The Forgotten Story Page 3

  What Taisia was doing to him was the first time she’d done so in months, and it heated his blood. Realizing he was awake, she kissed him. She was completely naked, and his hands traveled over her body fondly. She directed him inside her, sending that pleasurable shudder coursing through him as she slowly lowered herself down and moved over him.

  “I love you,” she moaned.

  “I love you, too,” he whispered in return.

  After thinking he’d experienced the perfect ending to the day, he came to learn that things could always get better.

  * * *

  A few weeks later, Pierce had completely dismissed what he’d seen as only a trick, just as Grandmother Fey had instructed him to do. He had to admit it was clever of Freya to use his mates against him. Pierce was no prince, but he did have a weakness when it came to the people close to him. The Sea Warriors were certainly among those he cared for. They had allowed him to sail with them when they attacked the HMS Discovery, which they had mistaken as a slave ship. If it weren’t for the Sea Warriors, Pierce would have ended up in Norfolk Island, near Australia, put into a labor camp, and been worked to death long ago. Years later, they’d saved him from being taken to Tarquin Norwich to be tortured for information about Indigo Peachtree’s journal.

  Nevertheless, he pushed it all aside and carried on with his daily activities.

  Pierce made another trip to the falls to clean up after spending hours at the marketplace. He dunked his head to scrub out the soap in his hair and when he resurfaced, he found he wasn’t alone.

  “Aloha, Landcross,” greeted Chief Ailani.

  The sight of the large, tattooed, robed man startled him.

  “Oh, ’ello, Chief.” Pierce wiped soap and water off his face. “What brings you by, eh?”

  The expression on the chief’s face as he stared down at Pierce was anything but friendly. “Your wife told us you were here. You need to come with us,” Chief Ailani demanded.

  Pierce knew this wasn’t a request and that there was no way to refuse him. Ailani and his people lived life in their old ways, and if the chief wanted to, he could make his undocumented living on his property disappear. Not to mention, the chief had four strapping young lads with him, built for killing. One of them was the chief’s son, Kale, the tribe’s most skillful warrior. Pierce didn’t know what he might have done, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good, especially when the chief had left his home and business to personally come and fetch him.

  “Erm, all right. Can I ask why?”

  “There is someone in my village who says he knows you,” the fat chief explained, sounding irked.

  “Who is it?”

  “Come and find out for yourself,” the chief grunted petulantly.

  Pierce’s fisherman slacks stuck to him, for he was given no opportunity to dry himself. He mentioned nothing about it as he followed the tribesmen through the forest. After a while, they reached Chief Ailani’s settlement, known as Moana Village, which meant “the ocean village.”

  Moana Village was a replica of the Native Hawaiians’ villages of the past. Some huts were round in shape, while others were triangular. Each was made of materials right from their land. Nearly every home had ratchet boards leaning against them. Pierce rather enjoyed riding the surf. He had learned about it ages ago as a youth and it had intrigued him then.

  Chief Ailani led the way. His real name was Theodore, a wealthy bloke who’d created a brilliant strategy to gain a fortune.

  Over a decade ago, Chief Ailani banded together a group of native Hawaiians and built a community by the ocean. They lived as a collective tourist attraction for the wealthy to visit from all over the world. Chief Ailani and his people carried on just like their ancient relatives before the outside world’s influence had smothered their culture. They inhabited a village constructed the same way as their ancestors had done, and they kept up with their practice of Kapu, their code of conduct. It was exercised on a daily basis and influenced every action, whether it was surfing or adding a new tattoo to their bodies. And, of course, it included the worship of ancient deities.

  Visitors from all over the world paid loads to stay near this settlement as though they were a real native of Hawai’i, though it was really no more real than being on a safari. All the thrill and none of the danger. Nearby, there were beachside huts for the clients. Guests were welcomed to explore the village. It was part of the package to see and experience how the ancients lived. To outsiders, it was only a play, but for Chief Ailani and his tribe it was their true lifestyle. All in all, it was a clever solution to not only keep old traditions alive, but also earn a significant amount of loot.

