by Lisa Kessler
A crease formed on Charlotte’s forehead. “I thought the Digi Robins disbanded.”
“They’ve gone dark for now, but disbanded completely? I don’t think so.” He focused his attention on the book again. “But until I know why Flynn is trying to make contact, this stays between you and me.”
She leaned back in her chair. “When you showed up here after hours looking for books, I agreed as an olive branch. We all feel bad about how it went down at the Bonaventure, but I didn’t agree to keep secrets from my crew. My father may work for you, but I don’t.”
“Seems your crew didn’t feel bad enough to return the gold bars I gave them for payment.”
Charlotte smirked. “They’re still pirates, Agent Bale. They found Pandora’s Box and got it back into your hands. It didn’t end the way we all hoped it would, but they held up their end of the bargain with you.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” He clenched his jaw to keep from saying something that would encourage her to kick his ass out of her museum.
They worked in silence for the better part of an hour before Charlotte gasped. “I think I found something.”
David set his book aside and came around her desk. “What is it?”
She pointed to her computer screen. “The Flying Dutchman enslaved spirits lost at sea.”
“Yeah.” He searched the text on her screen. “But there’s no way a coven of witches pulled a whole ship out of the ocean without someone noticing. They can’t be using the ship.”
Charlotte scrolled down a little farther and placed her finger on the screen. “But what about the figurehead?”
David skimmed the captain’s log. It mentioned the hellish glow of the cursed figurehead on the Flying Dutchman, calling to the souls recently perished when the captain’s ship took on water.
It could have been the exhausted ramblings of a guilt-ridden sea captain, but David’s gut told him this was the lead he’d been searching for. And if he was right, the next step would be figuring out how a coven got their hands on it.
“This is good.” He nodded, taking a photo of her screen in place of handwritten notes. “I’ll check in with your father and see if he can find any references to the figurehead in our Department 13 files.”
“I’ll let you know if I come across any more mentions here, too.”
David straightened his tie. “Thank you.” He crossed to the door and looked back. “And I’ll ask again, please leave the rest of the Sea Dog crew out of this.”
She removed her glasses. “I don’t know why Captain Flynn is looking for the leader of the Digi Robins, but the Sea Dog crew could be an asset in this search. No one knows Savannah as well as they do.”
“No thanks. I’ve got it from here.” He climbed the stairs from the basement, taking them two at a time. He had work to do.
Chapter Eight
Heather moved a couple more dusty boxes and wiped her hands on her skirt. Why did her grandmother keep telling her to come up here? The lamp in the corner barely illuminated the attic space, so she had her cell phone flashlight on, too, as she read her grandmother’s scrawled writing on the boxes. Being in a dimly lit attic at night might’ve been like a scene from a horror movie, but with Drake working alongside her and her grandmother’s spirit whispering in her ear, the creep factor dropped dramatically.
“I wish I knew what I was looking for.” She sighed and reached for another box.
Drake glanced her way as he restacked the boxes she had already inspected. “Can’t you call your grandmother, or whatever it is you do to talk to the ghosts? Maybe she can tell us.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I wish it were that easy.” She looked up at him. “It’s not like making a phone call. I get words, or pictures, and sometimes both, but the souls are energy now, and I think they forget that I can’t just flash through time and space like they do. They expect me to understand their messages, but on my end, they’re usually more like a riddle than an answer.”
“Can I help? What has she told you so far?” He leaned on the stack of boxes, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Even dusty and weary, he made her heart pound. It had nothing to do with any past lives they may have shared and everything to do with that kiss. Her toes might never uncurl. It had started so slow and tender and ignited a passion that burned her from the inside out.
But he was immortal. She tried to shove the thought aside, lied to herself that it didn’t matter, but after being burned by David, she should have learned. Why couldn’t she get weak knees from a regular, boring, mortal accountant? Someone mundane she could grow old with. She glanced over at the hulking pirate in her attic and sighed as her pulse raced. She needed to get a grip.
She pulled her hair back from her forehead, struggling to gather her thoughts. “She kept repeating that I was in danger and told me ‘it’ was in the attic.”
“It?”
“Yeah.” She sighed again. “Helpful, right? I got the feeling it was something for protection.”
“Like a talisman?”
“Could be.” She pointed at the boxes beside him. “But I doubt it’s in with the old pictures, 8mm film reels, and slides.”
He scanned the tight space and walked over to the cedar trunk in the corner. “What about this?”
“It’s a hope chest. My grandmother passed it down to my mother, then she filled it for me and my sister.”
He raised a brow. “What’s a hope chest?”
Heather smiled. “You fill it with hopes for a future marriage and family.”
“Did you use it?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never been married, and I haven’t even looked inside since I was a little girl.” Marriage had never been a priority, and lately, simply not falling for a guy who can’t love might be enough. “My mom used to dream of weddings for me and my twin sister, but she and my dad died before she ever got to see it come to fruition.”
“You have a twin sister?”
Her earlier confrontation with Ashley filled her head. “I do…but we’re not close.”
