The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure) (22 page)

Blake felt his father’s ring tingle. He saw a couple of the men looking in his direction, but most were playing with the sails.

“Hey!” Blake shouted again and waved his hands over his head. “Those are land birds! Look!”

Erica appeared at the rail with several men and looked skyward. The birds wheeled above the Santa Maria’s billowing sails.

“Blake, I can hear you again. I told the sailors what you said--about the birds. Then that big guy punched Rat, and I was able to get away from him.”
 

Blake saw Rat at the top of Columbus’s cabin steps, rubbing his face. He angrily pointed toward the admiral and seemed to be shouting at the crew.

As Blake watched Rat strong-arming the men on the ship, something in the water caught his attention. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as a branch with a bunch of emerald-colored leaves drifted by him. He stretched out, snatched it, and then waved it high above his head. “Look! It’s from a tree!”

Pero pointed a spyglass in his direction and then quickly lowered it and turned to Diego.

Blake heard a rousing cheer and watched as the jacked-up crew gathered at the railing. The celebration swelled as he waved the branch overhead like a banner.

“Hang on, Blake,” Erica said. “They’re gonna put the rowboat in the water to get you guys!”

“It’s about freakin’ time.”

“You won’t believe it!” His sister yelled back. “Rat’s vanished!”

“Finally I did something right!”

CHAPTER 25

SCARS

Wet and shivering, Blake Wyatt helped boost Columbus’s sagging body into the waiting arms of a few obliging sailors on the Santa Maria. The dinghy ground hard against the ship’s hull, dipping forward and then rising suddenly. Blake tumbled backward.

“Assist the boy!” Pero shouted.

Blake welcomed the crew muscling him over the rail. As he regained his balance, he focused on Pero easing Columbus to the deck.

Blake shrugged aside a couple men crowding the admiral before dropping to Columbus’s side. “He’s not breathing!”

Water drooled from the explorer’s mouth as seawater puddled around them.
 

Blake pressed two fingers against the pale, cold neck but felt no heartbeat. “Don’t die on me now!” He laced his fingers together, locked his elbows, and pressed down furiously on the admiral’s breastbone, trying to kick-start Columbus’s heart.

“Beat, damn it!” He pounded Columbus’s chest. “Beat!”

The admiral bucked and coughed, spewing water.

“That’s it, Mr. Columbus!” Blake rolled him onto his side. “Get it out!”

Diego knelt beside them and steepled his hands in prayer.
“God in heaven, you’ve returned him from the dead.”

“Blake!” Erica squeezed through the murmuring crowd and pounced on him. “I was afraid you were gonna drown.” She hugged him so tightly, he couldn’t move.
“Don’t ever do anything that stupid again.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy.”
He squirmed free and then patted the dazed admiral on the back.
“You all right?”

“Did the sea spit me out?” the explorer asked weakly.

“Take it easy, Mr. Columbus.” Blake and Erica helped him sit up. “We’ve been through a lot.”

“I always felt it better to remain on top of the ocean rather than under it.” Columbus placed his hand on Blake’s arm as he sputtered a few shallow coughs. “Young man, I am in your debt.”

“Forget it, but ya might want to take some swimming lessons if you’re gonna hide stuff from these guys.”

“I can assure you, from this moment forward, one logbook.”

“Good. ’Cuz I can’t handle any more dodgeball with those barrels.” Blake and Pero pulled Columbus to his feet.

The admiral looked down at his dripping garments.

“Not the right clothes to introduce everyone to the New World,” Blake said, smiling proudly.

“New World.
I rather like that.” Columbus moved gingerly through his crew, Diego supporting him with an arm around his waist.

“Mind the steps, sir,” Diego said, steering him up the stairs to his cabin.

“Come on, Rick, we gotta find that tempus.” Blake rushed to the pile of fishing net.

Erica joined him, trying to untangle the messy heap. “Uncle Leopold’s not doing so well. I’m worried about him.”

“He’s probably just tired.” Blake tugged on the net. “Help me stretch this.” Blake lifted and shook the webbed rope, attempting to dislodge the timepiece. “I see it. Grab that end. It’s right there.”

“Blake?”

“What?” he snapped.

“Where’d everybody go?”

He looked around. The crew was gone, and the skies were darkening, faster and blacker than any storm he’d ever seen. “I got a bad feeling about this,” he said slowly, pulling the net with him.

“What stinks?” Erica asked.

“I know that smell.” Blake crept back, stopped by the ship’s mast. Startled, he spun around. “What was that about Uncle Leopold?”

Erica moved closer, her voice trembling. “I said he won’t get up.”

Blake turned. “Like ‘sleep’ won’t get up or ‘dead’ won’t get up?”

“Like--”

Columbus’s door banged open. A knife zipped through the air, ripping the net from Blake’s hands,
then
impaling it to the mast. Blake jerked back, yanking his sister with him. He glanced at the quivering handle--Rat’s weapon.
 

Dagonblud strolled onto the deck in front of Columbus’s cabin. He was draped in a long black jacket with shimmering gold flecks. What was he dragging?

“That’s the monster
who
locked me and Uncle Leopold in the dungeon,” Erica whispered.

Blake felt her grab his arm. He recognized the giant blowtorch.

