Death Comes Ashore

by Corinne O'Flynn

  Corey glanced at Alicia as Wingate secured her cuffs and chained her to the floor. She didn’t fight him as he moved her into position. He was actually quite gentle as he brushed her long blonde hair out of her face with his hands and turned her so she could lean back on the raised platform that held the bed and hid the box where he stored the girls. Wingate clicked the lock and stepped away from Alicia, giving Corey a perfect view of the not-yet-healed half-moon shaped brand burned into the girl’s ankle.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In the hour since he’d let them out of the box, Corey had been studying her surroundings. The bed, which covered the awful box, took up most of the space. The room was wedged into the bow of the boat and the bed angled to make maximum use of the triangular shape of the vessel’s front end. Corey sat in one of the narrow spaces on the side of the bed, against the wall.

  Alicia sat near the foot of the bed, about eight feet away. Shackled to the floor like this, her range of motion was limited. Unless Wingate uncuffed her, she couldn’t see any way she’d get free. She finished her scan of the room and started again, scouring the area around her for something she might use to pick the padlock or her handcuffs. Wingate had taken her gun, cuffs, and keys.

  Wingate entered the bedroom carrying a tray with drinks and plates of food. Her throat burned with dehydration. She swallowed hard, trying not to let her discomfort show. Something about him made Corey feel he fed on weakness. Sought it out. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Corey’s stomach grumbled audibly.

  “Well, someone’s got a rumbly tumbly. Lunch time, ladies.” Wingate’s voice grated on Corey’s nerves. He sounded like an actor playing a deranged extra from Gone With the Wind. He left the room and returned a moment later with a full martini glass with two olives on a metal cocktail skewer that clicked against the glass rim. He sat on the small bench in the corner next to Alicia and uncuffed her hands. He set a tumbler of clear liquid and a plate of fruit, cheese, and crackers on the floor in front of her.

  Corey’s mouth watered. She wouldn’t eat anything, though. He could have tampered with the food, drugged it or poisoned it.

  He placed the cuffs on the counter. Alicia picked up a piece of melon with her fingers and ate it.

  “Where are we going?” Corey watched Alicia for signs of drowsiness or confusion as she ate.

  Wingate sighed. “Well, we’re a few days behind my other friends—with the storm and all—but this little cruiser just flies on the water. I’m going to try to catch them and deposit this young woman”—he indicated Alicia—“on a slow boat to China.”

  Corey recalled the container ship the Coast Guard reported off the coast of the island the night of the storm. “And if you don’t catch the Polonius?”

  “My, you have done your homework, Inspector.” Wingate looked at Corey and smiled, widened his blue eyes in mock surprise. “Color me impressed.” He took a sip from his martini, then he tipped the glass and devoured half the beverage at once. The skewer clicked against his teeth. “I have never had a member of the Magical Crimes Unit in my care before. They give me spells to assist in keeping myself and my little barge here away from curious minds. People are supposed to just pass on by, but here you are. Guess it’s time for a recharge.”

  Corey wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. “They give you spells?”

  He nodded. “You laugh. But it’s true. I don’t have the gift, myself.” He waved a hand theatrically in front of him. “Magic was not part of my destiny, but I find myself close enough to it to satisfy that itch. It’s just as well. But back to you. A police officer in my home. I find it thrilling, actually. I am overcome with the desire to pick your brain. I’d like to use our time together to improve myself. Perfect my methods, though I must say, this is only the second time I’ve found myself anywhere near the sphere of suspicion. I must know, how did you come to be on my boat? Will you enlighten me?”

  Corey shrugged, tried to appear casual. The more she kept him talking, the better. “The Coast Guard. They reported your boat out the night of the storm. But you’ve been in for repair for days. We figured it was the boyfriend, using your boat.”

  “Young Master Damien?” Wingate laughed. “That boy is harmless. I don’t know, maybe I’m losing my touch.” He removed the metal skewer from his glass and bit off one of the olives. “I admit, I picked up these girls on a whim. It’s not that I wasn’t prepared, you see, I am always on the prowl. Like a cheetah, stalking my prey.” He waved a cat claw hand in Corey’s direction and growled.