“Do you think whatever you need could be in this chest?”
“I don’t think so.” She got up and crossed to him. “It would’ve been easy to show me a mental image of the trunk. I would’ve recognized it.”
Energy zipped up her fingers as she opened the latch. Interesting. Maybe Drake was on to something. She opened the lid, the scent of cedar assaulting her senses. Her mother had carefully labeled the inside, designating the right side of the chest to be for Heather and the left for Ashley. She ran her finger over her mom’s neat printing. A pang of grief shot through her heart. As a medium, many people assumed she had no need to grieve her parents. Surely she could speak with them any time she wished.
They didn’t understand the reality. While she sometimes sensed her mother was present, she didn’t always hear her voice. And she’d give up everything she owned for one more hug.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the veil on the top of her side of the hope chest. The ivory lace was bound to an antique comb adorned with pearls. She held it up, her heart clenching tight. “This was my grandmother’s.”
Drake watched her every move but didn’t make a comment. She carefully laid the veil on the rocking chair and removed an old framed photo of her sitting on Gram’s lap. Her vision wavered, her heart full of happy memories. She placed the frame beside her on the floor and then lifted out a vinyl record album, Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Johnny Mercer Song Book.
A note in her mom’s writing was clipped to the front: Heather’s wedding dance.
Ella Fitzgerald. Good taste, Mom.
She turned the album over to see the song list and found a small gold star sticker next to one song. Heather chuckled and looked up at Drake. “It’s Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘I Remember You.’ She wanted this to be the first dance at my wedding. Way to plan e
very detail, Mom.” She set the record aside. “She loved Johnny Mercer’s songs. She was so proud that he grew up here in her hometown.”
“He was a funny kid. I did some cabinetry work for his father. Johnny was always singing. He even knew some of the Geechee tunes.” He chuckled, gazing into the darkness. “As soon as he was out of school, he left for New York. Big dreams.”
“You knew the Mercers…” Her words died off as she shook her head. “I forget you’ve lived here for a long time.”
He glanced around the room, maybe uncomfortable with her moment of awe. It had to be strange to have someone know his secret after so many lifetimes.
He cleared his throat. “If there was a record player up here, we could play the song.”
Heather found her music app on her phone and searched for “I Remember You.” She clicked the title, and suddenly Ella’s voice filled the room. She crooned about Tahiti as Heather stood up. This was a silly waste of time. What if the witches attacked him again?
But her doubts trailed off the moment Drake turned her way with a dashing, barely there smile that had her heart thumping in her ears. He bowed, offering her his hand with the other tucked behind his back. Her vision blurred as she blinked back an unexpected wave of emotion. He hadn’t aged a day since that glimpse she’d seen from a past life they’d shared. She stared at his offered hand, aching to take it, and at the same time desperate to run. He would live forever. She would not. Every touch made her want more. She was setting herself up for heartbreak.
A lock of blond hair fell down onto his forehead as he watched her, and her will cracked. She took his hand.
He straightened and pulled her into his arms. For a big guy, he was light on his feet, spinning her into a slow waltz. She wasn’t much of a dancer, but his strong lead made it easy to follow his steps. Being this close to him seemed natural, not awkward or stiff, and his masculine scent intoxicated her as their bodies swayed to the tune.
Ella sang about remembering love, and Heather closed her eyes, her lips curving into a smile as she rested her head against his chest. Drake hummed along, apparently more familiar with the song than she was.
Her mother downplayed the psychic gifts that ran in their maternal bloodline and claimed not to possess any, but Heather had suspected that might not be entirely true. Although her mom didn’t communicate with the dead, she’d always had prophetic dreams.
As Heather danced in Drake’s arms, she caught herself wondering, had her mother seen this moment all those years ago? Had she known Heather would fall in love with a soul she’d known in another lifetime?
No. Don’t fall in love. Enjoy your time with him now, but eventually it will become your enemy. It’ll separate you.
She pushed the warnings away, embracing the melody. This song choice spoke volumes. Later in life, Johnny Mercer had confessed the song was written about his lifelong love affair with Judy Garland. Had they found each other again on the other side? Or were their souls on earth again, searching for a second chance.
Drake dipped her, and Heather opened her eyes, their gazes locked on each other. He brought her back upright, resting his forehead on hers. “I could dance with you all night, but this probably isn’t the protection we were looking for.”
He was right. What was she doing? She forced herself to step back, breaking away from him. Why did being with him have to feel so…natural? “Sorry. You’re right. We have witches to stop.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” The hunger in his eyes had heat pooling low in her belly. Damn. Drake’s desire was plain for her to see.
“No one has ever looked at me the way you do.”
A crease lined his brow. “What do you mean?”
She pried herself from the intensity of his gaze and knelt down beside the trunk, lifting out some hand-knit baby sweaters and a few more photos. Anything to keep from making eye contact.
