The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure) by N.M. Singel Page B

found a shiny box with the same weird bird-lion etched on the lid. She had opened the box and found a handwritten paper tucked inside. She was too little to understand most of the words, but she remembered the last sentence: Hide the children--Love, Michael. Erica had stuffed the box back in the closet and never told anyone what she had found that day.
    Now a cold feeling moved through her. The room rumbled, shaking the overhead lights. The man who claimed to be Uncle Leopold pressed the watch into her hand. “He found us!”
    “Another Wyatt for my collection,” said a deep voice from behind her.
    Goose bumps crawled up her arm. She turned. The monster from the movie stared at her. Her mouth froze open. Her breathing stopped.
    “This is too easy,” the giant said. “The great chronicle disappears with a thirteen-year-old boy, and now his eleven-year-old sister and a decrepit old traitor are left to save him. Pathetic. I was hoping for a better fight. But the end will be the same.”

     
    “Don’t let go of the watch,” the old man whispered.
    “As if that matters.” The creature laughed. “I’m annoyed by these constant interruptions.” He extended his thick fingers toward Erica’s hand. “I’ll take that. A good tempus should never go to waste.”
    Erica loosened her grip. The watch was gone.
    Looking at the floor, the old man shook his head. “No hope, no hope, none at all.”
    “So true.” The giant reached into his jacket. “Let’s get this over with.”

CHAPTER 10
    A SECRET TREASURE

     

     
    Banging rattled Columbus’s cabin door.
    “Admiral! Admiral! Open up! Please! It’s Diego!”
    Blake grabbed the chronicle, his only connection with real life, and wedged himself under the table. Could that giant flamethrower have followed him?
    Columbus cracked his door. “What now?”
    “My apologies, sir. Rat’s swinging his knife, knocking over barrels, and kicking at nothing. He says dogs are attacking him.”
    Columbus said something to Diego, stepped out of the cabin, and closed the door behind him. Blake hesitated, then crawled out.
    He placed the chronicle on the table. Turning to the page about Columbus, he read and reread the passage: A secret evil walks her decks . . . and destiny almost dies. He couldn’t make sense of it. And where were the Parabulls?
    The door squeaked open. He snapped closed the book.
    Columbus slipped back into his cabin and shut the door. He slid out a grungy trunk from under his bed and ratcheted the lid open. He sifted through neatly folded clothes and tossed a wrinkled shirt and what looked like scratchy black football pants onto the bed. “You may find these garments not to your standards, but you must look as though you belong on this ship. We have much work to do.”
    “What do you mean ‘work’? I can’t stay here, dude.” Blake ignored the pile of clothes as he backed away. He didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to have to fit in. “Hey, uh, Mr. Columbus, I understand what you’re trying to do here, but this whole discovering America thing? Yeah, well, that’s all you. I had nothing to do with that.”
    Columbus briefly rubbed his chin. He collected the clothes and returned them to the trunk before shoving it back under the bed. He pulled out a small metal chest with a lock dangling from the latch. “A man succeeds because of the help of many, Blake.”
    “So what am I supposed to do? I’m just a kid.”
    “What should any of us do except that which drives us forward. ” Columbus placed the chest on the bed. “Inside is a treasure more valuable than all the queen’s jewels. Few have been privileged to see it.”
    Blake moved closer. “What is it?”
    Columbus pulled a chain with a key attached over his head. He unlocked the chest and then lifted the cover. A small, worn leather book and some old-looking paper, rolled up and tied with string, filled the space inside. “I cannot let this map fall into the wrong hands. I have protected