  Prey. The word set Corey’s pulse surging. She swore long ago that she’d never allow that to happen again, and here she was. She bunched her hands into fists, pumped them over and over. Settle down, Corey. Settle down. The thought became her mantra.

  Wingate was still talking. “Call it hubris, if you will, but I have been at this game so long that it’s second nature now. I saw these two beautiful young girls using their magical gifts to apply their lipstick and I could not resist. I simply invited them aboard for cocktails while they waited for Damien to return, and slipped them a little something in their drinks. I didn’t give the fact of my disabled boat a single thought. Careless, for sure. Perhaps it is time for Marcus Wingate to leave all this business with the ladies behind. Though, one does enjoy the spoils.” He waved his hand around the cabin, indicating the yacht.

  “So that’s your job? They pay you to kidnap girls?”

  He laughed. “My job? You insult me, Inspector. I prefer to think of myself as a curator of fine pieces for the more… distinguished collector. It is an art.” He actually seemed proud of himself.

  Corey seethed inside but she kept her voice even. Just keep talking. “And Nikki Soto? What did she do to deserve being dumped overboard?”

  At the mention of her friend, Alicia gasped. She covered her face with her hands and cried.

  Corey pulled on her chain, testing it. The metal dug into her wrists and ankles.

  Wingate sipped his drink. “Oh, that poor, unfortunate young woman. It broke my heart. We can blame that one on that blasted storm.”

  “The storm gagged her? Choked her to death?” Corey said.

  “Poor thing must have had an allergy to something in the fruit salad.” He touched his finger to his lips. “I wonder if it was the kiwi. My baby brother had an allergy to kiwi—used to break out in hives as a boy—nothing like what happened to dear Nikki. I suppose I do bear some responsibility—being the chef, but how is one to know such things in cases like these?” He lifted a napkin from the tray and handed it to Alicia. “Hush now, girl. Dry your tears.”

  “So you just let her die?”

  Wingate sighed in exasperation. “Nikki’s death was an unfortunate accident. But had I been given time, I could have administered a shot of epinephrine. It was the damned Coast Guard. When I saw them approaching, I had no choice. I put the girls in the box. Poor Nikki complained her throat was bothering her, but there simply was no time. The Coast Guard departed, it’s true, but they ordered another boat to come out and tow us in. I opened the box to check on her and found the poor girl was already gone. Floated away to the big yacht in the sky. No, this one is all on Mother Nature.”

  “And you just dumped her?”

  “Well, I couldn’t very well keep a corpse on board while the boat was being repaired. Goodness, in this heat? Can you imagine the odor?”

  He moved toward Corey, holding the keys. “Now, Inspector, I’m going to release your hands so you can partake of this delicious meal I have prepared for you. You’re going to behave, yes?”

  She couldn’t believe he could be so stupid. With her hands free, she had loads of options. Her mind ran through the possibilities in a flash. She could punch him, knock him out. Use the cuffs to secure Wingate to the floor hook. She could get him in a headlock, choke him out. If he gave her utensils, she could go for his eyes. The scenarios lined up in front of her. She took a deep breath, forced herself to sit still, appear relaxed.

  “I
promise.” She lifted her wrists to give him access to her cuffs. Come on asshole, just free my hands.

  Wingate reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe. “Just a precaution, Inspector. You understand.”

  Shit. Corey sat up, pulled the chains toward her, the skin on her wrists screaming in protest.

  “Sit very still, please.” He touched Corey’s knees, slid his hand between them, pushed her legs apart.

  She stiffened in reflex, fought against him, her mind wild with panic and ghosts of old memories. She tasted the bile rising in her throat like rancid oil.

  He rubbed a clammy hand along her inner thigh, pressed his fingers into her muscle. “Very nice. You keep yourself in fine shape.”

  Corey shivered as her heart jack-hammered in her chest. He isn’t Dirty Paul. He isn’t Dirty Paul.

