Spirits in the Park (27 page)

“I'll take them.” Finn stepped forward. “I've heard your story enough to know the way up the Great Hill. I've been north with you up to its base, many times.”

“You think you can find a trail I couldn't, boy?” Pierre asked, his eyes flashing.

“Probably not.” Finn smiled at Soka. “But these ladies seem determined. I'd rather be there to help if I could. Such pretty faces need to be protected from harm.”

Soka blushed and Bridget realized that the boy was flirting with her. With Soka! Rory's almost girlfriend! That just wasn't right!

“I'm stronger than I look,” she said, stepping between Soka and Finn. “Just give me the directions and we'll be out of your hair.”

“No, if you must go, then I will send Finn with you,” Pierre decided. “But when you find what I found—nothing—he'll escort you right off that mountain again. It's too dangerous up there to linger in a vain hope to find what I know is gone forever.”

“Thank you for this, Finn,” Soka said, her eyes smiling for the first time since Askook had stepped out of the trees by the fountain. Finn grinned right back and Bridget gritted her teeth. Rory was off saving the world and there was no one to look after his almost girlfriend. Bridget would have to make sure this pretty boy didn't steal Soka's heart. Sensing Bridget's mood, Tucket growled at Finn, who took a step back from the bristling animal. Bridget gave the dog a pat.

“Good boy. Hold that thought.”

S
ly Jimmy had come up in the world. He adjusted his top hat and spun his shiny new knife in his hand. Ever since he'd hooked up with Boss Tweed, life had been gravy. Tweed had first come to Jimmy about sending his gang, the B'wry Boys, out on little missions of mayhem. Dressed as Indians, they laid waste to all kinds of places across the island: taverns and houses and shops and the like. They were a regular Munsee crime wave. Jimmy didn't know why Tweed wanted people to think Indians were busting up stuff, but so long as Jimmy and his boys were paid, they were glad to slather on the war paint and whoop it up all over town.

The other talent Jimmy possessed besides a knack for mischief was a sense for who was in charge. Boss Tweed was the most powerful god on the streets, sending his boys out on crime sprees while putting on a veneer of respectability with his place on the Council of Twelve. God of Rabble Politics, he called himself. More like the God of Two Faces. Jimmy had been a smart cookie to hitch his wagon to the ambitious god, and so far it had paid dividends, and how. Just a month earlier he'd been hanging out on street corners looking to mug passing strangers. Now he was summoned to the boss's office for a very special meeting all by himself, without his boys. This could only mean big things. He smiled to himself. Really big things.

Sly Jimmy easily navigated the back alleys of Five Points, heading toward Tweed's office. The most crime-ridden slum of the nineteenth century, Five Points had long ago been paved over and made respectable. But hidden in the alleys and side streets of the new neighborhood lay the dives and dens of old gang-infested New York. If a fellow wasn't careful, he'd have his throat slit before he could say Jack Robinson. Jimmy spun the knife in his hand, not too worried; he was a careful sort of fellow.

Jimmy reached the old pub where Boss Tweed held court, making his way through to the back room, where Tweed awaited him. He pushed through the door without knocking, swaggering as he prepared to give an insolent hello. Instead, he was shocked to find a knife at his own throat. Terrified, he spied Tweed sitting at his desk, his big, full beard twitching with amusement.

“Haven't you heard of knocking, boy?” Tweed said merrily, though his eyes didn't smile one bit. Jimmy felt the knife pull away from his throat and he spun to face his attacker. He recognized the boy in front of him; his name was Sammy “Two Blade” Liu since he always carried a pair of knives. He was a member of the Four Brothers Tong, one of the many mortal enemies of the B'wry Boys, and Jimmy opened his mouth to challenge him to a fight. But then he noticed Sammy's eyes; they spun in their sockets like pinwheels. Jimmy staggered back away as he realized that Sammy was possessesd.

“Have a seat, Jimmy,” Sammy said, but the voice wasn't Sammy's; it was deeper and much, much older. Truly scared now, Jimmy sat heavily in a chair in front of Tweed's desk. Sammy sat across from him, his eyes still rolling around.

“Who are you?” Jimmy demanded.

“That's not important, Jimmy, you know that,” Tweed admonished him. “What's important is that our friend here has a job for you and your merry band of Indians.”

“What job?” Jimmy didn't know if he wanted to do a job for this scary creature, but something told him he didn't have much of a choice.

“You've done your work well, Jimmy,” the voice inside Sammy congratulated him. “People are more frightened of the Munsees than they've been in more than a century. And now that Mr. Stuyvesant has gone ill . . .”

“I get ya,” Jimmy said. “People are saying that the only ones left to protect us from the Munsees are the Mayor and Mr. Kieft. Even though not everyone likes it, beggin' your pardon.”

“Why would I be offended?” the voice inside Sammy said. “So everything is going to plan, that foolish song notwithstanding.”

“I hate that song,” Jimmy said. “It gets stuck in your head and never leaves. And who cares if somebody fell in love with a dirty Indian? Some people fall in love with goats, or so I heard.”

“That's the spirit,” the voice in Sammy said. “We need more of that around here.”

“I told Mr.—” Tweed glanced at Sammy, stopping himself. “I told our friend here about how much you want to help.”

“Here is what I need,” the voice in Sammy said. “I need one final act of terror to set the stage for the big show. I need a murder.”

“A murder?” Jimmy shrugged. “Is that all? Who do you want me to kill?”

“It's not who, so much as how,” the voice in Sammy continued. “I need you and your friends to be Munsees for the night, as you do so well. And as Munsees, you'll ransack the house and kill whoever is inside. But most of all, I need you to kill one person, and I need you to make it messy. I want the entire city in an outrage.”

