Page 100 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

“If we have the wind, maybe two days.”

“Two days?” I shrieked. “I’ll go stir crazy in this cabin for two days.”

Ace gave me a pathetic scowl. “Try cooking a pig on a candle.”

I stopped digging through the bottles and tins and looked up at Ace. “They brought the pig?”

“Both of ’em. We should ’ave dumped Shrug in the tar pits.” We stifled a shared giggle. “Ned told me they brought the pig while you were trying to save the life of our most hated villain.”

“Yeah, that was stupid. I couldn’t stand by and let Vane have all the glory. I didn’t know they were best buds.” I rattled around in the medicine bag, steadily removing glass bottles and lining them up on the table.

“What’s that, love?”

“It’s the medicine bag from theLark’sdoctor, but the bottles’ labels are in Latin.”

“Doll, you should have studied in Latin class.”

I pulled out a large syringe that looked more like a caulking gun than a doctor’s tool. “What’s this?”

“And paid closer attention in medieval medicines class.” Ace let out a pitiful sigh as if I were the weak link in our chain of time travelers. “That’s the thing they use to treat syphilis. You know, a shot of mercury into the eye of the snake.”

“Ick.” I sat the tool on the table and rummaged through the bag again.

“For heaven’s sake,” Ace rolled his eyes so far back in his head I thought he was having a seizure. “Look for something with a grease base to protect the cut.”

I opened a tin and smelled it. “This one smells like honey and looks like the grease Mamma Bea keeps in a coffee can under her kitchen sink.”

Ace took the tin and read the label. “That’ll do.” He examined another bottle on the table. “Sleeping potion. This might come in handy.” He pocketed the bottle and took an anesthetic swig of the rum.

I doctored his cut with the smelly mud and wrapped his arm with a clean cloth.

He stood and put his shoulder through a few ranges of motion. “Not bad, Florence Nightingale.”

“Wait and see if your arm turns black and falls off before you sing my praises.”

“Gurl, do not joke about such things.” Ace’s face screwed into a mock panicked expression.

I dug out the antibiotics I’d carefully stowed and handed one to Ace. “I brought some antibiotics. Just in case.”

He popped the pill and washed it down with the rum. “I told ’em you weren’t all boobs and no brains.”

“Who said that?”

“Um.” Ace backpedaled away from me.

I picked up the penis gun and aimed it at his crotch. He winced, slowly sat down the rum bottle, and held up his hands in fake surrender. “I might have overheard Captain Kirk tell our favorite brigand, Captain Crunch, those exact words.”

Caiyan. The rat.

“I’m sure he was playing nice with Mortas by distancing himself from you. I’d say he was protecting you, in an odd way, but protecting nonetheless.” He took the gun from my hand and dropped it into the medicine bag.

“I don’t want his protection. I want him to treat me as an equal.” A lot of silence followed my announcement.

Ace scooted onto my bed and swung his legs back and forth until the wood ceiling popped and creaked. “Blimey, hard to believe the kid’s able to jump an entire ship. Do you think he’s a transporter?”

“I’m guessing yes since an entire crew survived the lateral jump.”

“Funny how my grandfather tried to keep me in the closet. Afraid for the WTF to find out about me.”

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