Mystic Memories Read Online Free PDF

Andrew. Yet she suspected the child had been bought and paid for. But why?
    A sinister chill rippled down her spine. Even if the child was not Andrew, she’d been shown this vision for a reason. Perhaps the two boys were together. Or perhaps this child could lead her to Andrew.
    Go, Cara!
    But what if—
    Go! Now! Before it’s too late!
    Cara crammed her feet into the shoes and shoved her arms into the sleeves of the jacket. Snatching the flashlight and bag off the hook, she stepped toward the bulkhead. Then stopped. She glanced down at her toes, inching one forward until the tip of the leather shoe almost touched the wood panel. Her heart hammered in her chest.
    Praying she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life, Cara forced herself to walk through the invisible portal.
     
    MARCH, 1833
    CALIFORNIA COAST, OFF SAN PEDRO
     
    The flogging was merciless.
    Despite his anger at the unwarranted punishment, Blake Masters held no authority to intervene. He was merely a guest aboard the Mystic . It was not his ship. These were not his men. He could do nothing but watch as the burly sailor was stripped to the waist, seized up, and whipped until he cried out for divine intervention. Captain Johnson clearly savored inflicting pain with each strike of the thick rope clenched in his hand, much as he had savored his dinner only a short while ago.
    The meal had been interrupted by the first mate, a rat-faced, scrawny fellow who had reported an incident in the hold. Johnson had excused himself to deal with the situation. Blake should have taken his leave then and returned to his own ship, the Valiant . But he had accepted the invitation to dine with the captain, and they were barely midway through the meal. Or rather, he was. The portly Johnson had all but inhaled his first platter with great noise and had begun a second when news of the scuffle had been delivered. Shortly thereafter, Blake had been summoned to the quarterdeck to witness the punishment, though for what infraction he didn’t know. Nor did he care to learn. Whipping a man within an inch of his life was abhorrent to him. Even though flogging was accepted punishment on most vessels, he’d vowed not to use such brutality on any ship he captained. No one challenged his leniency, however. Not if they knew of his own stripes of degradation, emblazoned across his back.
    The rodent of a second officer called out the number of the final lash, drawing Blake’s attention back to the scene before him. As the blond sailor hung limp and unconscious, the captain ranted and raved like a damn lunatic, challenging any of the seven remaining sailors to cross him as their crew mate had done. The cowering men hung their heads, unable to look into the wild eyes of their captain. Johnson laughed with a high-pitched cackle that sounded more like a deranged crone than a man, if one could even call him a man.
    Sickened by the entire vile performance, Blake could not bring himself to return to the captain’s table. Determined to depart at once, he saw the ominous signs of an approaching squall. The blood-chilling drama on deck had kept him from noticing the darkening night sky or the shifting wind.
    Blake glanced across the water toward the Valiant . She was gone. During the commotion, she must have slipped anchor and made for open sea to ride out the storm. He trusted his men. They would save his ship, of that he had no doubt.
    “Captain Johnson, sir.” Blake spoke in a polite yet loud voice to capture the raving man’s attention. The sorry excuse for an officer fell silent, clearly startled that anyone would dare usurp his authority while he castigated his crew.
    When he realized that the impudence came from his guest, his contorted face relaxed into a deceptive smile. Had Blake not witnessed the preceding episode, he would not have known what sort of odious monster captained this merchant ship.
    “Ah—yes, Captain Masters.” Johnson swept his hand in a grand gesture toward