Page 131 of Stilettos & Secrets on the 7 Seas

After a long day at Gitmo, I finally relaxed back into my comfy living room chair. My throat was tender from Captain Vane’s threat of decapitation and my arms ached. Wielding a sword required more upper body strength than I possessed.

General Potts had debriefed me for six hours. There was a lot of yelling, some swearing, and a bit of begging on my part. He finally agreed to let Fredericka out of jail. He also agreed Max could go home with her. She cried when she met her brother. There was some human in Vampira after all.

I didn’t mention my agreement with Mortas. I assumed it would come out in one of the other travelers’ debriefings, and he would yell at them.

I’d showered off the ocean water and my time in 1718. After changing into a pair of comfortable sweats, I was ready to tell Gertie about my adventure.

I glanced at my red stilettos lying on the floor next to my chair where I had dumped them upon my return home. My outhouse let me wear them into the past. Even if Max could wield the energy of the vessels into another, more convenient mode of transportation, I think I’ll pass. We’d become a team like the Lone Ranger and Silver, or Aladdin and his magic carpet, or Dr. Who and his Tardis.

Gertie handed me a glass of red wine with a hefty pour and sat across from me, giddy with excitement over my recent trip.

She popped a chocolate-covered cherry into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of wine. “Did you meet Blackbeard?”

“No. I think he was in Carolina.”

“What about Stede Bonnet?”

“Nope.”

“Jack Rackham?”

“Yes, he was on Vane’s ship and wore calico just like in the history books.” I took a long, medicinal drink of wine, barely resisting the desire to chug it.

Gertie sat back. She scrunched her nose, and cute freckles moved closer together in an unsatisfied expression.

“Was Charles Vane as sexy as the guy who played him in that television series?”

I swallowed my wine and felt the sting of a healing cut across my throat. “Charles Vane was much shorter, smelled like soured rum, and reminded me of a weasel.”And scared the living shit out of me, but I didn’t want to admit that to Gertie.

“Damn, that ruins my sex dreams.” She popped another chocolate.

“I thought Brodie was the star in your sex dreams?” I took another long drink of wine and felt my limbs relax.

“Occasionally, when Brodie and I have a difference of opinion, I have a dream about the sexy pirate fromBlack Sails.”

“I did meet one sexy pirate.”

“Who?” Her eyes went wide and curious.

“Rowan Hamilton.”

“Alexander Hamilton’s grandfather?”

“The one and only.”

The moon cycle had ended. Gertie wouldn’t know about Alex Hamilton. Marco lived in this timeline, and there wouldn’t be a box of treasure delivered by a handsome banker, or a boy pirate sailing his dad’s ship with a hulky quartermaster by his side.

I answered her questions and filled her in on the rest of my time in 1718.

“You know I’m not supposed to be telling you the details. I could get fired.” I looked at her over my wine glass.

“They won’t fire you. You’re the chosen one. Like Harry Potter.”

“Let’s hope not, because several of his friends died.”

“Good point.” Gertie took a sip of her wine and swallowed hard. “I’m glad you found the King’s key. Does this mean your adventures are over?”

I had to agree with Mortas. I believed they’d only just begun. Before I could answer, there was a knock at the door.

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