“I mean, I’m different.” She shrugged, reaching for a yellowed envelope. “My whole life people have stared at me. Bullies in school called me a ghost and a freak.” She stole a glance up at him. “But you’ve never made it an issue.”
He knelt down beside her. “Because it’s not. You’re one of a kind in a world that mass produces everything.” He shook his head, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “You’re beautiful, Heather.”
She couldn’t find words, so she pressed her lips to his, allowing her touch to speak for her. He drew back slowly with a sexy smile. “Let’s find whatever we were sent up here to discover.”
She took a slow breath and nodded, already aching to kiss him again. Focus. She returned to the flashlight app on her phone and shined it on the envelope.
Gram’s shaky script stained the front. My Sweet Heather.
“What is it?” Drake asked.
“I’m not sure.” She stood and handed him her phone. “Hold the light for me?”
He took it with a nod as she carefully slid the brittle paper out of the envelope. She reached for her grandmother’s energy, but for now, she and Drake were alone. After unfolding the note, she held it under the light, skimming her grandmother’s letter.
My Angel, Heather—
If you’re reading this note, then your mother’s dream is coming to fruition. She saw love and danger, two sides of the same coin. I promised her I would contact you and send you to the attic if this day ever came, but I pray this letter will never be read.
Your sister has always pined for your gift, for your power, and for this house. Our home was built on a powerful ley line, Angel. Ashley can sense this. She always has.
We crafted a talisman for you. Keep it with you at all times. When the banshee wails for you, she will return empty-handed. I wish we could do more to protect you from this fate.
Remember, you are loved, and we are with you always.
Gram
The hair on the back of Heather’s neck rose as she passed the letter to Drake. “Mom knew.”
He frowned as he read the note. “I thought she didn’t have the gift.”
“I always suspected she had a touch of clairvoyance, but I never knew for sure.”
A crease formed on his brow as he met her eyes. “She thought your sister means you harm.”
“We don’t get along very well, but Ashley would never hurt me. Not physically anyway.”
“Can she hear the dead?”
“No.” Heather knelt back down to the trunk. “But she used to dabble in magic when we were kids. Love spells and sleeping potions mostly. She’d probably deny it now.”
Her fingertips brushed a bump along the bottom lining of the trunk. She traced the line with her fingernail and carefully peeled back the paper to reveal a small velvet pouch. Her pulse raced as she opened the drawstrings. Reaching into the bag, she withdrew a simple gold chain with a tiny crystal angel pendant. She held it up to the light, marveling at the red glow in the center.
“Did you find something?” Drake asked.
Heather wasn’t sure yet. Witchcraft wasn’t really her wheelhouse, but growing up in Savannah she’d come in contact with some of the practitioners over the years. Unlike New Orleans, voodoo wasn’t a tourist attraction in Savannah, but the conjurers still existed here. Buried under the Georgia heat, myth and magic blended together like a sweet mint julip.
And although she’d need to get confirmation, she was almost sure the heart of this pendant contained a drop of her Gram’s blood.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t know, but I bet one of the root doctors around here can tell me.” She unclasped the necklace and put it around her neck. The angel lay in the center of her chest just below her collarbone. She ran her fingertips over it and met Drake’s eyes. “Before you got here tonight, my sister stopped by.”
He folded the letter, a muscle in his cheek tensing. “Did she hurt you?”
“Like I said, not phy
sically. But she is trying to take this house.” Dread knotted in Heather’s stomach. “She’s got an offer on the house.”
He raised a brow. “You’re not going to sell it, are you?”
“No. I could be an idiot for passing it up.” She worried her lower lip. “Maybe she does know this house is on ley lines and told Ian Flynn.”
Drake’s gaze snapped to her face. “Captain Flynn is trying to buy your house?”
“Captain?” Were they talking about the same guy? “Ian Flynn is the owner of Flynn Enterprises. The commercial real estate company in Atlanta.”
Drake cursed under his breath and lifted his gaze to her face. “He was also the captain of the Sea Dog. He’s the one who gave the order to keep sailing during the storm that sank us. He’s captain in name only now. Colton owns the replica we built.”
“Wow.” She put the puzzle pieces together in her head. “You’re telling me he’s immortal, too?” Her head spun with questions, but instead she blurted out, “He’s offered us six million dollars for the house.”
“Don’t take it. He’s a greedy bastard with no love for Savannah’s history. My crew has fought for decades to keep him from destroying the historic district with his plans for new hotels and resorts. He’ll demolish everything and take your family’s history to see his vision realized.” Drake handed her the letter. “I’ll handle him.”
“But why offer twice what it’s worth?” Flynn Enterprises didn’t become one of the biggest commercial real estate developers in the state by making bad deals.
“I don’t know yet, but until I do, don’t sign anything.” He took out his cell phone to place a call, but she stopped him, squeezing his arm.
He met her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“There was something else I noticed when Ashley stopped by.” She lifted her eyes to his face. “She was wearing a really old ring. I’ve seen images of them before when I was helping David on a case for Department 13.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced the words out. “It was a serpent with red eyes.”