“To answer your question, Mr. Wyatt, your uncle is sleeping. Like a log.” He shoved a statue that cartwheeled down the steps and then wobbled to a stop near their feet.

Blake’s eyes widened as the wooden Uncle Leopold seemed to stare at him.

“Bristlecone pine, to be exact.
One of the oldest trees, I’m told.” Dagonblud extended a thick finger.

The statue slowly rose above the deck and then torpedoed into the ocean, skipping like a stone toward the horizon.

Dagonblud snickered as he descended the stairs. He moved toward them and then paused at the mast. “Where did everyone go, Miss Wyatt?”

Blake retreated, shuttling his sister behind him. “We’re in big trouble, Rick.”

“How right you are, Mr. Wyatt. I stopped time. Now we’re all alone on this crude assemblage of rotting sticks. No birds, no fish, no people. No living thing can exist without time--except for Wyatts, which is unfortunate for you.” Dagonblud ripped the tempus from the netting. “Looking for this?” He said, and then tucked it into his pocket.

“What are we going to do, Blake?” Erica tightened her grip.

“I don’t know.”

Dagonblud cornered them and then ripped Erica away. Grabbing Blake’s shirt, he wrenched him high in the air. “Give me the source of your power, you little hellion!”

Blake flailed. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
  

“Now!”

“I’m tellin’ you. I don’t know anything about any of this stuff.”

“Liar!”
The Tolucan’s face darkened.

Blake felt the ring vibrate on his finger. A strange but comforting feeling stirred inside him. Courage bolted through his veins. He stared down the tyrant. “What’s the matter? Don’t have the guts to kill me?”

“How dare you!” Dagonblud bellowed, shaking him before slamming him to the deck.

Blake groaned, writhing in the pain, second-guessing his decision.

Erica fell to his side. “Don’t make him any madder,” she warned.

“Too late!”
Dagonblud roared. He pointed at a coiled rope, transforming it into a massive python.

Erica screamed.

Blake jumped to his feet and shoved his sister aside.

The snake lunged at him, snaring his ankles as he stood.

“No guts?” Dagonblud chided.

The serpent spiraled up Blake’s legs, then around his waist and ribs, tightening with each twist, choking off his air. “I--”

“At a loss for words?”

“Can’t . . .”

“What? Obey?”

“Breathe.” Blake felt lightheaded, slipping out of consciousness.

Dagonblud tapped his fingers rhythmically on a barrel. “Have I made my point?”

No response.

“Answer me!”

“Yes,” Blake rasped.

“Good.” Dagonblud waved his hand, changing the snake back into a rope that fell to the deck.

Blake doubled over, coughing and wheezing violently.

“Oh, don’t die yet. The fun has just begun.”

“Why won’t you leave us alone?” Erica cried.

The evil ruler examined his nails.
“As you wish.”

A sickening loud moan shattered the eerie calm. Blake pivoted. A badly burned man wearing filthy, ragged clothes lay curled in a ball near the main hatch.

Dagonblud approached the groaning man and yanked back a fistful of dark, matted hair, uncovering his maimed face. Oozing sores disfigured the brutalized sailor, and his scruffy beard was encrusted with blood. “Remember him?”

Blake gasped. He knew those eyes--the same green eyes that haunted his dreams.
“Dad?”

Dagonblud dropped Michael Wyatt’s head and stepped back.

“Dad?”
Blake whispered.

“Blakemore,” his voice strained.

Blake sprang toward him.

“No . . .” His father held up a scarred hand.

Blake stopped midstride.

“Don’t touch me! My skin will burn you.”

“I don’t care.” Blake felt his heart snap in half as a huge knot formed in his throat.

“Please, no, your skin will boil and blister, like mine. The pain is unbearable.” He turned to Erica, tears welling in his eyes. “As beautiful as your mother,” he rasped, and lowered his head to the deck.

“How charming,” Dagonblud jeered.

“Dad, I thought, I mean, we thought you were--”

“Dead?”
Dagonblud chimed in. “Almost. Take a good look, young Wyatts. This is the picture of defiance.”

“He doesn’t scare me, Dad,” Blake lied.

Dagonblud huffed.

“You don’t understand, Blakemore,” Michael Wyatt said through a grimace.

“I know my mission. I saw my name in the chronicle!”

His father shook his head.
“My mission.
Not yours. But I failed.”

“You got me this far, Dad. I’ll take over from here.” Blake felt his ringed finger tingle more intensely than before.

His father’s fragile voice washed through his head. Can you hear me, Blakemore?

Yeah. What’s happening to me?
 
He replied through his thoughts.

The ring.
It connects all Wyatts. Now listen carefully. Dagonblud needs our powers.

Is that why he’s keeping us alive?

The only reason.
I have a lot to tell you and not much time. Did Columbus show you his medallion?

Yeah, it had a church with my name on it.

Good. That’s the Priory of Blakemore. Beneath it, Dagonblud ripped through the membrane of the Rellium, allowing his evil to infiltrate our world. Your uncle warned me that Dagonblud learned of my plan to close his portal. I had to find a way for you to continue this mission. Columbus would never have trusted a boy appearing in his cabin without some higher guidance.