  The men approached a hut with a pair of guardsmen at the door. Pierce and the chief entered, and Pierce saw over a dozen men either standing or sitting on the floor. Inside, it was difficult to see, since the only source of light shone through a hole in the center of the ceiling. As Pierce and the chief entered, the people inside quickly turned their fearful expressions on them.

  “Where is the one who claims to know this man?” Chief Ailani said to the group.

  Pierce held his breath. He had no idea who had come looking for him. It could have been anyone, friend or foe. How the bloody hell did they know where he was, and had he told others? Was he sent to find him, and, if so, why?

  Given Pierce’s history, it was most likely a bounty hunter. At least, if that was the case, the chief could take care of it. The only question was whether this person would be the last.

  “I am here,” came a soft-spoken voice from within the huddled group.

  Pierce narrowed his eyes as the man rose. Then he widened them when he saw him.

  “Bloody hell! Nico?”

  Chapter Three

  The Adventures of Pierce Landcross

  Nico François. Pierce’s first cousin. He couldn’t bloody believe it.

  Pierce had met the lad in Amsterdam where Nico managed one of his father’s hotels. It’d been ages since Pierce had seen his cousin, yet he had changed little. His light blond hair had grown longer, and he now sported a beard and mustache. His complexion had darkened considerably since leaving the Netherlands, and he was now showing a touch of sun damage.

  “Pierce!” Nico said excitedly. “It is you!”

  Pierce approached him, but it was the youth who rushed toward him. It was more likely out of relief than the thrill of a family reunion.

  Nico clutched his cousin’s arms and smiled wildly at him. “I am very happy to see you.”

  “How the bloody hell did you know where to find me?” Pierce demanded, completely astonished.

  “You told me.”

  Pierce stood, gaping, before recalling the day they rode together to Grandmother Fey’s cottage, when Nico had inquired about him. Pierce had trusted him enough to tell him pretty much everything, including the islands Chief Sea Wind had offered to bring him to.

  “Oh,” he said. “Well, how did you know which island I’d be on and where?”

  Nico’s fingers dug deep into Pierce’s arms. “Um, could we discuss this once we’re not hostages?”

  “Hostages?”

  Pierce looked to the chief, who shrugged his big shoulders. “They trespassed. It’s my right to hold them.”

  Pierce realized the other sods in the hut were also with Nico.

  He patted the youth on the shoulder. “No worries, eh?”

  Pierce turned around while humbly placing a hand on his chest.

  “So, you do know him,” said the chief.

  “Aye. He’s a relative of mine. Would it be all right if he and his lot came with me?”

  Over the years, Pierce had befriended Ailani, which was a rare thing, since the chief regarded Europeans strictly as blokes to make a profit from. To show his gratitude for allowing him and his family to stay on his property, Pierce used to bring gifts like a wild boar he’d hunted down and fruit he and his family had picked. He feared the gestures would come off as hokey and meaningless, but Pierc
e was deeply grateful for the use of the land, and the chief sensed that in him. Over time, Ailani and Pierce became acquaintances. He even invited them to their celebrations free of charge!

  Chief Ailani took in a long breath, his broad chest growing larger with the amount of air he was inhaling. He clearly disliked having these intruders in his domain if they weren’t paying customers.

  “Please,” Pierce pleaded. “I’ll bring you five boars and a couple of sheep to sacrifice.” He thumbed behind him. “You can have a few of these chaps, if you want.”

  The chief rubbed his chin with deep consideration.

  “Pierce! No!” Nico protested with great concern.

  “Fine, fine.” Pierce waved it off. “Just the animals.”

  “Sheep, you say?” said Ailani.

  “Aye. You’ll have ’em today.”

  The chief loved sheep meat. The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, and the chief had a lot of belly.

  “Very well,” he agreed.

  Pierce clasped the chief’s thick forearm while he, in turn, wrapped his stubby fingers around Pierce’s arm. They shook in agreement.