“Who?” Jimmy asked, eyes gleaming. Maybe he could work with this guy after all.

“Nicholas Stuyvesant.”

R
ory wiped the spray from his eyes, peering intently into the black mist that surrounded him. He believed that they'd been sailing for over a day, though the fog made it impossible to tell day from night. Lanterns glowed along the deck, sending faint tendrils of light floating out into the fog, but nothing could pierce the dark beyond the bow. He felt like their ship was the only one in the whole world. How were they going to find his dad in this mess?

“I think your friend up there has a death wish,” said a voice behind him. Rory turned to see Captain Kidd strolling across the foredeck toward him, pointing to the mast. Fritz was up at the top, in the crow's nest, staring out into the black.

“He's just keeping a lookout,” Rory replied. “I wanted to go up there, but he wouldn't let me. He said he'd do it for me.”

“He looks out for you, doesn't he,” Kidd said. Rory nodded. He didn't know where he'd be without Fritz.

“How can you tell we're going the right way?” Rory asked.

“I've been sailing into the mist for centuries, boy,” Kidd said, smiling. He always seemed to smile. “I know as well as anyone how to make my way. You asked me to find the Half Moon, and we will find it.”

“What if we miss them in the fog?” That was Rory's biggest worry, seeing as they couldn't see ten feet in front of the boat. But Kidd simply smiled wider.

“Don't you worry,” he said, his bared teeth glinting in the lamplight. “I know how to find ships in the open water. Some might call that my specialty.”

Alexa stepped out onto the deck from below. Kidd bowed.

“I trust your quarters are sufficient?” he said, winking at her. Alexa blushed.

“I'm fine bunking with the guys,” she said. “I don't need special treatment.”

“Nonsense,” Kidd replied. “When a lady seeks adventure on the Adventure Galley, we strive to make it a comfortable journey. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make certain my helmsman hasn't fallen asleep at the tiller again. That's one of the difficulties with all this cold mist: all the lads seek out rum to warm their bones. Excuse me.”

He bowed to Alexa, deeply, and strode off down the deck toward the rear of the ship. Alexa joined Rory at the bow, watching the pirate captain disappear into the stern.

“He's a charmer,” she said, shaking her head.

“He's a pirate,” Rory answered her. “Aren't they all charmers?”

“Most pirates were dirty killers and rapists,” she said with a wry smile. “But I guess mortals remember pirates a bit differently.”

“I'm not sure if I trust Kidd,” Rory said.

“I don't trust any of them.” Alexa turned to stare out at the darkness. “They're pirates. And Kidd is the worst of them, I bet. But beggars can't be choosers, and so long as we keep up our guard, we've got a chance.”

She sighed, gazing out into nothing.

“Something wrong?” Rory asked, hesitant.

“Simon's in my quarters, sitting on the floor, mumbling under his breath. He's been cracking under the strain and I don't know what to do about it. And you . . . you look like you want to punch somebody, all the time.”

“No, I don't!”

“Yes, you do.” Alexa turned to him, smiling sadly. “Not that I blame you. But I feel like I'm failing you all. If Nicholas were here, things would be going so much more smoothly. I'm not really meant to lead people, I think. I'm a number two. I helped my father, then I helped Nicholas. But now . . . I'm in over my head and I'm afraid someone is going to pay.”

“That's crazy,” Rory said firmly. “You've been great. Look where we are! We're almost at the end. We've almost caught up to my dad. And you've held us together. I don't think Nicholas could have done a better job than that.”

“That's very nice of you to say.” Alexa patted his hand. “Of course we're on a pirate ship surrounded by criminals we can't trust, but still, I see your general point. I just . . . I can see you burning with this anger, and it really worries me. I don't know what you'll do. We need you, Rory, more than anything, and that means you need to keep your head. Tell me you'll do that.”

Rory took a deep breath.

“I will, I promise,” he said. But could he keep that promise? Until he came face-to-face with his father, he wouldn't know for sure.

They sailed onward into the unchanging mist, hours passing with no sign of the Half Moon. Rory and Alexa checked in on Simon, who still hadn't left his bunk. The older boy started when they barged in, stuffing something into his pocket while a guilty look spread across his face.

“What was that?” Alexa demanded.

“Nothing.” Simon tried to look innocent but failed spectacularly.

Alexa looked suspicious but didn't press. “Why don't you come up to the deck with me. Some air will do you good.”

“No thanks.” Simon waved her off. “I hate the mist. I'd rather be down here trying to forget what we're sailing into.” His face was green.

“Suit yourself.” Alexa looked worried, but she didn't press the issue. She and Rory returned topside, where Captain Kidd was waiting for them.

“May I borrow the young master for a moment, dear?” Kidd patted Rory on the shoulder.

“Why?” Alexa said, clearly not trusting the pirate.

“I'd appreciate it if you'd indulge an old sea dog like myself. I just want to speak with him.”

Alexa glanced at Rory, who shrugged.

“Where am I gonna go?” he asked, and Alexa couldn't really argue with that. So Rory followed Kidd belowdecks, down a claustrophobic corridor, past the first mate's room, where Alexa was staying (Hendrick, who couldn't seem to catch a break, was sleeping below with the crew). Through the slats in the boards he walked on, Rory spied the room below where ammunition was stored: gunpowder and cannonballs for the dozens of cannons that poked out of each side of the Adventure Galley. Nearby, oars lined the walls, waiting to be dipped into the water in case of a sea battle. One of the sailors, who went by the unlikely name of Hugh Parrot, had explained to Rory that having oars gave the ship more maneuverability during those deadly fights, which often meant the difference between victory and sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Rory hoped he never had to see any of the oars or cannons in action.