow before he looked down at the tattered spiral notebook. She nodded at it.

  “An investigation?” he repeated.

  “You’ll see. I just need a few more days,” she said.

  She picked up her hamburger and began eating. Max opened the notebook with one hand and absently ate his fries with the other. He glanced at her in shock before he looked back down at the meticulous notes she had been writing.

  “Where did you get this information?” he demanded.

  She grinned at him. “Grownups think kids are stupid. You know the old saying that adults like to repeat all the time about kids being seen but not heard. That’s bullshit, of course. The reality is kids aren’t often seen or heard, but we hear just fine when they say shit they think we don’t understand. I happen to be really good at not being seen or heard,” she announced with a wave of a Fr
ench fry.

  Max shot her a disapproving frown. “Can you say that without the foul language?” he dryly replied.

  “Whatever. You don’t like it? Tough. Foul language has a certain power to it when used at the right time and in the right situation,” she replied.

  Max shook his head at her even as he continued to turn the pages and read. “Words are powerful, foul language is vulgar, there is a difference, Tonya. What happened to you that made you so cynical at such a young age?” he asked.

  Tonya sat back against the bright red vinyl seat. “You haven’t read my file? How’d you know what the judge said? Oh—right, Angela, never mind,” Tonya answered. “Are you going to eat that hamburger? I haven’t eaten in two days, and I’m starving!”

  Max looked at her again and pushed his plate across the table. She didn’t hesitate to grab the hamburger and start eating it.

  “Do you have any idea how dangerous what you’ve done is? If they had caught you—if the men saw the information you’ve got—Tonya, I’ve seen people killed for less,” Max warned, closing the notebook.

  “But—it’s good, right? I mean, the information, the details? I’ve got everything documented. I even have pictures. I just don’t have the money to print them out. This is good, isn’t it, Max?” she asked in an earnest voice.

  “Yeah, it’s really good, kid. What do you want to do with your life when you graduate from high school? You are way too smart not to go to college. Do you want to join the force and become a Detective?” he asked.

  She shook her head and looked at the notebook. “No. I want to be an investigative reporter—the best in the world—just like my parents before they were killed,” she softly shared.