  “Cheers, Chief,” he said, turning to Nico and his group. “Let’s go.”

  “What about my boat?” Nico tossed in.

  “Boat?”

  “Oui. They have it.”

  Pierce clenched his teeth. There was always something else. As Pierce again faced the chief, he noticed from the man’s stern dark face that he didn’t want to let the vessel go.

  “Erm, would you take a cow?”

  The chief’s beady eyes glittered. He liked cow meat just as much, if not more, than sheep. “Agreed, Landcross.”

  Pierce fixed a smile. “Marvelous.”

  In an exasperated tone, he said to Nico, “C’mon, then.”

  The group filed out of the hut one by one, with Pierce and Nico leading the way.

  “You should see the boat the moment you’re on the beach,” the chief promised. “I’ll send someone to your home to collect the animals.”

  Pierce waved to him. “Grand.”

  He and the others headed out of the village and into the sliver of forest that led to the shore.

  “I hope you have some loot on you,” Pierce said to Nico.

  “Why?”

  “I have sheep, but we need to hightail it to the market and buy ourselves a cow. And I have to go hunting for boars.”

  “I shall buy sheep, as well as a cow,” Nico offered. “Tai Choy will hunt the boars.”

  Nico had a few diverse faces amongst his crew of twelve. Pierce reckoned Tai was a new addition.

  “He’s a Pākē from Oʻahu,” Nico explained. “His ancestors, who came from China, were supreme hunters.”

  Pierce sized up this Tai Choy, who was shorter than he, yet more muscular. He appeared more or less suited for the hunt.

  Tai Choy nodded and declared proudly, “I can kill over a dozen boars in a single day.”

  “Three will do, lad,” Pierce said.

  “Where do you live?” the Pākē asked him.

  “My home is two miles south, by the shore,” he answered. “Don’t you need weapons to hunt . . .?”

  The youth darted off and vanished into the trees.

  Pierce blinked, then shook his head. “Erm, all right.”

  “Do not worry,” Nico assured him. “He will succeed.”

  “Hope so,” Pierce said, walking on. “This tribe is the last who live by the Kapu code, which includes the practice of sacrificing rituals. Don’t want to fathom what Chief Ailani will do if I don’t pony up on my end of the bargain.”

  They reached the beach where a Collier vessel sat on the water in the distance. It was a modestly sized ship with three masts and a French flag lying lazily from the main mast.

  “Took my advice about seeing the world, eh, lad?” Pierce remarked with a smirk.

  “I did, indeed. I saved up for two years and asked my father for the boat as a birthday gift. Then I left.”

  Pierce raised his brows. “You just left?”

  “Oui. I mean, I wrote a letter to my father and mother and sent it to France, explaining what I did and why. I even put in that I had hired a qualified replacement to take my place at the hotel.”

  “That was very responsible of you.”

  Nico beamed. “Merci.”

  They took a longboat that was waiting on shore and rowed out to the vessel. Once onboard, the crew weighed anchor and set sail south.

  “Where did you get caught?” Pierce inquired, standing at the bow.

  “We anchored offshore a few miles north. We made camp, and during the night, the tribe ambushed us. They forced us to sail over here.”

  Pierce snorted. “You lot must’ve been spotted by their hunters. The chief doesn’t fancy strangers on his land. You’re fortunate to still have your heads.”

  Pierce looked toward the wide-open water in wonder. You got pretty damn close to me, though.

  “Since arriving at the islands from Japan, I have been asking for you,” Nico explained.

  “Japan? Bloody hell, where all have you been to?”

  The lad smiled broadly. “I’ve nearly been around the entire world.”

  Pierce leaned against the railing, allowing the sun to soak into his bare back. Pierce had developed quite a tan himself, and he was no longer sensitive to the sun’s touch. “Oh? Where have you gone so far?”

  “I started out in Madrid, then went to Morocco, and afterward, I sailed across the Mediterranean Sea. While in Genoa, I saw your name etched into the Columbus Monument in the Piazza Acquaverde. It’s still there.”

