Secrets of the Deep (2 page)

“Ca-caw,” Red said sternly as they walked across the lawn.

“What, look after Dani? She looks after me. Don’t you know that by now?” Jake paused mid-stride, however, when a thick twist of fog ahead began to churn and suddenly whirled into the shape of a friendly spirit of his acquaintance.

“Ahh, there you are,
ragazzo
!” the fat, jolly opera ghost greeted him, materializing on the lawn a few feet ahead of him.

“Constanzio! Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” The King of the Tenors had helped Jake get through his Assessment just a week ago or so. “Shouldn’t you be haunting Merlin Hall?”

“I had to come to see you
bambinos
off, of course! I could not let you leave to visit my beloved homeland without wishing you a proper
buon viaggio.
”

“Huh?”

“Bon voyage, my charming lad! Ahh, you are going to love Italy, Jacob! It’s so beautiful!” Constanzio kissed his fingertips in the Italian style as he strolled floatingly beside Jake and Red as they continued toward the castle. “Such food! Such culture! Such art! And the ladies, heh-heh? You are old enough by now to spot
le donna bellissime
, I think?”

Jake snickered, but admittedly blushed. Having just turned thirteen a few days ago, he was feeling terribly grown up.

Laughing, Constanzio attempted to tousle Jake’s hair with a ghostly hand. “Aha, I already know the girls chase you, you young scoundrel.”

“Nah, it’s just the castle and the earldom, that’s all,” Jake denied, puffing up his chest nonetheless, ridiculously pleased.

“Well, don’t flirt with them in Italy, or you’ll anger their papas,” Constanzio warned. “Trust me. They’re very strict down there.”

“I don’t even know how to flirt,” Jake said with a snort.

“Wise lad. Don’t learn. It only causes trouble. Now, heed me. I have some thoughts on your itinerary. In Florence, do not forget to see the doors of the great Baptistery. In Rome, you must toss a coin in the Trevi Fountain and make a wish; this is essential. And in Venice, you must ride on a gondola beneath the Bridge of Sighs—”

“I don’t know if we’re actually going to Venice,” Jake interrupted. “Aunt Ramona says the Dark Druids are strong there.”

“Oh, that’s right.” The famous dead tenor snapped his ghostly fingers. “Pity. I forgot—a few of their dreadful founding families did get their start there centuries ago among the old Black Nobility. Never mind Venice, then. There’s Naples! The great, gilded opera house! Ah, I sang there many times. Standing ovations! The shouts of ‘
Encore!
’” He sighed. “How I miss them! I sang in most of the magnificent theaters of Europe, from Sicily to St. Petersburg.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re going as far as Russia. Aunt Ramona promised us we’d wind up somewhere on a warm, sunny beach. She says we’re doing France first. Maybe Belgium? I hear they have outrageous chocolate there. Anyway, I’m not sure which port she has us sailing into. She’s been keeping everything fairly secret to confuse
our friends
.”

“Understood. Well, I’m sure you’ll be, as you British say, safe as houses, once you are away from here. Her Ladyship knows many cloaking spells, and now you’ve got Miss Valentine, as well. I hear young Nixie is as brilliant a student of magic as your cousin Archie is with his inventions.”

Jake nodded. “Maddox St. Trinian is coming, too. Do you know him? He’s a Guardian apprentice, but he’s sixteen, so he’s only got another year or two of his training. He’s kind of a dull stick, but he can fight. Derek sent him along to watch my back while he’s away.”

“That is good. But let’s not forget your own prodigious skills.”

Jake sighed, for the compliment merely reminded him of the parents from whom he’d inherited his two supernatural gifts—and who apparently had nothing to say to him. The telekinesis had come from his sire, the ability to communicate with ghosts from his dam.

Constanzio misunderstood the reason for his gloomy exhalation. “You’ll be fine out there. Just try to have fun and enjoy yourselves. That, my boy, is what Italy’s all about.” The late, great opera star gave him a roguish wink.

Jake managed a smile. “Thanks for coming to see me off, signore. Say, would you keep an eye on Red for me while I’m gone?”

“Why, it would be my honor.” Constanzio bowed to the Gryphon, who bowed back.