  “Oh come now, do you really find me so repulsive?” He looked into Corey’s eyes and paused as if he actually wanted her to answer him.

  She stared back at him, locking onto his blue eyes, trying to keep her gaze steady, unable to speak.

  “Relax, I have no interest in what you have to offer, I can assure you. I have acquired a taste for those of a much younger age group.”

  With a hot pinch, he poked the syringe through the soft skin of her inner thigh. “This is quite potent, but don’t make me use it, Inspector. I actually wish to continue our little chat.” Wingate leaned toward her, his thumb on the syringe’s plunger, but he didn’t squeeze.

  “I’m going to unlock your cuffs now,” he said. His proximity sent red flag alarms through her body. She’d never been comfortable with men like this, touching her, moving near her, and especially now, with her hands and feet bound. She’d grown used to having lost her magical power, but she always had her Glock. But now…

  Everything in her wanted to be far from him. His musk scent filled the small space as he leaned in to unlock her. She wanted to shrink away. Every cell in her body cringed at his nearness. She needed to keep her wits about her. Needed to be present and not afraid. She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined herself surrounded in armor, heat rose inside her, turning her fear into a tiny ball. She pictured herself tossing that ball overboard and felt it fall away.

  The small key rattled in the metal as the cuffs dropped open. Wingate let go of the syringe. The thin needle shifted painfully in her thigh, but it hung there. He used both hands to unravel the cuffs from the chain.

  Corey braced herself, envisioned her body in relation to Wingate’s. Pictured his head, his arms, and his hands. She saw it all in an instant and shot into action.

  She looked down at the syringe and as her mind thought it, the needle flew from her skin. She looked over at Alicia, wondering if maybe she’d overcome the sedation to cast a spell to help her, but Alicia rocked on her seat, drowsy and not paying her much attention. Corey felt no pain but was detached yet aware of the burn as the needle tore away from her flesh at an odd angle. She pulled on the chains, blocking out the pain from her sore skin as she used the leverage to get on her feet.

  Wingate startled. He dropped the keys, his eyes wide, this time with actual surprise that brought her immense satisfaction. He fell back on the carpet, hitting his elbow on the bed frame. “No!” He crab crawled backward, inching away from Corey.

  Corey’s ankles were still bound, keeping her stuck in the confined space between the bed and the wall. She needed to keep him close. Adrenalin kicked in, coursing through her, allowing her muscles to move without hesitation despite the aches and soreness. She grabbed Wingate’s leg and pulled him toward her, unwilling to let her hands release until he was close enough.

  He flipped onto his knees, tried to crawl away. She tugged him once, hard, pulling him toward her and turning him onto his back again and slamming him against the wall. She thrust her hand into his face, palm first. The heel of her hand slammed into bone. Wingate’s nose crunched. His head whipped back and slick red blood spurted from his nostrils, covering Corey’s hand with a sticky warmth. Alicia cried out in surprise and tried to squeeze herself into the corner.

  Wingate kicked, his legs flailing wildly. His leather sandals made contact with Corey’s bare shins. Pain shot up her legs like lightning. She dropped forward, landing on top of Wingate, fighting to get hold of his hands and force them behind his back. She’d been trained in the ways to apprehend a target like the mundane police; without the use of magic, but the small space and her bound ankles made it really hard to maneuver.

  Wingate rolled onto his back again and planted his feet under him. He inched away from her.

  Corey thrust herself forward, launching herself onto him until her chains tore at her ankles.

  Wingate’s sour breath rushed out of him as she landed on his chest. Face-to-face, she headbutted him once, twice, using her forehead as a weapon. Her skin split. Hot blood ran into her right eye, blinding her momentarily.

  A blow hit her across the jaw. Corey’s view darkened for a second, white dots of light twinkling in her eyes, stunning her.

  Wingate shoved himself to a sitting position and pushed away from Corey. Another moment and he’d be out of reach.

  Heat bloomed inside Corey’s chest, her ragged breathing filling her ears. Her hands felt like they were on fire. She threw herself at him, again, reaching for his feet. She grabbed an ankle, gripped him tight. But he fought and twisted, kicked. She lost her hold on him.