  “Wait,” Pierce said, standing straighter. “How do you know about that? I never mentioned carving anything there to you.”

  Nico snorted. “I want to show you something.”

  Nico led Pierce down to his cabin. The area offered just enough space for three full-grown men. A bed sat in a nook at the end of the room, and a cushioned bench lined the wall across the way from a writing desk and chair. Nico had trinkets he had accumulated from his worldwide journey. The lad did enjoy his gadgets. Pierce recalled Nico’s clues, left inside mechanical objects.

  Many items in the cabin were things he’d never seen before like a Taj Mahal clock and bottles that stored strange creatures preserved in liquids. Some were downright macabre, such as a real human skull under a glass dome with brass pipes sticking out of it. Nico turned the crank located at the bottom of it, and the skull slowly split apart, revealing a clockwork of turning gears within that represented the human brain at work. He also owned a flask made from Kangaroo testicles. Nico jokingly offered him a drink from it.

  “Not in a thousand years, mate,” Pierce quickly declined.

  Nico went to a built-in shelf in the wall and pulled out a series of books nestled tightly between other novels. Seeing so many nearly made Pierce drool. Although there were books sold at the marketplace, not many were being imported, and most of what he’d found weren’t written in English or other languages he could read.

  “What’s this?” Pierce asked as Nico handed him one from the bundle he carried.

  “Read the title,” his cousin urged.

  Pierce looked at the cover. “‘The Adventures of . . . Pierce Landcross?’”

  He honestly thought he’d read it wrong.

  “It’s about you!” Nico blurted out, shoving the other books into his arms. “They all are!”

  A couple slipped from Pierce’s grasp and fell to the floor. He grabbed another and the read the title. “‘The Adventures of Pierce Landcross: The Betrayal?’”

  “That is the first installment. It’s written about you and your brother,” Nico explained. “Sad story.”

  Pierce opened the novel, randomly choosing a page. He was floored by its accuracy.

  “Who wrote these?” he wondered, flipping back over to the title page. “Who is Jessamine Fairchild?”

  “The author,” Nico said unhelpfully. “She began rel
easing the series last year.”

  “If you’ve been travelin’, how did you get these?”

  “I got copies in Australia five months ago. The novels are such a success they have become widespread.”

  Pierce’s eyes grew very wide. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not. You’ve become quite famous this past year, not that you weren’t already well-known in Europe, anyway.”

  Everything that had occurred that day— reuniting with Nico, and learning about a series written about him—was the last thing he’d expected when he woke up that morning.

  As they sailed toward the marketplace, Pierce sat alone in the cabin, reading the tomes in no particular order. The first one, The Betrayal, started when he and Joaquin were first separated from their Gypsy family, and it covered the months they spent with Indigo Peachtree. It ended with Joaquin slitting his throat, and covered how Pierce had managed to flee into the forest and find a physician. There wasn’t anything written about his days in Germany with Frederica Katz, but the second novel: The Bandits, documented his days as a smuggler in France with Juan Fan, though her name had been changed to Hana Aki. The tales went on about him traveling to Italy, where he met Robert Blackbird. Thankfully, Robert’s identity had also changed. In the book, he was known as Gaétan Bernar and that he had bought a farm in Sweden.

  To Pierce’s utter surprise, the truth about who stole the carriage with the baby inside was actually printed. It ended with Pierce’s arrest when he’d returned the child to her parents, and his escape shortly afterwards. He and Robert parted ways after that, and Pierce returned to England. There was nothing about the nasty business between him and Volker Jäger, or how they were arrested in Plymouth for stealing from a retired archaeologist. But the next novel, Escape from Transportation, jumped into the period after he was sentenced to a penal colony, and how the Sea Warriors rescued him. It even disclosed how he’d mistakenly shot Waves of Strength in the arse, which later earned him a brand mark of the incomplete figure-eight on his chest.