“Aunt Ramona has arranged for one of the Lightriders to bring him to me through a portal once we figure out where we’ll be hunkering down for the long term. But he gets lonely.” Jake turned to his pet. “Now, Red: you’ll be staying at the menagerie at Merlin Hall again for a while. You made yourself a very comfortable nest while we were there, as I recall, and the nice Green Man will make sure you have all you need. But you’ve got to promise me you won’t eat any of the Dreaming Sheep.”

Red snuffled at his teasing remark.

Jake gazed at him. “I’ll miss you, boy. It’ll be hard being separated. But don’t worry; we’ll be together again in a few weeks, and then we’ll have loads of fun. I promise.” Jake hugged his large pet, feeling a bit of a lump in his throat.

“Becaw, caw, caw,” said the Gryphon.

“Of course I’ll be good! Aren’t I always?” Jake exclaimed.

Red huffed and shook his feathery mane.

Jake laughed. “You know me too well.” He turned to the ghost. “Constanzio, you must promise to bring us any news of Derek and Tex the moment you hear something. And Henry, too, of course. If they come back from their missions while we’re away—”

“I’ll be sure to tell the gents where to find you. Well! Since the other children cannot see me, do give them my warmest regards… And I shall
GO
!!!” he sang, lifting his arms out theatrically to his sides.

He then went into one of his trademark flourishes, and held the final note for an impressive length of time: “Constanziooo must go… Go, go, go, go,
GO…
!!!”

Laughing, Jake applauded until his showy ghost friend disappeared. “What a ham.”

“I heard that.” Only Constanzio’s round head reappeared, grinning. “Ciao,
ragazzo
!” he said, and disappeared.

“Arrivederci, signore!” Jake said to the empty air, which was the sum total of all the Italian he could speak, aside from
ragazzo
, which apparently meant
boy
.

The little preview of Italy’s sights and sounds from Constanzio suddenly made Jake eager to get their adventure underway. Jogging the rest of the way to the castle through the dewy grass, he took a final brief walk-through of his home to make sure he hadn’t left anything important behind.

He took one last, hard look at his family portrait over the fireplace in the great hall. The painting showed Lord and Lady Griffon—blond, handsome Jacob, and dark-haired, blue-eyed Elizabeth—both beaming with happiness and life, while Jake, as a baby, sat on his mother’s lap, looking plump, contented, and thoroughly indulged.

Jake narrowed his eyes at the portrait. Looking at it always made him feel like someone had stuck a knife in his heart.

But with no desire to prolong the danger to his companions here in England a moment longer, he pulled the castle door shut and left, commending his home to the care of his former frog servants.

Though sad to see him go, the neatly uniformed butler, footmen, and maids were mostly grateful to have been turned back into humans some time ago.

“Do hurry, Jacob. That is quite enough dawdling,” Aunt Ramona clipped out, checking in her little beaded handbag to make sure she had everybody’s passports.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake strode toward the first carriage, the driveway gravel crunching underfoot.

Archie waved from inside the second coach, where he sat with Miss Helena, Nixie Valentine, and Maddox.

Jake sent them a casual salute in reply, then bounded up into the first coach, while Aunt Ramona gave the driver some final instructions. He slumped into his seat on the maroon leather bench across from Dani. Cousin Isabelle sat beside her.

The girls were both smartly dressed in long, fancy traveling gowns, and between them sat Teddy, Dani’s little brown Norwich terrier, wagging his wee stump of a tail and wearing a wide doggy grin.

He was becoming quite the little world traveler, that pup, but Dani would not have dreamed of leaving him behind. Not when he was small enough to fit in her satchel.

Jake looked at the redhead. “Did I hear something about snacks?”

Dani pulled out a tin of what proved to be Scottish shortbread, but she let him take only two of the sweet, buttery biscuits before putting the lid on it firmly again. “You’re not goin’ to eat them all in the first five minutes! Who were you talking to?”

“Constanzio came to wish us a bon voyage.”

“How nice!” Dani said sweetly.

Jake tilted his head, finding her more curious every day. He had known Dani O’Dell for years—and she knew
him
better than anyone—but things felt a little different of late between them in ways he couldn’t quite describe. All he knew was that Miss Helena’s educational efforts and Isabelle’s ladylike influence had started turning the rough-and-tumble rookery lass into quite the respectable young miss.