  Defeat washed over her as Wingate slid across the floor toward the foot of the bed, out of her reach.

  Alicia screamed. She lifted her chain in the air with both hands and wrapped it around Wingate’s neck. She pulled him to her, her knuckles white under the pressure. Wingate’s eyes bulged as he fought to get free. His hands pried under the chain. His feet kicked the plate of food, scattering it across the bedroom floor. His mouth gaped as he struggled to overpower Alicia.

  Alicia wasn’t strong enough to hold him.

  “Tighter Alicia! Pull!” Corey screamed. She dropped to the floor, searching for the keys. They were behind her, against the wall, just out of reach. She stretched her body out as much as she could and was only an inch or so from reaching the keys. “Come on. Come on. Come on.” She muttered the words like a chant.

  Suddenly, the edge of the keyring slid across the floor and slammed against her palm like it was stuck to a magnet.

  “What the hell?” She stared at the keys for a moment, unsure how she’d managed to bridge the gap. Silvery light glowed around the brass keys in her hand. She blinked and fumbled the small key in her shaking hands until it dropped into the keyhole. The ankle cuffs popped open and fell to the floor.

  Corey looked up. Wingate’s back was to Alicia as she held the chain. He was pushing himself into her, forcing her to lose leverage. He was going to get free. He elbowed Alicia in the ribs. She cried out and dropped the chain. Wingate rolled to his knees and moved toward the door.

  The syringe sat on the carpet near Corey’s feet. She picked it up and as her hands closed around the vial of fluid, light burst from her hands. It filled the cabin and everything in the room seemed to slow. Corey lunged at Wingate, rage and fury exploding from her. She refused to let him win.

  He got to his feet, grabbed the threshold, and pulled himself toward the door.

  “No! Stop!” Corey reached out a hand. She was too far to make contact with him but she watched as a thick rope of white light sprang out from her fingers, snaked through the air, and slammed into Wingate’s back. His head was thrown against the wall as the rope of light rammed him once again and then sailed out the doorway.

  Corey blinked and swallowed, her brain fighting to make sense of what her eyes were seeing, what her hands were feeling.

  Wingate stumbled and fell to his knees. He crawled forward and inched his way through the door.

  “What the fuck?” She glanced at the syringe and watched as it wriggled in her hand. She shook her head and whispered a prayer. Corey opened her fingers and the syringe lifted off, hovering in fr
ont of her for a moment before it turned, the pointy end aimed right at Wingate. “Go!” It shot through the cabin and sank itself into the muscle of Wingate’s back. She still wasn’t touching him but she felt him tense as if under her grip. She tightened her fist and the plunger squeezed, the drug disappearing into Wingate’s body as he folded onto the floor and the light in the cabin disappeared.

  Corey stood staring at her trembling hands, unsure what had just happened. She felt full of power. The power of survival. She didn’t let him make her a victim.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Corey stood behind the boat’s oversized steering wheel and inspected the dashboard console. She was grateful Wingate had left the boat idling, the engine running, because she wasn’t sure how to operate small boats, let alone high-tech yachts. She shifted the throttle, pushing it slowly upward, glad to hear the engine respond with a healthy muffled roar. The boat hummed as it moved through the water. She turned the wheel and steered the boat in a one-eighty, turning it instinctively back toward Nahant Island.

  Alicia sat on the deck couch, her legs pulled up, hugging herself. She stared at the horizon, her loose hair flying in the warm breeze. Corey glanced down at Alicia’s ankle, at the crescent-shaped burn, courtesy of Wingate. The blister glowed purple and swirled as she watched.

  Corey worried that Alicia hadn’t said a word since they got free. Experience taught her the shock would wear away soon. The pain would fade eventually. But fear and trauma left a different kind of wound—like a brand burned into your soul that could take a lifetime to overcome. Her heart ached for Alicia, for what was ahead for the girl who used to be so fun-loving and easy going, open and trusting. She didn’t know yet if Wingate had taken her magic away or if that was something that happened after he handed her off.