In the back corner was a door painted to look like wooden planks with wrought iron hinges. Above it hung a pirate flag and a sign with blood-red letters that said,ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER.A smaller addition read,NO REFUNDS BEYOND THIS POINT.
The door was unlocked.
If Alex was here, I’d lost the advantage of surprise when I killed that poor plastic pirate. I pulled open the door and shined my light at eye level to blind anyone who might be lurking.
The room was empty, save for a small exhibit of pirate “treasure” behind glass and another mannequin, this one gussied up like a pirate captain.
A velvet rope blocked an open doorway to the left. Two orange light bulbs flickered like flames in fake sconces on the wall to either side. Beyond, a wooden ramp led onto the deck of an impressively large partial replica of an old pirate ship.
I unclipped the velvet rope and stepped through.
Cold air struck me. It had a sharp smell like burnt meat and just-welded metal.
A sign by the ramp informed me that no food or drink was allowed on board theWidowmaker. Old, chewed wads of gum were stuck to the front of the sign.
TheWidowmakerstretched roughly fifty feet long. The bottom rested on the basement floor twenty feet below. Between the side of the ship and the wall was a narrow aisle where the floor had been painted blue and white to mimic ocean waves.
I walked up the ramp onto the main deck. Two more pirate mannequins stood at the helm. One held a telescope while the other manned the large wooden wheel. A third hung from the netting that stretched from the deck to the stump of a mast.
All three mannequins turned to look at me.
Speakers crackled to life. Over the low beat of a sea shanty, a too-perky voice said, “Welcome to the Salem Pirate Experience, mateys. Salem is best known for its witches, but many pirates sailed our seas in the sixteen and seventeen hundreds.”
The pirate with the telescope drew a very real-looking cutlass and staggered toward me. Not animatronics, then. The one in the netting jumped down and immediately fell on his face. But he recovered quickly and pulled a dagger from the sheath at his hip.
The one at the wheel was held in place by large bolts through the hands. He simply tore himself loose, leaving gaping holes in both hands.
Alex had enchanted himself a trio of guards.
I sensed no desire or hunger, no emotion at all. They weren’t alive, which admittedly made them harder to kill, but at least I didn’t have to worry about hurting innocent thralls.
The pirate with the stigmata hands was the first to reach me. I retreated half a step to dodge a clumsy roundhouse, then stepped close and slashed his arm. My knife sliced clean through the plastic limb.
The pirate didn’t slow. It just stepped closer and tried to club me with the stump. At the same time, the second pirate came at me with sword and telescope both.
I wrenched the first one around, and the attacks thudded into his back and shoulder. The impact knocked me backward. These things were stronger than they looked.
“You’re on board theWidowmaker, a genuine replica of a type of pirate ship called a sloop. TheWidowmakerhas eight guns and would have carried up to fifty pirates.”
There had better not be fifty of these damn things.
I ducked another sword and stabbed the closest pirate in the neck. A twist and slice left the head wobbling, connected by a flap of plastic. A backfist finished the job, sending the head bouncing across the deck.
The pirate collapsed.
As spells to bring inanimate things to life went, Alex’s pet pirates didn’t hold a candle to professional work like Duke’s gargoyles.
“One of the region’s most famous pirates was Edward Teach. You might know him by his pirate name, Blackbeard. Legend has it that Blackbeard’s skull is hidden in a Salem museum.”
By the time the voice finished telling the story of how Blackbeard’s skull was plated in silver and turned into a drinking mug, I’d dismantled the remaining two pirates. I tossed them over the edge to make sure they wouldn’t suddenly jump up and keep fighting, then crossed the deck to the captain’s cabin.
Inside was an odd blend of historical mock-ups and modern furnishings. An antique-looking globe sat on a small wooden desk, along with stacks of partially graded papers and quizzes. A digital clock hung from the wall next to framed parchment maps of the east coast. Narrow windows painted onto the rear wall showed a distant ship sailing a sunlit sea.
“Local pirates and privateers played an important role in the American Revolution. Many of these privateers operated from right here in Salem.”
The voice came from a ceiling-mounted speaker. I slashed the wires, then stabbed the front of the speaker for good measure. The voice continued from other speakers on the ship, but at least it was quieter.
I left the captain’s cabin and descended a narrow wooden staircase. A sign at the bottom encouraged visitors to explore the gun deck, galley, and crew quarters.