Just then, the Elder witch joined them.

“Finally!” Aunt Ramona huffed. The footman closed the carriage door politely behind her, and, at last, they were off.

Jake waved out the window. “Bye, Red! Tell Gladwin we’ll send her a postcard!”

Red reared up and posed, wings out, in a parting salute, then he flew up to his favorite aerie on the castle roof.

As the shiny black coach rolled down the long drive, creaking under its mountain of baggage, Jake looked across at Dani. Her green eyes shone with excitement for the journey ahead.

“I cannot wait to see Paris! I
never
thought I’d ever get to see the world.” Dani swung her feet just a bit, her tan boots laced up to where they met the hem of her shin-length gown, and she bounced happily on her seat, much to Jake’s amusement. “This is going to be amazing! We’re going to see so many marvelous old things! Old churches, old paintings, old palaces, old ruins…”

Jake quirked a half-smile. “I had no idea you liked old things so much, carrot.”

“Old things have
presence
. I mean, just look at Her Ladysh—” Dani suddenly stopped herself, aghast. Wide-eyed with her blunder, she gulped and lowered her head, her cheeks strawberry. “Never mind.”

Jake stifled a chortle and kicked her lightly.

Dani sent him a mortified look.

“I’m sure she meant it as a compliment,” Isabelle said with the utmost delicacy, her lips twitching.

Aunt Ramona’s eyebrow arched high. “Indeed.”

Well, people
did
speculate that the Elder witch might be as much as three hundred years old, Jake thought with a grin.

“Humph,” said Her Ladyship, then she gazed out the window, her stern lips pursed like she was holding back a chuckle.

And at last, their Grand Tour got underway.

# # #

Meanwhile, on the far end of the Continent, disgraced archeology professor Dr. Dmitri Giannopoulos stood quivering with scholarly excitement on a rocky Greek beach. He could hardly believe it.

The day of his destiny was at hand!

Soon, everyone who had mocked him would be sorry—especially the academic board, those closed-minded fools. They had claimed he had
embarrassed
the university with his “rantings.”

Well, they were the ones who would soon be embarrassed when he and his patron proved Atlantis was real!

Dmitri looked askance at the tall, inscrutable Englishman standing silently beside him, staring out to sea. The earl clearly wasn’t ready to tell him what was about to happen, but no matter. His own whirling thoughts obsessed him. He could almost taste the fame and fortune that would soon be his…

Yes, yes, the world might think him a crank right now, but they had called Dr. Schliemann a crank, too—until the German archeologist had dug up the lost city of ancient Troy, and shoved the solid gold Mask of Agamemnon down their blasted throats!

Now world famous for his discovery, Schliemann had proved that mankind’s oldest myths and legends could be real.

Dmitri heartily agreed. That was why he had written his book,
The Lost Secrets of Atlantis
. The one that had got him sacked from the university and turned him into a laughingstock.

He had burned to show the stodgy academics they were wrong. That there had been an ancient civilization some twelve thousand years ago before Noah’s Flood had wiped it off the map. Alas, expeditions like Schliemann’s were hugely expensive, so Dmitri had had little hope of ever pursuing his dream, especially after he’d been fired.

But then a miracle had happened. His poor little book had found one fan, at least, making its way into the hands of the strange British earl.

Money was no object to Lord Wyvern.

It seemed that while other rich, eccentric British lords with a taste for archeology were off chasing mummies throughout Ancient Egypt, Wyvern’s pet passion was Atlantis. A family interest of some sort, His Lordship had claimed.

In truth, the earl made Dmitri slightly nervous. There was just something about the man, so tall and commanding. A coldness that went deeper than his merely being English…

But no matter. Wyvern was filthy rich, and he had sought Dmitri out some weeks ago for his project.

“We have a shared interest, you and I,” he had said. Then His Lordship had explained how he needed an ally with some archeological expertise and a familiarity with the region. Dmitri had leaped at the chance—obviously!—and they had become partners in the grand enterprise of pulling whatever remnants of Atlantis they could find out of the sea.